WHERE TURPIN OFTEN STAYED.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17881, 24 June 1926, Page 10

WHERE TURPIN OFTEN STAYED.

FAMOUS OLD INN IS TO COME DOWN. BUT DICK WAS NOT ALWAYS A ROBIN HOOD. The Two Brewers is to be torn down to make room for a modern ) hotel. Such is the word from Lon don, which adds that the inn is re puted to be at least 500 years old, and has been for 130 years in th« hands of the Sykes family. Its distinction, however, is more than mere age, reaching back to Chaucer’s period. It is noted as having been a favourite stopping place of Dick Turpin, one of the most romantic of highwaymen. Here, perhaps, from friendly hostlers, Turpin got wind of who was travelling, and where, and with how much possible loot in pocket, saddle bag, or boot of the coach. The Two Brewers lay outside of Lon- | dop when Turpin flourished in the firstthird of the eighteenth century. It is at Catford, five or six miles south-east of St Paul's. For Turpin it was a vantage point in such celebrated ex ploits as his robbery of the Dover coach. And until Turpin was hanged at York, May 7, 1739, the traveller of the time who had not had a glimpse of his famous mare. Black Bess, was considered no seasoned traveller at all. Turpin’s name gave distinction to the misadventures of the road. The unfortunate who lost his valuables to an ordinary highwayman was simplv not in the swim. Perhaps that accounted for Turpin being reported in many places at once. When he stopped the coach of Mistress Bellenden one night, on Hounslow Heath, that fair lady shook her finger at him and twitted him for having missed his trick in a hold-up not long before. That affair had taken place in a suburban field. Turpin, not knowing his victim, had stopped Alexander Pope, who tossed some papers in a hedge. The robber sorted them over, and. finding nothing but words, gave them h* ac 'k- Pope, in gratitude for thus saving the manuscript of his “Essay on Man,” gave Turpin a gold chain he had overlooked, though, it is said, the chain wasn’t really gold. At least, so Mistress Bellenden told Turpin when she met him. He had the reputation of a cavalier, with a touch of Robin Hood about him, bu-t, a matter of fact, he was as tough a thug as any of his present-day successors. He had silver-mounted trappings, however, and his sword and pistol did no shame to his scarlet coat and satin waistcoat. He made a splendid figure on his black mare when he cried, “Stand and deliver!” .Tn the loginning he was only a butcher’s boy who turned hoodlum. None of his ilk has been more celebrated in song and fiction, and the glamour was laid on him early. His father, keeper of an alehouse, apprenticed him to a butcher. The boy was caught stealing cattle, and after that joirted a gang of deer poachers, and smugglers. 'I hey also had a way of robbing farmhouses and terrorising women whose menfolk were away. Turpin became a leaejer. Two of his followers were caught and hanged. THE FAMOUS RIDE TO YORK. The Dover Road, with the Two Brewers on it, was one of his favourite

fields of operation. The Old North Road, however, has been kindest to his fame, for one of its legends has attached itself to him. Dick Turpin is- the hero of the ride from London to York, a feat that perpetuates the name oi Black Bess, too. It is only fiction, however, which Harrison Ainsworth fastened on Turpin in his novel “Rookwood.” after Turpin had been dead a century. The same story was told in the time of Charles T., the hero then being John Xevison. known as Nicks, a highwavman, who rode the 190 miles from Gad's Hill to York in fifteen hours to establish an alibi. At. least, the tradition says so, but probably the origin-;! incident lies still further back in the history of the North Road. Turpin took many a bit of gold in Epping Forest, and knew every twist and turn for prowlers in the purlieus of London as well. He and Tom King worked together, so that what one missed the Other got. At times they went into London for a splurge at Vauxhall Gardens or elsewhere, eavesdropping to tales of their own prowess and' putting in a word that would make them more feared than their recent predecessors, Jack Sheppard and Jonathan Wild. They were together when their luck broke. A trap was strung, and King fell, shot by a ball from Turpin’s own pistol. Turpin got away. He disguised himself as. a gentleman, w-hich he did well, because he had had professional acquaintance with so many. Before long, however, he was captured with stolen horses, and, after a time in chains in York Castle, he was hanged. Although not the generous' fellow the romancers painted, he had a way w.tli him which he kept up even to the gallows. When he walked up the. steps of the gibbet he wore his laced coat and polished jackboots, and he wore a flower like any dandy. When they bound him he looked around at the crowd and gave himself the pleasure of a long laugh. But the hangman laughed last.