Spring Heeled Jack: The Terror of Victorian England

Victorian England was a time of contrasts. Advances in science and rapid industrialisation coexisted with a fascination for mysticism, folklore, and gothic literature. This cultural interplay birthed urban legends, including the infamous Spring Heeled Jack. Some called him Leaping Jack or Devil Jack, but his most enduring name reflected his uncanny ability to leap over rooftops and vanish into the night.

So, who was Spring Heeled Jack, and how did he embed himself into British folklore? We’re jumping into action to answer just that.

The legend of Spring Heeled Jack can be traced back to 1837, the first year of Queen Victoria’s reign. This is when rumours began circulating of the ghost of a white bull terrorising Londoners, particularly women. Over time, the ghost morphed into other animals, like a bear, before taking on the more general form of an unearthly being with demon-like features, said to make impossible leaps across rooftops. It wasn’t long before names like Devil Jack and Leaping Jack were setting tongues wagging. Even then, the image of this spectre was shifting, eventually becoming an armour-clad, clawed warrior with seemingly superhuman capabilities. He was also said to have springs in his shoes.

Despite the stories, tangible evidence of Spring Heeled Jack’s existence was scarce. Accounts involving Polly Adams and Mary Stevens in October 1837 remain uncertain to this day, as do tales of footprints left near Clapham Church. These incidents only appeared in print decades later, making it difficult to assess how much truth there really was to them.

It was in 1838 that the legend began to crystallise in the form of newspaper headlines. On 9 January, The Times reported on a letter sent to the Lord Mayor of London from an anonymous “Peckham resident” complaining of “pranks” being perpetrated in villages around the capital. Echoing many of the rumours of the previous months, the writer described attacks in several villages around South London. But, rather than anything supernatural, he described the perpetrator as a man or men dressed as a ghost bear, a devil, or sometimes in armour. The encounters detailed often involved women being assaulted, usually with claw gloves, shredding clothing, and, of course, the attacker escaping by extraordinary demonstrations of jumping and leaping.

Other newspapers joined in, sensationalising stories of women fainting in fright and even dying from shock. Spring Heeled Jack soon became the focus of Victorian gossip and fear.

Several monikers floated about in the early days of 1838, among them Leaping Jack, Devil Jack, and Steel Jack. The first recorded mention of “Spring Jack” was made in the West Kent Guardian on 13 January 1838. This was in relation to reports of a figure dressed in bear skin in Lewisham. Witnesses said he was jumping in front of pedestrians on what appeared to be spring-mounted shoes. But it was The Times that coined the name “Spring Heeled Jack” on 22 February 1838. The case they were writing about was that of Jane Alsop. And it marked an escalation in the prominence of the legend of Leaping Jack.

On 20 February 1838, 18-year-old Jane Alsop answered what she described as a “violent ringing” at the gate of her family’s isolated cottage on the edges of South London. According to Jane, a man claiming to be a police officer came to the door, urging: “For God’s sake, bring me a light, for we have caught Spring-heeled Jack.” In fact, he was Jack. When she complied, he removed his cloak, revealing eyes like “balls of fire” and breathing blue flames. He tore at her clothing with metallic claws before her sister helped her escape.

Jack reportedly struck again within the week. On 25 February, he appeared on a doorstep not far from the Alsop residence, terrifying the answering servant with his “hideous appearance.” And, on 28 February, he accosted Lucy Scales and her sister as they made their way home through a dimly lit street in Limehouse. By Lucy’s recollection, a shadowy figure leapt out and spewed blue flames in her direction.

Interestingly, the accounts of these cases did not seem to incorporate previous characteristics of the legend. In particular, there was no mention of leaping or bounding by Jack. Despite such inconsistencies, Jack’s legend became firmly entrenched. Parents even invoked his name as a warning to misbehaving children, while newspapers speculated wildly about his identity.

Almost as soon as the stories hit the headlines, the theories began, with everyone wanting to know, what or who was Spring Heeled Jack? There were certainly those who believed his origins to be supernatural. But the newspapers seemed to prefer the view that the attacks were all done by a gang of reckless aristocrats as a bet. And that dressing up as a supernatural being was part and parcel of the wager. One nobleman whose name was regularly cited as a possibility was the 3rd Marquis of Waterford, also known as the Mad Marquis for his irregular behaviour. However, it’s said that this was disproved when the Marquis, accused of Jack’s actions, was proved to be elsewhere. Namely that he was arrested for a different assault far from where Jack had been sighted.

Another suspect was Thomas Millbank. In the aftermath of the attack on Jane Alsop, a man called Thomas Millbank was apparently heard proclaiming himself as Spring Heeled Jack in a pub. As the story goes, he was tried for the attack, but was acquitted when he was unable to breathe blue flames, a central part of Alsop’s account.

Other theories suggested that he was a rogue inventor or engineer who had devised spring-loaded boots, enabling him to leap over walls, using chemical tricks to produce the blue-flamed breath. Or that military training was behind his acrobatic feats.

After February of 1838, reports of Jack sightings expanded beyond London to the rest of England. Thus, in April and May he apparently appeared as a bear, first on the Sussex coast, then in Whitby. Also in May, a “scoundrel in awful disguise” scared a 14-year-old in Surrey. The differing descriptions and varied locations led many to conclude copycat activities, as well as hoaxes and misunderstandings.

More sightings were reported throughout the 1840s, 50s, and 60s, but these were sporadic and infrequent. Nevertheless Jack maintained his grip on the public consciousness through lurid fictional stories, especially in the sensationalist penny dreadful publications. These tales blurred the line between fact and fiction, cementing his status as both a real menace and a figure of popular culture. What’s more, over time, Jack became a more and more positive figure, even a superhero.

By the late 19th century, Spring Heeled Jack’s appearances had diminished. Advances in policing and technology, such as electric lighting, helped dispel the fears he once inspired. Yet, sightings persisted, including reports from soldiers at Aldershot in 1877 and civilians in Liverpool in the 1880s. Over time, Spring Heeled Jack transitioned from a terrifying spectre to a legendary icon of Victorian folklore, symbolising the era’s fears and imaginations.

So, who was Spring Heeled Jack? Whether he was a ghost, an inventor, or a figment of collective hysteria, his story reflects the anxieties and contradictions of Victorian England. Yet despite his apparent fame across decades, the truth and identity of this Victorian villain remains shrouded in mystery to this day.