Lives Of The Most Remarkable Criminals
Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals is a true crime podcast unlike any other; because every word of it was written nearly 300 years ago.
Each week, we read aloud one chapter from a remarkable book first published in London in 1735: a sprawling collection of murderers, highwaymen, coiners, housebreakers, pirates and worse, recorded in vivid and unsparing detail.
The crimes are real. The voices are authentic. And the world they reveal, brutal, strange, and surprisingly familiar, has been waiting three centuries to be heard again. True crime did not begin with podcasts. It began here by the burning light of a candle.
Lives Of The Most Remarkable Criminals
Episode 002: John Trippuck: The Golden Tinman's Highway Robberies
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They call him the Golden Tinman; a man who robs alone and in company, whose scarred body carries the evidence of musket balls extracted from his flesh, and whose notoriety across the roads of early Georgian England is already the stuff of grim legend. In the pages of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, John Trippuck stands as one of four men whose intertwined stories form a single devastating chapter of true crime from 1720: a highwayman, a footpad, a thief, and a housebreaker, each pulled toward ruin by separate hungers.
Trippuck is a man who has already bought his way out of justice once, a seasoned offender who believes that money and connections can always purchase one more reprieve. Alongside him are Richard Cane, barely twenty-two and desperate enough to rob a drunk stranger for the price of a marriage licence; Richard Shepherd, a ruined Oxford apprentice drawn into housebreaking by bad company; and Thomas Charnock, a well-educated young man who plunders his own master's counting-house in pursuit of appearances.
Four lives, four roads to the same destination; the weight of Georgian justice gathers around each of them with quiet, inescapable patience.
Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.
The past speaks its own dialect; here is what to listen for in this episode.
The Golden Tinman: a nickname modelled on the earlier 'Golden Farmer,' another notorious highwayman. In this era, such colourful aliases clung to criminals the way tabloid headlines cling to them today; they made a man famous and marked him for capture in the same breath.
The Ordinary: not an adjective here but a title. The Ordinary of Newgate was the prison chaplain, tasked with coaxing condemned prisoners toward repentance and extracting confessions before they swung. He published those confessions for profit; part priest, part journalist, part grief counsellor.
Footpad: a robber who works on foot rather than on horseback. Where a highwayman has a certain dark glamour, galloping in on a mount, the footpad lurks in alleys and side streets; he is the mugging to the highwayman's armed holdup.
Cast: to be 'cast' in a court of law means to be found guilty. Today we cast votes, cast fishing lines, cast actors; in the eighteenth century, a jury could cast a man straight to the gallows with a single word.
Fuddled: drunk. A wonderfully soft word for a state that left its victim vulnerable to robbery in the dark streets of Georgian London. To be fuddled was to be confused with drink; a fuddled man on a dark lane was easy prey.
Prithee: a contraction of 'I pray thee,' meaning 'please' or 'I beg you.' Trippuck uses it with the prison chaplain; even a condemned highwayman remembers his manners when he wants a favour.
Impeaching: today impeachment is a political process, but in the criminal underworld of the 1700s, to impeach meant to inform on your accomplices in exchange for your own freedom. Richard Shepherd uses it as a survival tool; betrayal dressed up as cooperation with the law.
Facts: in eighteenth century legal language, a 'fact' is a criminal act or deed. When the text says Shepherd 'committed several facts,' it does not mean he stated truths; it means he committed several crimes. The word sounds innocent today, which makes its old meaning land with a quiet shock.
Turned off: the moment when the cart or platform beneath a condemned prisoner is pulled away, leaving them hanging. A chillingly casual phrase for a final, irreversible act.
About This Series
Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals is one of the earliest works of true crime writing in the English language, nearly 300 years old, covering murderers, thieves, highwaymen, forgers, coiners and worse.
The book is entirely in the public domain and every word of it can be read today for free. But if you would rather listen, this podcast does exactly that: one criminal at a time, every week, read aloud.
True crime was not invented by podcasts or streaming services. Eighteenth century readers were just as fascinated by outlaws and killers as we are today. They just consumed their dark stories by candlelight.
The voice you hear is David Dark: crime researcher, theatre script writer, producer of live immersive experiences, and audiobook narrator and voice artist. This podcast uses an AI voice model trained on David's own voice, built using the maximum available training data to faithfully represent how he actually sounds. To hear David's real voice in human generated form, visit him on Audible, Online Stage, Voices of Today, Spoken Realms, and Internet Archive.
This is a Dark Stories presentation of the lives of the most remarkable criminals who have been condemned and executed for murder, highway robbery, housebreaking, street mugging, forgery, or other offences. Collected from original papers and authentic memoirs and published in 1735, edited by Arthur Alt Ul Haywood. Episode two John Tripuck The Golden Tinman's Highway Robberies The first of these offenders had been an old sinner, and I suppose had acquired the nickname of the Golden Tinman, as a former practitioner in the same wretched calling did that of the Golden Farmer. Tripuck had robbed alone and in company for a considerable space, till his character was grown so notorious that some short time before, his being taken for the last offence, he had by dint of money and interest procured a pardon. However, venturing on the deed which brought him to his death, the person injured soon seized him, and being inexorable in his prosecution, Tripp was cast and received sentence. However, having still some money, he did not lose all hope of a reprieve, but kept up his spirits by flattering himself with his life being preserved, till within a very few days of the execution. If the ordinary spoke to him of the affairs of the soul, Tripp immediately cut him short with Do you believe I can obtain a pardon? I don't know that, indeed, says the doctor. But you know one counsellor, such a one, says Tripp, Prithy make use of your interest with him, and see whether you can get him to serve me. I'll not be ungrateful, doctor. The ordinary was almost at his wit's end with this sort of cross purposes, however, he went on to exhort him to think of the great work he had to do, and entreated him to consider the nature of that repentance which must atone for all his numerous offences. Upon this, Tripuck opened his breast and showed him a great number of scars, amongst which were two very large ones, out of which he said two musket bullets had been extracted. And will not these, good doctor, quoth he, and the vast pains I have endured in their cure, in some sort lessen the heinousness of the facts I may have committed? No, said the ordinary, what evils have fallen upon you in such expeditions you have drawn upon yourself, and do not imagine that these will in any degree make amends for the multitude of your offences. You had much better clear your conscience by a full and ingenious confession of your crimes, and prepare in earnest for another world, since I dare assure you, you need entertain no hopes of staying in this. As soon as he found the ordinary was in the right, and that all expectation of a reprieve or pardon were totally in vain, Trippach began, as most of those sort of people do, to lose much of that stubbornness they mistake for courage. He now felt all the terrors of an awakened conscience and persisted no longer in denying the crime for which he died, though at first he declared it altogether a falsehood. As is customary when persons are under their misfortune, it had been reported that this Tripuck was the man who killed Mr Hall towards the end of the summer before on Blackheath, but when the story reached the Golden Tinman's ears, he declared it was an utter falsity. Repeating this assertion to the ordinary a few moments before his being turned off, and pointing to the rope about him, he said, As you see this instrument of death about me, what I say is the real truth. He died with all outward signs of penitence. Richard Cain was a young man of about twenty two years of age, at the time he suffered. Having a tolerable genius when a youth, his friends put him apprentice twice, but to no purpose, for having got rambling notions in his head, he would needs go to sea. There, but for his unhappy temper, he might have done well, for the ship of war in which he sailed was so fortunate as to take, after eight hours sharp engagement, a Spanish vessel of immense value, but the share he got did him little service. As soon as he came home, Richard made a quick hand of it, and when the usual train of sensual delights which pass for pleasures in low life had exhausted him to the last farthing, necessity and the desire of still indulging his vices made him fall into the worst and most unlawful methods to obtain the means which they might procure them. Sometime after this the unhappy man of whom we are speaking fell in love with an honest, virtuous young woman, who lived with her mother, a poor, well meaning creature, utterly ignorant of Caine's behaviour, or that he had ever committed any crimes punishable by law. The girl yielded quickly to a marriage which was to be consummated privately, because Caine's relations were not to be disobliged, but the unhappy youth not having enough money to procure a license, and being ashamed to put the expense on the woman and her mother, in a fit of amorous distraction, went out from them one evening, and meeting a man somewhat fuddled in the street, threw him down and took away his hat and coat. The fellow was not so drunk but that he cried out, and people coming to his assistance, Caney was immediately apprehended, and so this fact, instead of raising him money enough to be married, brought him to death in this ignominious way. While he lay in Newgate, the miserable young creature who was to have been his wife came constantly to cry with him and deplore their mutual misfortunes, which were increased by the girl's mother falling sick and being confined to her bed through grief for her designed son in law's fate. When the day of his suffering drew on, this unhappy man composed himself to submit to it with great serenity. He professed abundance of contrition for the wickedness of his former life, and lamented with much tenderness those evils he had brought upon the girl and her mother. He left this paper behind him, which he spoke at the tree. Good people, the law having justly condemned me for my offence to suffer in this shameful manner, I thought it might be expected that I should say something here of the crime for which I die, the commission of which I do readily acknowledge. I own I have been guilty of much wickedness, and am exceedingly troubled at the reflection it may bring upon my relations, who are all honest and reputable people. As I die for the offences I have done, and die in charity for giving all the world, so I hope none will be so cruel as to pursue my memory with disgrace or insult an unhappy young woman on my account, whose character I must vindicate with my last breath, as all the justice I am able to do her. I die in the communion of the Church of England, and humbly request your prayers for my departing soul. Richard Shepherd was born of very honest and reputable parents in the city of Oxford, who were careful in giving him a suitable education. When he grew a tolerable big lad, his friends put him out as apprentice to a butcher, where having served a great part of his time, he fell in love with a young country lass hard by, and they were married before his time was out. His master discovering this wedding gave the poor fellow so much trouble that he was at last forced to give him forty shillings down and a bond for twenty eight pounds more. This having totally ruined him, Dick unhappily fell into the way of dishonest company, who soon drew him into their ways of gaining money at the hazard of his conscience and his neck. When he first began his robberies he went housebreaking, and actually committed several facts in the city of Oxford itself. Being grievously pinched with cold one night he was detected, seized, and at the next ascises capitally convicted, but out of compassion to his youth, his friends procured him first a reprieve and then a pardon. But this proximity to death made little impression on his heart, and Dick went again upon the old trade. He soon after fell again into the hands of justice, from whence he escaped by impeaching Allen and Chambers, two of his accomplices, yet as soon as he was at home, so soon to work he went in his old way, till apprehended and executed for his wickedness. While in Newgate, Shepherd had picked up a thoughtless resolution as to dying, not uncommon to those malefactors who, having been often condemned, go at last hardened to the gallows. When he was exhorted to think seriously of making his peace with God, he replied it was done, and he was sure of going to heaven. With these was also executed Thomas Charnock, a young man well and religiously educated. By his friends he had been placed in the house of a very eminent trader, and being seduced by ill company, yielded to the desire of making a show in the world, in order to do so. He robbed his master's counting house, which fact made him indeed conspicuous, but in a very different manner from what he had flattered himself with.