To cheat that arch-rogue and cunning friend and betrayer of rogues, Jonathan Wild, out of a place in these pages would be too mean an action. He towers above the ordinary run of bad men as a very giant in wickedness. Although he was himself no highwayman, he was friend of and associate with all of their trade, and as such has a right here.

Jonathan Wild was a native of Wolverhampton, the son, according to some, of a carpenter; but, by more trustworthy records, his father was a wig-maker. He was born about 1682. His father apprenticed him to a Birmingham buckle-maker. While at Birmingham he married, but, deserting his wife and child, he made for London, and was for a short period a gentleman's servant. Returning for a brief space to the buckle-making trade, he soon found himself in debt, and then, by what was a natural transition in those times, lodged in the Poultry Compter. The Compter (it is also styled the Wood Street Compter) was something over and above a prison for debtors and others: and was indeed nothing less than an academy and forcing-house of villainies, where incipient scoundrels were brought on early in season, like cucumbers under glass. It was not singular in this, for all the prisons of that age shared the like well-earned reputation. Something of the horrors of imprisonment for debt, as then practised, may be judged by the fact that Wild was here for four years; but for a portion of the time he had the advantage over his fellow-prisoners of being appointed assistant-gaoler. Wild never at any time lacked address and tact, and these qualities here stood him in good stead.

It was in this abode of despair that he first met Mary Milliner, who was ever afterwards associated with him. She was already old in crime, though not in years, and was his initiator into the first practical rogueries he knew. But he was a criminal by instinct, and needed only introductions to the world of crime. Once shown the methods in vogue, he not only became a master in their use, but speedily improved upon them, to the wonderment and admiration of all the cross-coves in London.

Released at length from durance, he and Mary Milliner set up a vile establishment in Lewkenor's Lane, and later took a low public-house, a resort of the padding-culls of the City—the sign of the "Cock," in Cock Alley, Cripplegate.

Wild had also made acquaintance, while in the Wood Street Compter, of a deep-dyed scoundrel, a certain Charles Hitchen, an ex-City marshal, who had lost his post through irregular practices, and had become an associate with and director of thieves, and an expert blackmailer. Hitchen was his early instructor in the curious art of acting as intermediary between the thieves and those persons who had been robbed of goods, or had had their pockets picked of watches and other valuable jewellery; but Wild was a genius in his own way, with a talent for organisation never equalled in his line, before or since, except perhaps by Moll Cutpurse, who flourished a century earlier. Moll, however, was ever staunch to her friends and accomplices, but Wild was always ready to sell his intimates and to send them to the cart, if it were made worth his while. So their careers run parallel for only a little distance and then widely separate.

Wild in a very little time broke with Hitchen. He left his instructor far behind, and did business on so Napoleonic a scale that he speedily aroused the furious jealousy of his sometime associate, who, unable to contain himself at the thought of Wild, once his pupil, taking nearly all his profitable business away, published a singular pamphlet, intended to expose the trade. This was styled "The Regulator; or, a Discovery of Thieves, Thief-takers, and Locks": "locks" being receivers of stolen property. It had not the desired effect of spoiling his rival's trade; and Jonathan continued to thrive amazingly. As a broker and go-between in nearly all the felonies of his time committed in and immediately around London, he speedily came to the front, and he was exceptional in that he most adroitly and astonishingly doubled the parts of Receiver-General of stolen property and self-styled "Thief-catcher-General of Great Britain and Ireland."

It might at the first blush, and indeed even after long consideration, seem impossible to pose with success at one and the same time as the friend and the enemy of all who get their living on the cross, but Jonathan Wild achieved the apparently impossible and flourished exceedingly on the amazing paradox.

The first steps in this mesh of scoundrelism that Wild drew are not sufficiently detailed, and Fielding's "History of the Late Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great" is rather an effort in whimsical, satirical imagination than in sheer biography. The considerable number of chap-book "Lives" of this arch-villain are also absolutely untrustworthy. But it is abundantly evident that he was a man of imagination and a master at organising, for we find him the brain-centre of all the robberies committed at that time in and around London, himself the secret, supreme director of them all, and at the same time the apparently "honest broker" who, for a consideration (quite after the old manner of Moll Cutpurse), would undertake to restore missing property. This self-appointed "Thief-taker" had numerous contingents, to each of which was allotted its special work. One attended churches, another visited the theatres, yet another detachment devoted their best energies to the art of shop-lifting, and another still took situations as domestic servants, and in that capacity made away with their employers' plate and jewellery. It all seems like the fantastic imagining of a novelist, but it is sufficiently real, and the theory of mutual benefits accruing to Wild and his gang by this unnatural alliance is quite sound. He received the stolen property and held it to ransom, dividing (more or less unfairly) the amounts received with his thieves, who could not, without running great risks, sell it. All concerned benefited: the plundered citizens repurchased their valuables cheaply, Wild took an excellent commission, and the thieves, pickpockets, and highwaymen made a good living without much risk. The reverse of this charming picture of distributed benefits was the alarming increase of robberies and the decrease of arrests and convictions; and another serious outcome of Wild's organisation was that he absolutely commanded the lives of those who worked with him. None with impunity offended the great man, who was merciless in his revenge, swearing away the lives of those who dared cross him. Among the numerous satirical old prints relating to Jonathan Wild there is a gruesome picture of devils lighting him with flaring torches on the red way to Hell, together with a trophy of twenty-five hanging persons, men and women, all duly named, whom he brought to the gallows as a result of differences of opinion in the business matters between them, or merely for the reason that they had outlasted their use and had become inefficient thieves, and it would pay him better to secure their conviction. And it is to be observed that in all this while he was well known to be a director of robberies and receiver of stolen goods. It was scandalously notorious that, while he advertised himself in the newspapers as "Thief-catcher-General of Great Britain and Ireland," he was colleague of those he professed to catch. And, as the law then stood, he could not be brought to book. Everything was possible to the cunning and daring of Jonathan Wild, who could not merely bring a man to trial, but could snatch him from the very jaws of death by making the prosecutor so drunk that he was not present to give evidence at the trial; whereupon the accused was discharged.

In fifteen years' activities of this kind, Wild amassed enormous sums. He established himself in a fine house in the Old Bailey, conveniently opposite Newgate, and there lived in fine style with his Molly, the widow of a criminal who had been hanged at Tyburn. A footman followed him in livery; he dined in state: "His table was very splendid, he seldom dining under five Dishes, the Reversions whereof were generally charitably bestow'd on the Commonside felons." Jewellery and valuables not ransomed were shipped by him to Holland, in a sloop he regularly maintained for the purpose, bringing contraband goods on the return voyage.

There is this undoubted tribute to Jonathan Wild's greatness, that Parliament was at last moved to pass an Act especially designed to cope with his villainies, and to lay him by the heels. This was the Act of 1718, "For the farther preventing Robberies, Burglaries, and other Felonies, and for the more effectual transportation of Felons." A portion of this measure constituted it a felony for any one to solicit or to accept a reward on the pretence of restoring stolen property to the owners, unless they prosecuted the thieves.

But this clause was evaded without much difficulty by the astute Wild. He merely reconstituted his business, and made it an Enquiry Office, where no money was accepted. Clients still came in numbers to him, seeking their lost property, for it was certain, all the while, that he had really a guilty knowledge of at least three-quarters of the robberies committed in London. This revised procedure was for the owners who called upon him to be informed that he had made enquiries, and that he had heard the articles might be recovered if a reward was despatched to a place named. The owners would then generally, acting on his advice, send out, by the hands of a ticket-porter (ticket-porters were the "commissionaires" of that period) the reward agreed upon. The porter was instructed to wait at a street-corner until a person delivered a package into his hands, whereupon he was to hand over the reward. The celerity attending these transactions was remarkable.

In other instances Wild would advise his clients to advertise their loss and to offer a reward payable to any person who should deliver the lost property to Mr. Jonathan Wild, or at his office; and no questions asked. Perhaps the most marvellous thing in these negotiations was the assumed disinterestedness of Mr. Jonathan Wild himself, who, although the most notorious evil-doer in London, posed delightfully as the instrument of good, restoring the lost valuables of utter strangers entirely without fee or reward, from the Christian love he bore the human race. Fielding truly styled him "the Great Man."

Wild's impudence increased with his success, and he is found petitioning the Corporation for the freedom of the City to be conferred upon him, in recognition of his great services in bringing criminals to justice. It does not appear that the City responded.

Wild's career first became seriously threatened early in 1724, when, greatly alarmed for his own safety, he is found imploring the Earl of Dartmouth to shield him from what he styles the "persecution" of the magistrates, who, he declares, had procured thieves and other bad characters to swear false evidence against him. The scandal of Wild's continued existence had at last become too gross for even that age. But his time was not yet come, and he continued as before; mindful perhaps of the old adage, "threatened men live long." He nearly ended, however, by a more summary process than any known to the law; and entirely through his own bloodthirsty treatment of "Blueskin," one of his own associates.

Joseph Blake, better known in all the stories of the highwaymen as "Blueskin," who was hanged at Tyburn on November 11th, 1724, was an expert highwayman, thief, and pickpocket—or, to speak in the professional terms then in use among these fraternities, a "bridle-cull," a "boman," and a "diver." He had long been a busy servant of Jonathan, and frequently worked in company with Jack Sheppard, but he would perhaps be little known in these later times were it not for his having come very near sending the Great Man out of the world, and thus cheating the gallows, already growing ripe for him.

"Blueskin," rebelling, it may be presumed, against Wild on some question of money, was promptly arrested by that astute Director-General of Thieves, in his character of thief-taker, and committed to Newgate on a charge of house-breaking. It was almost invariably fatal to quarrel, or even to have a mere difference of opinion, with that powerful and revengeful man. Wild was in court at the Old Bailey, to give evidence, when "Blueskin" beckoned him over to the dock. Inclining his ear to gather what the prisoner was pretending to whisper, Wild instantly found himself seized in "Blueskin's" frenzied grasp, and the court with horror saw his throat cut from ear to ear. The deed was done with a penknife, and the wound was severe and dangerous, but Wild eventually recovered, much to the surprise of those who saw the ferocity of the attack, and greatly to the sorrow of the criminal classes of London, who knew right well that they were suffered to live only as long as they were useful and profitable to Wild, and careful to exercise a due subservience to him.

Indeed, it was at first thought that Wild must certainly die, and Swift at that moment wrote the famous Blueskin's Ballad, of which here are two verses:

Swift, however, was in too great a hurry: Jonathan Wild did not die then, and the thieves were not yet released from his iniquitous bondage. His wife was not then made a "sad widow," although she was soon to become one; and thus earned the remarkable distinction of having been twice a "hempen widow."

In January of the following year, 1725, the captain of Wild's sloop, a man named Roger Johnson, who had been arrested on a charge of contraband trading with Holland, sent hurriedly to him. Wild, never at a moment's loss, assembled a mob, and provoked a riot, by which the prisoner was rescued.

Himself arrested at his own house in the Old Bailey, on February 15th, 1725, on a charge of being concerned in the theft of fifty yards of lace from the shop of Catherine Stetham, in Holborn, on January 22nd, he was, after considerable delay, put upon his trial at the Old Bailey on May 15th. The lace stolen was valued at £50.

He was further charged with feloniously receiving of Catherine Stetham "ten guineas on account, and under colour of helping the said Catherine Stetham to the said lace again; and that he did not then, nor at any time since, discover or apprehend, or cause to be apprehended and brought to Justice, the persons that committed the said felony."

The evidence adduced at the trial is first-hand information of Wild's method in organising a robbery. Henry Kelly, one of the chief witnesses against him, told how he went on that day to see a Mrs. Johnson who then lived at the prisoner's house. He found her at home, and with her the great Jonathan and his Molly, and they drank a quartern of gin together. By-and-by, in came a certain woman named Peg Murphy with a pair of brocaded clogs, which she presented to Mrs. Wild. After two or three more quarterns of gin had passed round, Murphy and Henry Kelly rose to leave.

"Which way are you going?" asked Wild.

"To my lodging in 'Seven Dials,'" replied Kelly.

"I suppose," remarked Wild, "you go along Holborn?"

Both Kelly and Murphy answered that they did.

"Why, then," he said, "I'll tell you what: there's an old blind bitch that keeps a shop within twenty yards of Holborn Bridge and sells fine Flanders lace, and her daughter is as blind as herself. Now, if you'll take the trouble of calling upon her, you may speak with a box of lace. I'll go along with you, and show you the door."

The Judge at this moment intervened with the question, "What do you understand by 'speaking with a box of lace'?"

Even in our own day judges are commonly found enquiring the meaning of phrases whose significance is common knowledge which one might reasonably suppose to be shared even on the Olympian heights of the King's Bench and other exalted divisions of the High Court. Every one in Jonathan Wild's day understood perfectly well that to "speak with" a thing was to steal it, and this was duly expounded to his lordship.

Then Kelly went on to explain how Wild, himself, and Murphy went along Holborn Hill until they came within sight of the lace-shop, which Wild pointed out to them.

"You go," he said, "and I'll wait here and bring you off, in case of any disturbance."

Murphy and Kelly accordingly entered, in the character of purchasers, and turned over several kinds of lace, pretending to be very difficult to please. This piece was too broad, that too narrow, and t'other not fine enough. At last the old woman went upstairs to fetch a finer piece, when Kelly took a tin box of lace and gave it to Murphy, who hid it under her cloak. Then the old woman came down with another box and showed them several more pieces, but the confederates made as if they could not agree about the price, and so left the shop and joined Wild, where they had parted from him. They told him they had "spoke"; whereupon they all returned to his house and opened the box, in which they found eleven pieces of lace. "Would they have ready money?" asked Wild, "or would they wait until the advertisement for the stolen lace came out?"

Funds were very low at the time with Murphy and Kelly, and they asked for ready money, Wild then giving them about four guineas.

"I can't afford to give any more," he said, "for she's a hard-mouthed old bitch, and I shall never get above ten guineas out of her."

Kelly took the lion's share of the money—three guineas—and Murphy had the remainder.

Wild was acquitted on the first charge, of being concerned in the actual theft, but for feloniously receiving the ten guineas the trial was continued.

Catherine Stetham the elder said that on January 22nd she had a box of lace, valued at £50, stolen out of her shop. She went, that same night, to the prisoner's house to enquire after it; but, not finding him at home, she advertised the stolen goods, offering a reward of fifteen guineas, and no questions to be asked. There was no reply to her advertisement, and she went again to the prisoner's house, and saw him there. He asked her to give a description of the persons she suspected, which she did, as nearly as she could, and he promised to make enquiries, and suggested she should call again in three days.

She did so, when he said he had heard something of her lace, and expected to hear more in a little time. Even as they were talking a man came in and said that, by what he had learned, he believed a man named Kelly, who had already stood his trial for passing gilded shillings, had been concerned in stealing the lace.

She then went away, and returned on the day the prisoner was apprehended. She had told him that, although she had advertised a reward of only fifteen guineas for the lace, she would be prepared to give twenty, or even five-and-twenty, rather than lose it.

"Don't be in such a hurry, good woman," he rejoined; "perhaps I may help ye to it for less, and if I can, I will. The persons that have got your lace are gone out of town; I shall set them quarrelling about it, and then I shall get it the cheaper."

On March 10th he sent her word that if she would go to him at Newgate, with ten guineas in her pocket, he would he able to help her to her lace. She went. He asked her to call a porter, but she told him she did not know where to find one, so he sent out and obtained a ticket-porter. The porter was given ten guineas, to call upon the person who was said to have the lace, and he returned in a little while with a box which was said to contain all the lace, with the exception of one piece.

"Now, Mr. Wild," said she, "what must I give you for your trouble?"

"Not a farthing, madam," said he. "I don't do these things for worldly interest, but for the benefit of poor people who have met with misfortunes. As for the piece of lace that is missing, I would not have ye be uneasy, for I hope to get it for you ere long; nay, and I don't know but in a little time I may not only help ye to your ten guineas again, but to the thief too. And if I can, much good may it do you; and as you are a widow and a good Christian, I desire nothing of ye but your prayers; and for them I shall be thankful. I have a great many enemies, and God knows what may be the consequences of this imprisonment."

The consequences were the most serious known to the law. Wild was sentenced to death. No sentence in that court had ever been so popular. When asked if he had anything to say why this judgment should not be passed upon him, he handed a paper to the Judge, setting forth the numbers of criminals he had been instrumental in bringing to Justice, and in a very feeble voice said: "My lord, I hope I may, even in the sad condition in which I stand, pretend to some little merit, in respect of the services 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 a bold and daring malefactor to just punishment, even at the hazard of my own life, my body being covered with scars received in these undertakings. I presume, my lord, to say I have some merit, because, at the time these things were done, they were esteemed meritorious by the Government; and therefore I beg, my lord, some compassion may be shown, upon the score of these services. I submit myself wholly to His Majesty's mercy, and humbly beg a favourable report of my case."

But the law had too long been waiting for him, and his enormities were too great, for any mercy to be hoped for; and he was left to die. He did not afford an edifying spectacle in that condemned hold to which he had consigned so many, reflecting that, as "his Time was but short in this World," it was necessary to improve it to the best advantage "in Eating, Drinking, Swearing, Cursing, and talking to his Visitants." His old crony, the Reverend Thomas Pureney, the Ordinary, he flouted; and, for the little spiritual consolation he at the last moment required, he called in an outsider. But this did not prevent Pureney from concocting a lying account and offering it for sale after his execution. Therein we read, as though in Wild's own words:

"Finding that there was no room for mercy (and how could I expect Mercy, who never show'd any?), as soon as I came into the condemned Hole, I began to think of making a preparation for my Soul; and the better to bring my stubborn Heart to Repentance, I thought it more proper to have the advice and the Council and Directions of a Man of Learning, a Man of sound Judgment in Divinity, and therefore Application being made to the reverend Mr. Nicholson, he very Christian-like gave me his Assistance: And I hope that my Repentance has been such as will be accepted in Heaven, into which Place, I trust in God, my Soul will quickly be received. To part with my Wife, my dear Molly, is so great an Affliction to me, that it touches me to the Quick, and is like Daggers entering into my Heart. As she is innocent, and I am the Guilty Man, let her not suffer in her Charracter and Reputation for my Crimes: Consider that she is a Woman, and how ungenerous it would be to reflect upon one whose weakness will not permit her to defend herself so well as her Innocence will carry her.

"And now, good People, you see to what a shameful End my Wickedness has brought me; take warning therefore by my Example, and let my unhappy Fate deterr you from following wicked Courses, and cause such of you to forsake your Crimes, who are now fallen into them. Remember that though Justice has leaden feet, yet she has Iron hands, and sooner or later will overtake the unwary Criminal. I am now upon the point of departing out of this World; joyn with me, therefore, in Prayer while I have life, and pray to God to receive my poor Soul into his blessed Arms, and to make us all happy with our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen."

All the foregoing was the sheer invention of the egregious Pureney, and Wild really went unrepentant to his end at Tyburn, May 24th, 1725. He sought, by taking laudanum, to cheat the gallows of its due, but failed in the attempt. The day of his execution was one of great rejoicings in London, and huge crowds lined the way, pelting Wild, as he rode in the cart, with stones and dirt.