of St. Sepulchre, he bid the watchman good night; and going up Holborn,
he turned down Gray's Inn Lane, and at about two in the morning, he got
into the fields near Tottenham Court Road, where he took shelter in a
cow-house, and slept soundly for about three hours. His fetters were
still on his legs, and he dreaded the approach of daylight lest he
should be discovered. His mind, however, was somewhat relieved for the
present, for at seven o'clock the rain began to fall in torrents, so
that no one ventured near his hiding-place. Night coming on, the calls
of hunger drove him to seek some refreshment, and going to Tottenham
Court Road, he ventured to purchase some bread and cheese and small-beer
at a chandler's shop. He had during the day been planning various means
to procure the release of his legs from the bondage of his chains, and
now having forty-five shillings in his possession, he attempted to
procure a hammer. His efforts, however, proved ineffectual, and he was
compelled to return to his shelter for the night. The next day brought
him no relief; and having again gone to the chandler's shop, he once
more went back to his place of concealment. The next day was Sunday, and
he now beat the basils of his irons with a stone, so that he might slip
them over his heels, but the master of the cow-house coming, interrupted
him, and demanded to know how he came there so confined by irons. The
answer given was, that he had escaped from Bridewell, where he had been
confined because he was unable to give security for the payment of a sum
of money for the maintenance of a child he had had sworn to him, and the
master of the house desiring him to be gone, then quitted him. A
shoemaker soon after coming near, Jack called him, and telling him the
same story, induced him, by a bribe of twenty shillings, to procure him
a hammer and a punch. They set to work together to remove the irons, and
his legs were at length freed from this encumbrance at about five
o'clock.
When night came on, our adventurer tied a handkerchief about his head,
tore his woollen cap in several places, and also his coat and stockings,
so as to have the appearance of a beggar; and in this condition he went
to a cellar near Charing Cross, where he supped on roast veal, and
listened to the conversation of the company, all of whom were talking of
the escape of Sheppard. On the Monday he sheltered himself at a
public-house of little trade in Rupert-street, and conversing with the
landlady about Sheppard, he told her it was impossible for him to get
out of the kingdom, and the keepers would certainly have him again in a
few days; on which the woman wished that a curse might fall on those who
should betray him.
On the next day he hired a garret in Newport Market, and soon
afterwards, dressing himself like a porter, he went to Blackfriars, to
the house of Mr. Applebee, printer of the dying speeches, and delivered
a letter, in which he ridiculed the printer and the Ordinary of Newgate,
and inclosed a communication for one of the keepers of the gaol.
Some nights after this he broke open the shop of Mr. Rawlins, a
pawnbroker, in Drury Lane, where he stole a sword, a suit of wearing
apparel, some snuff-boxes, rings, watches, and other effects to a
considerable amount; and determining to make the appearance of a
gentleman among his old acquaintance in Drury Lane and Clare Market, he
dressed himself in a suit of black and a tie-wig, wore a ruffled shirt,
a silver-hilted sword, a diamond ring, and a gold watch, and joined them
at supper, though he knew that diligent search was making after him at
that very time. On the 31st of October he dined with two women at a
public-house in Newgate-street, and about four in the afternoon they all
passed under Newgate in a hackney-coach, having first drawn up the
blinds. Going in the evening to a public-house in Maypole Alley, Clare
Market, Sheppard sent for his mother, and treated her with brandy, when
the poor woman dropped on her knees, and begged that he would
immediately retire from the kingdom. He promised to do so; but now being
grown mad from the effects of the liquor he had drunk, he wandered about
from public-house to public-house in the neighbourhood till near twelve
o'clock at night, when he was apprehended in consequence of the
information of an ale-house boy, who knew him. When taken into custody
he was quite senseless, and was conveyed to Newgate in a coach, without
being capable of making any resistance, although he had two loaded
pistols in his possession at the time. He was now lodged securely
enough; and his fame being increased by his recent exploits, he was
visited by many persons of distinction, whom he diverted by a recital of
the particulars of many robberies in which he had been concerned, but he
invariably concluded his narration by expressing a hope that his
visitors would endeavour to procure the exercise of the royal mercy in
his behalf, to which he considered that his remarkable dexterity gave
him some claim.
Having been already convicted, it was unnecessary that the forms of a
trial should be again gone through, and on the 10th of November he was
carried to the bar of the Court of King's Bench; when a record of his
conviction having been read, and an affidavit made that he was the same
person alluded to in it, sentence of death was passed upon him by Mr.
Justice Powis, and a rule of court was made for his execution on the
following Monday. He subsequently regularly attended chapel in the gaol,
and behaved there with apparent decency, but on his quitting its walls,
he did not hesitate to endeavour to prevent any seriousness among his
fellow prisoners. All his hopes were still fixed upon his being
pardoned, and even when the day of execution arrived, he did not appear
to have given over all expectations of eluding justice; for having been
furnished with a penknife, he put it in his pocket, with a view, when
the melancholy procession came opposite Little Turnstile, to have cut
the cord that bound his arms, and, throwing himself out of the cart
among the crowd, to have run through the narrow passage where the
sheriff's officers could not follow on horseback, and he had no doubt
but he should make his escape by the assistance of the mob. It was not
impossible that this scheme might have succeeded; but before Sheppard
left the press-yard, one Watson, an officer, searching his pockets,
found the knife, and was cut with it so as to occasion a great effusion
of blood. He, however, had yet a farther view to his preservation even
after execution; for he desired his acquaintance to put him into a warm
bed as soon as he should be cut down, and to try to open a vein, which
he had been told would restore him to life.
He behaved with great decency at the place of execution, and confessed
that he had committed two robberies, for which he had been tried, but
had been acquitted. His execution took place at Tyburn, on the 16th of
November, 1724, in the twenty-third year of his age. He died with
difficulty; and there were not wanting those among the crowd assembled,
who pitied him for the fate which befel him at so early a period of his
life. When he was cut down, his body was delivered over to his friends,
who carried it to a public-house in Long Acre; from which it was removed
in the evening, and buried in the church-yard of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields.
The adventures of this notorious offender excited more attention than
those of many of our most celebrated warriors. He was, for a
considerable time, the principal subject of conversation in all ranks of
society. Histories of his life issued from the press in a variety of
forms. A pantomimic entertainment was brought forward at Drury-lane
theatre, called "Harlequin Sheppard," wherein his adventures,
prison-breakings, and other extraordinary escapes, were represented; and
another dramatic work was published, as a farce of three acts, called
"The Prison-Breaker;" or, "The Adventures of John Sheppard;" and a part
of it, with songs, catches, and glees added, was performed at
Bartholomew Fair, under the title of "The Quaker's Opera."
The arts too, were busied in handing to posterity memoranda for us never
to follow the example of Jack Sheppard.
Sir James Thornhill[2], the first painter of the day, painted his
portrait, from which engravings in mezzotinto were made; and the few
still in preservation are objects of curiosity. On this subject the
following lines were written at the time:--
"Thornhill, 'tis thine to gild with fame
The obscure, and raise the humble name;
To make the form elude the grave,
And Sheppard from oblivion save.
Though life in vain the wretch implores,
An exile on the farthest shores,
Thy pencil brings a kind reprieve,
And bids the dying robber live.
This piece to latest time shall stand,
And show the wonders of thy hand:
Thus former masters graced their name,
And gave egregious robbers fame.
Apelles Alexander drew,
Cæsar is to Aurelius due;
Cromwell in Lily's works doth shine,
And Sheppard, Thornhill, lives in thine."
In modern times, the adventures of Sheppard and his contemporaries have
become even better known and more remarked, in consequence of the work
to which we have already alluded, and from which we have made an extract
which details his exploits with great exactness; but at the same time
gives to them a degree of romantic interest to which they are hardly
entitled. The _rage_ for house-breakers has become immense, and the
fortunes of the most notorious and the most successful of thieves have
been made the subject of entertainments at no fewer than six of the
London theatres.
Blewitt, whose name is mentioned in the foregoing sketch, as one of the
earliest companions of Sheppard, was eventually hanged, with others, for
the murder of a fellow named Ball, a publican and ex-thief, who lived in
the Mint, and who had provoked the anger of his murderers, by
threatening to denounce them. Their execution took place on the 12th of
April, 1726.
JONATHAN WILD.
EXECUTED FOR FELONIOUSLY CONNIVING WITH THIEVES.
The name of this most notorious offender must be familiar to all; his
arts and practices are scarcely less universally known. The power
exercised by him over thieves of all classes, and of both sexes, was so
great as that he may have been considered their chief and director, at
the same time that he did not disdain to become their coadjutor, or the
participator in the proceeds of their villany. The system which he
pursued will be sufficiently disclosed in the notices which follow of
the various transactions in which he was engaged; but it appears to have
been founded upon the principle of employing a thief so long as his
efforts proved profitable, or until their suspension should be attended
with advantage, and then of terminating his career in the most speedy
and efficacious manner, by the gallows.
The subject of this narrative was born at Wolverhampton in
Staffordshire, about the year 1682; and his parents being persons of
decent character and station, he was put to school, where he gained a
competent knowledge of the ordinary minor branches of education. At the
age of fifteen he was apprenticed to a buckle-maker, at Birmingham; and
at the age of twenty-two, his time having expired, he was united to a
young woman of respectability, whom he was well able to support by the
exercise of his trade. His wife soon afterwards presented him with a
son; but getting tired of a life of quietude, he started for London,
leaving his wife and child destitute, and soon gained fresh employment.
His disposition, however, led him into extravagances, and having
contracted some debts, he was arrested, and thrown into Wood-street
Compter, where, according to his own statement, "it was impossible but
he must, in some measure, be led into the secrets of the criminals there
under confinement, and particularly under Mr. Hitchin's management." He
remained in prison upwards of four years, and the opportunity which was
afforded him, of becoming acquainted with the persons, as well as the
practices of thieves was not lost upon him. A woman named Mary Milliner,
one of the most abandoned prostitutes and pickpockets on the town, who
was also in custody for debt, soon attracted his attention, and an
intimacy having commenced in the prison, on their discharge they lived
together as man and wife. The possession of a small sum of money having
been obtained, they opened a public-house in Cock Alley, Cripplegate;
and from the notoriety of Mrs. Milliner, and her intimate acquaintance
with the thieves of the metropolis, it soon became the resort of the
lowest of the class. While Wild was thus pursuing his course to his
pecuniary advantage, however, he lost no time in acquiring a proficiency
in all the arts of knavery; and having, with great assiduity, penetrated
into the secrets of his customers, he started as a "fence," or receiver
of stolen goods; and by this means he obtained that power, which
subsequently proved so useful to him, and so dangerous to those who
entrusted him with their secrets. He was at first at little trouble to
dispose of the articles brought to him by thieves at something less than
their real value, no law existing for the punishment of the receivers of
stolen goods; but the evil having increased at length to an enormous
degree, it was deemed expedient by the legislature to frame a law for
its suppression; and an act was therefore passed, consigning such as
should be convicted of receiving goods, knowing them to have been
stolen, to transportation for the space of fourteen years.
This was a check of no very trifling character to his proceedings, but
his imagination suggested to him a plan by which he would save himself
from all his profits being lost. He therefore called a meeting of
thieves, and observed that, if they carried their booties to such of the
pawnbrokers as were known to be not much affected by scruples of
conscience, they would scarcely receive on the property one-fourth of
the real value; and that if they were offered to strangers, either for
sale or by way of deposit, it was a chance of ten to one but the parties
offering were rendered amenable to the laws. The most industrious
thieves, he said, were now scarcely able to obtain a livelihood, and
must either submit to be half-starved, or live in great and continual
danger of Tyburn. He had, however, devised a plan for removing the
inconveniences which existed, which he would act upon most honourably,
provided they would follow his advice, and behave towards him with equal
honesty. He proposed, therefore, that when they made prize of anything,
they should deliver it to him, instead of carrying it to the pawnbroker,
saying, that he would restore the goods to the owners, by which means
greater sums might be raised, while the thieves would remain perfectly
secure from detection. This proposition was one which met with universal
approbation, and the plan was immediately carried into effect,
convenient places being established as the depositaries of the stolen
goods. The plan thus concerted, it became the business of Wild to apply
to persons who had been robbed, and pretending to be greatly concerned
at their misfortunes, to say, that some suspected goods had been stopped
by a friend of his, a broker, who would be willing to give them up; and
he failed not then to throw out a hint that the broker merited some
reward for his disinterested conduct and for his trouble, and to exact a
promise that no disagreeable consequences should follow, because the
broker had omitted to secure the thieves as well as the property. The
person whose goods had been carried off was not generally unwilling by
this means to save himself the trouble and expense of a prosecution, and
the money paid was generally sufficient to remunerate the "broker," as
well as his agent. This trade was successfully carried on for several
years, and considerable sums of money were amassed; but at length
another and a safer plan was adopted. The name of our hero having become
pretty extensively known, instead of applying to the parties who had
been plundered, he opened an office, to which great numbers resorted, in
the hope of obtaining the restitution of their property. In this
situation he lost no opportunity of procuring for himself the greatest
credit, as well as the greatest profit possible. He made a great parade
in his business, and assumed a consequence which enabled him more
effectually to impose upon the public. When persons came to his office,
they were informed that they must each pay a crown in consideration of
receiving his advice. This ceremony being despatched, he entered into
his book the name and address of the applicants, with all the
particulars they could communicate respecting the robberies, and the
rewards that would be given provided the goods were recovered: they were
then required to call again in a few days, when, he said, he hoped he
should be able to give them some agreeable intelligence. Upon returning
to know the success of his inquiries, he told them that he had received
some information concerning their goods, but that the agent he had
employed to trace them had apprised him that the robbers pretended they
could raise more money by pawning the property than by restoring it for
the promised reward; saying, however, that if he could by any means
procure an interview with the villains, he doubted not of being able to
settle matters agreeably to the terms already stipulated; but, at the
same time, artfully insinuating that the safest and most expeditious
method would be to make some addition to the reward; and thus having
secured the promise of the largest sum that could be obtained, he would
direct a third call, and then the goods would be ready to be delivered.
It will be seen that considerable advantages were derived from examining
the person who had been robbed; for by that means he became acquainted
with particulars which the thieves might omit to communicate, and was
enabled to detect them if they concealed any part of their booties.
Being in possession of the secrets of every notorious thief, they were
under the necessity of complying with whatever terms he thought proper
to exact, because they were aware that, by opposing his inclination,
they would involve themselves in the most imminent danger of being
sacrificed to the injured laws of their country; and thus he was enabled
to impose both on the robber and the robbed. The accumulation of money
by these artifices enabled Wild to maintain the character of a man of
consequence; and to support his imaginary dignity, he dressed in laced
clothes and wore a sword, which martial instrument he first exercised on
the person of his accomplice and reputed wife, Mary Milliner, who having
on some occasion provoked him, he instantly struck at her with it, and
cut off one of her ears. This event was the cause of separation; but in
acknowledgment of the great services she had rendered him, by
introducing him to so advantageous a _profession_, he allowed her a
weekly stipend till her decease.
In the year 1715 Wild removed from his house in Cock Alley to a Mrs.
Seagoe's, in the Old Bailey, where he pursued his business with the
usual success; but while resident there, a controversy of a most
singular character arose between him and a fellow named Charles Hitchin,
who had been city marshal, but had been suspended for malpractices, to
whom before his adoption of the lucrative profession which he now
carried on, he had acted as assistant. These celebrated copartners in
villany, under the pretext of controlling the enormities of the
dissolute, paraded the streets from Temple-bar to the Minories,
searching houses of ill-fame, and apprehending disorderly and suspected
persons; but those who complimented the reformers with douceurs, were
allowed to practise every species of wickedness with impunity. Hitchin
and Wild, however, grew jealous of each other, and an open rupture
taking place, they parted, each pursuing the business of thief-taking on
his own account.
Our readers will doubtless be somewhat surprised to hear that these
rivals in villany appealed to the public, and attacked each other with
all possible scurrility in pamphlets and advertisements. Never was the
press so debased as in publishing the productions of their pens. Hitchin
published what he called "The Regulator; or a Discovery of Thieves and
Thief-takers." It is an ignorant and impudent insult to the reader, and
replete with abuse of Wild, whom he brands, in his capacity of
thief-taker, with being worse than the thief. Wild retorts with great
bitterness but Hitchin having greatly debased the respectable post of
city marshal, the lord mayor suspended him from that office. In order to
repair his loss, he determined, as the most prudent step, to strive to
bury his aversion, and confederate with Wild. To effect this, he wrote
as follows:
"I am sensible that you are let into the knowledge of the secrets of the
Compter, particularly with relation to the securing of pocket-books; but
your experience is inferior to mine: I can put you in a far better
method than you are acquainted with, and which may be done with safety;
for though I am suspended, I still retain the power of acting as
constable, and notwithstanding I cannot be heard before my lord mayor as
formerly, I have interest among the aldermen upon any complaint.
"But I must first tell you that you spoil the trade of thief-taking, in
advancing greater rewards than are necessary. I give but half-a-crown a
book, and when thieves and pickpockets see you and me confederate, they
will submit to our terms, and likewise continue their thefts, for fear
of coming to the gallows by our means. You shall take a turn with me, as
my servant or assistant, and we'll commence our rambles this night."
Wild it appears readily accepted the ex-marshal's proposals, and they
accordingly proceeded to take their walks together, imposing upon the
unwary and confederating with thieves, whom at the same time they did
not hesitate to make their slaves. One or two instances of their mode of
doing business may not be uninteresting. They are taken from a pamphlet
written by Wild, and may therefore be supposed to be correct.
"A biscuit-baker near Wapping having lost a pocket-book containing,
among other papers, an exchequer bill for 100_l._, applied to Wild for
its recovery: the latter advised him to advertise it, and stop the
payment of the bill, which he did accordingly; but having no account of
his property, he came to Wild several times about it, and at length told
him that he had received a visit from a tall man, with a long peruke and
sword, calling himself the city-marshal, who asked him if he had lost
his pocket-book? He said that he had, and desired to know the inquirer's
reasons for putting such a question, or whether he could give him any
intelligence; but he replied, No, he could not give him any intelligence
of it as yet, and wished to be informed whether he had employed any
person to search after it? He said that he had employed one Wild;
whereupon the marshal told him he was under a mistake; that he should
have applied to him, as he was the only person in England that could
serve him, being well assured it was entirely out of the power of Wild,
or any of those fellows, to know where the pocket-book was (this was
very certain, he having it at that time in his custody); and begged to
know the reward that would be given? The biscuit-baker replied that he
would give ten pounds, but the marshal said that a greater reward should
be offered, for that exchequer bills and those things were ready money,
and could immediately be sold; and that if he had employed him in the
beginning, and offered forty or fifty pounds, he would have served him.
Wild gave it as his opinion, that the pocket-book was in the marshal's
possession, and that it would be to no purpose to continue advertising
it; and he advised the owner rather to advance his bidding, considering
what hands the note was in, especially as the marshal had often told him
how easily he could dispose of bank-notes and exchequer notes at
gaming-houses, which he very much frequented. Pursuant to this advice,
the losing party went to the marshal, and bid forty pounds for his
pocket-book and bill, but 'Zounds, sir,' said the marshal, you are too
late!' and that was all the satisfaction he gave him. Thus was the poor
biscuit-baker tricked out of his exchequer-bill, which was paid to
another person, though it could never be traced back; but it happened a
short time after, that some of the young fry of pickpockets, under the
tuition of the marshal, fell out in sharing the money given them for
this very pocket-book; whereupon one of them came to Wild, and
discovered the whole matter, viz. that he had sold the pocket-book, with
the 100_l._ exchequer-note in it, and other bills, to the city-marshal,
at a tavern in Aldersgate-street, for four or five guineas."
"The marshal going one night up Ludgate Hill, observed a well-dressed
woman walking before, whom he told Wild was a lewd woman, for that he
saw her talking with a man. This was no sooner spoke but he seized her,
and asked who she was. She made answer that she was a bailiffs wife.
'You are more likely to be a prostitute,' said the marshal, 'and as such
you shall go to the Compter.'