As no person in this collection ever made so much noise as the person we
are now speaking of, so never any man, perhaps, in any condition of life
whatever had so many romantic stories fathered upon him in his life, or
so many fictitious legendary accounts published of him after his death.
It may seem a low kind of affectation to say that the memoirs we are now
giving of Jonathan Wild are founded on certainty and fact; and that
though they are so founded, they are yet more extraordinary than any of
those fabulous relations pushed into the world to get a penny, at the
time of his death, when it was a proper season for vending such
forgeries, the public looking with so much attention on his catastrophe,
and greedily catching up whatever pretended to the giving an account of
his actions. But to go on with the history in its proper order.
Jonathan Wild[61] was the son of persons in a mean and low state of
life, yet for all that I have ever heard of them, both honest and
industrious. Their family consisted of three sons and two daughters,
whom their father and mother maintained and educated in the best manner
they could from their joint labours, he as carpenter, and she by selling
fruit in Wolverhampton market, in Staffordshire, which in future ages
may perhaps become famous as the birth place of the celebrated Mr.
Jonathan Wild. He was the eldest of the sons, and received as good an
education as his father's circumstances would allow him, being bred at
the free-school to read and write, to both of which having attained to a
tolerable degree, he was put out an apprentice to a buckle-maker in
Birmingham.
He served his time with much fidelity, and came up to town in the
service of a gentleman of the long robe, about the year 1704, or perhaps
a little later. But not liking his service, or his master being not
altogether so well pleased with him, he quitted it and retired to his
old employment in the country, where he continued to work diligently for
some time. But at last growing sick of labour, and still entertaining a
desire to taste the pleasures of London, up hither he came a second
time, and worked journey-work at the trade to which he was bred. But
this not producing money enough to support those expenses Jonathan's
love of pleasure threw him into, he got pretty deeply in debt; and some
of his creditors not being endued with altogether as much patience as
his circumstances required, he was suddenly arrested, and thrown into
Wood-street Compter.
Having no friends to do anything for him, and having very little money
in his pocket when this misfortune happened, he lived very hardly there,
scarce getting bread enough to support him from the charity allowed to
prisoners, and from what little services he could render to prisoners of
the better sort in the gaol. However, as no man wanted address less than
Jonathan, so nobody could have employed it more properly than he did
upon this occasion; he thereby got so much into the favour of the
keepers, that they quickly permitted him the liberty of the gate, as
they call it, and he thereby got some little matter for going on
errands. This set him above the very pinch of want, and that was all;
but his fidelity and industry in these mean employments procured him
such esteem amongst those in power there, that they soon took him into
their ministry, and appointed him an under-keeper to those disorderly
persons who were brought in every night and are called, in their cant,
"rats."
Jonathan now came into a comfortable subsistence, having learnt how to
get money of such people by putting them into the road of getting
liberty for themselves. But there, says my author, he met with a lady
who was confined on the score of such practices very often, and who went
by the name of Mary Milliner; and who soon taught him how to gain much
greater sums than in this way of life, by methods which he until then
never heard of, and will I am confident, to this day carry the charms of
novelty to most of my readers. Of these the first she put upon him was
going on what they call the "twang," which is thus managed: the man who
is the confederate goes out with some noted woman of the town, and if
she fall into any broil, he is to be at a proper distance, ready to come
into her assistance, and by making a sham quarrel, give her an
opportunity of getting off, perhaps after she has dived for a watch or a
purse of guineas, and was in danger of being caught in the very act.
This proved a very successful employment to Mr. Wild for a time. Moll
and he, therefore, resolved to set up together, and for that purpose
took lodgings and lived as man and wife, notwithstanding Jonathan then
had a wife and a son at Wolverhampton and the fair lady was married to a
waterman in town.
By the help of this woman Jonathan grew acquainted with all the
notorious gangs of loose persons within the bills of mortality, and was
also perfectly versed in the manner by which they carried on their
schemes. He knew where and how their enterprises were to be gone upon,
and after what manner they disposed of their ill-got goods, when they
came into their possession. Having always an intriguing head Wild set up
for a director amongst them, and soon became so useful to them that
though he never went out upon any of their lays, yet he got as much or
more by their crimes as if he had been a partner with them, which upon
one pretence or other he always declined.
He had long ago got rid of that debt for which he had been imprisoned in
the Compter, and having by his own thought projected a new manner of
life, he began in a very little time to grow weary of Mrs. Milliner, who
had been his first instructor. What probably contributed thereto was the
danger to which he saw himself exposed by continuing a bully in her
service; however, they parted without falling out, and as he had
occasion to make use of her pretty often in his new way of business, so
she proved very faithful and industrious to him in it, though she still
went on in her old way.
'Tis now time, that both this and the remaining part of the discourse
may be intelligible, to explain the methods by which thieves became the
better for thieving where they did not steal ready money; and of this we
will speak in the clearest and most concise manner that we can.
It must be observed that anciently when a thief had got his booty he had
done all that a man in his profession could do, and there were
multitudes of people ready to help them off with whatever effects he had
got, without any more to do. But this method being totally destroyed by
an Act passed in the reign of King William, by which it was made felony
for any person to buy goods stolen, knowing them to be so, and some
examples having been made on this Act, there were few or no receivers to
be met with. Those that still carried on the trade took exorbitant sums
for their own profit, leaving those who had run the hazard of their
necks in obtaining them, the least share of the plunder. This (as an
ingenious author says) had like to have brought the thieving trade to
naught; but Jonathan quickly thought of a method to put things again in
order, and give new life to the practices of the several branches of the
ancient art and mystery called stealing. The method he took was this.
As soon as any considerable robbery was committed, and Jonathan received
intelligence by whom, he immediately went to the thieves, and instead of
offering to buy the whole or any part of the plunder, he only enquired
how the thing was done, where the persons lived who were injured, and
what the booty consisted in that was taken away. Then pretending to
chide them for their wickedness in doing such actions, and exhorting
them to live honestly for the future, he gave it them as his advice to
lodge what they had taken in a proper place which he appointed them, and
then promised he would take some measures for their security by getting
the people to give them somewhat to have them restored them again.
Having thus wheedled those who had committed a robbery into a compliance
with his measures, his next business was to divide the goods into
several parcels, and cause them to be sent to different places, always
avoiding taking them into his own hands.
Things being in this position, Jonathan, or Mrs. Milliner went to the
persons who were robbed, and after condoling the misfortune, observed
that they had an acquaintance with a broker to whom certain goods were
brought, some of which they suspected to be stolen, and hearing that the
person to whom they thus applied had been robbed they said they thought
it the duty of one honest body to another to inform them thereof, and to
enquire what goods they were they lost, in order to discover whether
those they spoke of were the same or no. People who had such losses are
always ready, after the first fit of passion is over, to hearken to
anything that has a tendency towards recovering their goods. Jonathan or
his mistress therefore, who could either of them play the hypocrite
nicely, had no great difficulty in making people listen to such terms;
in a day or two, therefore, they were sure to come again with
intelligence that having called upon their friend and looked over the
goods, they had found part of the goods there; and provided nobody was
brought into trouble, and the broker had something in consideration of
his care, they might be had again. He generally told the people, when
they came on this errand, that he had heard of another parcel at such a
place, and that if they would stay a little, he would go and see
whether they were such as they described theirs to be which they had
lost.
This practice of Jonathan's, if well considered, carries in it a great
deal of policy; for first it seemed to be an honest and good-natured act
to prevail on evil persons to restore the goods which they had stole;
and it must be acknowledged to be a great benefit to those who were
robbed thus to have their goods again upon a reasonable premium,
Jonathan or his mistress all the while taking apparently nothing, their
advantages arising from what they took out of the gratuity left with the
broker, and out of what they had bargained with the thief to be allowed
of the money which they had procured him. Such people finding this
advantage in it, the rewards were very near as large as the price now
given by receivers (since receiving became too dangerous), and they
reaped a certain security also by the bargain.
With respect to Jonathan, the contrivance placed him in safety, not only
from all the laws then in being, but perhaps would have secured him as
securely from those that are made now, if covetousness had not prevailed
with him to take bolder steps than these; for in a short time he began
to give himself out for a person who made it his business to procure
stolen goods to their right owners. When he first did this he acted with
so much art and cunning that he acquired a very great reputation as an
honest man, not only from those who dealt with him to procure what they
had lost, but even from those people of higher station, who observing
the industry with which he prosecuted certain malefactors, took him for
a friend of Justice, and as such afforded him countenance and
encouragement.
Certain it is that he brought more villains to the gallows than perhaps
any man ever did, and consequently by diminishing their number, made it
much more safe for persons to travel or even to reside with security in
their own houses. And so sensible was Jonathan of the necessity there
was for him to act in this manner, that he constantly hung up two or
three of his clients at least in a twelvemonth, that he might keep up
that character to which he had attained; and so indefatigable was he in
the pursuit of those he endeavoured to apprehend, that it never happened
in all his course of acting, that so much as one single person escaped
him. Nor need this appear so great a wonder, if we consider that the
exact acquaintance he had with their gangs and the haunts they used put
it out of their power almost to hide themselves so as to avoid his
searches.
When this practice of Jonathan's became noted, and the people resorted
continually to his house in order to hear of the goods which they had
lost, it produced not only much discourse, but some enquiries into his
behaviour. Jonathan foresaw this, and in order to evade any ill
consequence that might follow upon it, upon such occasions put on an air
of gravity, and complained of the evil disposition of the times, which
would not permit a man to serve his neighbours and his country without
censure. _For do I not_, quoth Jonathan, _do the greatest good, when I
persuade these wicked people who have deprived them of their properties,
to restore them again for a reasonable consideration. And are not the
villains whom I have so industriously brought to suffer that punishment
which the Law, for the sake of its honest subjects, thinks fit to
inflict upon them--in this respect, I say, does not their death show how
much use I am to the country? Why, then_, added Jonathan, _should people
asperse me, or endeavour to take away my bread?_
This kind of discourse served, as my readers must know, to keep Wild
safe in his employment for many years, while not a step he took, but
trod on felony, nor a farthing did he obtain but what deserved the
gallows. Two great things there were which contributed to his
preservation, and they were these. The great readiness the Government
always shows in detecting persons guilty of capital offences; in which
case we know 'tis common to offer not only pardon, but rewards to
persons guilty, provided they make discoveries; and this Jonathan was so
sensible of that he did not only screen himself behind the lenity of the
Supreme Power, but made use of it also as a sort of authority, and
behaved himself with a very presuming air. And taking upon him the
character of a sort of minister of Justice, this assumed character of
his, however ill-founded, proved of great advantage to him in the course
of his life. The other point, which, as I have said, contributed to keep
him from any prosecutions on the score of these illegal and
unwarrantable actions, was the great willingness of people who had been
robbed to recover their goods, and who, provided for a small matter they
could regain things for a considerable worth, were so far from taking
pains to bring the offenders to justice that they thought the premium a
cheap price to get off.
Thus by the rigour of the magistrate, and the lenity of the subject,
Jonathan claimed constant employment, and according as wicked persons
behaved, they were either trussed up to satisfy the just vengeance of
the one, or protected and encouraged, that by bringing the goods they
stole he might be enabled to satisfy the demands of the other. And thus
we see the policy of a mean and scandalous thief-taker, conducted with
as much prudence, caution, and necessary courage, as the measures taken
by even the greatest persons upon earth; nor perhaps is there, in all
history, an instance of a man who thus openly dallied with the laws, and
played with capital punishment.
As I am persuaded my readers will take a pleasure in the relation of
Jonathan's maxims of policy, I shall be a little more particular in
relation to them than otherwise I should have been, considering that in
this work I do not propose to treat of the actions of a single person,
but to consider the villainies committed throughout the space of a dozen
years, such especially as have reached to public notice by bringing the
authors of them to the gallows. But Mr. Wild being a man of such
eminence as to value himself in his life-time on his superiority to
meaner rogues; so I am willing to distinguish him now he is dead, by
showing a greater complaisance in recording his history than that of any
other hero in this way whatsoever.
Nor, to speak properly, was Jonathan ever an operator, as they call it,
that is a practicer in any one branch of thieving. No, his method was to
acquire money at an easier rate, and if any title can be devised
suitable to his great performance, it must be that of Director General
of the united forces of highwaymen, housebreakers, footpads,
pickpockets, and private thieves. Now, according to my promise, for the
maxims by which he supported himself in this dangerous capacity.
In the first place, he continually exhorted the plunderers that belonged
to his several gangs, to let him know punctually what goods they at any
time took, by which means he had it in his power to give, for the most
part, a direct answer to those who came to make their enquiries after
they had lost their effects, either by their own carelessness, or the
dexterity of the thief. If they complied faithfully with his
instructions, he was a certain protector on all occasions, and sometimes
had interest enough to procure them liberty when apprehended, either in
the committing a robbery, or upon the information of one of the gang. In
such a case Jonathan's usual pretence was that such a person (who was
the man he intended to save) was capable of making a larger and more
effectual information, for which purpose Jonathan would sometimes supply
him with memorandums of his own, and thereby establish so well the
credit of his discovery, as scarce to fail of producing its effect.
But if his thieves threatened to become independent, and despise his
rules, or endeavour for the sake of profit to vend the goods they got
some other way without making application to Jonathan; or if they threw
out any threatening speeches against their companions; or grumbled at
the compositions he made for them, in such cases as these Wild took the
first opportunity of talking to them in a new style, telling them that
he was well assured they did very ill acts and plundered poor honest
people, to indulge themselves in their debaucheries; that they would do
well to think of amending before the Justice of their country fell upon
them; and that after such warning they must not expect any assistance
from him, in case they should fall under any misfortune. The next thing
that followed after this fine harangue was that they were put into the
information of some of Jonathan's creatures; or the first fresh fact
they committed and Jonathan was applied to for the recovery of the
goods, he immediately set out to apprehend them, and laboured so
indefatigably therein that they never escaped him. Thus he not only
procured the reward for himself, but also gained an opportunity of
pretending that he not only restored goods to the right owners, but also
apprehended the thief as often as it was in his power. As to instances,
I shall mention them in a proper place.
I shall now go on to another observation, viz., that in those steps of
his business which was most hazardous, Jonathan made the people
themselves take the first steps by publishing advertisements of things
lost, directing them to be brought to Mr. Wild, who was empowered to
receive them and pay such a reward as the person that lost them thought
fit to offer; and in this capacity Jonathan appeared no otherwise than
as a person on whose honour these sort of people could rely; by which,
his assistance became necessary for retrieving whatever had been
pilfered.
After he had gone on in this trade for about ten years with success, he
began to lay aside much of his former caution, and gave way to the
natural vanity of his temper; taking a larger house in Old Bailey than
that in which he formerly lived; giving the woman who he called his
wife, abundance of fine things; keeping open office for restoring stolen
goods; appointing abundance of under-officers to receive goods, carry
messages to those who stole them, bring him exact intelligence of the
several gangs and the places of their resort, and in fine, for such
other purposes as this, their supreme governor, directed. His fame at
last came to that height that persons of the highest quality would
condescend to make use of his abilities, when at an installation, public
entry, or some other great solemnity they had the misfortune of losing
watches, jewels, or other things, whether of great real or imaginary
value.
But as his methods of treating those who applied to him for his
assistance has been much misrepresented, I shall next give an exact and
impartial account thereof, that the fabulous history of Jonathan Wild
may not be imposed upon posterity.
In the first place, then, when a person was introduced to Mr. Wild's
office, it was first hinted to him that a crown must be deposited by
way of fee for his advice; when this was complied with a large book was
brought out; then the loser was examined with much formality, as to the
time, place, and manner that the goods became missing; and then the
person was dismissed with a promise of careful enquiries being made, and
of hearing more concerning them in a day or two. When this was adjusted,
the person took his leave, with great hopes of being acquainted shortly
with the fruits of Mr. Wild's industry, and highly satisfied with the
methodical treatment he had met with.
But at the bottom this was all grimace. Wild had not the least occasion
for these queries, except to amuse the persons he asked, for he knew
beforehand all the circumstances of the robbery much better than they
did. Nay, perhaps, he had the very goods in the house when the folks
came first to enquire for them; though for reasons not hard to guess he
made use of all this formality before he proceeded to return them. When,
therefore, according to his appointment, the enquirer came the second
time, Jonathan took care to amuse him by a new scene. He was told that
Mr. Wild had indeed made enquiries, but was very sorry to communicate
the result of them; the thief, truly, who was a bold impudent fellow,
rejected with scorn the offer which pursuant to the loser's instructions
had been made him, insisted that he could sell the goods at a double
price, and in short would not hear a word of restitution unless upon
better terms. _But notwithstanding all this_, says Jonathan, _if I can
but come to the speech of him, I don't doubt bringing him to reason._
At length, after one or two more attendances, Mr. Wild gave the definite
answer, that provided no questions were asked and so much money was
given to the porter who brought them, the loser might have his things
returned at such an hour precisely. This was transacted with all outward
appearances of friendship and honest intention on his side, and with
great seeming frankness and generosity; but when the client came to the
last article, viz., what Mr. Wild expected for his trouble, then an air
of coldness was put on, and he answered with equal pride and
indifference, that what he did was purely from a principle of doing
good. As to a gratuity for the trouble he had taken, he left it totally
to yourself; you might do it in what you thought fit. Even when money
was presented to him he received it with the same negligent grace,
always putting you in mind that it was your own act, that you did it
merely out of your generosity, and that it was no way the result of his
request, that he took it as a favour, not as a reward.
By this dexterity in his management he fenced himself against the rigour
of the law, in the midst of these notorious transgressions of it, for
what could be imputed to Mr. Wild? He neither saw the thief who took
away your goods, nor received them after they were taken; the method he
pursued in order to procure you your things again was neither dishonest
or illegal, if you will believe his account on it, and no other than his
account could be gotten. According to him it was performed after this
manner: after having enquired amongst such loose people as he
acknowledged he had acquaintance with, and hearing that such a robbery
was committed at such a time, and such and such goods were taken, he
thereupon had caused it to be intimated to the thief that if he had any
regard for his own safety he would cause such and such goods to be
carried to such a place; in consideration of which, he might reasonably
hope such a reward, naming a certain sum. If it excited the thief to
return the goods, it did not thereby fix any guilt or blame upon
Jonathan; and by this description, I fancy my readers will have a pretty
clear idea of the man's capacity, as well as of his villainy.
Had Mr. Wild continued satisfied with this way of dealing in all human
probability he might have gone to his grave in peace, without any
apprehensions of punishment but what he was to meet within a world to
come. But he was greedy, and instead of keeping constant to this safe
method, came at last to take the goods into his own custody, giving
those that stole them what he thought proper, and then making such a
bargain with the loser as he was able to bring him up to, sending the
porter himself, and taking without ceremony whatever money had been
given him. But as this happened only in the two last years of his life,
it is fit I should give you some instances of his behaviour before, and
these not from the hearsay of the town, but within the compass of my own
knowledge.
A gentleman near Covent Garden who dealt in silks had bespoke a piece of
extraordinary rich damask, on purpose for the birthday suit of a certain
duke; and the lace-man having brought such trimming as was proper for
it, the mercer had made the whole up in a parcel, tied it at each end
with blue ribbon, sealed with great exactness, and placed on one end of
the counter, in expectation of his Grace's servant, who he knew was
directed to call for it in the afternoon. Accordingly the fellow came,
but when the mercer went to deliver him the goods, the piece had gone,
and no account could possibly he had of it. As the master had been all
day in the shop, so there was no possibility of charging anything either
upon the carelessness or dishonesty of servants. After an hour's
fretting, therefore, seeing no other remedy, he even determined to go
and communicate his loss to Mr. Wild, in hopes of receiving some benefit
by his assistance, the loss consisting not so much in the value of the
things as in the disappointment it would be to the nobleman not to have
them on the birthday.
Upon this consideration a hackney-coach was immediately called, and away
he was ordered to drive directly to Jonathan's house in the Old Bailey.
As soon as he came into the room, and had acquainted Mr. Wild with his
business, the usual deposit of a crown being made, and the common
questions of the how, when, and where, having been asked, the mercer
being very impatient, said with some kind of heat, _Mr. Wild, the loss I
have sustained, though the intrinsic value of the goods be very little,
lies more in disobliging my customer. Tell me, therefore, in a few
words, if it be in your power to serve me. If it is, I have thirty
guineas here ready to lay down, but if you expect that I should dance
attendance for a week or two, I assure you I shall not be willing to
part with above half the money. Good sir_, replied Mr. Wild, _have a
little more consideration. I am no thief, sir, nor no receiver of stolen
goods, so that if you don't think fit to give me time to enquire, you
must e'en take what measures you please._
When the mercer found he was like to be left without any hopes, he began
to talk in a milder strain, and with abundance of intreaties fell to
persuading Jonathan to think of some method to serve him, and that
immediately. Wild stepped out a minute or two, as if to the necessary
house; as soon as he came back he told the gentleman, it was not in his
power to serve him in such a hurry, if at all; however, in a day or two
he might be able to give him some answer. The mercer insisted that a day
or two would lessen the value of the goods one half to him, and Jonathan
insisted, as peremptorily, that it was not in his power to do anything
sooner.
At last a servant came in a hurry, and told Mr. Wild there was a
gentleman below desired to speak with him. Jonathan bowed and begged the
gentleman's pardon, told him he would wait on him in one minute, and
without staying for a reply withdrew, and clapped the door after him. In
about five minutes he returned with a very smiling countenance, and
turning to the gentleman, said, _I protest sir, you are the luckiest man
I ever knew. I spoke to one of my people just now, to go to a house
where I know some lifters resort, and directed him to talk of the
robbery that had been committed in your house, and to say that the
gentleman had been with me and offered thirty guineas, provided the
things might be had again, but declared, if he did not receive them in a
very short space, he would give as great a reward for the discovery of
the thief, whom he would prosecute with the utmost severity. This story
has had its effect, and if you go directly home, I fancy you'll hear
more news of it yourself than I am able to tell you. But pray, sir,
remember one thing; that the thirty guineas was your own offer. You are
at free liberty to give them, or let them alone; do which you please,
'tis nothing to me; but take notice, sir, that I have done all for you
in my power, without the least expectation of gratuity._
Away went the mercer, confounded in his mind, and wondering where this
affair would end. But as he walked up Southampton Street a fellow
overtook him, patted him on the shoulder, and delivered him the bundle
unopened, telling him the price was twenty guineas. The mercer paid it
him directly, and returning to Jonathan in half an hour's time, readily
expressed abundance of thanks to Mr. Wild for his assistance, and begged
him to accept of the ten guineas he had saved him, for his pains.
Jonathan told him that he had saved him nothing, but supposed that the
people thought twenty demand enough, considering that they were now
pretty safe from prosecution. The mercer still pressed the ten guineas
upon Jonathan, who after taking them out of his hand returned him five
of them, and assured him that was more than enough, adding: _'Tis
satisfaction enough, sir, to an honest man that he is able to procure
people their goods again._
This, you will say, was a remarkable instance of his moderation. I will
join to it as extraordinary an account of his justice, equity, or what
else you will please to call it. It happened thus.
A lady whose husband was out of the kingdom, and had sent over to her
draughts for her assistance to the amount of between fifteen hundred and
two thousand pounds, lost the pocket-book in which they were contained,
between Bucklersbury and Magpie alehouse in Leadenhall Street, where the
merchant lived upon whom they were drawn. She however, went to the
gentleman, and he advised her to go directly to Mr. Jonathan Wild.
Accordingly to Jonathan she came, deposited the crown, and answered the
questions she asked him. Jonathan then told her that in an hour or two's
time, possibly, some of his people might hear who it was that had picked
her pocket. The lady was vehement in her desires to have it again, and
for that purpose went so far at last as to offer an hundred guineas.
Upon that Wild made answer, _Though they are of much greater value to
you, madam, yet they cannot be worth anything like it to them; therefore
keep your own counsel, say nothing in the hearing of my people, and I'll
give you the best, directions I am able for the recovery of your notes.
In the meanwhile, if you will go to any tavern near, and endeavour to
eat a bit of dinner, I will bring you an answer before the cloth is
taken away._ She said she was unacquainted with any house thereabouts,
upon which Mr. Wild named the Baptist Head.[62] The lady would not be
satisfied unless Mr. Wild promised to eat with her; he at last complied,
and she ordered a fowl and sausages at the house he had appointed.
She waited there about three quarters of an hour, when Mr. Wild came
over and told her he had heard news of her book, desiring her to tell
out ten guineas upon the table in case she should have an occasion for
them. As the cook came up to acquaint her that the fowl was ready,
Jonathan begged she would see whether there was any woman waiting at his
door.
The lady, without minding the mystery, did as he desired her, and
perceiving a woman in a scarlet riding-hood walk twice or thrice by Mr.
Wild's house, her curiosity prompted her to go near her. But
recollecting she had left the gold upon the table upstairs, she went and
snatched it up without saying a word to Jonathan, and then running down
again went towards the woman in the red hood, who was still walking
before his door. It seems she had guessed right, for no sooner did she
approach towards her but the woman came directly up to her, and
presenting her pocket book, desired she would open it and see that all
was safe. The lady did so, and answering it was alright, the woman in
the red riding-hood said, _Here's another little note for you, madam_;
upon which she gave her a little billet, on the outside of which was
written ten guineas. The lady delivered her the money immediately,
adding also a piece for herself, and returning with a great deal of joy
to Mr. Wild, told him she had got her book, and would now eat her dinner
heartily. When the things were taken away, she thought it was time to go
to the merchant.
Thinking it would be necessary to make Mr. Wild a handsome present, she
put her hand in her pocket, and with great surprise found her green
purse gone, in which was the remainder of fifty guineas she had borrowed
of the merchant in the morning. Upon this she looked very much confused,
but did not speak a word. Jonathan perceived it, asked if she was not
well. _I am tolerably in health, sir_, answered she, _but I am amazed
that the woman took but ten guineas for the book, and at the same time
picked my pocket of thirty-nine._
Mr. Wild hereupon appeared in as great a confusion as the lady, and said
he hoped she was not in earnest, but if it were so, begged her not to
disturb herself, she should not lose one farthing. Upon which Jonathan
begging her to sit still, stepped over to his own house and gave, as
may be supposed, necessary directions, for in less than half an hour a
little Jew (called Abraham) that Wild kept, bolted into the room, and
told him the woman was taken, and on the point of going to the Compter.
_You shall see, Madam_, said Jonathan, turning to the lady, _what
exemplary punishment I'll make of this infamous woman._ Then turning
himself to the Jew, _Abraham_, says he, _was the green purse of money
taken on her? Yes sir_, replied his agent. _O la!_ then said the lady,
_I'll take the purse with all my heart; I would not prosecute the poor
wretch for the world. Would not you so, Madam_, replied Wild. _Well,
then, we'll see what's to be done._ Upon which he first whispered his
emissary, and then dispatched him.
He was no sooner gone than Jonathan told the lady that she would be too
late at the merchant's unless they took coach; which thereupon they did,
and stopped over against the Compter gate by the Stocks Market.[63] She
wondered at all this, but by the time they have been in a tavern a very
little space, back comes Jonathan's emissary with the green purse and
the gold in it. _She says, sir_, said the fellow to Wild _she has only
broke a guinea of the money for garnish and wine, and here's all the
rest of it. Very well_, says Jonathan, _give it to the lady. Will you
please to tell it, madam?_ The lady accordingly did, and found there
were forty-nine. _Bless me!_ says she. _I think the woman's bewitched,
she has sent me ten guineas more than I should have had. No, Madam_,
replied Wild, _she has sent you back again the ten guineas which she
received for the book; I never suffer any such practices in my way. I
obliged her, therefore, to give up the money she had taken as well as
that she had stole. And therefore I hope, whatever you may think of her,
that you will not have a worse opinion of your humble servant for this
accident._
The lady was so much confounded and confuted at these unaccountable
incidents, that she scarce knew what she did; at last recollecting
herself, _Well, Mr. Wild_, says she; _I think the least I can do is to
oblige you to accept of these ten guineas. No_, replied he, _nor of ten
farthings. I scorn all actions of such a sort as much as any man of
quality in the kingdom. All the reward I desire, Madam, is that you will
acknowledge I have acted like an honest man, and a man of honour._ He
had scarce pronounced these words, before he rose up, made her a bow,
and went immediately down stairs.
The reader may be assured there is not the least mixture of fiction in
this story, and yet perhaps there was not a more remarkable one which
happened in the whole course of Jonathan's life. I shall add but one
more relation of this sort, and then go on with the series of my
history. This which I am now going to relate happened within a few doors
of the place where I lived, and was transacted in this manner.
There came a little boy with vials in a basket to sell to a surgeon who
was my very intimate acquaintance. It was in the winter, and the weather
cold, when one day after he had sold the bottles that were wanted, the
boy complained he was almost chilled to death with cold, and almost
starved for want of victuals. The surgeon's maid, in compassion to the
child, who was not above nine or ten years old, took him into the
kitchen, and gave him a porringer of milk and bread, with a lump or two
of sugar in it. The boy ate a little of it, then said he had enough,
gave her a thousand blessings and thanks, and marched off with a silver
spoon, and a pair of forceps of the same mettle, which lay in the shop
as he passed through. The instrument was first missed, and the search
after it occasioned their missing the spoon; and yet nobody suspected
anything of the boy, though they had all seen him in the kitchen.
The gentleman of the house, however, having some knowledge of Jonathan
Wild, and not living far from the Old Bailey, went immediately to him
for his advice. Jonathan called for a bottle of white wine and ordered
it to be mulled; the gentleman knowing the custom of his house, laid
down the crown, and was going on to tell him the manner in which the
things were missed, but Mr. Wild soon cut him short by saying, _Sir,
step into the next room a moment; here's a lady coming hither. You may
depend upon my doing anything that is in my power, and presently we'll
talk the thing over at leisure._ The gentleman went into the room where
he was directed, and saw, with no little wonder, his forceps and silver
spoon lying upon the table. He had hardly taken them up to look at them
before Jonathan entered. _So, sir_, said he, _I suppose you have no
further occasion for my assistance. Yes, indeed, I have_, said the
surgeon, _there are a great many servants in our family, and some of
them will certainly be blamed for this transaction; so that I am under a
necessity of begging another favour, which is, that you will let me know
how they were stolen? I believe the thief is not far off_, quoth
Jonathan, _and if you'll give me your word he shall come to no harm,
I'll produce him immediately._
The gentleman readily condescended to this proposition, and Mr. Wild
stepping out for a minute or two, brought in the young vial merchant in
his hand. _Here, sir_, says Wild, _do you know this hopeful youth? Yes_,
answered the surgeon, _but I could never have dreamt that a creature so
little as he, could have had so much wickedness in him. However, as I
have given you my word, and as I have my things again, I will not only
pass by his robbing me, but if he will bring me bottles again, shall
make use of him as I used to do. I believe you may_, added Jonathan,
_when he ventures into your house again._
But it seems he was therein mistaken, for in less than a week afterwards
the boy had the impudence to come and offer his vials again, upon which
the gentleman not only bought of him as usual, but ordered two quarts of
milk to be set on the fire, put into it two ounces of glister sugar,
crumbled it with a couple of penny loaves, and obliged this
nimble-fingered youth to eat it every drop up before he went out of the
kitchen door, and then without farther correction hurried him about his
business.
This was the channel in which Jonathan's business usually ran, but to
support his credit with the magistrates, he was forced to add
thief-catching to it, and every sessions or two, strung up some of the
youths of his own bringing-up to the gallows. But this, however, did not
serve his turn; an honourable person on the Bench took notice of his
manner of acting, which being become at last very notorious, an Act of
Parliament was passed, levelled directly against such practices, whereby
persons who took money for the recovery of stolen goods, and did
actually recover such goods without apprehending the felon, should be
deemed guilty in the same degree of felony with those who committed the
fact in taking such goods as were returned. And after this became law,
the same honourable person sent to him to warn him of going on any
longer at his old rate, for that it was now become a capital crime, and
if he was apprehended for it, he could expect no mercy.
Jonathan received the reproof with abundance of thankfulness and
submission, but what was strange, never altered the manner of his
behaviour in the least; but on the contrary, did it more openly and
publicly than ever. Indeed, to compensate for this, he seemed to double
his diligence in apprehending thieves, and brought a vast number of the
most notorious amongst them to the gallows, even though he himself had
bred them up in the art of thieving, and given them both instructions
and encouragement to take that road which was ruinous enough in itself,
and by him made fatal.
Of these none were so open and apparent a case as that of Blake, _alias_
Blueskin. This fellow had from a child been under the tuition of
Jonathan, who paid for the curing his wounds, whilst he was in the
Compter, allowed him three and sixpence a week for his subsistence, and
afforded his help to get him out of there at last. Yet as soon after
this he abandoned him to his own conduct in such matters, and in a short
space caused him to be apprehended for breaking open the house of Mr.
Kneebone, which brought him to the gallows. When the fellow came to be
tried Jonathan, indeed, vouchsafed to speak to him, and assured him that
his body should be handsomely interred in a good coffin at his own
expense. This was strange comfort, and such as by no means suited
Blueskin: he insisted peremptorily upon a transportation pardon, which
be said he was sure Jonathan had interest enough to procure him. But
Wild assured him that he had not, and that it was in vain for him to
flatter himself with such hopes, but that he had better dispose himself
to thinking of another life; in order to which, good books and such like
helps should not be wanting.
All this put Blueskin at last into such a passion that though this
discourse happened upon the leads at the Old Bailey; in the presence of
the Court then sitting, Blake could not forbear taking a revenge for
what he took to be an insult on him. And therefore, without ado, he
clapped one hand under Jonathan's chin, and with the other, taking a
sharp knife out of his pocket, cut him a large gash across the throat,
which everybody at the time it was done judged mortal. Jonathan was
carried off, all covered with blood, and though at that time he
professed the greatest resentment for such usage, affirming that he had
done all that lay in his power for the man who had so cruelly designed
against his life; yet when he afterwards came to be under sentence of
death, he regretted prodigiously the escape he had made then from death,
often wishing that the knife of Blake had put an end to his life, rather
than left him to linger out his days till so ignominious a fate befell
him.
But it was not only Blake who had entertained notions of putting him to
death. He had disobliged almost the whole group of villains with whom he
had concern, and there were numbers of them who had taken it into their
heads to deprive him of life. His escapes in the apprehending such
persons were sometimes very narrow; he received wounds in almost every
part of his body, his skull was twice fractured, and his whole
constitution so broken by these accidents and the great fatigue he went
through, that when he fell under the misfortunes which brought him to
his death, he was scarce able to stand upright, and was never in a
condition to go to chapel.
But we have broke a little into the thread of our history, and must
therefore go back in order to trace the causes which brought on
Jonathan's last adventures, and finally his violent death. This we shall
now relate in the clearest and concisest manner that the thing will
allow; being well furnished for that purpose, having to personal
experience added the best intelligence that could be procured, and
that, too, from persons the most deserving of credit.
The practices of this criminal in the manner we have before mentioned
continued long after the Act of Parliament; and in so notorious a
manner, at last, that the magistrates in London and Middlesex thought
themselves obliged by the duty of their office to take notice of him.
This occasioned a warrant to be granted against him by a worshipful
alderman of the City, upon which Mr. Wild being apprehended somewhere
near Wood Street, he was carried into the Rose Sponging-house. There I
myself saw him sitting in the kitchen at the fire, waiting the leisure
of the magistrate who was to examine him.
In the meantime the crowd was very great, and, with his usual hypocrisy,
Jonathan harangued them to this purpose. _I wonder, good people, what it
is you would see? I am a poor honest man, who have done all I could do
to serve people when they have had the misfortune to lose their goods by
the villainy of thieves. I have contributed more than any man living to
bringing the most daring and notorious malefactors to justice. Yet now
by the malice of my enemies, you see I am in custody, and am going
before a magistrate who I hope will do me justice. Why should you insult
me, therefore? I don't know that I ever injured any of you? Let me
intreat you, therefore, as you see me lame in body, and afflicted in
mind, not to make me more uneasy than I can bear. If I have offended
against the law it will punish me, but it gives you no right to use me
ill, unheard, and unconvicted._
By this time the people of the house and the Compter officers had pretty
well cleared the place, upon which he began to compose himself, and
desired them to get a coach to the door, for he was unable to walk.
About an hour after, he was carried before a Justice and examined, and I
think was thereupon immediately committed to Newgate. He lay there a
considerable time before he was tried; at last he was convicted
capitally upon the following fact, which appeared on the evidence,
exactly in the same light in which I shall state it.
He was indicted on the afore-mentioned Statute, for receiving money for
the restoring stolen goods, without apprehending the persons by whom
they were stolen. In order to support this charge, the prosecutrix,
Catherine Stephens,[64] deposed as follows:
On the 22nd of January, I had two persons come in to my shop under
pretence of buying some lace. They were so difficult that I had
none below would please them, so leaving my daughter in the shop, I
stepped upstairs and brought down another box. We could not agree
about the price, and so they went away together. In about half an
hour I missed a tin box of lace that I valued at £50. The same night
and the next I went to Jonathan Wild's house; but meeting with him
at home, I advertised the lace that I had lost with a reward of
fifteen guineas, and no questions asked. But hearing nothing of it,
I went to Jonathan's house again, and then met with him at home. He
desired me to give him a description of the persons that I
suspected, which I did, as near as I could; and then he told me,
that he would make enquiry, and bid me call again in two or three
days. I did so, and then he said that he had heard something of my
lace, and expected to know more of the matter in a very little time.
I came to him again on that day he was apprehended (I think it was
the 15th of February). I told him that though I had advertised but
fifteen guineas reward, yet I would give twenty or twenty-five
guineas, rather than not have my goods. _Don't be in such a hurry_,
says Jonathan, _I don't know but I may help you to it for less, and
if I can I will; the persons that have it are gone out of town. I
shall set them to quarrelling about it, and then I shall get it the
cheaper._ On the 10th of March he sent me word that if I could come
to him in Newgate, and bring ten guineas in my pocket, he would help
me to the lace. I went, he desired me to call a porter, but I not
knowing where to find one, he sent a person who brought one that
appeared to be a ticket-porter. The prisoner gave me a letter which
he said was sent him as a direction where to go for the lace; but I
could not read, and so I delivered it to the porter. Then he desired
me to give the porter the ten guineas, or else (he said) the persons
who had the lace would not deliver it. I gave the porter the money;
he returned, and brought me a box that was sealed up, but not the
same that was lost. I opened it and found all my lace but one piece.
_Now, Mr. Wild_, says I, _what must you have for your trouble? Not a
farthing_, says he, _not a farthing for me. I don't do these things
for worldly interest, but only for the good of poor people that have
met with misfortunes. As for the piece of lace that is missing, I
hope to get it for you ere long, and I don't know but that I may
help you not only to your money again, but to the thief too. And if
I can, much good may it do you; and as you are a good woman and a
widow, and a Christian, I desire nothing of you but your prayers,
and for these I shall be thankful. I have a great many enemies, and
God knows what may be the consequence of this imprisonment._
The fact suggested in the indictment was undoubtedly fully proved by
this disposition, and though that fact happened in Newgate, and after
his confinement, yet it still continued as much and as great a crime as
if it had been done before; the Law therefore condemned him upon it. But
even if he had escaped this, there were other facts of a like nature,
which inevitably would have destroyed him; for the last years of his
life, instead of growing more prudent, he undoubtedly became less so,
for the blunders committed in this fact, were very little like the
behaviour of Jonathan in the first years in which he carried on this
practice, when nobody behaved with greater caution, as nobody ever had
so much reason to be cautious. And though he had all along great
enemies, yet he had conducted his affairs so that the Law could not
possibly lay hold of him, nor his excuses be easily detected, even in
respect of honesty.
When he was brought up to the bar to receive sentence, he appeared to be
very much dejected, and when the usual question was proposed to him:
_What have you to say why judgment of death should not pass upon you?_
he spoke with a very feeble voice in the following terms.
_My Lord, I hope even in the sad condition in which I stand, I may
pretend to some little merit in respect to the service I have done my
country, in delivering it from some of the greatest pests with which it
was ever troubled. My Lord, I have brought many bold and daring
malefactors to just punishment, even at the hazard of my own life, my
body being covered with scars I received in these undertakings. I
presume, my Lord, to say I have done merit, because at the time the
things were done, they were esteemed meritorious by the government; and
therefore I hope, my Lord, some compassion may be shown on the score of
those services. I submit myself wholly to his Majesty's mercy, and
humbly beg a favourable report of my case._
When Sir William Thomson[65] (now one of the barons of his Majesty's
Court of Exchequer), as Recorder of London, pronounced sentence of
death, he spoke particularly to Wild, put him in mind of those cautions
he had had against going on in those practices rendered capital by Law,
made on purpose for preventing that infamous trade of becoming broker
for felony, and standing in the middle between the felon and the person
injured, in order to receive a premium for redress. And when he had
properly stated the nature and aggravations of his crime, he exhorted
him to make a better use of that small portion of time, which the
tenderness of the law of England allowed sinners for repentance, and
desired he would remember this admonition though he had slighted others.
As to the report he told him, he might depend on Justice, and ought not
to hope for any more.
Under conviction, no man who appeared upon other occasions to have so
much courage, ever showed so little. He had constantly declined ever
coming to chapel, under pretence of lameness and indisposition; when
clergymen took the pains to visit him and instruct him in those duties
which it became a dying man to practice, though he heard them without
interruption, yet he heard them coldly. Instead of desiring to be
instructed on that head, he was continually suggesting scruples and
doubts about a future state, asking impertinent questions as to the
state of souls departed, and putting frequent cases of the
reasonableness and lawfulness of suicide, where an ignominious death was
inevitable, and the thing was perpetrated only to avoid shame. He was
more especially swayed to such notions he pretended, from the examples
of the famous heroes of antiquity, who to avoid dishonourable treatment,
had given themselves a speedy death. As such discourses were what took
up most of the time between his sentence and death, so that occasioned
some very useful lectures upon this head from the charitable divines who
visited him; but though they would have been of great use in all such
cases for the future, yet being pronounced by word of mouth only, they
are now totally lost. One letter indeed was written to him by a learned
person on this head, of which a copy has been preserved, and it is with
great pleasure that I give it to my readers, it runs thus:
A letter from the Reverend Dr. ---- to Mr. Wild in Newgate.
I am very sorry that after a life so spent as yours is notoriously
known to have been, you should yet, instead of repenting of your
former offences, continue to swell their number even with greater. I
pray God that it be not the greatest of all sins, affecting doubts
as to a future state, and whether you shall ever be brought to
answer for your actions in this life, before a tribunal in that
which is to come.
The heathens, it must be owned, could have no certainty as to the
immortality of the soul, because they had no immediate revelation;
for though the reasons which incline us to the belief of those two
points of future existence and future tribulation be as strong as
any of the motives are to other points in natural religion, yet as
none return from that land of darkness, or escape from the shadow of
death to bring news of what passeth in those regions whither all men
go, so without a direct revelation from the Almighty no positive
knowledge could be had of life in the world to come, which is
therefore properly said to be derived to us through Christ Jesus,
who in plain terms, and with that authority which confounded his
enemies, the Scribes and Pharisees, taught the doctrine of a final
judgment, and by affording us the means of grace, raised in us at
the same time the hopes of glory.
The arguments, therefore, which might appear sufficient unto the
heathens, to justify killing themselves to avoid what they thought
greater evils, if they had any force then must have totally lost it
now. Indeed, the far greater number of instances which history has
transmitted us, show that self-murder, even then, proceeded from the
same causes as at present, viz., rage, despair, and disappointment.
Wise men in all ages despised it as a mean and despicable flight
from evils the soul wanted courage and strength to bear. This has
not only been said by philosophers, but even by poets, too; which
shows that it appeared a notion, not only rational, but heroic.
There are none so timorous, says Martial, but extremity of want may
force upon a voluntary death; those few alone are to be accounted
brave who can support a life of evil and the pressing load of
misery, without having recount to a dagger.
But if there were no more in it than the dispute of which was the
most gallant act of the two, to suffer, or die, it would not deserve
so much consideration. The matter with you is of far greater
importance, it is not how, or in what manner you ought to die in
this world, but how you are to expect mercy and happiness in that
which is to come. This is your last stake, and all that now can
deserve your regard. Even hope is lost as to present life, and if
you make use of your reason, it must direct you to turn all your
wishes and endeavours towards attaining happiness in a future state.
What, then, remains to be examined in respect of this question is
whether persons who slay themselves can hope for pardon or happiness
in the sentence of that Judge from whom there is no appeal, and
whose sentence, as it surpasses all understanding, so is it executed
immediately.
If we judge only from reason, it seems that we have no right over a
life which we receive not from ourselves, or from our parents, but
from the immediate gift of Him who is the Lord thereof, and the
Fountain of Being.
To take away our own life, then, is contradicting as far as we are
able the Laws of Providence, and that disposition which His wisdom
has been pleased to direct. It is as though we pretended to have
more knowledge or more power than he; and as to that pretence which
is usually made use of, that Life is meant as a blessing, and that
therefore when it becomes an evil, we may if we think fit resign it,
it is indeed but a mere sophistry. We acknowledge God to be infinite
in all perfections, and consequently in wisdom and power; from the
latter we receive our existence in this Life, and as to the measure
it depends wholly on the former; so that if we from the shallow
dictates of our reason contemptuously shorten that term which is
appointed us by the Almighty, we thereby contradict all His laws,
throw up all right to His promises, and by the very last act we are
capable of, put ourselves out of His protection.
This I say is the prospect of the fruits of suicide, looked on with
the eye only of natural religion; and the opinion of Christians is
unanimous in this respect, that persons who wilfully deprive
themselves of life here, involve themselves also in death
everlasting. As to your particular case, in which you say 'tis only
making choice of one death rather than another, there are also the
strongest reasons against it, The Law intends your death, not only
for the punishment of your crimes, but as an example to deter
others. The Law of God which hath commanded that the magistrates
should not bear the sword in vain, hath given power to denounce this
sentence against you; but that authority which you would assume,
defeats both the law of the land in its intention, and is opposite
also unto the Law of God. Add unto all this, the example of our
blessed Saviour, who submitted to be hung upon a tree, tho' He had
only need of praying to His Father to have sent Him thousands of
Angels; yet chose He the death of a thief, that the Will of God, and
the sentence even of an unrighteous judge might be satisfied.
Let, then, the testimony of your own reason, your reverence towards
God, and the hopes which you ought to have in Jesus Christ,
determine you to await with patience the hour of your dissolution,
dispose you to fill up the short interval which yet remains with
sincere repentance, and enable you to support your sufferings with
such a Christian spirit of resignation, as may purchase for you an
eternal weight of glory. In the which you shall always be assisted
with my Prayers to God.
Who am, etc.
Jonathan at last pretended to be overcome with the reasons which had
been offered to him on the subject of self-murder. But it plainly
appeared that in this he was a hypocrite; for the day before his
execution, notwithstanding the keepers had the strictest eye on him
imaginable, somebody conveyed to him a bottle of liquid laudanum, of
which having taken a very large quantity, he hoped it would forestall
his dying at the gallows. But as he had not been sparing in the dose, so
the largeness of it made a speedy effect, which was perceived by his
fellow-prisoners seeing he could not open his eyes at the time that
prayers were said to them as usual in the condemned hold. Whereupon they
walked him about, which first made him sweat exceedingly, and he was
then very sick. At last he vomited, and they continuing still to lead
him, he threw the greatest part of the laudanum off from his stomach.
Notwithstanding that, he continued very drowsy, stupid and unable to do
anything but gasp out his breath until it was stopped by the halter.
He went to execution in a cart, and instead of expressing any kind of
pity or compassion for him, the people continued to throw stones and
dirt all the way along, reviling and cursing him to die last, and
plainly showed by their behaviour how much the blackness and notoriety
of his crimes had made him abhorred, and how little tenderness the
enemies of mankind meet with, when overtaken by the hand of Justice.
When he arrived at Tyburn, having by that gathered a little strength
(nature recovering from the convulsions in which the laudanum had thrown
him), the executioner told him he might take what time he pleased to
prepare his death. He therefore sat down in the cart for some small
time, during which the people were so uneasy that they called out
incessantly to the executioner to dispatch him, and at last threatened
to tear him to pieces if he did not tie him up immediately. Such a
furious spirit was hardly ever discovered in the populace upon such an
occasion. They generally look on blood with tenderness, and behold even
the stroke of Justice with tears; but so far were they from it in this
case that had a reprieve really come, 'tis highly questionable whether
the prisoner could ever have been brought back with safety, it being far
more likely that as they wounded him dangerously in the head in his
passage to Tyburn, they would have knocked him on the head outright, if
any had attempted to have brought mm back.
Before I part with Mr. Wild, 'tis requisite that I inform you in regard
to his wives, or those who were called his wives, concerning whom so
much noise has been made. His first was a poor honest woman who
contented herself to live at Wolverhampton, with the son she had by him,
without ever putting him to any trouble, or endeavouring to come up to
Town to take upon her the style and title of Madam Wild, which the last
wife he lived with did with the greatest affection. The next whom he
thought fit to dignify with the name of his consort, was the
afore-mentioned Mrs. Milliner, with whom he continued in very great
intimacy after they lived separately, and by her means carried on the
first of his trade in detecting stolen goods. The third one was Betty
Man, a woman of the town in her younger days, but so suddenly struck
with horror by a Romish priest that she turned Papist; and as she
appeared in her heart exceedingly devout and thoroughly penitent for all
her sins, it is to be hoped such penitence might merit forgiveness,
however erroneous the principle might be of that Church in the communion
of which she died. Wild ever retained such an impression of the sanctity
of this woman after her decease, and so great veneration for her, that
he ordered his body to be buried next hers in Pancras Churchyard, which
his friends saw accordingly performed, about two o'clock in the morning
after his execution.[66]
The next of Mr. Wild's sultana's was Sarah Perrin, _alias_ Graystone,
who survived him; then there was Judith Nunn, by whom he had a daughter,
who at the time of his decease might be about ten years old, both mother
and daughter being then living. The sixth and last was no less
celebrated as Mrs. or Madam Wild, than he was remarkable by the style of
Wild the Thief-catcher, or, by way of irony, of Benefit Jonathan. Before
her first marriage this remarkable damsel was known by the name of Mary
Brown, afterwards by that of Mrs. Dean, being wife to Skull Dean who was
executed about the year 1716 or 1717 for housebreaking. Some malicious
people have reported that Jonathan was accessory to hanging him merely
for the sake of the reward, and the opportunity of taking his relict,
who, whatever regard she might have for her first husband, is currently
reported to have been so much affected with the misfortunes that
happened to the latter, that she twice attempted to make away with
herself, after she had the news of his being under sentence of death.
However, by this his last lady, he left no children, and but two by his
three other wives were living at the time of his decease.
As to the person of the man, it was homely to the greatest degree. There
was something remarkably villainous in his face, which nature had
imprinted in stronger terms than perhaps she ever did upon any other;
however, he was strong and active, a fellow of prodigious boldness and
resolution, which made the pusillanimity shown at his death more
remarkable. In his life-time he was not at all shy in owning his
profession, but on the contrary bragged of it upon all occasions; into
which perhaps he was led by that ridiculous respect which was paid him,
and the meanness of spirit some persons of distinction were guilty of in
talking to him freely.
Common report has swelled the number of malefactors executed through his
means to no less than one hundred and twenty; certain it is that they
were very numerous in reality as in his own reckoning. The most
remarkable of them were these: White, Thurland, and Dunn, executed for
the murder of Mrs. Knap, and robbing Thomas Mickletwait, Esq.; James
Lincoln and Robert Wilkinson, for robbing and murdering Peter Martin,
the Chelsea Pensioner (but it must be noted that they denied the murder
even with their last breath); James Shaw, convicted by Jonathan, for the
murder of Mr. Pots, though he had been apprehended by others; Humphrey
Angier, who died for robbing Mr. Lewin, the City Marshal; John Levee and
Matthew Flood, for robbing the Honourable Mr. Young and Colonel Cope, of
a watch and other things of value; Richard Oakey, for robbing of Mr.
Betts, in Fig Lane; John Shepherd and Joseph Blake, for breaking the
house of Mr. Kneebone; with many others, some of which, such as John
Malony and Val Carrick, were of an older date.
It has been said that there was a considerable sum of money due to him
for his share in the apprehension of several felonies at the very time
of his death, which happened, as I have told you, at Tyburn, on Monday,
the 24th day of May, 1725; he being then about forty-two years of age.
[Illustration: JONATHAN WILD PELTED BY THE MOB ON HIS WAY TO TYBURN
(_From the Newgate Calendar_)]