Читать книгу True Crime Chronicles - Camden Pelham - Страница 31

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THE prisoner, whose name heads this article, was a companion and fellow in crime to the notorious Blueskin. The name of Jack Sheppard is one which needs no introduction. His exploits are so notorious, that nothing more is necessary than to recount them. Sheppard was born in Spitalfields, in the year 1702; his father was a carpenter and bore the character of an honest man; but dying when his son was yet young, he, as well as a younger brother, Tom Sheppard, soon became remarkable for their disregard for honesty. Our hero was apprenticed to a carpenter in Wych-street, like his father, and during the first four years of his service he behaved with comparative respectability; but frequenting a public-house, called the Black Lion, in Drury Lane, he became acquainted with Blueskin, his subsequent companion in wickedness, and Wild, his betrayer, as well as with some women of abandoned character, who afterwards also became his coadjutors. His attentions were more particularly directed to one of them, named Elizabeth Lion, or Edgeworth Bess, as she was familiarly called from the town in which she was born, and while connected with her he frequently committed robberies at the various houses, in which he was employed as a workman. He was, however, also acquainted with a woman named Maggott, who persuaded him to commit his first robbery in the house of Mr. Bains, a piece-broker, in White Horse Yard, Drury Lane. He was at this time still resident at his master’s house; and having stolen a piece of fustian, he took it home to his trunk, and then returning to the house which he was robbing, he took the bars out of the cellar-window, entered, and stole goods and money to the amount of 22l. which he carried to Maggott. As Sheppard did not go home that night, nor on the following day, his master suspected that he had made bad connexions, and searching his trunk found the piece of fustian that had been stolen; but Sheppard, hearing of this, broke open his master’s house in the night, and carried off the fustian, lest it should be brought in evidence against him.

This matter received no further attention; but Sheppard’s master seemed desirous still to favour him, and he remained some time longer in the family; but after associating himself with the worst of company, and frequently staying out the whole night, his master and he quarrelled, and the headstrong youth totally absconded in the last year of his apprenticeship.

Jack now worked as a journeyman carpenter, with a view to the easier commission of robbery; and being employed to assist in repairing the house of a gentleman in May Fair, he took an opportunity of carrying off a sum of money, a quantity of plate, some gold rings, and four suits of clothes. Not long after this Edgeworth Bess was apprehended, and lodged in the round-house of the parish of St. Giles’s, where Sheppard went to visit her; but the beadle refusing to admit him, he knocked him down, broke open the door, and carried her off in triumph; an exploit which acquired him a high degree of credit among his companions. Tom Sheppard being now as deep in crime as his brother, he prevailed on Jack to lend him forty shillings, and take him as a partner in his robberies. The first act they committed in concert was the robbing of a public-house in Southwark, whence they carried off some money and wearing apparel; but Jack permitted his brother to reap the whole advantage of this booty. Not long after this, in conjunction with Edgeworth Bess, they broke open the shop of Mrs. Cook, a linen-draper in Clare Market, and carried off goods to the value of 55l.; and in less than a fortnight afterwards, they stole some articles from the house of Mr. Phillips in Drury Lane. Tom Sheppard going to sell some of the goods stolen at Mrs. Cook’s, was apprehended, and committed to Newgate, when, in the hope of being admitted an evidence, he impeached his brother and Bess; but they were sought for in vain.

At length James Sykes, otherwise called Hell-and-Fury, one of Sheppard’s companions, meeting with him in St. Giles’s, enticed him into a public-house, in the hope of receiving a reward for apprehending him; and while they were drinking Sykes sent for a constable, who took Jack into custody, and carried him before a magistrate. After a short examination, he was sent to St. Giles’s round-house; but he broke through the roof of that place and made his escape in the night.

Within a short time after this, as Sheppard and an associate, named Benson, were crossing Leicester Fields, the latter endeavoured to pick a gentleman’s pocket of his watch; but failing in the attempt, the gentleman called out “A pickpocket!” on which Sheppard was taken, and lodged in St. Ann’s round-house, where he was visited by Edgeworth Bess, who was detained on suspicion of being one of his accomplices. On the following day they were carried before a magistrate, and some persons appearing who charged them with felonies, they were committed to the New Prison; but as they passed for husband and wife, they were permitted to lodge together in a room known by the name of the Newgate ward. They were here visited by many of their friends, Blueskin among the number; and being provided by them with the implements necessary to enable them to escape, Jack proceeded to secure the object which he had in view with that alacrity and energy which always characterised his actions. The removal of his fetters by means of a file was a work which occupied him a very few minutes, and he then, with the assistance of his companion, prepared for flight. The first obstacle which presented itself to them was in the shape of the heavy cross-bars which defended the aperture, by which light and air were admitted to their cell; but the application of their file soon removed the difficulty. There was then another point of a more dangerous character to overcome—the descent to the yard. Their window was twenty-five feet in height, and the only means of reaching the earth was by the employment of their blankets as ropes. These, however, would not enable them to touch the ground; but they found that there was a considerable distance for them to drop, even after they should have arrived at the extreme end of their cord. Gallantry induced our hero to give the first place to Bess, and she, having stripped off a portion of her clothes, so as to render herself lighter, descended in perfect safety. Jack followed, and they found some consolation in their being at least without the gaol, although there were yet the walls of the yard to climb. These were topped with a strong chevaux de frise of iron, and were besides twenty-two feet high; but passing round them until they came to the great gates, the adventurous pair found means by the locks and bolts, by which they were held together, to surmount this, apparently the greatest difficulty of all, and they once again stood on the open ground outside the gaol. Bess having now re-assumed the clothes, of which she had denuded herself, in order that she might be the more agile in her escape, and which she had taken the precaution to throw over the wall before her, she and her paramour, once more enjoying the free air of liberty, marched into town.

It may readily be supposed that our hero’s fame was increased by the report of this exploit, and all the thieves of St. Giles’s soon became anxious to become his “palls.” He did not hesitate to accept the companionship of two of them, named Grace, a cooper, and Lamb, an apprentice to a mathematical instrument maker; and at the instigation of the latter they committed a robbery in the house of his master, near St. Clement’s church, to a considerable amount. The apprentice, however, was suspected, and secured, and being convicted, received sentence of transportation. Our hero meanwhile escaped, and joining with Blueskin, they did not fail in obtaining considerable booty. The mode of disposing of the plunder which they adopted was that of employing a fellow named Field to procure them a market; and having committed the robbery at Kneebone’s, already mentioned in Blake’s memoir, they lodged its proceeds in a stable, which they had hired, near the Horse Ferry, Westminster. Field was applied to, to find a customer for the property, and he promised to do so, and was as good as his word; for breaking open the stable, he carried off the goods himself, and then conveyed information of the robbery to Wild, alleging that he had been concerned in it. Blueskin, it will have been seen, was tried and convicted for the robbery, and suffered execution; and Sheppard having also been secured, he too was sentenced to death.

On Monday, 30th August, 1724, a warrant was sent for his execution, together with that of some other convicts, but neither his ingenuity nor his courage forsook him upon this, any more than upon any previous occasion. In the gaol of Newgate there was a hatch within the lodge in which the gaolers sat, which opened into a dark passage, from which there were a few steps leading to the hold containing the condemned cells. It was customary for the prisoners, on their friends coming to see them, to be conducted to this hatch; but any very close communication was prevented by the surveillance of the gaolers, and by large iron spikes which surmounted the gate. The visits of Edgeworth Bess to her paramour were not unattended with advantage to the latter, for while in conversation, she took the opportunity of diverting the attention of the gaoler from her, while she delivered the necessary instruments to Sheppard to assist him in his contemplated escape. Subsequent visits enabled Jack to approach the wicket; and by constant filing he succeeded in placing one of the spikes in such a position as that it could be easily wrenched off. On the evening on which the warrant for his execution arrived, Mrs. Maggott, who was an immensely powerful woman, and Bess, going to visit him, he broke off the spike while the keepers were employed in drinking in the lodge, and thrusting his head and shoulders through the aperture, the women pulled him down, and smuggled him through the outer room, in which the gaolers were indulging themselves, into the street. This second escape not a little increased his notoriety; but an instant pursuit being made, he was compelled to lie close. Consulting with one Page, a butcher, it was determined that they should go to Warnden, in Northamptonshire, together where the relations of the latter lived; but on arriving there, being treated with indifference, they immediately retraced their steps to London.

On the night after their return, they were walking through Fleet-street, when they saw a watchmaker’s shop attended only by a boy, and having passed it, they turned back, and Sheppard, driving his hand through the window, stole three watches, with which they made their escape. They subsequently retired to Finchley for security; but the gaolers of Newgate gaining information of their retreat, took Sheppard into custody, and once more conveyed him to “The Stone Jug.”

Such steps were now taken as it was thought would be effectual to prevent his future escape. He was put into a strong room, called the Castle, handcuffed, loaded with a heavy pair of irons, and chained to a staple fixed in the floor. The curiosity of the public being greatly excited by his former escape, he was visited by great numbers of people of all ranks, and scarce any one left him without making him a present in money. Although he did not disdain these substantial proofs of public generosity, which enabled him to obtain those luxuries, which were not provided by the city authorities for his prison fare, his thoughts were constantly fixed on the means of again eluding his keepers; and the opportunity was not long wanting when he might carry his design into execution.

On the fourteenth of October, the sessions began at the Old Bailey, and the keepers being much engaged in attending the Court, he thought rightly, that they would have little time to visit him, and, therefore, that, the present juncture would be the most favourable to carry his plan into execution. About two o’clock in the afternoon of the following day, one of the keepers carried him his dinner; and having carefully examined his irons, and found them fast, he left him. Sheppard now immediately proceeded to the completion of the great work of his life, his second escape from Newgate; in describing which we shall extract from Mr. Ainsworth’s work of “Jack Sheppard,” in which that gentleman has given a lasting fame to our hero, and has founded a most interesting romance on the real circumstances of the life of this daring and extraordinary offender. He says, “Jack Sheppard’s first object was to free himself from his handcuffs. This he accomplished by holding the chain that connected them firmly between his teeth, and, squeezing his fingers as closely together as possible, he succeeded in drawing his wrists through the manacles. He next twisted the heavy gyves round and round, and partly by main strength, partly by a dexterous and well-applied jerk, snapped asunder the central link, by which they were attached to the padlock. Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken chains to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his future exertions.” Upon a former attempt to make his way up the chimney, he had been impeded by an iron bar which was fixed across it, at a height of a few feet. To remove this obstacle, it was necessary to make an extensive breach in the wall. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster. He found the wall, as he suspected, solidly constructed of brick and stone; and, with the slight and inadequate tools which he possessed, it was a work of infinite skill and labour to get out a single brick. That done, however, he was well aware the rest would be comparatively easy; and as he threw the brick to the ground, he exclaimed triumphantly, “The first step is taken—the main difficulty is overcome.”

“Animated by this trifling success, he proceeded with fresh ardour, and the rapidity of his progress was proclaimed by the heap of bricks, stones, and mortar, which before long covered the floor. At the expiration of an hour, by dint of unremitting exertion, he made so large a breach in the chimney that he could stand upright in it. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, he speedily worked his way to it. Regardless of the risk he ran by some heavy stones dropping on his head or feet—regardless also of the noise made by the falling rubbish, and of the imminent risk to which he was consequently exposed of being interrupted by some of the gaolers, should the sound reach their ears, he continued to pull down large masses of the wall, which he flung upon the floor of the cell. Having worked thus for another quarter of an hour, without being sensible of fatigue, though he was half stifled by the clouds of dust which his exertions raised, he had made a hole about three feet wide and six high, and uncovered the iron bar. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched it from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard in length, and more than an inch square. ‘A capital instrument for my purpose,’ thought Jack, shouldering it, ‘and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it.’ While he was thus musing, he thought he heard the lock tried. A chill ran through his frame, and grasping the heavy weapon, with which chance had provided him, he prepared to strike down the first person who should enter his cell. After listening attentively for a short time without drawing breath, he became convinced that his apprehensions were groundless, and, greatly relieved, sat down upon the chair to rest himself and prepare for future efforts.

“Acquainted with every part of the gaol, Jack well knew that his only chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof. To reach it would be a most difficult undertaking. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. The mere enumeration of the obstacles which existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard’s from even hazarding the attempt. Independently of other risks, and the chance of breaking his neck in the descent, he was aware that to reach the leads he should have to break open six of the strongest doors of the prison. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success. ‘My name will not only be remembered as that of a robber,’ he mused, ‘but it shall be remembered as that of a bold one; and this night’s achievement, if it does nothing else, shall prevent me from being classed with the common herd of depredators.’ Roused by this reflection, he grasped the iron bar, which, when he sat down, he had laid upon his knees, and stepped quickly across the room. In doing so, he had to clamber up the immense heap of bricks and rubbish which now littered the floor, amounting almost to a cart-load, and reaching up nearly to the chimney-piece; and having once more got into the chimney, he climbed to a level with the ward above, and recommenced operations as vigorously as before. He was now aided with a powerful implement, with which he soon contrived to make a hole in the wall.

“The ward which Jack was endeavouring to break was called the Red-room from the circumstance of its walls having once been painted in that colour: all traces of which, however, had long since disappeared. Like the Castle, which it resembled in all respects, except that it was destitute even of a barrack bedstead, the Red-room was reserved for state prisoners, and had not been occupied since the year 1716, when the gaol was crowded by the Preston rebels. Having made a hole in the wall sufficiently large to pass through, Jack first tossed the bar into the room and then crept after it. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare black walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the misty close atmosphere, exclaimed, ‘I will let a little fresh air into this dungeon: they say it has not been opened for eight years, but I won’t be eight minutes in getting out.’ In stepping across the room, some sharp point in the floor pierced his foot, and stooping to examine it, he found that the wound had been inflicted by a long rusty nail, which projected from the boards. Totally disregarding the pain, he picked up the nail, and reserved it for future use. Nor was he long in making it available. On examining the door, he found it secured by a large rusty lock, which he endeavoured to pick with the nail he had just acquired: but all his efforts proving ineffectual, he removed the plate that covered it with the bar, and with his fingers contrived to draw back the bolt.

“Opening the door, he then stepped into a dark narrow passage, leading, as he was well aware, to the Chapel. On the left there were doors communicating with the King’s Bench Ward, and the Stone Ward, two large holds on the master debtors’ side. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them. Indeed, if he had been ignorant of it, the sound of voices, which he could faintly distinguish, would have served as a caution to him. Hurrying on, his progress was soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness and nearly as wide as the passage. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived, to his dismay, that it was fastened on the other side. After several vain attempts to burst it open, he resolved, as a last alternative, to break through the wall in the part nearest the lock. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated. The wall was of considerable thickness, and built altogether of stone; and the noise he was compelled to make in using the heavy bar, which brought sparks with every splinter he struck off, was so great, that he feared it must be heard by the prisoners on the debtors’ side. Heedless, however, of the consequences, he pursued his task. Half an hour’s labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. In this way he was able to force back a ponderous bolt from its socket; and to his unspeakable delight, found that the door instantly yielded. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward and entered the Chapel.

“Situated at the upper part of the south-east angle of the gaol, the Chapel of Old Newgate was divided on the north side into three grated compartments, or pens, as they were termed, allotted to the common debtors and felons. In the north-west angle there was a small pen for female offenders; and on the south, a more commodious inclosure appropriated to the master debtors and strangers. Immediately beneath the pulpit stood a large circular pen, where malefactors under sentence of death sat to hear the condemned sermon delivered to them, and where they formed a public spectacle to the crowds which curiosity generally attracted on those occasions. To return, Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. The inclosure by which it was surrounded was about twelve feet high; the under part being composed of oaken planks, the upper part of a strong iron grating, surmounted by sharp iron spikes. In the middle there was a gate: it was locked. But Jack speedily burst it open with the iron bar. Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment’s repose. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. There he sat as before, with the heavy fetters on his limbs, and beside him sat his three companions who had since expiated their offences on the gibbet. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye fixed upon him. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the Ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. From this perturbed state he was roused by the thoughts of his present position, and fancying he heard approaching voices, he started up. On one side of the chapel there was a large grated window, but, as it looked upon the interior of the gaol, Jack preferred following the course he had originally decided upon, to making any attempt in this quarter. Accordingly he proceeded to a gate which stood upon the south, and guarded the passage communicating with the leads. It was grated, and crested with spikes, like that he had just burst open; and thinking it a needless waste of time to force it, he broke off one of the spikes, which he carried with him for further purposes, and then climbed over it. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. Here he found another strong door, making the fifth he had encountered. Well aware that the doors in this passage were much stronger than those in the entry he had just quitted, he was neither surprised nor dismayed to find it fastened by a lock of unusual size. After repeatedly trying to remove the plate, which was so firmly screwed down that it resisted all his efforts, and vainly attempting to pick it with his spike and nail, he at length, after half an hour’s ineffectual labour, wrenched off the box by means of the iron bar, and the door, as he laughingly expressed it, ‘was his humble servant.’

“But this difficulty was only overcome to be succeeded by one still greater. Hastening along the passage, he came to the sixth door. For this he was prepared: but he was not prepared for the almost insurmountable difficulties which it presented. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. It seemed as if all the precautions previously taken were here accumulated. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from the conviction of its utter hopelessness; but though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. Once again he passed his hand over the surface, and carefully noted all the obstacles. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. Below it a prodigiously large bolt was shot into the socket, and, in order to keep it there, was fastened by a hasp, and further protected by an immense padlock. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. An iron fillet secured the socket of the bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the door-way. Nothing disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he attacked with all his implements;—now attempting to pick it with the nail;—now to wrench it off with the bar, but all without effect. He not only failed in making any impression but seemed to increase the difficulties, for after an hour’s toil he had broken the nail, and slightly bent the iron bar. Completely overcome by fatigue, with strained muscles and bruised hands, streaming with perspiration, and with lips so parched that he would gladly have parted with a treasure if he had possessed it for a draught of water, he sunk against the wall, and while in this state was seized with a sudden and strange alarm. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight, and were in pursuit of him—that they had climbed up the chimney—entered the bed-rooms—tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate, which he had left unbroken in the chapel. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. By degrees his fears vanished, and, hearing nothing, he grew calmer. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet—a notion no sooner conceived than executed. With incredible labour, and by the aid of both spike and nail, he succeeded in getting the point of the bar beneath the fillet. Exerting all his energies, and using the bar as a lever, he forced off the iron band, which was full seven feet high, seven inches wide, and two inches thick, and which brought with it, in its fall, the box of the lock, and the socket of the bolt, leaving no further hindrance. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door.

“Ascending a short flight of steps, Jack found at the summit a door, which, being bolted on the inside, he speedily opened. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him. He had now reached what were called the Lower Leads—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. On the north stood the battlements of one of the towers of the gate. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. This door was crested with spikes, and guarded on the right by a bristling semi-circle of similar weapons. Hastily ascending the steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. He could have easily forced it, but he preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which suggested itself to him. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. Just as he got on the roof of the prison, St. Sepulchre’s clock struck eight. It was instantly answered by the deep note of St. Paul’s; and the concert was prolonged by other neighbouring churches. Jack had been thus six hours in accomplishing his arduous task.

“Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. Through the gloom he distinctly perceived the dome of St. Paul’s, hanging like a black cloud in the air; and, nearer to him, he remarked the golden ball on the summit of the College of Physicians, compared by Garth to a ‘gilded pill.’ Other towers and spires;—St. Martin’s, on Ludgate-hill, and Christ Church, in Newgate-street, were also distinguishable. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. To prevent the recurrence of any such escape as that just described, it was deemed expedient, in more recent times, to keep a watchman at the top of Newgate. Not many years ago, two men employed in this duty quarrelled during the night, and in the morning their bodies were found stretched upon the pavement of the yard below. Proceeding along the wall, Jack reached the southern tower, over the battlements of which he clambered, and crossing it, dropped upon the roof of the gate. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur-street. Arrived at the extremity of the building, he found that it overlooked the flat roof of a house, which, as far as he could judge in the darkness, lay at a depth of about twenty feet below.

“Not choosing to hazard so great a fall, Jack turned to examine the building, to see whether any more favourable point of descent presented itself, but could discover nothing but steep walls, without a single available projection. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur-street. Accordingly he began to retrace his steps, and pursuing the course he had recently taken, scaling the two towers, and passing along the walls of the prison, he descended by means of the door upon the Lower Leads. Before he re-entered the prison he hesitated, from a doubt whether he was not fearfully increasing his risk of capture; but, convinced that he had no other alternative, he went on. During all this time he had never quitted the iron bar, and he now grasped it with the firm determination of selling his life dearly if he met with any opposition. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passages through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. He did not disturb any of the litter, but left it as a mark of his prowess. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room, he passed through the first door, his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised. Listening at one of the doors leading to the master-debtors’ side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody; and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in that quarter. Entering the Red-Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. How different were his present feelings, compared with those he had experienced on quitting it! Then, full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. Now he had achieved them, and felt assured of success. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red-Room, that it was with some difficulty that he could find the blanket, which was almost buried beneath the pile. He next searched for his stockings and shoes, and when found, put them on. He now prepared to return to the roof, and throwing the blanket over his left arm, and shouldering the iron bar, he again clambered up the chimney, regained the Red-Room, hurried along the first passage, crossed the chapel, threaded the entry to the Lower Leads, and in less than three minutes after quitting the Castle, had reached the northern extremity of the prison. Previously to his descent, he had left the nail and spike on the wall, and with these he fastened the blanket to the coping-stone. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety.

“Having now got fairly out of Newgate, for the second time, with a heart throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape. To his great joy he found a small garret door in the roof of the opposite house open; he entered it, crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled, opened another door and gained the stair-head. As he was about to descend, his chains slightly rattled. ‘O lud! what’s that?’ cried a female voice from an adjoining room ‘Only the dog,’ replied the rough tones of a man, and all was again silent. Securing the chain in the best way he could, Jack then hurried down two pair of stairs, and had nearly reached the lobby, when a door suddenly opened, and two persons appeared, one of whom held a light. Retreating as quickly as he could, Jack opened the first door he came to, entered a room, and searching in the dark for some place of concealment, fortunately discovered a screen, behind which he crept.”

Having lain down here for about two hours, he once more proceeded down stairs, and saw a gentleman take leave of the family and quit the house, lighted by the servant; and as soon as the maid returned, he resolved to venture at all hazards. In stealing down the stairs he stumbled against a chamber door, but instantly recovering himself, he got into the street.

By this time it was after twelve o’clock, and passing by the watch-house 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.