ROAD ROMANCE

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 88, 5 July 1927, Page 6

ROAD ROMANCE

A Fair Robber First Highway woman A DOUBLE LIFE In all the annals of highway robbery there is practically no detailed mention of women highwa3 r men, probably for the reason that the dress women wore during the century and a-half during which the Knight of the Road flourished, did not lend itself to athletic exercise. When a woman rode it was on a pillion as a rule, a chair strapped on the crupper of a heavy draught horse which carried double, or if she were daring enough to use the sidesaddle and manage her horse alone she was handicapped by the extraordinary length and weight of her habit, and the fact that those saddles had only two pummels, forming a crutch. She had no grip and was easily unseated by the least stumble of her mount.

The Newgate Calendar contains a number of female names of course; approximately as many women as men died at Tyburn and the other places of execution, and in Johnson’s “Lives of the l-lighwaymen” are included “The German Princess” and “Nan Hertford,” but they were not highwaywpmen—if the- word may be coined —only adventuresses. To their class belong “The Witch” and “Jenny Diver,” a very real character though immortalised by the “Beggar’s Opera,” and many another law-breaking female, but it was in the streets of the cities, not on the broad highways, these carried out their nefarious trade.

However, here is a story Johnson tells that is worth repeating, only as he gives neither names nor dates verification is impossible. Thomas Rumbold, highwayman and adventurer, was riding along a very lonely road on his way toward London when as he passed a small coppice between two hills, a well-mounted young man—as it seemed—darted from the shadow, and placing his horse across the road in truly professional manner, called to the traveller to “Stand and deliver.”

Rumbold did not retort with the phrase Tom King had used in like circumstances; instead he pretended he was fumbling in his pockets for his money and in doing so drew a pistol and fired at the robber, without effect.

“If you are for sport you shall have it,” cried the other, and drawing a pistol also fired, and wounded Rumbold slightly in the leg. The fact that they must have been at close quarters yet did so little harm is a

commentary on the pistols of the times. Before Rumbold could recover himself the stranger had cut the reins of his horse and in its terror it started at a gallop, but Rumbold turned in the saddle and emptied his second pistol at the stranger. This time the shot went home, not at the rider, but the horse fell dead, while a little later Rumbold “dismounted” —which seems be a polite way of saying he had been flung from his saddle. A Pretty Woman He was not hurt, however, so drawing his sword he ran back to where the other robber was beside the dead horse, and they fought, but Rumbold proving the better fencer the other stumbled and fell tore away the coat. intent on rifling the pockets, and then, as the stranger’s eyes opened and a very feminine exclamation fell on his ears, he made the remarkable discovery that “the young man” was an extremely pretty woman. The entire account of Rumbold’s career is devoted to stories of his gallantry with what the old writers called “the fair sex,” so he rose to the occasion and made himself so agreeable to the fainting lady that presently she invited him to her home. He accepted readily, on which she led the way into the coppice, and, passing by narrow, twisting paths between the trees, reached a very lonely house, so secluded that “the SEin had not shone on it since the Deluge.” However, it contained elegantly furnished rooms, in one of which a very excellent meal -was set before the unexpected guest, and there, when they had eaten and drunk, she told him her story. Fascinated by Weapons She was the daughter of a “sword cutler” it appeared, and from tier infancy the weapons in her father’s shop had exercised fascination for her. “I could never bear to be among the utensils of the kitchen, and was constantly in m3 7 father’s shop, and took wonderful delight in handling the warlike instruments he made. To take a sharp, well-mounted sword in my hand and brandish it was ray chief recreation.” One day a gentleman came into the shop, and by r his “postures” she decided that he was a fencing master. Daring greatly, she followed him into the street, and there overtaking him, begged him to give her lessons in swordsmanship without telling her parents. The request was astonishing from a girl of 12, but the master agreed, and after that she slipped from her home to visit his house again and again, till she “became so expert at backsword and single rapier that I no longer required his assistance, and my parents never once discovered the transaction.” While still very’ young she was mar-

ried to an innkeeper with whom she began to quarrel on their wedding day. He was a rough man, and, worse still from her point of view, he was extremely mean, and, as she rather unpleasantly put it, she “thought it inconsistent that a dunghill cock should crow over a game hen.” Perhaps as much from love of adventure as because her miserly husband kept her short of monej r , she decided to take to the road, and obtained a suit of men’s clothing and a good horse, and as lady of the inn it was easy for her to discover what travellers were well supplied with money and those who were not. It was her custom to let those she marked for her prey start on their journey, when she, in her neat printed gown, would stand at the door curtesying her farewells. As soon as they had gone she darted to this house in the wood, where she kept her disguise, donned it, mounted her horse, and was across country ready to commit her robbery some distance from her home. Daring Plans Market days were the ones on which she carried out the most dating of her plans, since then it was easy to make an excuse for her absence from horn#. Thus she led a double life, once, so she boasted, actually robbing her own husband on a dark night when he was returning with a purse of guineas. So eloquently did the lady talk that it grew late, and finally she confessed herself tired, on which it was decided that they should postpone the end of her recital until the morning, Rumbold assuring her that he was looking forward to hearing more with great eagerness. Apparently some change had taken place in her arrangements: she must have left her husband to make her regular home in the lonely house, for there she was staying that night. Unfortunately for the romance of the affair, Jtumbold had seen the beauty of the gold bracelets and brooch that she wore, and his cupidity conquered his curiosity concerning her story. Once again that very absurd proverb that there is honour among thieves was contradicted. In dead of night Rumbold, her guest, to whom she had given hospitality and trusted with her story, crept to the room where she slept, helped himself to her money and jewels, and was eff and away before morning broke, riding a horse he had found in her stable. Unfortunately no other record of that extraordinary woman remains. As for Rumbold, he was such a mean scamp it is almost pleasant to have to record that he was arrested for the robbery of a goldsmith in Lombard Street, * and duly executed at Tyburn.