William Parsons, born in 1717, was the youngest son of a respectable baronet, Sir William Parsons, of Nottingham; and was so well connected that he could claim no less a personage than the Duchess of Northumberland for aunt. Sent to Eton, to complete his education, he left "Henry's holy shade" in considerable disfavour, and on a visit to an uncle at Epsom so misconducted himself, that he was bidden never show his face there again. His behaviour was no better at Cheshunt, where another relative had the misfortune to receive him for a time. He was then packed off to sea, as midshipman, aboard the Drake. Returning at the end of a cruise to England, he continued in the gaming habits he had early learnt, and, to provide funds for his amusements, called upon his highly-placed aunt and stole a gold-mounted miniature from her dressing-room. This he was obliged to sell for one-fourth its value. We next find him at Buxton, stealing a gold-buckled pair of shoes in the assembly-room belonging to a Mr. Graham, and realising on them while the owner, vainly seeking, lost all his dances.

A cruise aboard the Romney then took him to Newfoundland. He played cards and cheated aboard ship, and acquired so bad a character that it was plainly intimated the Navy was not his vocation and he had better leave it. He accordingly left the service and soon found himself deserted by his friends and without a stiver in his breeches pockets.

Realising his wild nature, his father thought it best to secure him some post that should take him abroad for at least a few years, by which time his hot blood might have cooled down. To this end, he procured him a billet with the Royal African Company, on the West Coast of that then very Dark Continent; but the scapegrace was soon back in England, having quarrelled with the governor of James Fort on the Gambia River, to whom he had been accredited. He landed even more destitute, if possible, than before, and of necessity lived the simple life, by existing for four whole days on three half-penny worth of bread. The public fountains supplied him freely with water, wherewith to wash down those frugal meals.

He dared make no more applications to his father for assistance, for that father was then smarting at having paid £70 to redeem his honour over a discreditable affair that had taken place in Africa, where the reckless youth had forged a letter purporting to come from his aunt, the Duchess, saying she would be answerable for any debts her nephew might incur, up to that amount. It was folly of the worst, and most unremunerative, kind, for that aunt, with whom he had originally been a favourite, revoked the will she had made in his favour, and left the £25,000, that would have come to him, to his sister.

It is evident that William Parsons was what would be called in modern times a "degenerate." In 1740 he borrowed a large sum of money by a pretence that he was his elder brother, who was the prospective owner of a considerable legacy. He then succeeded in making a respectable appearance for a time, and married a young lady of good family and fortune. By that marriage he acquired a sum of £4,000, but his wife's trustees, being not quite satisfied with him, took care to secure the bulk of her property in such a manner that he could not touch it. Entering the Army in 1741, as an ensign in a foot regiment, he embarked upon an extravagant manner of living: obtained a quantity of gold and silver plate from confiding tradesmen, and kept a large number of servants. He could never resist the gaming-tables, and although himself a rogue and a swindler, always found others there who proved more finished than himself, and thoroughly fleeced him.

He would then turn to forgery, and successfully negotiate forged bills under well-known names. The Duke of Cumberland's signature was used for £500. Nothing came amiss to his perverse ingenuity; and he would even, as an army officer, call upon tailors and pretend to having a contract for the supply of uniforms. He would pocket a handsome commission and receive the goods and sell them for what they would fetch. To be his friend was to be marked down for being defrauded, and often to be placed in the most embarrassing situations. Thus in 1745, when the Jacobite rebellion was disturbing the country, he borrowed a horse of a brother officer and rode away with it, intending to desert to the rebels. But, thinking better of it, he went no further than Clerkenwell, where he sold the horse. The late owner was, in consequence, arrested on charges of desertion and high treason, and things might quite conceivably have gone hard with him.

Accounts of Parsons' next doings do not quite agree. By one of them we learn that he went to Florida as a lieutenant, but according to another and a more probable version, he was shipped to the plantations in Virginia as a convict, who had been found guilty of forgery at Maidstone Assizes, and sentenced to be transported. Family influence had no doubt prevented his being hanged.

Working as a slave in the plantations belonging to Lord Fairfax, he attracted the attention of that nobleman, who took him from the gang of convicted malefactors, with whom, under strict supervision, he hoed and delved under the blazing sun, and befriended him. It did not pay to befriend William Parsons. He stole one of the best horses belonging to his benefactor, and, going upon those early colonial roads, soon accumulated, as a highwayman, a sufficient sum to buy himself a passage back to old England.

By fraud, backed up with consummate assurance, he obtained £70 at his port of landing, and came at once to London. A scheme for plundering his sister, who by this time had succeeded to her aunt's legacy of £25,000, then engaged his attention. He hatched a plot with a discharged footman, for that man to pose as a gentleman of fortune, and to make advances to her, and even to forcibly carry her off and marry her against her will, if needs were. Some women servants were also in the plot, and were even given duly signed bonds in £500 and lesser sums, to lend their aid. The footman and Parsons were, in the event of this scheme proving successful, to share the £25,000 in equal parts.

By a mere accident, the plot was discovered in a milliner's shop in the West End, where a lady friend of Miss Parsons had pointed out to her a finely dressed gentleman, "who was going to marry Miss Parsons." This led to enquiries, and an exposure of the whole affair.

The last resource of this thorough-paced scoundrel was the road. He chiefly affected the western suburbs and Hounslow Heath, and it was in a robbery on that widespreading waste that he was captured. He had obtained information that a servant, with a valise containing a large sum in notes and gold, was to leave town and meet his master at Windsor; and so set out to lie in wait for him. But he had already been so active on the Heath that his face was too well known, and he was recognised at Brentford by a traveller who had suffered from him before. Following him into Hounslow Town, this former victim suddenly raised an alarm and caused him to be seized. Taken to the "Rose and Crown" inn, Parsons was recognised by the landlord and others, as one who had for some time scoured the Heath and committed robberies. His pistols were taken from him, and he was committed to Newgate, and in the fulness of time tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. The efforts of his family connections were again used to save him from the gallows, and themselves from the stigma of it; but his career was too notorious for further leniency, and he was hanged at Tyburn on February 11th, 1751.