Cases of theft at Great Linford
A highwayman calls at Great Linford
The Highwayman is that most romantic of villains, astride a powerful horse, identity hidden behind a kerchief, his victims rich men and swooning women accosted on the road in the middle of dark and stormy nights. Unfortunately Great Linford has no Highwayman to call its own, though one could perhaps imagine a mysterious stranger appearing at the Nag’s Head one evening and downing a pint with one furtive eye on the door.
There is though one thrilling account which places a genuine highwayman in the village. We have no name for him, but he was described as a short man, about 23 years of age and wearing a light coloured lapelled coat, breeches very much torn, and old shoes tied with strings; far then from the dashing figure imagined in popular literature.
The robbing spree that brought him to Great Linford is well documented by the Northampton Mercury of Saturday November 11, 1797. The story begins with a robbery on the road to Beachampton, in which a Reverend Gardiner was waylaid and relieved of his money, though the highwayman seems to have operated a curiously considerate code of conduct, as he returned the Reverend’s watch, having been told by his victim that it was a family heirloom and of little value. That same evening, an attorney by the name of Garrard met the same highwayman on his way from Newport Pagnell to Stony Stratford, but having heard there was a thief about he had taken the sensible precaution of leaving all of his money with Mr Higgins at the Swan Inn, except for a single guinea which was duly purloined. The highwayman also took his watch, but was persuaded not to take a pocket-book, which he was assured contained nothing except memorandums. Oddly, the highwayman seemed moved to try and explain his actions, stating he was much distressed and had a large family, and if his victim would tell him where he lived, he would consider sending him his watch later. There is no record to say if Mr Higgins considered telling a highwayman where he lived a good idea or not, or if he got his watch back.
A suspicious man was sighted at two taverns the next day, the White Hart at Towester and another on the Daventry road. At about 5pm, he stopped a carriage some two miles outside Stony Stratford, robbing three ladies of all their money. His depredations continued, his victims including the member of parliament for Tamworth Robert Peel and his wife (his son would be twice prime minister), making off with their money and gold watches. He certainly seems to have had an eye for a wealthy victim, as next to meet him was Sir John Leicester, who was travelling in a post-chaise, a large enclosed 4 wheeled carriage, but the driver threatened to run over him and won his way past unmolested. Not long after, a second Chaise appeared and was stopped, but on learning it contained the servants of Sir John, the Highwayman let them go; an indication that he was exercising some scruples as regards to his targets.
On the night of Saturday November 4th, the highwayman was at Great Linford, where he left behind his horse and stole a fresh one. The same issue of the Northampton Mercury that reported on his crimes also carried an advert placed by the Great Linford village constable.
There is though one thrilling account which places a genuine highwayman in the village. We have no name for him, but he was described as a short man, about 23 years of age and wearing a light coloured lapelled coat, breeches very much torn, and old shoes tied with strings; far then from the dashing figure imagined in popular literature.
The robbing spree that brought him to Great Linford is well documented by the Northampton Mercury of Saturday November 11, 1797. The story begins with a robbery on the road to Beachampton, in which a Reverend Gardiner was waylaid and relieved of his money, though the highwayman seems to have operated a curiously considerate code of conduct, as he returned the Reverend’s watch, having been told by his victim that it was a family heirloom and of little value. That same evening, an attorney by the name of Garrard met the same highwayman on his way from Newport Pagnell to Stony Stratford, but having heard there was a thief about he had taken the sensible precaution of leaving all of his money with Mr Higgins at the Swan Inn, except for a single guinea which was duly purloined. The highwayman also took his watch, but was persuaded not to take a pocket-book, which he was assured contained nothing except memorandums. Oddly, the highwayman seemed moved to try and explain his actions, stating he was much distressed and had a large family, and if his victim would tell him where he lived, he would consider sending him his watch later. There is no record to say if Mr Higgins considered telling a highwayman where he lived a good idea or not, or if he got his watch back.
A suspicious man was sighted at two taverns the next day, the White Hart at Towester and another on the Daventry road. At about 5pm, he stopped a carriage some two miles outside Stony Stratford, robbing three ladies of all their money. His depredations continued, his victims including the member of parliament for Tamworth Robert Peel and his wife (his son would be twice prime minister), making off with their money and gold watches. He certainly seems to have had an eye for a wealthy victim, as next to meet him was Sir John Leicester, who was travelling in a post-chaise, a large enclosed 4 wheeled carriage, but the driver threatened to run over him and won his way past unmolested. Not long after, a second Chaise appeared and was stopped, but on learning it contained the servants of Sir John, the Highwayman let them go; an indication that he was exercising some scruples as regards to his targets.
On the night of Saturday November 4th, the highwayman was at Great Linford, where he left behind his horse and stole a fresh one. The same issue of the Northampton Mercury that reported on his crimes also carried an advert placed by the Great Linford village constable.
GREAT-LINFORD, Nov. 10, 1797
SUPPOSED to be left by a Highwayman, at Mr Robe’s, in GREAT-LINFORD, near NEWPORT PAGNELL, Bucks, on Saturday Night last.
A Dark Bay HORSE, aged, blind of the off Eye, a Star in the forehead, has a broad Snip on the nostril, a little White on the off leg behind, and stands about fifteen Hands high.
The Owner by applying to Mr. Robe may have him again.
N.B. If not owned in fourteen Days from the Date hereof, he will be sold to defray Expense.
Having stolen a horse, the Highwayman found himself pursued near Lathbury, and abandoning his horse (which was later identified as the one stolen at Great Linford) jumped into the river Ouse and swam across to elude his pursuer. After begging some dry clothes from a nearby householder, he was briefly spotted at Cosgrove, but then appears to have melted away, never to be seen again.
A theft of Iron Bars on the canal at Great Linford
On the 26th of April 1825, James Rutledge and Benjamin Stokes stole 4 bars of “foreign iron” from a barge at Great Linford, valued at £1. How these two came to conspire together is a mystery; Stokes was the steerer on the barge, Rutledge a servant by occupation whose house was reported to have adjoined the canal. Perhaps they met in the Wharf Inn and hatched their plan; it hardly seems likely that purloining heavy bars of iron reportedly weighing a total of 207Ibs would be a spur of the moment opportunist crime by men who were strangers to each other. The partners in crime must have also thought no one would notice the absence of 4 bars from a load of 320, the property of Stokes’ employer Moses Robinson, but unfortunately for them, the discrepancy was noted on arrival of the barge at its destination, and worse still there was a witness found to the crime.
The cargo had departed the City Road Wharf at Islington on April 19th, destined for Congreve near Birmingham. On the day of the theft Stokes was seen by the witness, a William Hutchins, removing the bars from the barge and passing them to Rutledge, who was then seen to take them in through his back door. This raises the interesting question of where exactly the theft took place? As a servant, we can reasonably presume that he was living in his master’s house, but the wording of the newspaper report on the crime makes no mention of his occupation (which we find from a subsequent plea for clemency) and the dwelling is described as “his house.” There were very few houses in such close proximity to the canal as implied by the newspaper account, so the only likely candidates are the Black Horse Inn or the Inn and houses by the wharf. We also know from the newspaper report that there was a stable attached to the house, as when the long arm of the law caught up with Rutledge, a search uncovered the bars there, hidden beneath a covering of straw. It was an open and shut case, and at the Summer Assizes held July 16th, 1825, both were duly sentenced to 7 years transportation.
Penal transportation was the infamously harsh practice of shipping criminals to far flung and inhospitable corners of the empire, most famously Australia. It was seen as a horrifying deterrent to criminal activity, with the outward voyage in cramped unhygienic conditions arguably as bad as the exile. But a sentence did not always translate into an actual voyage, as prisoners could appeal. Both Rutledge and Stokes duly did so. The record shows that Rutledge (spelt Ratledge) had obtained a character reference from Gowen Evans, the curate of Towcester (strongly suggesting he had a connection to that parish), two previous employers and 48 other Buckinghamshire residents. An impressive tally, and so with these in hand, on August 14th, 1825, he threw himself upon the mercy of the courts, stating in his grounds for clemency that, “He is sorry for what he has done” and “has an excellent character.”
On the same day as Rutledge, Benjamin Stokes also appealed, with a letter of good conduct from his jailor and testimony from 31 other persons including Birmingham tradesmen as to his own good character. His petition for clemency also stated he had a “wife and two small children to support.”
Luckily we can follow the paper trail and confirm that both men succeeded, with their sentences duly commuted to imprisonment, whereupon both men were transferred from Aylesbury gaol to Millbank in London! Here from their admission record we learn some additional fascinating details. Rutledge is 37 years of age and his parish listed as Paulerspury in Northamptonshire, so we now have an idea of where he came from prior to his residence at Great Linford. The record also gives us some particulars as to his appearance. He was 5 foot 6 inches tall, his hair was dark brown, his complexion swarthy and his eyes grey. A particular fine detail is provided as to his identifying marks, which describes, “a scar from the cut of a sickle on the top of his left shoulder.” We also learn that James has a wife and one child; why he failed to mention them in his appeal for clemency seems an odd omission. The sentence remains 7 years, with both men arriving at the prison on September 5th 1825.
It must have been a wrench for James to find himself so far from home, but just 4 years later there is good news; he is to be pardoned, as detailed in a letter dated September 24th, 1829, that appears to have been written by two times British Prime minister Robert Peel.
So James was a free man, but can we find anything more about him? A Sarah Ratlidge, the child of a James and Mary, was baptised at Great Linford on March 3rd, 1825. This seems a very good fit, though adds an extra layer of tragedy to the situation, as it means James had left his wife with a babe in arms; it might even give us a motive for his crime if finances were tight after the birth of the child.
But what about after his release? Did he return to Great Linford? The answer seems to be no. Though the name Ratlidge and various alternative spellings make sporadic appearances in the records, there is no further sign of James in Great Linford, but there is a plausible candidate to be found in nearby Stony Stratford. Here on the 1841 census we find a James, Mary and Sarah Ratledge, of the right matching ages to be our family. James is a labourer, with the trio living in the home of a Watch Maker (presumably as lodgers) named William Rowland. James, now widowed, is still in Stony Stratford in 1851, running a boarding house. From this census we learn the additional detail that he was born in Syresham, Northamptonshire, allowing us to pinpoint a likely baptism on January 22nd, 1786, from which we learn his parents were a Johnathan and Hannah. Unfortunately, his story does not have an ending, as no record of a death has been located, though his daughter Sarah did marry and passed away in 1895 in Luton.
The cargo had departed the City Road Wharf at Islington on April 19th, destined for Congreve near Birmingham. On the day of the theft Stokes was seen by the witness, a William Hutchins, removing the bars from the barge and passing them to Rutledge, who was then seen to take them in through his back door. This raises the interesting question of where exactly the theft took place? As a servant, we can reasonably presume that he was living in his master’s house, but the wording of the newspaper report on the crime makes no mention of his occupation (which we find from a subsequent plea for clemency) and the dwelling is described as “his house.” There were very few houses in such close proximity to the canal as implied by the newspaper account, so the only likely candidates are the Black Horse Inn or the Inn and houses by the wharf. We also know from the newspaper report that there was a stable attached to the house, as when the long arm of the law caught up with Rutledge, a search uncovered the bars there, hidden beneath a covering of straw. It was an open and shut case, and at the Summer Assizes held July 16th, 1825, both were duly sentenced to 7 years transportation.
Penal transportation was the infamously harsh practice of shipping criminals to far flung and inhospitable corners of the empire, most famously Australia. It was seen as a horrifying deterrent to criminal activity, with the outward voyage in cramped unhygienic conditions arguably as bad as the exile. But a sentence did not always translate into an actual voyage, as prisoners could appeal. Both Rutledge and Stokes duly did so. The record shows that Rutledge (spelt Ratledge) had obtained a character reference from Gowen Evans, the curate of Towcester (strongly suggesting he had a connection to that parish), two previous employers and 48 other Buckinghamshire residents. An impressive tally, and so with these in hand, on August 14th, 1825, he threw himself upon the mercy of the courts, stating in his grounds for clemency that, “He is sorry for what he has done” and “has an excellent character.”
On the same day as Rutledge, Benjamin Stokes also appealed, with a letter of good conduct from his jailor and testimony from 31 other persons including Birmingham tradesmen as to his own good character. His petition for clemency also stated he had a “wife and two small children to support.”
Luckily we can follow the paper trail and confirm that both men succeeded, with their sentences duly commuted to imprisonment, whereupon both men were transferred from Aylesbury gaol to Millbank in London! Here from their admission record we learn some additional fascinating details. Rutledge is 37 years of age and his parish listed as Paulerspury in Northamptonshire, so we now have an idea of where he came from prior to his residence at Great Linford. The record also gives us some particulars as to his appearance. He was 5 foot 6 inches tall, his hair was dark brown, his complexion swarthy and his eyes grey. A particular fine detail is provided as to his identifying marks, which describes, “a scar from the cut of a sickle on the top of his left shoulder.” We also learn that James has a wife and one child; why he failed to mention them in his appeal for clemency seems an odd omission. The sentence remains 7 years, with both men arriving at the prison on September 5th 1825.
It must have been a wrench for James to find himself so far from home, but just 4 years later there is good news; he is to be pardoned, as detailed in a letter dated September 24th, 1829, that appears to have been written by two times British Prime minister Robert Peel.
So James was a free man, but can we find anything more about him? A Sarah Ratlidge, the child of a James and Mary, was baptised at Great Linford on March 3rd, 1825. This seems a very good fit, though adds an extra layer of tragedy to the situation, as it means James had left his wife with a babe in arms; it might even give us a motive for his crime if finances were tight after the birth of the child.
But what about after his release? Did he return to Great Linford? The answer seems to be no. Though the name Ratlidge and various alternative spellings make sporadic appearances in the records, there is no further sign of James in Great Linford, but there is a plausible candidate to be found in nearby Stony Stratford. Here on the 1841 census we find a James, Mary and Sarah Ratledge, of the right matching ages to be our family. James is a labourer, with the trio living in the home of a Watch Maker (presumably as lodgers) named William Rowland. James, now widowed, is still in Stony Stratford in 1851, running a boarding house. From this census we learn the additional detail that he was born in Syresham, Northamptonshire, allowing us to pinpoint a likely baptism on January 22nd, 1786, from which we learn his parents were a Johnathan and Hannah. Unfortunately, his story does not have an ending, as no record of a death has been located, though his daughter Sarah did marry and passed away in 1895 in Luton.
House Burglaries
Thief has it on a plate
On the 3rd of October 1848, one or more intruders broke a rear window of Glebe House on The High Street, then in the occupation of the Cape sisters and carried away a large quantity of silver plate, a ham, a half a ham, and a pig’s cheek.
An opportunist thief
On Saturday January 26th, 1889, George Richard Webster crept through a carelessly left open back door to a house at Great Linford and stole upstairs, where he helped himself to the contents of a box containing jewellery to the value of £21 and 5 shillings. The house is not identified, but the jewellery belonged to Fanny Nina Lilly Selby-Lowndes, the wife of the reverend Charles William Selby Lowndes of North Crawley. It was likely then that Fanny was visiting her parents John and Mary Clode, a prominent family in Great Linford.
Webster might have got away with it, but a servant named Lucy Adams returned to the house and heard movement upstairs. Calling out, “who’s there” and receiving no reply, she called, “Is it Mrs Lowndes”, but heard instead a man’s voice asking, “What do you want?” No doubt frightened, she stood aside as Webster came downstairs and left the house, but pursuing him outside, she called out to a man in the yard named John Jenkins that a man had been robbing the house, and after a chase he apprehended Webster, who was turned over later that day to a P.C Clift.
The trial heard that Webster had come to the house to beg, but having not received a reply, had gone upstairs to look for some money. Discovering the box, he had broken it open with a knife and pilfered the contents. All of this was admitted by Webster, who was sentenced to 8 months hard labour, the judge commenting that since he has also come before magistrates at Brackley at the last Assizes and received a sentence of 3 months for a similar offence, another run-in with the law would likely result in transportation.
The back-story to the thief is something of a mystery, but from newspaper accounts of the offence, we can piece together that he was 18 years old and a tailor by trade, so would have been born around 1871. As the name does not figure in any other records for Great Linford, we must presume he was passing through and saw an irresistible opportunity. That he had a good trade and one that would have required an apprenticeship might suggest he had fallen on hard times (we know he had claimed to be begging) and perhaps it was a moment of madness that saw him slip into the Clode’s house, but we also know that he had received at least one previous sentence for burglary, and unfortunately there is further evidence for a life of crime. 28 years later we find a George Richard Webster before a magistrate in London and sentenced to 3 years imprisonment for house breaking. Might it be the same person? Very likely, for not only does the modus operandi fit, but he is described as a tailor and his reported age at the time of the offence gives us a birth year of 1870. A man of the same name is again charged with burglary in 1920, so unfortunately it appears that George was an habitual criminal.
Raffling Ginger
The Police Gazette, sometimes also known as the Hue and Cry, was an official London publication listing wanted criminals. There seem to be few references to Great Linford, but one from February 22nd, 1855 is particularly notable due to the memorable nickname and description of the villain.
On the 3rd of October 1848, one or more intruders broke a rear window of Glebe House on The High Street, then in the occupation of the Cape sisters and carried away a large quantity of silver plate, a ham, a half a ham, and a pig’s cheek.
An opportunist thief
On Saturday January 26th, 1889, George Richard Webster crept through a carelessly left open back door to a house at Great Linford and stole upstairs, where he helped himself to the contents of a box containing jewellery to the value of £21 and 5 shillings. The house is not identified, but the jewellery belonged to Fanny Nina Lilly Selby-Lowndes, the wife of the reverend Charles William Selby Lowndes of North Crawley. It was likely then that Fanny was visiting her parents John and Mary Clode, a prominent family in Great Linford.
Webster might have got away with it, but a servant named Lucy Adams returned to the house and heard movement upstairs. Calling out, “who’s there” and receiving no reply, she called, “Is it Mrs Lowndes”, but heard instead a man’s voice asking, “What do you want?” No doubt frightened, she stood aside as Webster came downstairs and left the house, but pursuing him outside, she called out to a man in the yard named John Jenkins that a man had been robbing the house, and after a chase he apprehended Webster, who was turned over later that day to a P.C Clift.
The trial heard that Webster had come to the house to beg, but having not received a reply, had gone upstairs to look for some money. Discovering the box, he had broken it open with a knife and pilfered the contents. All of this was admitted by Webster, who was sentenced to 8 months hard labour, the judge commenting that since he has also come before magistrates at Brackley at the last Assizes and received a sentence of 3 months for a similar offence, another run-in with the law would likely result in transportation.
The back-story to the thief is something of a mystery, but from newspaper accounts of the offence, we can piece together that he was 18 years old and a tailor by trade, so would have been born around 1871. As the name does not figure in any other records for Great Linford, we must presume he was passing through and saw an irresistible opportunity. That he had a good trade and one that would have required an apprenticeship might suggest he had fallen on hard times (we know he had claimed to be begging) and perhaps it was a moment of madness that saw him slip into the Clode’s house, but we also know that he had received at least one previous sentence for burglary, and unfortunately there is further evidence for a life of crime. 28 years later we find a George Richard Webster before a magistrate in London and sentenced to 3 years imprisonment for house breaking. Might it be the same person? Very likely, for not only does the modus operandi fit, but he is described as a tailor and his reported age at the time of the offence gives us a birth year of 1870. A man of the same name is again charged with burglary in 1920, so unfortunately it appears that George was an habitual criminal.
Raffling Ginger
The Police Gazette, sometimes also known as the Hue and Cry, was an official London publication listing wanted criminals. There seem to be few references to Great Linford, but one from February 22nd, 1855 is particularly notable due to the memorable nickname and description of the villain.
Stolen from a public house, at Great Linford, Bucks, on the night of the 11th or early on the morning of the 12th instant: a moleskin Jacket; a linen Shirt; a linen Slop, same material as the shirt; a navvy's rough Slop; three plaid Pocket handkerchiefs; a pair of blue worsted Stockings; a Razor; and a short Whip, knotted, with six ferrules, the property of George Brooks. By a man, known by the name of RAFFLING GINGER, a native of Gayton, Northamptonshire, about 36 years of age, 5 feet 6 inches high, blind of left eye, mark on nose; dressed in blue guernsey frock, moleskin trousers, brown fur cap with peak tied in front with strings, and lace-up navvy boots. He is supposed to be travelling towards Yorkshire. Information to be given to Inspector Hedley, Newport Pagnell, Bucks.
Why George Brooks went by the nick-name of Raffling Ginger may be partly explained if he had ginger hair, though his description omits this detail. Raffling might derive from the Frankish word rafler, meaning to snatch, seize or carry off. George then sounds like an habitual criminal.
Some of the items he stole are also intriguing. The word Slop appears to refer to a particularly rough and ready type of apparel, originally associated with Navy issue clothing and most typically with wide baggy trousers, but by the 18th century the term had assumed a more general meaning for any kind of seaman’s clothing, not just trousers. What exactly kind of Slop that was stolen is therefore unclear, but the term “Navvy’s Slop” seems to refer to a shirt or blouse. A Navvy was someone who typically worked in Canal construction.
As to the victim, there was Brooks family in the village, with a Thomas Brooks, Grocer, living on The High Street, but he did not arrive until sometime after 1861, and the only reference to a George Brooks is a marriage to an Elizabeth Townsend in 1862. They did not seem to settle down for long in the village and appear to have emigrated to Canada.
Some of the items he stole are also intriguing. The word Slop appears to refer to a particularly rough and ready type of apparel, originally associated with Navy issue clothing and most typically with wide baggy trousers, but by the 18th century the term had assumed a more general meaning for any kind of seaman’s clothing, not just trousers. What exactly kind of Slop that was stolen is therefore unclear, but the term “Navvy’s Slop” seems to refer to a shirt or blouse. A Navvy was someone who typically worked in Canal construction.
As to the victim, there was Brooks family in the village, with a Thomas Brooks, Grocer, living on The High Street, but he did not arrive until sometime after 1861, and the only reference to a George Brooks is a marriage to an Elizabeth Townsend in 1862. They did not seem to settle down for long in the village and appear to have emigrated to Canada.
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