"The celebrated Jack Sheppard, whose eminence in his profession rendered him the object of every body's curiosity, having made his exit on Monday last at Tyburn, in a manner suitable to his extraordinary merits, we hope a short summary of his most remarkable performances, before
and since his repeated escapes out of Newgate, together with his behaviour at the place of execution, will not be a disagreeable entertainment to our readers.
"He was born in 1701, and put apprentice by the charitable interposition of Mr. Kneebone, whom he afterwards robbed, to one Mr. Owen Wood, a Carpenter, in Drury-lane. Before his time was out he took to keep company with one Elizabeth Lyon, who proved his ruin: of her he gave this character. That 'there is not a more wicked, deceitful, lascivious wretch living in England.' The first robbery he ever committed was of two silver spoons at the Rummer-tavern, Charing-cross. He owned several other robberies, particularly that of Mr. Pargiter in Hampstead, for which the two Brightwells were tried and acquitted; in relation to which he often said jocosely, 'Little I was that large lusty man that plucked him from the ditch,' as Pargiter had deposed at Brightwell's trial. He was long comrade with Blueskin, lately executed, who, according to the account Sheppard gave of him, was 'a worthless companion, a sorry thief, and that nothing but his attempt on Jonathan Wild could have made him taken notice of:' afterwards he broke out of St. Giles's round-house, throwing a whole load of bricks, &c. on the people in the street who stood looking at him, and made his escape. After this he broke out of New Prison; then out of
the condemned hold in Newgate; but his last escape from Newgate having made the greatest noise, we shall insert the following particulars.
"Thursday, October the 15th, just before three in the afternoon, he went to work, taking off first his handcuffs; next with main strength he twisted a small iron link of the chain between his legs asunder; and the broken pieces proved extremely useful to him in his design; the fetlocks he drew up to the calves of his legs, taking off before that his stockings, and with his garters made them firm to his body, to prevent their shackling: he then proceeded to make a hole in the chimney of the Castle about three feet wide, and six feet high from the floor, and with the help of the broken links aforesaid, wrenched an iron bar out of the chimney, of about two foot and half in length, and an inch square; a most notable implement. He immediately entered the Red room, which is directly over the Castle, and went to work upon the nut of the lock, and with little difficulty got it off, and made the door fly before him; in this room he found a large nail, which proved of great use in his farther progress. The door of the entry between the Red room and the Chapel proved an hard task, it being a laborious piece of work; for here he was forced to break away the wall, and dislodge the bolt which was fastened on the other side: this occasioned much noise, and he was very fearful of being
heard by the master-side debtors. Being got to the Chapel, he climbed over the iron spikes, with ease broke one of them off, and opened the door on the inside: the door going out of the Chapel to the leads, he stripped the nut from off the lock, and then got into the entry between the Chapel and the leads, and came to another strong door, which being fastened by a very strong lock, he had like to have stopped, and it being full dark, his spirits began to fail him, as greatly doubting of success; but cheering up, he wrought on with great diligence, and in less than half an hour, with the main help of the nail from the Red room, and the spike from the Chapel, wrenched the Box off, and so was master of the door. A little farther in his passage another stout door stood in his way; and this was a difficulty with a witness; being guarded with more bolts, bars, and locks, than any he had hitherto met with: the chimes at St. Sepulchre's were then going the eighth hour: he went first upon the box and the nut, but found it labour in vain; he then proceeded to attack the fillet of the door; this succeeded beyond expectation, for the box of the lock coming off with it from the main post, he found his work was near finished. He was got to a door opening in the lower leads, which being only bolted on the inside, he opened it with ease, and then clambered from the top of it to the higher leads, and went over the wall. He saw the streets were lighted, the shops being still
open, and therefore began to consider what was necessary to be further done. He found he must go back for the blanket which had been his covering a-nights in the Castle, which he accordingly did, and endeavoured to fasten his stockings and that together, to lessen his descent, but wanted necessaries, and was therefore forced to make use of the blanket alone: he fixed the same with the Chapel spike into the wall of Newgate, and dropped from it on the Turner's leads, a house adjoining the prison; it was then about nine of the clock, and the shops not yet shut in. It fortunately happened, that the garret door on the leads was open. He stole softly down about two pair of stairs, and then heard company talking in a room, the door being open. His irons gave a small clink, which made a woman cry, 'Lord! what noise is that?' A man replied, 'Perhaps the dog or cat;' and so it went off. He returned up to the garret, and laid himself down, being terribly fatigued; and continued there for about two hours, and then crept down once more to the room where the company were, and heard a gentleman take his leave, who being lighted down stairs, the maid, when she returned, shut the chamber door: he then resolved at all hazards to follow, and slip down stairs; he was instantly in the entry, and out at the street-door, and once more contrary to his own expectation, and that of all mankind, a free man.
"He passed directly by St. Sepulchre's
watch-house, bidding them good-morrow, it being after twelve, and down Snow-hill, up Holborn, leaving St. Andrew's watch on his left, and then again passed the watch-house at Holborn-bars, and made down Gray's-Inn-lane into the fields, and at two in the morning came to Tottenham-court, where getting into an old house in the fields, he laid himself down to rest, and slept well for three hours. His legs were swelled and bruised intolerably, which gave him great uneasiness; and having his fetters still on, he dreaded the approach of the day. He began to examine his pockets, and found himself master of between forty and fifty shillings. It raining all Friday, he kept snug in his retreat till the evening, when after dark he ventured into Tottenham, and got to a little blind chandler's shop, and there furnished himself with cheese, bread, small beer, and other necessaries, hiding his irons with a great coat. He asked the woman for an hammer, but there was none to be had; so he went very quietly back to his dormitory, and rested pretty well that night, and continued there all Saturday. At night he went again to the chandler's shop, and got provisions, and slept till about six the next day, which being Sunday, he began to batter the basils of the fetters in order to beat them into a large oval, and then to slip his heels through. In the afternoon the master of the shed, or house, came in, and seeing his irons, asked him, 'For God's sake,
who are you?' He told him, 'an unfortunate young man, who had been sent to Bridewell about a bastard-child, and not being able to give security to the Parish, had made his escape.' The man replied, 'If that was the case it was a small fault indeed, for he had been guilty of the same things himself formerly,' and withal said, 'However, he did not like his looks, and cared not how soon he was gone.'