a band of robbers, and in a short time was apprehended for diving
into another person’s pocket instead of his own, and for that crime
committed to Newgate. He was accordingly sentenced to a severe
whipping, and sent on board a man-of-war; but after he had received the
punishment assigned to stealing from the sailors, he was discharged
from the ship.
He hastened again to London, joined another association of thieves, and
abandoned himself to all manner of wickedness. One evening his gang
divided themselves into three companies. The first met an attorney,
near Hampstead, whom they robbed of eight guineas. The unfortunate
lawyer had not gone far when he was attacked by the second party, to
whom he related his misfortunes, and into what cruel hands he had
fallen. “Cruel!” said one of them; “how dare you use these terms? And
who made you so bold as to talk to us with your hat on? Pray, sir,
be pleased henceforward to learn more manners.” They then snatched
off his hat and wig, and took a diamond ring from his finger. As he
was plodding his way home, uncertain which road was safest, the third
division came up to him near Kentish Town, bringing with them a man
whom they pretended to have completely stripped, and constrained the
lawyer to clothe the naked with his own coat and waistcoat; then told
him he might be thankful to get off with his life, which he employed in
sowing division amongst society.
In a short time after this, Price and a companion one evening entered
a garret, in which there was nothing but lumber, with the intention
of robbing the house when all was silent. But in the dark, as Price
was laying his hand upon a pistol which he had placed upon a table, it
went off and alarmed the people of the house. His comrade instantly ran
to the window, where they fastened a rope for their escape, and his
companion attempting to slide down, the rope soon broke, though he was
not so much injured but he got away. Price seeing the extreme danger of
being caught, removed the rope to another window, and it conveyed him
to a balcony. He was, however, scarcely there, when all the people in
the house were alarmed; on which he leaped into a large basket of eggs
which a man was carrying upon his head, from Newgate market; so that
the fall being broken, he was able to make his escape, amid the cry of
“thieves!”
Jack now began to be so well known about town, that he found it
necessary to remove to the country. He was there most industrious in
stripping the hedges of all the linen that he found upon them. Putting
up at an inn, the landlord soon understood from his discourse that
he was a servant who would suit him, and therefore hired him as his
tapster. It was this miscreant landlord’s custom to murder travellers
who put up at his house; but one gentleman being warned by a maid of
his danger, provided for his safety.
Among other things the maid informed him that it was usual for the
landlord to ring a bell, on which an assassin, pretending to be a
servant, entered the chamber and snuffed out the candle, when the other
villains rushed in and murdered the stranger. The gentleman caused the
maid to place a lantern with a candle in it under a stool, and he laid
his arms ready and stood upon his guard. Scarcely had he sat himself
down when it happened as the girl had mentioned; but the gentleman,
with the assistance of his servant, killed two of the villains and
put the rest to flight. He then seized the innkeeper and his wife,
carried them before a magistrate, and they were indicted to stand
trial at the next assizes. From the maid’s deposition it appeared that
fourteen strangers had been murdered by them, and that their bodies
were concealed in an arched vault in the garden, to which there was a
passage from the cellar. Both were executed, and the innkeeper hung in
chains.
Jack having once more escaped death, returned to his pilfering trade,
was committed to Newgate, and whipped for his crimes. But Jack was now
determined to follow the example of the great ones of the earth, and to
better his circumstances by marriage. Accordingly, he married one of
the name of Betty, who gained her livelihood by running errands to the
prisoners of Newgate. Nor was Jack, like too many, disappointed in his
matrimonial connection, for he was soon elevated to be hangman to the
county of Middlesex. In this station he assumed great importance, and
held a levee every day that he did business at Tyburn; but though he
sometimes ran in debt, yet he was always very willing to work in order
to pay his obligations. But envy reached even him, and he lost his
place by means of one who had greater ministerial interest. But Jack
could never be destitute while he had hands and fingers to lay hold of
whatever was within his reach.
He at last suffered from having assaulted a watchman’s wife, whom he
met in Bunhill Fields, and used in such a barbarous manner that she
died in a few days of her wounds. Two men suddenly came up to him,
and, being seized, he was secured in Newgate. After his trial and
condemnation he remained impenitent, and endeavored, by intoxication,
to stifle the forebodings of conscience. He was hanged on the 31st of
May, 1718.
JACK SHEPHERD.
The father of the celebrated John Shepherd was a carpenter in
Spitalfields, of good character, and exceedingly solicitous to train
up his children in the path of sobriety and religion. They, however,
afforded a melancholy proof that the most virtuous example, and the
soundest principles, are frequently unsuccessful in influencing the
conduct of children. Two of his sons followed evil courses, and were
convicted at the bar of the Old Bailey.
After his father’s death, young Shepherd was sent to a school in
Bishopsgate street, where he received the rudiments of education, and
was bound apprentice to a cane chair-maker. His master used him well,
and he lived very comfortably with him; but this master dying, he
was sent to another, who treated him so very harshly that he eloped.
Masters ought to be cautious how they conduct themselves towards their
servants, because this harsh usage was in all probability the cause of
Jack Shepherd’s ruin, as well as of bringing great injury upon society.
In a short time, he commenced his depredations, and, in place of his
former sober mode of life, his time was spent in drinking all day, and
retiring to an infamous abode all night.
The history of this unfortunate man adds another to the many examples
already given in this volume, that the company of profligate women has
plunged men into scenes of dissipation and vice, to which they would
have been entire strangers, had it not been for such associates. He
was first enamored of one Elizabeth Lion, a woman remarkable for her
stature and strength. Having separated from her, he associated with one
who stimulated him to all manner of pilfering, in order that he might
be the better able to feed her extravagances.
One day, informing her that she had received his last half-crown, she
instigated him to rob a wealthy pawnbroker. Shepherd left her about
one in the morning, and returned with goods to the value of twenty-two
pounds. It was not long before the two who had planned the robbery
exhausted the booty.
The first favorite of Shepherd was committed to St. Giles’ round-house,
for some pilfering pranks. Jack went to see her, broke open the doors,
beat the keeper, and set Bess Lion at liberty. It is scarcely necessary
to add, that this action gained him great fame among ladies of her
description, and stimulated him to more daring acts of depredation.
About this period Jack supplied his brother with a little money to
equip him for the honorable profession he himself followed: and they
broke into a linen draper’s shop, from whence they extracted goods to
the amount of fifty pounds. The younger brother, however, being rather
a novice in the art, was too open in the disposal of the goods, by
which means he was detected, and his first return for the kindness of
his brother was to inform upon him and several of his confederates.
Jack Shepherd was accordingly apprehended, and committed to the
round-house for farther examination. This place could not long retain
so bold a spirit, and marching off, he that very evening committed a
robbery, and vowed to be revenged upon Tom for his ungenerous conduct.
Detection produced no reformation. Jack, in common with one Benson,
attempting to steal a gentleman’s watch, was discovered and committed
to New Prison. The first person whom he discerned there was his old
favorite Bess Lion, who had been sent there upon a similar errand.
After exerting all his cunning and stratagem in vain, Bess and he by
force escaped, and instantly repaired to her old lodgings. There he
remained concealed for some time, but, taking leave of his friend,
he again associated with one Grace in raising contributions. These
two villains becoming acquainted with one Lamb, an apprentice to Mr.
Carter, they enticed him to introduce them into his master’s house,
from whence they extracted goods to a considerable amount. Shepherd and
Grace, however, differed in the division of the spoil, and betrayed
each other; when Grace and Lamb were apprehended. The misfortune of
poor Lamb, who was so simply inveigled, excited the compassion of some
gentlemen, who by their exertions succeeded in mitigating his sentence
to transportation.
The confederates of Shepherd, in order to obtain a ready market for
their goods, employed one Field to sell them, but he being occasionally
dilatory, they hired a warehouse, and there deposited what goods
they stole. Field, displeased at being turned off from his lucrative
employment, importuned them to show him their stores, as he had several
orders for goods, and could therefore dispose of them to advantage.
He was conducted to the warehouse and shown the goods, and though he
had not the courage manfully to rob any person, yet he emptied the
warehouse of every rag it contained.
In the course of business, Shepherd robbed a Mr. Kneebone, and was
tried at the ensuing sessions. He appeared simple and almost foolish at
his trial, alleging, as his principal defence, that Jonathan Wild had
disposed of part of the goods, and ought therefore to be punished as
well as himself. He was however sentenced, and conducted himself, in
the whole of his defence, more like an ignorant and simple man, than
one who was formed to excel in his own or any other profession.
But necessity is the mother of invention. While in the condemned hole,
he prevailed upon one Fowls, who was also under sentence of death,
to lift him up to the iron spikes that were over the top of the door
which looks into the lodge. By the aid of a strong tall woman, and
two others, his head and shoulders were got through, and the whole of
his body following, he was by them let down, and, without the least
suspicion of the keepers, conveyed through the lodge, put into a
hackney coach, and out of reach before the least notice of his escape
could be given.
But Jack had scarcely breathed the fresh air when he returned to
business. He associated with one Page, a butcher, who dressed him in
one of his frocks, and both betook themselves to the highway. They
went to a watchmaker’s shop, in a daring manner broke open one of the
glasses, and seized three watches before the boy who kept the shop
could detect them. Upon this occasion Shepherd had the audacity to pass
under Newgate.
But as Shepherd would not conceal himself nor give over his
depredations, he was soon apprehended and again committed to Newgate,
was put into the stone-room, loaded with irons, and stapled down to the
ground. Being left alone, he with a crooked nail opened the lock, got
free of his chains, wrought out two stones in the chimney, entered the
red-room, where no person resided, threw down the door, got into the
chapel, broke a spike of the door, and by it opened four other doors,
got upon the roof, and from thence, by the means of his blanket, went
in at a garret window belonging to an adjacent house, and through that
house into the street.
The whole of this almost incredible exertion was rendered the more
extraordinary in that his irons were on all the time. When at liberty,
he went into an adjoining field and knocked them off; and, astonishing
to relate, that very evening robbed a pawnbroker’s house, where among
other things he found a handsome suit of black clothes, in which he
dressed himself, and carried the booty to two of his female companions.
He now went to visit his companions in their scenes of iniquity, and
drinking at a brandy shop, was discovered by a boy who knew him. The
boy had no sooner recognised Jack than he ran to give information, so
that he was almost immediately apprehended and reconducted to his old
quarters in Newgate, amid a vast crowd, who ran from all parts to see
such an extraordinary character; but he was so intoxicated at the time
that he was scarcely conscious of his miserable situation. To prevent
the possibility of a third escape, they never permitted him to be
alone, and made the contributions of those who came to see and converse
with such a singular character pay for their additional trouble.
He was now the topic of general conversation, and multitudes, not only
of the common ranks of society, but many in the more elevated ranks
of life, flocked to see him. In the most ludicrous and jocular manner
he related his adventures, exerting all his low wit and buffoonery to
amuse those who visited him, and to exact money from them. In this
manner were the last days of this unhappy mortal spent, in diverting
his mind from serious reflection, and the awful scene before him. Nor
was he even destitute of the hope of pardon, from the distinguished
persons who visited him, and who seemed to pity his misfortune. But
these hopes were vain, and the attentions of these persons proved worse
than useless.
He was removed to the bar of the court of the King’s Bench, in
November, 1724, and an affidavit made that he was the same John
Shepherd mentioned in the record of conviction. Judgment was awarded
against him, and the day of his execution fixed. But such was his
strong desire of life, and his belief that his resources would never
fail him, that he prepared a knife to cut the ropes of the cart which
should carry him to Tyburn, in hopes of running off among the crowd.
This knife was, however, with no small difficulty, taken from him by
force. As his last refuge to provide against every possible event, he
employed a friend, to whom he had given all the money he had reserved
from his visiters, to take his body away with all possible haste, put
it into a warm bed, and draw a little blood, thus to use every possible
means to recover life. He finally enjoined, that if all means should
prove unsuccessful, his body should be decently interred, and the
remainder of the money given to his poor mother.
He was conducted to the place of execution in a cart, strongly
handcuffed, when he behaved very gravely, confessed some of the
robberies laid to his charge, and exculpated himself from others. His
general dexterity, and the various scenes through which he had passed,
operated to excite, in no common degree, the sympathy of the multitude.
[Illustration: _Richard Turpin._ P. 201.]
RICHARD TURPIN.
There never was, perhaps, a man in the particular profession to which
this notorious fellow devoted himself, whose name was more familiar in
the mouths of the common people than that of Richard Turpin. But, since
it invariably happens that a certain proportion of curiosity respecting
the life and actions of a man is sure to beget a corresponding desire
to satisfy it, we cannot wonder if the perplexed biographer should
sometimes resort to fiction to supply the deficiencies of fact. Hence
it has happened that certain exploits have been attributed to Turpin
which do not properly belong to him; amongst others, the unparalleled
ride from York to London in an unprecedentedly short period, performed,
it is averred, on a single horse. We have never been able to find any
authentic account of this feat, nor have we, as yet, discovered any
conceivable necessity that should compel him to such a rapid journey.
Turpin was never tried but once, and that was, indeed, at York; but the
reader will perceive that he had no opportunity of escape, nor did he
attempt any thing of the kind after his first apprehension.
Richard Turpin was the son of John Turpin, of Hempstead in Essex, and
was put apprentice to a butcher in Whitechapel, where he served his
time, during which period he was frequently guilty of misdemeanors, and
conducted himself in a loose and disorderly manner.
As soon as his time was up, he married, and set up in business for
himself at Suson in Essex, where, having no credit in the market, and
no money in his pocket, he was shortly reduced to the necessity of
maintaining himself by indirect practices; and, accordingly, very often
used to rob the neighboring gentry of sheep, lambs, and oxen.
Upon one occasion, he stole a couple of oxen from a farmer at Plaistow,
which he caused to be conveyed to his own house and cut up. Two of the
men belonging to the farm, having a suspicion of Turpin, went to his
house, and seeing an ox slaughtered, were convinced of his guilt; and
having traced the sale of the hides, returned to Suson to apprehend
him. Turpin, apprized of their intention, left them in the front room,
jumped out of a window and made his escape.
By this time his character had become notorious, and he never could
entertain a thought of returning to Suson, or of following the trade
of a butcher in that county. He, accordingly, resolved to commence
smuggler; and raising as much money as he could scrape together, he
betook himself to the hundreds of Essex, where he soon became connected
with a gang of smugglers. This his new profession he followed for
some time with tolerable success; but fortune taking a turn, he lost
all that he had acquired; upon which he began to turn his thoughts
to another, but by no means more honest, mode of life. In a word, he
connected himself with a gang of deer-stealers, who finding him a
desperate fellow, and fit for their purpose, admitted him among them.
This desperate gang, afterwards known and feared under the title of the
Essex Gang, not only robbed the forest of deer, but thinned several
gentlemen’s parks of them, insomuch that they obtained a considerable
sum of money. They followed deer-stealing only for some time; but
not finding the money come in so quickly as they wished, and being
narrowly watched by the park-keepers, they, by Turpin’s direction,
resolved to go round the country at nights, and when they could find a
house that had any thing valuable in it, one was to knock at the door,
which being opened, the rest should rush in and plunder it, not only of
plate but of household goods.
The first person attacked in this manner was a Mr. Strype, an old man
who kept a chandler’s shop at Watford, from whom they only took the
money he had by him; but Turpin informed his companions that he knew an
old woman at Loughton, who, he was certain, had seven or eight hundred
pounds in her possession. The plan being declared feasible, away they
went, and coming to the door, one of them knocked, and Turpin and the
rest of the gang rushed in. The first thing they did was to blindfold
the old lady and her maid. Turpin then examined the former touching her
money, upon which she declared that she had none, being naturally loth
to part with it. Some of the gang were inclined to believe her, but
Turpin, with an oath, declared that if she remained obstinate he would
set her on the fire. The poor old lady imagining that this was a mere
threat, suffered herself to be lifted on to the fire, till the anguish
she had endured for a long time compelled her to disclose, and the gang
retired with about four hundred pounds.
They then consulted together who should be their next victim, and
agreed to wait upon a farmer, near Ripple Side. The people within not
answering the door so soon as they would fain have had it opened, they
broke in, and according to their old custom tied the old man, the
old woman, the servant maid, and the farmer’s son-in-law. They then
ransacked the house, and robbed the old farmer of about seven hundred
pounds. Turpin, seeing so considerable a booty, cried, “Ay, this would
do if it were always so,” their share being about eighty pounds a man.
The success the gang met with made them resolve to proceed against
those who had attempted to detect them. They accordingly agreed to
attack the house of Mason, the keeper of Epping Forest. The time was
fixed when the house was to be attacked; but Turpin having still a
great deal of money in his possession, could not refrain from coming
up to London to spend it, and getting drunk, forgot the appointed time
for putting their design into execution: however, the rest, resolving
not to be balked, set out for Mason’s, after having bound themselves by
oath not to leave one whole piece of goods in the house. Accordingly
they went, broke open the door, beat poor Mason in a cruel manner,
and finally killed him under the dresser. An old man sitting by the
fireside, who declared that he knew nothing of them, got off untouched.
After ransacking the lower part of the house, and doing much mischief,
they proceeded up-stairs, and broke every thing in their way; at last,
espying a punch-bowl, they broke that, when out dropped a hundred and
twenty guineas, which they seized upon and made off with.
Turpin, with five others, in January, 1735, came to the door of Mr.
Saunders, a wealthy farmer at Charlton in Kent, and knocking, inquired
if the gentleman of the house was at home; he was answered he was,
and that being the signal, they rushed in, and going directly to the
parlor, where Mr. Saunders, his wife, and some friends were amusing
themselves at a quiet game of cards, desired them on no account to
be alarmed, for that they would not hurt their persons, if they sat
still and made no disturbance. A silver snuff-box that lay on the
table Turpin at once appropriated to himself, and the rest having
bound the company, obliged Mr. Saunders to accompany them about the
house, and open his closets and boxes, to prevent the necessity of
laying violent hands upon them, and perhaps upon himself. They then
possessed themselves of upwards of a hundred pounds in money, besides
other property, including all the plate in the house. While this was
proceeding, the maid-servant, a girl of some presence of mind, ran
up-stairs, and barring herself in one of the rooms, called out lustily
at the window for assistance; but one of the rogues following her,
broke open the door with a poker, and brought her down again. In
their search for all things of value in the house, they hit upon some
bottles of wine, a bottle of brandy, and some mince-pies, with which
they immediately sat down and regaled themselves, inviting the company
to partake, indeed compelling them to drink a dram of brandy each, to
work off the fright. Mrs. Saunders, however, fainted, and a glass of
water with some drops in it was instantly provided, with which they
bathed her temples, and were very anxious for her recovery. After
staying about two hours in the house, they packed up their plunder, and
made off with it, threatening the inmates of the house, that, if they
stirred within two hours, they would murder them.