The so-called "gentleman criminal" has flourished in all ages and in all climes, and there have been many remarkable scoundrels who have utilized their social position to rob their fellows. One of the most notorious was William Parsons, the son of a baronet, and the nephew of a duchess, who was educated at Eton, served as an officer both in the army and navy, and, after a career during which he experimented in every kind of fraud, ended on the gallows.

Parsons began early in life to plunder and swindle, and his first victim was his own brother. When the two boys set out for Eton each possessed a five-guinea piece, given them by their aunt, the Duchess of Northumberland, and when William had spent his he stole his brother's. The theft was discovered, and the thief received such a severe thrashing that he had to keep to his bed for a fortnight. It was a punishment which would have convinced most persons that "the way of transgressors is hard," but Parsons quickly forgot when the pain had gone and began to thieve again. The head master of Eton received many complaints from boys whose pockets had been picked. Gold and silver watches and other jewellery disappeared as if by magic, and despite the precautions taken to shadow Parsons the thefts continued. He was thrashed again and again, but all to no effect, and, finally, it was decided to remove him. He had an uncle living at Epsom, named Captain Dutton, and to him he was sent. There was no publicity about the "removal"—which was really expulsion—for Sir William Parsons, the boy's father, was highly esteemed, and everything was done to spare his feelings. Captain Dutton received the young prodigal with much kindness, generously ascribing his escapades at the great public school to a boy's natural propensities for fun. "Boys will be boys," said the officer, and prepared to give his headstrong nephew the run of his house.

It was understood in the family that Parsons was to inherit the estate of his uncle, who was by no means a poor man. But Parsons was not one to wait for dead men's shoes.

From the moment he arrived at Epsom he plunged into every kind of vice. The gallant captain had an account at a jeweller's, and Parsons, learning this, ordered an immense quantity of plate, which he disposed of in London for a tenth of its value. If any money was left lying about the house the young thief's fingers immediately closed round it. In vain his uncle censured and forgave. Parsons was irreclaimable, and eventually Captain Dutton kicked him into the street, and closed his door against him for ever.

A family conference was now held, and it came to the conclusion that Parsons had better be sent to sea, and accordingly he took a voyage in H.M.S. Drake to the West Indies, holding the rank of a midshipman. As he was so well related, he was given a good time by his fellow-officers, and although there were rumours concerning him on board he managed to return home with his name still on the books of the ship, and without being in irons. This was, undoubtedly, a remarkable accomplishment for him. But long before his return he had decided that he did not care for the cramped life of a sailor. He wanted to live in the very best style, and have his fling in the gayest circles in London. He had already acquired a fondness for gambling, and on his arrival in England from the West Indies he took all his savings to a gambling hell in London, and in a few hours lost every penny.

He did not despair, for he was aware that there was an idea in his family that he had reformed. His period of service in the navy had convinced his relations that he had indeed turned over a new leaf. The Duchess of Northumberland was staying at her London mansion, and Parsons, utterly penniless, paid her a visit, hoping to induce his good-natured aunt to come to his financial rescue. With apparent contrition he apologized for the indiscretions of his youth, and swore that he now found virtue more attractive than vice. It ended, of course, in an appeal for funds, and the duchess handed him five hundred pounds so that he might appear in society as befitted his relationship to her. That night the five hundred pounds became nearly two thousand as the result of the most daring gambling on Parsons' part. He took the most reckless chances, and every time came out on top. He was naturally wildly delighted. Here was the quickest and easiest road to fortune, and he persuaded himself that in a few weeks he would be worth many thousands of pounds. But the sequel was absurdly conventional. Parson was cleaned out within a couple of days.

Each time he became "dead broke" he called on the Duchess of Northumberland, but with each succeeding visit her presents of money became uncomfortably less, and he had to supplement her grants in aid by purloining various small articles of jewellery which he found on her dressing-table. The duchess, however, possessed so much jewellery that the thefts passed unnoticed until one evening, whilst chatting confidentially with her in her boudoir, he slipped into his pocket a miniature set in gold, which her Grace valued highly—so highly, indeed, that when she discovered her loss she offered a reward of five hundred pounds for its recovery. It was a purely sentimental valuation, but it placed Parsons in a most awkward position. Five hundred pounds would have been a godsend to him, and yet he dared not surrender the miniature, for he was well aware that his aunt would never forgive the theft, and, accordingly the young thief was compelled to sell it to a jeweller of doubtful reputation, who gave him fifty pounds for it.

Having for the time being exhausted his resources in London, Parsons was driven to the desperate expedient of going home. The family seat was just outside the town of Nottingham, but he found it so dull that he became a regular frequenter of the assembly rooms at Buxton. A few minor thefts provided funds for a week, and the son of the well-known Nottinghamshire baronet was received everywhere. No one thought of suspecting him of being a thief, and when he stole a pair of shoes with gold buckles, and disposed of the gold to a jeweller in Nottingham, Sir William averted exposure when the gold buckles were traced to his son by negotiating in private with the original owner. For the sake of the heart-broken father the victim of the theft did not prosecute, and young Parsons was bundled off to London, Sir William having no further use for him.

Perhaps if Parsons had not been saved from punishment so often he would not have adopted crime as a profession. But to a person of his temperament the game must have appeared to be worth more than the proverbial candle, because when he won he was paid, and when he lost there was always a kind-hearted relative or friend to pay for him. He was not at all embarrassed by his narrow escape at Nottingham. It was only a minor episode in a career in which he had come unscathed out of many tight corners.

On his return to London he happened to meet a lady some ten years older than himself, but whose burden of years was eased by the possession of a considerable fortune. She was not bad-looking, and being without near relatives she was an easy victim to the unscrupulous fortune-hunter. When Parsons was introduced to her as the son of Sir William Parsons, and the nephew of the Duchess of Northumberland, the socially-ambitious lady simply "threw herself at him."

She longed to shine in high society, and the moment Parsons understood her weakness he played up to it for all he was worth. He promised to introduce her to his aunt, and swore that her Grace would instantly fall in love with her and chaperon her, for, of course, anyone who entered the charmed portals of society vouched for by the Duchess of Northumberland would encounter no difficulties in her way.

The lady accepted all his statements without demur, but she proved somewhat coy whenever money was mentioned, and Parsons had to ask her to marry him before she would consent to advance him a portion of her fortune.

They became engaged in secret, Parsons pointing out that it must be kept quiet until he had time to approach his aunt, the duchess, diplomatically and break the news to her, for the lady was the daughter of a man who had made his money in trade, and in those days that was considered a bar to entry into society. She was satisfied with his explanation, and she poured thousands of pounds into her "lover's" keeping to hold in trust for her. At the same time he was making love to a girl whom he had met at his aunt's house, and he actually bought her presents with the money he had extracted from the too-confiding lady who fondly imagined that she would soon be his wife.

When he had robbed her of every penny it was possible to obtain without arousing the suspicions of her guardians, Parsons, realizing that it would be better for his health and comfort to vanish from London for some months, returned to the navy and secured an appointment on H.M.S. Romney.

There were a gallant set of officers on board, not too well endowed with this world's goods, but quite willing to hazard what they possessed at the gaming-table. Well aware of this, Parsons, who deemed it only proper to combine business with pleasure, took with him some marked cards and loaded dice. Every evening the officers played, and from the very beginning Parsons won. Cynically contemptuous of the intelligence of his opponents, he did not condescend to the usual trick of allowing them to win now and then. He simply took all he could get until it became painfully obvious that the only man on board who never lost was William Parsons, and it was generally agreed that there could be only one reason for that.

The captain accordingly took Parsons aside and informed him that they all had decided not to play with him in future. The scoundrel shrugged his shoulders, but, of course, had to accept the decision, for the captain was the autocrat of the ship. But worse was to follow, for before the voyage was at an end the officers added to their first decision another one which prevented anyone addressing Parsons except when duty compelled.

The studied contempt of his brother-officers did not affect him. He had long since lost all sense of decency, and his only anxiety was that there might be unnecessary delay before he reached land again.

Once more he found himself in London, and determined never to enter the navy again. The standard of honour at sea was too high for him, and the blunt sailors had a way of expressing their opinions which was decidedly uncomfortable.

He plunged again into the life of a gambler, but with all his experience could not win except on those rare occasions when he was able to persuade the company to play with the dice or cards he produced. Whenever this occurred he swept the board, but he was by now too well known, and it happened that it was only in the semi-public gambling saloon where trickery was impossible that he was allowed to play, because his fellow-gamblers knew that the dice could not be loaded or the cards marked.

One night he lost five thousand pounds to an army officer, and as he had only fifteen hundred pounds on him paid that amount on account. The officer, who was somewhat the worse for drink, shortly afterwards left the house, and Parsons followed him, robbed him of the money, returned, and lost it again at cards. It was a favourite trick of his to rob those he paid, and the astonishing thing about it all is that he was never detected.

Gamblers were fond of drinking and few of them were sober by midnight. Parsons, however, kept his wits about him, for he owed so much that he could not afford to handicap himself as the others did. And yet when he won a considerable sum he never had the sense to stop. On three occasions his winnings exceeded two thousand pounds, and within twenty-four hours he was penniless again.

Meanwhile he could live fairly comfortable on credit as it was known that the Duchess of Northumberland had named him for a large sum in her will, and it was expected that her Grace's decease would free him from all his liabilities.

Now, Parsons had been disinherited once—by his uncle, Captain Dutton, of Epsom—and that ought to have been a warning to him, but he never learned even from his misfortunes, and he was destined to receive nothing from his aunt.

It all came about owing to the sudden necessity for him to pay a visit abroad. London was swarming with his creditors, and to avoid them he went to Jamaica. But money was scarce there, too, and he found the local traders had a not unnatural preference for cash when it came to bargaining, and Parsons accordingly forged a letter, purporting to be signed by his aunt, guaranteeing to be responsible for any sum up to seventy pounds which her nephew might borrow.

When he had raised the sum mentioned, Parsons decamped, and some time afterwards the duchess was rendered furious by a demand from the Jamaican merchant for repayment. She disowned the forgery at once, and cut Parsons' name out of her will. She had intended to bequeath him twenty-five thousand pounds, and now she transferred the legacy to his sister, well aware that her family would take every precaution to prevent the "black sheep" touching any of it.

But the disinherited rascal was unperturbed, and it seemed that he had checkmated misfortune when he met and married within a very short time a young lady with a fortune in her own right of twelve thousand pounds, with more to come.

The newly-married couple set up in a luxuriously-furnished house in Poland Street, in the West End of London, and Parsons, anxious to obtain a better standing in society, purchased a commission in a crack regiment. He did not, however, lose his fondness for the gaming-tables, and when his wife let him have four thousand pounds he gaily informed her a fortnight afterwards that he was without a penny. She came to the rescue by allowing him to mortgage her securities, which he did thoroughly, actually raising money twice on the same documents.

Parsons had purchased a commission in the army without any intention of ever doing any fighting, but greatly to his annoyance his regiment was ordered to Flanders, where there was every chance of his making the acquaintance of powder and shot. His family were delighted, hoping that active service would "steady" him. But the seasoned criminal disappointed them again, and in Flanders he perpetrated frauds specially suited to the situation he found himself in.

When it was necessary to reclothe the whole of his regiment, Parsons was fortunate enough to secure the contract, and on behalf of the regiment he bought a great quantity of cloth. By some means he managed to get it all to London, and there he disposed of it at about half the rate he had bought it at, and in a few days had spent all the money in riotous living.

This offence was, however, of too serious a nature to pass unnoticed, and in due course it was reported to the Commander-in-Chief. The Duke of Cumberland, who was then the head of the British Army, dismissed him from the service and confiscated the sum of money he had paid for his commission, ordering it to be devoted to replacing part of the losses sustained by his innumerable frauds.

It is astonishing that more drastic measures were not adopted, but no doubt the wealthy and powerful Northumberland family brought all their influence to bear. Besides, Sir William Parsons, the thief's father, was well known in Court circles, and it may have been that it was on his account that the career of his son was not brought to a swift conclusion at the hands of the common hangman.

Now that he was a cashiered officer he could no longer, of course, associate with decent people. His companions from henceforth were dishonest servants and professional criminals. The lowest class gambling-houses began to know him well, and he was addressed affectionately by individuals who would not have been tolerated by his father's domestics.

Mrs. Parsons had not unnaturally returned home to her parents, who had informed her husband that if he attempted to molest her they would shoot him like a dog, and, as Parsons knew that there was no more money to be had from her, he was only too glad to be saved the trouble and expense of keeping her.

But he was not the man to live meanly, and he formed many plans, the success of which would set him up again as a gentleman of means and leisure. Every decent door was closed against him, and he had to depend now wholly and solely on fraud to provide him with food and shelter.

Parsons took another house and furnished it entirely on credit. The plate was massive and costly, and of such value that the goldsmith who supplied it was the first of the tradesmen to get anxious about the payment of his account. But when, shortly after delivering it, he nervously called at the house in Panton Square, he was surprised to find it uninhabited. There was no sign of life about it, and inquiries confirmed his impression that the owner had gone away for a time. But he could see that the furniture remained, and, therefore, he was not greatly perturbed. The gentry were fond of going into the country, and as Parsons had boasted of his estate in Nottinghamshire the goldsmith returned to his shop satisfied that he would be paid one day.

Other creditors rang at the front door, and failed to gain admission, and when their suspicions were aroused they kept a watch on the house, but they never caught a glimpse of their debtor. Yet Parsons was actually living there. He used to enter and leave by a small door in the stable-yard, and he seldom went out unprovided with a piece of plate or some other portable article which was destined to find its way into a pawnbroker's shop.

The comedy was brought to a sudden termination by the impatience of the landlord, who was desirous of seeing his rent. The law, which kept the other creditors at bay, permitted him to force an entrance, but when he did he discovered that he was too late. Parsons had disposed of the furniture, leaving only the heavy curtains to act—in every sense of the word—as a blind. The creditors never received a single penny.

By now Parsons had a friend, a certain man named Wilson, who had been a footman until dishonesty led to his dismissal. Wilson had served for some years in a family of position, and he had managed to pick up some of their mannerisms, which he imagined justified him in thinking that he could pose as a gentleman himself. He was tall and good-looking, and could talk glibly of several well-known personages as though they were personal friends, whereas the truth was that he had only waited on them.

In conjunction with this scoundrel, Parsons devised a scheme whereby he would be able to recover some of the twenty-five thousand pounds which he had lost by the forgery of his aunt's name. The money was now bound to come to his sister, who was generally referred to as the "wealthy Miss Parsons," and, as at the time we are speaking of marriage gave the husband instant possession of his wife's fortune, Parsons suggested that Wilson should carry off his sister, forcibly marry her, and then pay over ten thousand pounds of his wife's fortune to him.

It was a pretty idea, and the ex-footman entered into it with enthusiasm. He knew that Miss Parsons' entire fortune was considerably more than twenty-five thousand pounds, and he would have paid double William Parsons' commission if the latter had insisted on more generous terms.

The preliminary plans were settled in an old public-house in the Haymarket, not far from the lodgings occupied by the girl, who did not suspect that her own brother wished to sell her to a debased ruffian. Elopements were common enough in those days, and the forcible abduction of an heiress was considered legitimate sport in certain circles. William knew his sister's movements, and there seemed no reason to fear failure when he bought over Miss Parsons' maid with a promise to pay her five hundred pounds when the marriage had taken place. The sum offered was an immense fortune to a lady's maid, and she eagerly accepted the bribe.

All that remained now was to hire the coach and the swiftest horses, arrange for the unscrupulous clergyman to be ready at an out-of-the-way spot, and then to take the unsuspecting girl to her doom.

From first to last Parsons exhibited much cunning in this affair, and had it not been for the carelessness of his confederate his plan might have succeeded.

But Wilson lost his head when Parsons persuaded him to believe that marriage to his wealthy sister was certain. The ex-footman could not keep his mouth closed, and he drew attention to himself by his extravagant purchases for the great event. He was buying half a dozen expensive "ruffled shirts" in a West End shop one day when, in the presence of several customers, he boasted of his forthcoming marriage to "the great heiress, Miss Parsons."

The small audience stared when they heard this, and envied the well-dressed "gentleman" his good fortune, but, unhappily for him, just as he was speaking a lady had entered who knew him. She overheard his reference to Miss Parsons, and she glanced at him with more than ordinary interest. Great was her astonishment when she recognized her ex-footman, Wilson, the man she had discharged for dishonesty.

Steps were instantly taken to acquaint Miss Parsons with the statements Wilson was making about her, and she thought it prudent to change her lodgings, and to hire an ex-pugilist to follow and protect her wherever she went. But there was no danger from the moment Wilson had made that very stupid and incautious remark for the conspirators got frightened and separated, though not before Parsons had savagely attacked Wilson for his indiscretion. The result of the attack was the disfigurement of the footman's face for the rest of his life.

Although he was now always short of ready money, Parsons took good care to see that his wardrobe was in first-rate condition. He never dressed shabbily, always appearing as a man of fashion. London, however, was not so remunerative as it had been: his character was too well known, and the set he mixed in was too poor to be worth the robbing. He, therefore, decided on a sort of provincial tour, and he went down to Bath with the intention of finding a vain and silly girl with money, who would be attracted by his appearance and his titled relations.

The baronet's son speedily found a victim in the daughter of a well-to-do doctor. He represented himself to be a bachelor—of course, the truth was that his wife was still alive—anxious to marry and settle down in quiet luxury, as befitted his birth. The girl readily responded to his honeyed words, and in her father's house the engagement took place, and was approved of by the doctor, who had heard of Sir William Parsons, Bart., of Nottingham.

Parsons began to borrow. In hundreds at first and then in thousands, and very soon the girl's private fortune of three thousand pounds, which she had inherited from her mother, had been lent to Parsons, and lost by him in the gaming-houses.

Her father advanced more, and when he had drained the family dry Parsons announced that he was called away to see his father to arrange for his marriage, and he took his departure from Bath with the cordial good wishes of the doctor and his daughter, who were destined neither to see him nor their money again.

From Bath he went to Clifton. It was then a small village where a few of the wealthy Bristol merchants had country-houses. He arrived in the early summer, and speedily got an introduction to a rich shipowner who had two daughters. Parsons discovered that the two girls were wildly jealous of each other, and he thereupon made each one the object of his attentions without letting either know that she had a rival. There was plenty of money in the family, but on the first occasion Parsons delicately hinted that a loan of two hundred pounds would be acceptable the hard-headed old merchant only advised him to write to his father, offering to bear the expense of the communication.

This was not what Parsons wanted, and he determined to use the girls to extract the money from their father, whom he termed "the old miser." Accordingly, he took the elder girl out for a walk, and boldly explained that he was temporarily without means owing to a family lawsuit, and he hinted that if she wished to marry him she must help to relieve his pecuniary embarrassment. The girl promised to do her best, and, confident that she would keep her promise not to divulge to her father or sister what he had said, he met the younger girl, and put his situation before her in similar terms.

A few days later he found that the two girls were actually vying with one another as to which of them could find the most money for her lover, unaware that they were both referring to the same individual.

By some extraordinary means they got over five thousand pounds for him, and Parsons supplemented it with a forged order purporting to be signed by the girl's father, ordering his manager to pay the bearer a thousand pounds. Parsons presented the order in person, received the money, packed his belongings, and the same night left for London. When the fraud was discovered the old man was for instant exposure, but on reflection, and persuaded by his daughters, he decided that the disgrace and ridicule that would follow for them when Parsons was arrested was too big a price to pay for revenge, and they never published the story of their foolishness and gullibility. But Parsons' end was approaching. His good fortune could not last for ever, and he met his match in a country girl, who resented his advances after she had found him with another woman and refused to act as his accomplice in the passing of counterfeit banknotes. She denounced him in a temper, and he was arrested. It was characteristic of the fellow that when in prison awaiting trial he should rob a fellow-prisoner of his small stock of cash.

For the offence of possessing imitation banknotes Parsons was transported, but he managed to earn the good graces of the governor of the colony whither he was sent, and he was back again in England within two years, paying the expenses of his journey by an audacious robbery at the expense of the official who had sheltered him in his house.

And now having tried nearly every variety and form of crime, and being without funds, Parsons turned highwayman as a last desperate resource.

It was the most precarious of all professions, but there was ever the temptation of netting a large sum of money. His first essay resulted in a gain of about eighty pounds, and his second ten pounds less. The money was not much use to Parsons, and he would have abandoned the profession there and then had he not heard that a certain nobleman intended to carry a thousand pounds from London to a house a few miles to the north of Turnham Green.

Parsons resolved to waylay the coach and capture the money, but his plans were upset by his own arrest, and after five months in prison at Newgate he was executed on February 11th, 1750, the king rejecting a petition presented to him by the prisoner's powerful and influential relations.