to feel her position acutely, looking very nervous and uneasy, and
occasionally sobbing. She was accommodated with a seat in the dock.
The property includes several parcels of jewellery, a silk dress, two
watches, and a patent clock. Mrs. Peace was charged with stealing the
property, or of having received it knowing it to have been stolen. A
number of persons crowded into the court during the few minutes the
case was being heard.
The Chief Constable said: The prisoner has been apprehended on
suspicion of having stolen property or with having received it knowing
it to have been stolen. I shall put a witness in the box, and after
his examination I shall have to ask for a remand for a week.
Henry Phillips said: I am Inspector of the Metropolitan police,
attached to the Criminal Investigation Department, and stationed at
Greenwich. There have recently been a considerable number of
burglaries committed in the neighbourhood of Greenwich and Blackheath.
At one of the houses that was burglariously broken into information
was given as to a silk dress though I cannot swear to the colour. A
little mantelpiece clock was stolen bearing the inscription “Waterbury
Clock Company. Patented Sept. 11, 1877,” and the stolen clock in every
respect corresponds, I believe, with this clock. Some other houses
were broken into, and property, corresponding with some of that now
produced, was stolen. I believe if a remand is granted I shall be able
to get further evidence.
Mr. Robinson (to prisoner): Do you wish to ask any questions now?
Prisoner (sobbing): I have not received them knowing them to have been
stolen; no, I have not.
Inspector Twibell said: I went with the last witness to the house of
the prisoner, who is living at Attercliffe, yesterday. I found in her
house and in her possession the property now produced.
The Bench: All of it?
The Chief Constable: Yes, and a great deal more.
Mr. Robinson again asked the prisoner if she had any questions to ask.
Prisoner: I do say that I did not know they had been stolen.
The Chief Constable (to the Bench): I have now to ask that the
prisoner may be remanded for a week.
The prisoner was accordingly remanded for a week.
Early in the afternoon Inspector Phillips, taking with him the stolen
property, returned to London.
From inquiries made by our reporter it has been ascertained that
Hannah Peace has resided for a considerable period at Hull.
About a month ago, however, she came to Darnall, to be present at the
confinement of her daughter, who resides with her husband at 4,
Hazel-road, Britannia-road.
Although the house is stated to be in the road, it is really in a
court some distance from the thoroughfare――the middle one of a row of
seven.
Mrs. Peace brought with her to Sheffield a large box, which she stated
contained her wearing apparel and a few “odds and ends.”
She gave it out that she had been obliged to break her Hull home up on
account of the persistent attentions of the police, who “dogged” her
in every direction, and made her life a burden.
The “odds and ends” she brought with her are likely to get her into
serious trouble unless she can explain how they included goods which
originally belonged to persons in the neighbourhood of Blackheath.
During the time Mrs. Peace has been resident at her daughter’s house
she has not, as many persons supposed, kept within doors so as to
avoid being noticed. On the contrary, she has moved about and freely
conversed with her neighbours, who were greatly surprised when the
police apprehended her.
The opinion of the neighbours is generally favourable to Mrs. Peace.
People are loth to believe that she was the person to connive at the
crime with which she is at present charged. They all bear testimony to
her good character so far as they could tell.
The daughter and her husband appear respectable people, and have
resided at their present address for several years.
After further examination at Sheffield, Mrs. Peace was ultimately sent
to London, and on Saturday, Dec. 7th, 1878, she appeared at
Bow-street, before Mr. Flowers.
The following is a report of her first examination in London:――
Hannah Peace, wife of Charles Peace, the Blackheath burglar, now
undergoing penal servitude for the attempt on the life of a
police-constable while in the execution of his duty, was brought up on
remand granted by the justices of Sheffield, charged with stealing or
otherwise receiving a clock the property of Mrs. Dadson, of 5,
Kidbrook-terrace, Blackheath, part of the proceeds of a burglary
committed on the 2nd of August. The clock produced in court, was found
by the inspector at Darnall, near Sheffield.
Henry Phillips, inspector of the R Division of the Greenwich police,
having been duly sworn, said the prisoner, Hannah Peace, had been
remanded by the justices at Sheffield several times for her supposed
connection with the burglaries committed in Blackheath by her husband,
and was, on Friday, finally remanded to London. A small mantel-piece
clock had been stolen on the 2nd of August last, from the house of
Mrs. Dadson, of 5, Kidbrook-terrace, Blackheath, and corresponded in
all respects with one found at prisoner’s house, on the 7th November
at Darnall, near Sheffield, when he searched it in company with
Inspector Twibell. The depositions producted were taken at Sheffield.
Miss Elizabeth Marian Collison Dadson, daughter of Mrs. Mary Campbell
Dadson, widow, of No. 5, Kidbrook-terrace, Blackheath, deposed that
the clock produced was her mother’s property, and was first missed on
the morning of the 3rd of August. The house had been forcibly entered
on the night previous――August 2nd.
Mr. Flowers: I shall remand the case till this day week. Prisoner,
have you anything to say?
Mrs. Peace, who had been accommodated with a seat during the two or
three minutes she was in court, then rose, and in a trembling voice,
said: I did not steal the clock, nor did I know that it was stolen. I
have no question to ask.
She was then removed from the dock.
There can be but little doubt as to her being a woman “more sinned
against than sinning,” but the fact of her being the wife of Charles
Peace brought her under the ban of the law, and for a long time she
was in the depths of trouble, not very well knowing the nature of the
charges that were to be brought against her.
It is hardly possible to estimate the anxiety and sufferings the
guilty acts of a man like Peace entail upon innocent persons.
When we say innocent persons, we include his unhappy wife, for,
despite the array of evidence brought against her, the police failed
to prove her complicity in the crimes committed by her husband.
It will be seen by the following report of her second examination that
the learned gentleman engaged for the prosecution strove to prove that
the ill-fated Mrs. Peace had been guilty of acts which were in
themselves most suspicious, if not absolutely criminating.
BLACKHEATH BURGLARIES.――THE EXAMINATION OF MRS. PEACE.
At the Bow-street Police-court, London, on Saturday, before Mr.
Vaughan, Hannah Peace, aged fifty-eight, believed to be the wife of
the celebrated Charles Peace, burglar and alleged murderer, was
brought up in custody on remand, charged with stealing and receiving a
clock and a quantity of other articles, which it is alleged are the
proceeds of numerous burglaries committed by her supposed husband.
Mr. Poland, barrister, instructed by Mr. Pollard, the solicitor to the
Treasury, appeared for the prosecution. Mr. Walter Beard (Messrs.
Beard and Son, solicitors, Basinghall-street, E.C.) was instructed for
the defence.
Mr. Poland, in proceeding to open the case on behalf of the
prosecution, said in this case the prisoner is charged before you in
the name of Hannah Peace with stealing and receiving a quantity of
property, the proceeds of a number of burglaries which have been
committed in various parts of London. It appears that a man, who was
tried at the last sessions at the Central Criminal Court by the name
of John Ward, alias Charles Peace, was sentenced to penal servitude
for life for shooting at a constable, with intent to murder him, on
the 10th of October last; and he was then in the act of committing a
burglary at Blackheath. Now, sir, there is no question whatever that
we are in a condition to show that that man undoubtedly was a
professional burglar; that he was in the habit of going about to
different parts of London, particularly Blackheath, committing
burglaries, and taking from houses where these offences were committed
valuable property, and disposing of it for his own advantage. The
police, of course, endeavoured to find out what had become of the
property, and where this man had been living, and they somehow
discovered that he had been living at No. 5, East-terrace,
Evalina-road, Nunhead, which is in the parish of Peckham, since May,
1878, in the name of John Thompson, and with a woman――a woman, I
think, of about thirty years of age――who lived with him as Mrs.
Thompson. In the same house the prisoner also lived, and she was then
passing, I believe, by the name of Mrs. Ward; and there was also a
young man living there who was called Willie Ward, and he was stated
to be the son of the prisoner, or, as she was called, Mrs. Ward. This
man (Peace) having been arrested on the 10th October, of course he did
not go home that night or the following morning. The persons living in
that house must have known that he had been arrested, and the prisoner
appears on that day to have removed three boxes, with the assistance
of a railway porter, to the Nunhead station, and then to the
King’s-cross station, and these boxes were taken down to Nottingham.
At Nottingham she went, I believe, to a house occupied by some
relations of the woman who was passing as the wife of this man, but
they, I think, declined to allow these boxes to be brought there, and
we find that on the following day, the 12th October, the prisoner went
with some portion of the property to No. 4, Hazel-road, Darnall, which
is three miles from Sheffield. At that place her son-in-law and
daughter lived, a man of the name of John Bolsover, who is a working
collier. On Nov. 6th the police went to Bolsover’s house at Darnall,
and searched the place, and there found a quantity of property, which
I shall be able to show you was the proceeds of some of these
burglaries. On the 14th of November they made a further search, and
found other property. The prisoner, when she was taken into custody,
stated that she had received various things, but she did not know that
they were stolen. She admitted that she had removed the things, and
she stated also that she was the wife of the man who had been living
[Sidenote: No. 82.] at No. 5, East-terrace, Evalinaroad. When she
stated that she was his wife, she was at once asked where she was
married, but up to the present time she had not stated where the
ceremony was performed.
[Illustration: THE WARDER SHOWING PEACE HOW TO PICK OAKUM.]
The prisoner: Yes, sir, I have.
Mr. Poland: According to my instructions she has not stated to the
police where she was married. She has given no date; she has produced
no certificate. I think she stated that the certificate has been
burned. So far as I am at present in a condition to deal with the case
from the inquiries made by the police, they cannot ascertain that she
is married. What I propose to do, with your sanction, is to prove the
arrest and search of the premises, the taking of the house at Peckham,
the removal of the boxes, and the identity of some of the property.
Then I shall be able to show you on a future occasion by calling other
witnesses that there were found at the cottage to which these boxes
were removed near Sheffield, the proceeds of some ten or twelve
burglaries.
Inspector Phillips then said, in answer to questions proposed by Mr.
Poland: I am one of the inspectors of the Metropolitan police force.
On the 10th October, a man was captured at Blackheath, in the act of
committing a burglary. Ultimately he gave the name of John Ward, and
he was committed for trial as John Ward for shooting at a policeman
and for burglary at a house in St. John’s Park, Blackheath. On Nov.
5th I went down to Sheffield, and on the 6th I went to Darnall, to the
house No. 4, Hazel-road. That is about three miles from Sheffield.
John Bolsover, a labourer and working collier, lives there. His wife
was there on the occasion when I called, and also the prisoner.
Mr. Poland: Was it stated that Mrs. Bolsover was the daughter of the
prisoner?
The witness: Yes.
What name was the prisoner living there in?
Mrs. Ward, I think. She was generally known there, I believe, as Mrs.
Peace; but I am not quite clear upon the matter.
Was there anybody else in the house?
There was a boy, who was called Willie. He is about twenty years of
age.
Did you understand that he was the son of the prisoner?
Yes. He addressed her as “mother.”
You saw the prisoner, and what did you say to her?
I had some conversation with her first without telling her who I was.
I looked round the room and saw a clock standing upon the chest of
drawers, which I knew from the description. I told her I knew the
clock to have been stolen from Blackheath. The prisoner replied, “I
did not know it was stolen. A tall woman gave it to me five weeks
ago.” I then proceeded upstairs, and said I would make further search.
Before that time had you said anything to her as to who she was?
I said, “Do you know where your husband is. Has he been here?” She
replied, “No.” Then I said, “I will tell you where he is. He is in
Newgate Prison, on a charge of burglary and shooting at a constable.”
She said, “Oh dear! What trouble that man has brought me into, to be
sure! He seems to be my ruin everywhere I go.” I then searched the top
room in company with another officer, and found a large quantity of
property.
What did you do in reference to this property?
I took it into my possession. After I had got the prisoner to leave
the house I told her she would be charged with stealing this property,
and receiving it knowing it to have been feloniously procured.
Mr. Poland: Did she say anything in your presence as to whether she
was Peace’s wife?
Witness: I have a slight recollection of asking her for her marriage
certificate and of her saying that she was married at St. George’s
Church, Sheffield. I said, “Have you got a marriage certificate to
show me?” She said, “No I have not; the old man burned it.”
Mr. Samuel Smith, builder, said: I live at 68, Rhyde Villas, St.
Mary’s-road, Peckham. About the latter end of May I was at
East-terrace, Evelina-road, Peckham. I remember a party of four
persons calling there. The prisoner was one of them. I knew her as
Mrs. Ward. She gave that name. Two of the other persons were known as
Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, and the other one of the party was a young man
they called Willie. The man known as Mr. Thompson spoke to me, and
asked to look over the house, but it was too late in the evening for
that. He asked me the rent, which I told him was £30 a year; and
subsequently I let the premises to him. The woman I knew as Mrs.
Thompson was a younger woman than the prisoner; a little over thirty I
should think.
I believe you asked Mr. Thompson on that occasion for some reference?
I did, and he then asked me to go and see where he was living in
Greenwich, which I did.
Where was he living at Greenwich? Do you recollect?
I do not recollect the name of the street. The house at Greenwich was
a respectable house, and I saw prisoner there. The place was
respectably furnished, and that satisfied me. I went to the house many
times afterwards, and I know from having visited at the place that the
man and woman known as Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, and the woman known as
Mrs. Ward, and the boy Willie, were living there. Rent was paid me up
to Michaelmas. I have got possession of the house now. I heard some
time after Thompson had disappeared that a man, who was believed to be
him, had been taken into custody.
Thomas Pickering, a porter employed at the Nunhead station on the
London, Chatham, and Dover Railway, said: On the 11th October, in
consequence of a message I received from another porter, I went to No.
5, East-terrace, Evelina-road, which is about three minutes’ walk from
the Nunhead station. When I got to the house I saw an old lady. I
could not swear that the prisoner was the lady. It would be a person
of about the same age. She asked me to take three boxes to the Nunhead
station and label them for King’s Cross. I went into the house, got
the boxes and put them on my barrow. The old lady told me to send the
boxes by the five minutes to six train and she would be there. I took
them to the station and labelled them for the Great Northern Railway
terminus at King’s Cross. I did not notice any name or address upon
the boxes. After I had taken them to the station the old lady came.
She went away by the five minutes to six train that evening.
Examination continued: I have seen a box at the Bow-street
Police-station. It resembles the box I brought from the house in the
Evelina-road, to the Nunhead station. The other two boxes were
similar. I did not know the old lady before, and have not seen her
since until to-day.
Selina Karcher said: I am housekeeper and lady’s maid to Mrs. Wood,
Sunnyside, Leigham Court-road, Streatham. I was so engaged on the 20th
August. When I went to bed on that date the house was all safe, but
next morning, when I came down, I found that the house had been broken
into. From the house I missed a number of things, including a plate
basket, a silk dress trimmed with velvet, belonging to my mistress,
Mrs. Kathleen, the wife of Mr. Mark Wood. The value of the silver
missed was about £30, and the silk and velvet dress, which was a very
valuable one, was also worth £30.
Elizabeth Mary Ann Collinson Dadson was next called, and reiterated
her statement in reference to the clock taken from Kidbrook-terrace,
Blackheath.
Louisa Newman said: I live at Richmond Lodge, Honor Oak-road, Forest
Hill, and I am cook in the service of Mr. Charles Perry. On the 5th of
August the placa was secured for the night, with the exception of the
back drawing-room window, which was accidentally left unfastened. Next
morning I went into the back drawing-room at about half-past eleven,
and found that there were missing several ornaments, amongst other
things a tortoise-shell casket and a red cornelian casket. These
articles were produced by Inspector Phillips, and are the property of
my master. A silver inkstand, a silver goblet, and a flask were also
taken, and I believe that the total value of the things abstracted was
between £30 and £40.
The prisoner was remanded.
Hannah Peace was brought before Mr. Vaughan, at Bow-street, London, on
Wednesday, for the purpose of being formally remanded.
It is definitely understood that Charles Peace will remain in Newgate
until the authorities are prepared to proceed with the charge against
him of the murder of Mr. Dyson at Banner Cross.
The investigation of the police have revealed the fact of his
participation in no fewer than forty-five burglaries, for the most
part committed in London, but extending over an area which includes
Hull, Manchester, Sheffield, Market Harborough, and Southsea.
It would appear, however, that on the next examination the magistrate
thought there was sufficient evidence to send the case for trial.
COMMITTAL OF MRS. PEACE.
At the Bow-street Police-court, on Wednesday, December 18th, 1878,
before Mr. Vaughan, the woman who alleges that she is Hannah Peace,
the wife of Charles Peace, the burglar, was brought up on remand
charged with feloniously stealing and receiving a number of articles
purloined by her alleged husband in the commission of burglaries in
the neighbourhood of London, and in various parts of the country.
Mr. Poland said that since the adjournment every effort had been made
to ascertain whether the prisoner was or was not married. All the
evidence went to show that the prisoner was not the wife of Peace. She
was living with him as Mrs. Ward, the boy Willie was living there as
his nephew; and Mrs. Thompson lived there as his wife, though she was
not his wife, and there was evidence that Mr. Thompson used to speak
of Mrs. Thompson as his wife.
Emma, wife of William Gardner Shapley, said I live at Seymour Lodge,
Peckham Rye. On Monday, the 23rd September, at eleven o’clock in the
evening, I discovered that my house had been entered and a quantity of
property taken away. A side door had been left open. I missed wearing
apparel of the value of £25. I identify some pocket handkerchiefs, a
night dress, a pair of slippers, two scarfs, and a pair of silk
stockings, which are produced.
Eliza Macdonald said: I live at 16, Kidbrooke Villas, Blackheath, and
am housekeeper to Mrs. Sarah Bowcher. On the 10th August, at about ten
o’clock at night, the house was fastened up in the usual way and I
went to bed, leaving it safe. Next morning I found that the breakfast
room window had been broken open and the house entered, and I missed a
number of articles from the house. I identify the tablecloth and the
silver pickle fork, now produced, as the property of my mistress. I
also missed silver spoons and a butter knife.
Mr. Frederick Hanley said: In September I was living at Arbutus Lodge,
Denmark-hill. At that time I was at Brighton, when I heard that my
house had been broken into and a number of things stolen. I returned
in the ordinary course at the expiration of my holiday, and I found
that two dessert knives and forks and a pair of cornelian bracelets
had been stolen. From one of the drawers £30 in gold and silver had
been taken, and I also missed a set of diamond studs, a diamond ring,
and a variety of other rings, of the value, I should think, altogether
of £50.
Louisa Tweed, parlour-maid to Mr. Walter Robert Tidd, Upper
Denmark-hill, Camberwell, said: On the 18th September, at a quarter to
twelve at night, I discovered that Mr. Tidd’s bedroom window was open.
It had been forced from the outside and the catch broken. I missed a
plate-basket, with the plate, both silver and electro, five silver
bangles, and a brooch, engraved with a crest and motto.
A quantity of electro-plate was produced to the witness, which she
identified as the property of her master. The silver articles stolen
were all missing from the property recovered. Witness then identified
six table spoons, twelve dessert spoons, twelve forks, eleven
teaspoons, one cheese scoop, and a jam spoon.
Inspector Henry Phillips said: The property belonging to Celia
Korcher, which was identified on the last occasion, I found at
Bolsover’s house, at Darnall, on the 9th November; also the clock
belonging to Miss Dadson; and the caskets, identified by the witness
Newman on the last occasion. The velvet table cover, also identified
by Miss Newman, was found by Inspector Bonney. The property identified
by Mr. Shapley was found at Bolsover’s house on the occasion of the
second visit, on the 14th November, with the exception of a chemise,
which was found at Nottingham. The table cloth shown to Macdonald was
found at Darnall, on the 14th November; the pickle fork came from
Nottingham. The property identified by Mr. Hawley was found at
Darnall, on the 6th November. The plate identified by Louisa Tweed was
found at Nottingham.
Inspector John Bonney, R Division, said: On 5th November I went to
Nottingham, No. 11, North-street. I found there a small red box, which
had the appearance of having been nailed down, but was open when I saw
it. The house was tenanted by a Mrs. Gresham. I took all the things
out of the box and brought them to London. The property which had been
found at Nottingham was identified by the various witnesses. The red
box he found at the house of a Mr. Brion, 22, Philip-road, Peckham
Rye.
Inspector John Pinder Twibell, of the Sheffield police, said: On
Wednesday, November 6th, I assisted Phillips in searching Bolsover’s
house, and saw the things found. After the search and removal of the
property we went away for a short time, but afterwards returned.
Bolsover was present the second time. I said to him, “We have found a
large quantity of property in your house, which we have good reason to
believe is stolen. There is a clock which Inspector Phillips
identifies as part of the proceeds of a burglary at Blackheath. How do
you account for this property being in your house?” He replied, “I
know nothing about it.” I said, “It is here, and you will have to
account for it.” The prisoner then said, “I brought the clock with me
from Hull about five weeks ago.” I said, “How do you account for it?
It is stolen.” She said, “A tall woman brought it to me. I do not know
the woman. She said another woman had sent it for me. The other
property was in my house nearly two years ago.”
Mr. Poland: Has she given any information to you about her marriage?
Witness: Yes; she said she was married at St. George’s Church,
Sheffield, the year before her daughter was born. Her daughter is
nineteen years of age. She could not fix the date other than in that
way. I have not searched the register of St. George’s Church.
William Bolsover, No. 4, Hazel-road, Darnall, said: I am a miner by
trade. I have known prisoner for about five years as Mrs. Peace. She
was living with Charles Peace, who told me his real name was Charles
Frederick Peace. They lived together as man and wife, and they had a
young woman living with them, who was known as Jane Ann Peace, their
daughter. There was also a lad named Willie Ward, who, I understood,
was a son of Mrs. Peace by a former marriage. On the 8th January I
married Jane Ann Peace, at Hull. Peace was not there at the time of
the marriage. Mrs. Peace, previously to that, had kept a chandler’s
shop at Hull. I did not know where Peace then was. He was not at Hull.
On Whit Monday I came with my wife to London, and went to No. 4,
Evelina-road, Nunhead. My wife was married in the name of Jane Ann
Peace, not in the name of Ward. The man whom I had known in Sheffield
as Peace I found was living as Mr. Thompson. He came to meet us at the
King’s Cross Station with a woman (now in court), who passed for Mrs.
Thompson. Mrs. Peace was living there in the name of Mrs. Ward, and
Willie Ward was also there. On one Friday he gave me some money and I
returned home. Willie Ward and the prisoner usually took their meals
together, and I had mine with Mrs. Thompson. On 11th October Willie
Ward came to my house at Darnall, bringing with him a concertina box
and fiddle case. On the 12th the prisoner came to my house. I did not
expect her. She had not written to say that she was coming. She told
me that she had left a large box at the Sheffield station, and that a
man whom she supposed was her husband had been apprehended. She stayed
with me. On the Monday I and the lad Willie went to the Sheffield
station, and fetched away the box, which was very heavy, on a truck.
Willie and I brought it to the house. It was afterwards taken away by
the police. Willie afterwards brought another trunk from the Darnall
station to my house. After the opening of the boxes I saw things in
the house which I had not seen until after the boxes were brought
there. Amongst other things, a silk dress which has been shown to one
of the witnesses was brought to my house. I had previously seen it at
Hull in October.
Eliza Bellfitt, wife of Robert Bellfitt, Great Freeman-street,
Nottingham, said: On the 5th November I was living at 11,
North-street, Nottingham. Inspector Bonny called upon me there. The
woman known as Mrs. Thompson is a sister of mine. About the second
week in October, Mrs. Thompson and the prisoner called at my house.
Mrs. Thompson introduced the prisoner as Mrs. Ward. They had no boxes
with them. They wanted to stay all night, but I had no accommodation
for them. Mrs. Ward and Mrs. Thompson both said they were in trouble.
When they left I accompanied them to the station. Mrs. Ward went to
the station to get a large oval box, which was very heavy, and which
they took away with them. The prisoner afterwards gave me a ticket
relating to two other boxes belonging to Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Thompson
asked me to take these boxes to my house. In regard to the red box
Mrs. Ward particularly requested that I should take care of it for
her, as it was a family relic, and, moreover, contained her property.
She promised to call for it the week afterwards. The other box――the
black box――she said belonged to Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Ward then went to
Sheffield, taking the large oval box with her. After she had gone I
took the two boxes from the cloak-room to my house. About a fortnight
afterwards Mrs. Ward called again, and said she wanted some of the
things out of the red box. She opened the box and took them out. She
went away, again, leaving the box in my care. She took a paper parcel
out of the red box and left it with me. It was sealed up. Mrs.
Thompson left a table cover; and afterwards came and took her box
away, and I kept the small red box and the parcel until the visit of
Inspector Bonney on the 6th Nov. Mr. Bonney took out some small pieces
of silver――I do not know what they were――and some other things. About
a week after that I received some letters from Mr. Brion. Mrs. Brion
afterwards called, and I gave her the sealed paper parcel. In
December, in consequence of a letter I received from Mrs. Thompson, I
sent the small red box by rail to Mr. Brion’s.
Cross-examined: I have only known my sister in the name of Mrs.
Thompson――never as Mrs. Ward. Her maiden name was Grey.
Is your sister, Mrs. Thompson, in custody?
She is not in custody.
Where is she?
She is in this court.
Henry Forsey Brion said: I am a geographical engineer, and live at No.
22, Philip-road, Peckham Rye. On Sunday, the 19th of May, I called at
No. 5, Evalina-road, Nunhead. I went into the breakfast-room. I there
saw Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Thompson, Mrs. Ward, and Willie, whom
afterwards I found to be William Ward. Mr. Thompson said to Mrs.
Thompson, “Suey, will you fetch the child down for this gentleman to
see,” alluding to a child which had been injured. As she was on the
point of leaving the room, while Mrs. Ward and Willie were present,
Mr. Thompson said, pointing to Mrs. Thompson, or as he called her
Suey, “That is my wife.”
The prisoner was then charged in the usual form by the learned
magistrate, and in answer to it she said――
“I am his wife, and whatever I did I did through complete compulsion.”
The prisoner was then committed for trial.
Mrs. Peace was at this time plunged into a vortex of troubles, and
doubtless she bitterly regretted having allied herself with so
heartless and unscrupulous a miscreant.
Fain would we pass over in silence the troubles and perplexities with
which she found herself surrounded, but it is requisite for the
continuity of the story of “the Life of Charles Peace” that we are
constrained to record all those events and circumstance which throw a
light upon his dark doings and sinful career. His unhappy wife, as we
have already intimated was committed to Newgate, and on Tuesday,
January the 14th, 1879, Hannah Peace, aged fifty-eight, alleged to be
the wife of Charles Peace, the notorious burglar, was indicted at the
Old Bailey, London, before Mr. Commissioner Kerr, with feloniously
receiving, in the county of Surrey, seven pocket-handkerchief, one
nightdress, one pair of slippers, two scarves, and one pair of silk
stockings, the property of the wife of Mr. William Gardner Shapley,
Seymour Lodge, Peckham Rye, on the night of the 23rd September.
Several other indictments charged her with stealing divers other
articles of property; and she was further indicted for harbouring the
man Peace.
Mr. Douglas Straight and Mr. Tickell, instructed by Mr. Polland,
solicitor to the Treasury, appeared for the prosecution; Mr. Forrest
Fulton, instructed by Mr. Walter Beard, for the defence.
Mr. Straight said the case was one of some peculiarity. If a woman
were married to a man, the law assumed that any offence like the
present with which the prisoner was indicted was committed under his
coercion. There was, however, another element in this case which had
to be considered――viz., whether there was such independent action on
the part of the prisoner, in respect to the disposal of the stolen
property, as would lead to the conclusion that the prisoner was to be
held criminally responsible. The prisoner was indicted in the name of
Hannah Peace, and answered to the indictment in that name. The
responsibility, he contended, was thrown upon her to make out the
marriage. Mr. Straight proceeded to detail the circumstances of the
robbery at Mr. Shapley’s, and the course adopted by the prisoner in
removing all the property from the house in the Evalina-road, after
her husband had been taken into custody, and he remarked that there
could be very little doubt that the property so removed by the
prisoner was that which was afterwards found. They had made every
possible inquiry, and could find no trace of a marriage having taken
place.
Inspector Henry Phillips was then examined by Mr. Tickell, and said:
In November last a man, named Charles Peace, was convicted of burglary
and shooting at a constable with intent to murder. On the 5th November
I went to a house, No. 4, Hazel-road, Darnall, when I saw Mrs. Peace,
a young man, named Bolsover, who is her son-in-law, and his wife. On
entering the house I saw a quantity of property which I knew, from the
description, to have been stolen. I was accompanied by Inspector
Twibell, of Sheffield. I said that the property on the floor had been
stolen, and proceeded to take charge of it. The prisoner said, in
reference to a clock belonging to Mrs. Dadson, “I did not know that it
was stolen. A tall woman gave it to me about five weeks ago.” I told
her that Peace had been convicted, to which she replied, “He has been
a great trouble to me. He seems to harass my life out wherever I go.”
I afterwards searched the house, and in the top room I found a silk
dress, a set of studs, identified by Mr. Wood, two bracelets, some
knives and forks, and other property, belonging to Mr. Hanley, Mr.
Perry, Mr. Allen, Mr. Andred, and others. Inspector Twibell was about
to open a box, when the prisoner said, “I know what you want; I will
give it you.” She thereupon handed to the officer a parcel containing
about forty pieces of plate, the majority of which has been
identified. The prisoner was taken before the magistrates, and
afterwards brought to London. On the 14th of November I again visited
the house, when I found two sealskin jackets and the property
identified by Mrs. Shapley. On the first occasion she gave the name of
Hannah Peace, and said that she was married at St. George’s Church,
Sheffield, or rather her son said so in her presence. I brought one of
the boxes up to London, and showed it to a witness named Pickering,
and to Mrs. Bellfitt, of Nottingham. When she said she had been
married, I asked her for her certificate, which she said the “old man”
had burned some time before.
Evidence was then given as to the robberies that had taken place and
in recognition of stolen property.
Mr. Samuel Smith, builder, Peckham, said that in May, a Mr. and Mrs.
Thompson, a Mrs. Ward, and a boy, who was called Willie Ward, called
upon him in reference to the letting of the house, No. 5,
Evalina-road, Peckham. Having satisfied himself of the respectability
of these people by going to their residence at Greenwich, he let the
house to them. In October, he found that the house had been deserted,
and entering by the back way he took possession.
Mr. Henry Forsey Brion, geographical engineer and constructor of
relievo maps, living at 22, Philip-road, Peckham, said that, on the
19th of May last he went to Peace’s house in the Evalina-road. In the
breakfast room he saw Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, and the former, pointing
to the latter, said “That is my wife.” The prisoner, who was present,
made no remark. Between the months of May and August he constantly
visited at the house. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson appeared to be living as
man and wife. In consequence of a communication he received from
Peace, in the name of John Ward, witness on the 1st of November called
at Newgate to see the writer of the letter, in whom he at once
recognised Mr. Thompson. He was previously asked if he knew anything
of the prisoner, and declared that he knew neither the handwriting nor
the name in the letter. Between May and August they came to witness’s
house on one occasion. The woman known as Mrs. Thompson was introduced
as the wife of Mr. Thompson, and Mrs. Ward was known by that name. In
consequence of a communication, witness wrote to a Mrs. Bellfitt at
Nottingham, and received from her a small red box.
Robert Mapleson, warder in Newgate, deposed to the interview in
Newgate between Mr. Brion and Peace.
Thomas Pickering, porter, in the service of the London, Chatham, and
Dover Railway Company, at the Nunhead Station, deposed to taking three
boxes to the station on the night of the 11th October, by the
direction of the prisoner.
Eliza Bellfitt, wife of Robert Bellfitt, Great Freeman-street,
Nottingham, said that in November last she was living at No. 11,
North-street, in that town. She recollected the visit of Inspector
Bonney on the 6th November. Previously to that Mrs. Thompson, who was
her sister, had come to her premises accompanied by the prisoner.
The witness was here admonished by the prisoner (who stood up for a
moment for the purpose of being identified) to speak the truth.
Examination continued: They arrived between one and two o’clock in the
morning, Mrs. Thompson introduced the prisoner as Mrs. Ward, and asked
if they could stay all night, but they could not be accommodated. They
said they were in trouble, but did not mention the nature of it. They
stayed until four or five o’clock in the morning, and took their
departure by an early train. Witness accompanied them to the station,
where Mrs. Ward, having obtained a large box, gave her a ticket
relating to two others. The box was put into the van. Witness had
since seen the box at Bow-street; it was like the one which the
prisoner had with her on the night in question. Prisoner asked that
the boxes might be taken to the house of witness, who complied. One of
them was a small red box, which the prisoner said was a family relic,
and she would call for it. Mrs. Ward went to Sheffield, and witness
removed the two boxes from the cloak room. About a fortnight
afterwards Mrs. Ward returned, and said she wanted some of the things
out of the red box, which, when she went away, she again left in the
care of witness. There was also a paper parcel, of which she was
requested to take charge. She afterwards gave up the red box and the
parcel to Inspector Bonney, who took out some plate and a tablecloth.
She subsequently received a letter from Mr. Brion, and on the 25th
November handed the parcel to Mrs. Brion. On the 3rd December, in
consequence of another letter she received, she took the small red box
to the house of Mrs. Brion, 22, Philip-road.
Mr. Fulton: What has become of Mrs. Thompson? Is she within the
precincts of the court?
She is not, I think.
How often have you seen her since this woman was first given in charge
for receiving these goods?
Once.
By Mr. Straight: I knew her when she was living with Peace under the
name of Thompson.
Mrs. Alice Brion, the wife of a former witness, said: On the 25th
November I went to the house of Mrs. Bellfitt. I received the parcel
produced and handed it to the police.
Mr. Fulton: Is Mrs. Thompson living with you?
Witness: Mrs. Thompson has been living with me.
Since Peace was taken into custody?
She has been.
But did you know, previously to that, that Mrs. Thompson had been
living with Peace as his wife?
I understood she was Mrs. Thompson.
Have you ever seen this unfortunate woman on any occasion?
Whom do you mean?
I mean the prisoner. Let her stand up.
Yes, on many occasions.
What position did she occupy in the house?
The position of a lodger upstairs. She had two rooms besides a back
kitchen.
And Mr. and Mrs. Thompson occupied the rest of the house as man and
wife?
That is so.
Wm. Bolsover, 4, Hazel-road, Darnall, near Sheffield, said: I knew the
prisoner when she was living at Darnall with Peace and her daughter. I
was married to the latter at Hull on 8th January, 1878. Peace was not
present. On Whit Monday I came to London, and stayed with Peace at the
house in Evalina-road for eight or nine days. Peace was living with a
woman who was known as Mrs. Thompson, in the name of Thompson. Mrs.
Ward and the boy Willie had their meals alone, and Mr. and Mrs.
Thompson in another part of the house. On the 12th October the
prisoner came to my house and stated that she saw by the papers that a
man whom she imagined to be her husband had been taken into custody. I
took her in, and afterwards fetched her luggage from Sheffield.
Cross-examined: I have known Mr. and Mrs. Peace for some time, and
believed them to be man and wife. Their daughter had, I understood,
lived with them from infancy.
John P. Twibell, police inspector, Sheffield, said he assisted Philips
in searching Bolsover’s house. Between the 6th of November and the
14th witness was told by the prisoner that she was married at St.
George’s Church, Sheffield, in the name of Hannah Ward to Charles
Peace, the year before her daughter was born. She was unable to fix
the date in any other way. The witnesses of the marriage were, she
said, John and Sarah Clarke, who are both dead.
This was the case for the prosecution.
Mr. Fulton submitted that there was no case to go to the jury. Peace
and the prisoner had, it was evident, far many years lived together as
man and wife, and their daughter was married in the name of Peace. He
further pointed out that the prisoner had given minute facts in
reference to her marriage, and also gave the names of the witnesses.
These being dead, the onus was, he contended, upon the prosecution to
make some inquiries.
Mr. Commissioner Kerr then retired to consult with Sir Henry Hawkins,
whose opinion, he announced on returning into court, very closely
agreed with his own, viz., that a marriage in this case might be
assumed. That was to say, there was very much stronger presumptive
evidence of a marriage between this woman and the man Peace than there
was to the contrary.
After some discussion the jury resolved to give the prisoner the
benefit of the doubt, and accordingly found that she is the wife of
Peace.
No further contention being made on behalf of the prosecution, the
jury, by the direction of the learned Commissioner, returned a verdict
of acquittal against the prisoner on all counts.
Mrs. Peace had passed through a terrible ordeal. There were many who
averred that she had had a narrow escape, but in justice to this
unhappy woman it is but fair to state that there was in reality no
legal evidence to warrant the jury in finding a verdict of guilty.
It is quite true that she had been connected with the most determined
and cunning burglar of the day, but it does not necessarily follow
that she was his accomplice.
On the contrary, the whole tenour of his lawless course would indicate
that both the women were mere cyphers in his establishment in the
Evalina-road.
No doubt they were cognisant of the fact that he was a burglar, but
they were powerless. Any attempt to turn him from his sinful course
would have brought down upon them the unmeasured wrath of their
tyrannical lord and master.
After Mrs. Peace’s acquittal she lost no time in taking her departure
from the metropolis.
She arrived in Sheffield on the Tuesday night by the 8.44 Great
Northern express, and proceeded to Darnall at 9.5.
CHAPTER CL.
A VISIT TO NEWGATE――IDENTIFICATION OF PEACE――MRS. THOMPSON’S PERSONAL
HISTORY――RECEIVERS OF STOLEN GOODS.
From what we have been able to gather from persons whose testimony is
in every way reliable, Mrs. Peace made a precipitate retreat from
Peckham after the arrest of her husband.
The day after Police-constable Robinson bravely fought the burglar
down, in spite of his wounded arm, and had Peace taken to gaol, the
wife of the convict made preparations for flight. She packed up three
boxes, and had them conveyed to Cleaves, the greengrocer, to Nunhead
Station.
She and her son followed them to the station, and took the train for
Darnall, near Sheffield, the place where Peace lived before coming to
London, and at which he was living when Dyson was shot.
A month after the arrest some of the effects were sold, and the
remainder were carted to No. 22, Philip’s-road, the residence of Mr.
Brion, heretofore mentioned as the joint patentee of the invention for
raising sunken ships.
There is no question that the police were afterwards made aware of the
departure of Mrs. Peace and of Mrs. Thompson’s change of abode.
Mrs. Thompson, although she lived with Peace at Nottingham after the
murder, and lived in company with Mrs. Peace at Peckham, was not
called as a witness for obvious reasons.
Peace was convicted of assault with a deadly weapon, and it was
unnecessary to try him for the burglary, as the sentence was penal
servitude for life.
The representative of the Press Association had an interview with Mr.
Brion. His relationship with Peace was, he said, a purely business
one.
“But for me,” he said, “Peace’s connection with the murder would never
have been discovered. It was I who gave the police the information
that put them on the track. Those police would never have discovered
anything themselves had not everything been told them and every step
they took indicated. How did I become connected with Peace?
“You will know all about that in my testimony at Bow-street, when Mrs.
Peace was under examination. I am an inventor, a geographical
engineer. I make maps. You know Donald McKenzie, who has gone to
Africa to make surveys for letting the ocean flow into the Sahara?
“That is my project. This is the map I exhibited at the Mansion House.
(Mr. Brion unrolled a map 20 feet by 12 feet, whereon was delineated
very broadly the Continent of Africa and on which was shown, in red
dotted lines below the Canary Islands, a kind of gutter through which
the ocean is to flow inland and flood the Sahara.)
“Mrs. Thompson went away from here on Monday. I know where she is, but
I cannot tell you of her whereabouts. That has all been arranged with
the police. She came here with the full knowledge of the police, and
all the goods in Peace’s house were brought here by their direction
and consent.
“The police are aware of everything I can tell them about Peace. I
have spent three months in the interest of the public to bring this
man to justice, and I was promised by the police that I should have my
expenses paid, but here have I been during all that time running
around the country and living at hotels, and spending money for the
sake of getting at evidence, and now they refuse to pay me anything.
“I have done with the police, although they know all that I have done,
and now I have a memorial to the Treasury on the subject.
“I am disgusted with the whole business, and annoyed that for any
length of time I should have been associated in whatever degree with
such a scoundrel as Peace.
“He was a very interesting man, full of general information, and had
acquired a great amount of ability in mechanics. He had an inventive
faculty, and could readily understand anything in mechanism.
“He was working away at this idea of his for lifting ships from the
sea bottom, and it is now plain that he could not have obtained a
patent himself.
“As with all these men of smirched reputation, he had to look around
for some one to assist him, and he fastened upon me.
“I used to see him in the mornings, afternoons, and at nights, and he
was always pleasant enough, and I never suspected he was what he is.
“His left hand was always bare when I saw it, but when he went to
Whitechapel he was accustomed to cover it and pretend that it was
injured.
“Whitechapel was where he went with his booty. I expended a
considerable sum in my experiments with Peace on his invention.
“I found that he had the idea of raising ships by air force, but that
the appliance was faulty, and that no patent would be given for an
idea.
“I have a plan of my own for raising ships, and I have offered it to
the Admiralty. They have not accepted it, and I intend to raise the
‘Vanguard,’ and sell it on my own account. The police are aware of
everything that Mrs. Thompson has to say.
“They have been cognisant of her movements from first to last, and
they knew of her departure from this house, and where she has gone.”
The reader will be at no loss to understand that the police were
tolerably well informed as to the movements and whereabouts of Mrs.
Peace. This is plainly evidenced by her arrest, the examination at the
police-courts that followed, and her trial and acquittal at the
Central Criminal Court.
After this they confined their attentions to the convicted man who was
at this time incarcerated in Newgate, and their chief aim was to prove
him to be the murderer of Mr. Dyson.
The capture and conviction of Peace was the universal topic of town
talk. Never surely did a criminal create a greater amount of
excitement both in the metropolis and the provinces.
Officers were despatched both to Nottingham and Sheffield. The
constabulary received information from the Park-road station of the K
Division. It was put forth that the prisoner in Newgate was a man
apparently about fifty years of age, dark, clean shaved, hair grey,
large mouth, large scar on the side of the left leg, and the back of
the thigh, three fingers on the left hand deficient, dress overcoat,
with velvet collar, and black under coat.
He wore a brown leather belt, low boots, and a brown felt hat.
A Sheffield paper thus chronicles further proceedings:――
Police-constable David Morris was dispatched to London, by Mr.
Jackson, with a view to the identification of the criminal in custody
at Newgate.
Morris, who was at one time stationed at Darnall, lived for more than
a year in the house directly opposite to that occupied by Charles
Peace, and was therefore in the habit of seeing him every day, and
frequently several times a day.
Morris had with him a letter from his chief to the director of the
Criminal Investigation Department, by means of which he obtained
admission to the cell.
At half-past one o’clock a telegram from our reporter was received at
this office as follows:――
“ST. MARTIN’S-LE-GRAND, 1.30. p.m.
“Peace has been further identified by a Sheffield constable,
and there is no doubt he is the murderer.”
The telegram, when posted in the window of our publishing department,
excited much interest. Shortly after two o’clock the Chief Constable
received a telegram from Police-constable Morris as follows:――
“Man in custody is Peace. I am quite positive about his
identity.”
All doubt, if any existed, has now been removed. The man, John Ward,
the notorious burglar of Blackheath――the man who did all his
villainies “single-handed,” and thus no doubt escaped detection for a
longer time than he would otherwise have done――is none other than
Charles Peace, the murderer of Mr. Arthur Dyson, at Bannercross-terrace,
that dark November night two years ago.
Charles Peace, alias George Parker, alias Alexander Mann, alias
Paganini, alias John Ward――the man of many aliases――is trapped at
last, and the general hope is that now he is caught there may be
evidence enough to make him suffer the penalty of his greatest
crime――that which startled this town and district so terribly in the
winter of 1876.
A journalist furnishes us with the following descriptive visit to
Newgate and the scene at the identification:――
That Charles Peace, the murderer of Mr. Arthur Dyson, of Bannercross,
is at last caught there cannot now be the shadow of a doubt. He has
been clearly identified by a Sheffield constable, who knew him most
intimately.
The result of my researches into the history of this man’s career
reveals a depth of depravity, hypocrisy, daring, and low cunning, such
as have scarcely ever been penned in the annals of crime.
On entering Scotland-yard, and making known my errand――that I desired
to prosecute inquiries into the history of the man then in their
custody, who was committed for trial from the Greenwich Police-court,
on charges of attempted murder and burglary, a man who had given the
name of John Ward, the replies given were certainly very courteous,
but in no way satisfactory to a reporter in quest of information.
The result was that after about an hour and a half’s waiting, and
after being interviewed successively by some dozen or two very polite
gentlemen, who were evidently “authorities,” I was ultimately told,
with a smile, by one that they did not give information to members of
the Press.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it’s against regulations, and we are not allowed to answer
questions.”
“Well,” I said, “where is this man Ward or Peace confined, because I
want to see him?”
He had a short look at me, and after telling an untruth in the words
“He’s not in town,” took his departure.
However, I knew there had come up to London by the morning train a
Sheffield constable whose errand was to see the man “Ward,” and that
officer was one who had been on the most intimate terms with Charles
Peace.
He had seen the murderer daily for months before the commission of the
crime, had had him in his house, and had further confided to him some
of the “family troubles” of Peace.
The officer was Police-constable (222) David Morris, of the
Attercliffe division, and it is due to him that Peace has at length
been identified beyond dispute.
The police authorities of the metropolis are true to their word and
traditions in this, that if they gain their information with
difficulty they hold it with tenacity when they have obtained it. They
appear to mistake reporters for Ishmaelites.
After further trouble I succeeded in finding out that at about one
o’clock a detective from Scotland-yard would be at the Old Bailey,
otherwise well known as Newgate Gaol, and that he would there ask
Morris if he could pick out the so-called Peace from a number of men.
How to get it was the question, but I also thought it might be
possible _for me_ to identify him if I could see him, and so, with a
little help from a friend, I got permission from the authorities to go
inside and witness.
The approaches to the Old Bailey are of a forbidding character, dark
and repulsive. Even the inquiry door has massive iron spikes
projecting from the top of it, and as you have to make your
applications either through the spikes or over them, you stand a
chance of having your chin perforated.
On getting inside there are apparently nothing but bars and big doors,
but over one of the doors on the shelf there are conspicuously
displayed plaster casts of heads.
These casts are the official representations of all the murderers who
have interviewed the hangman within the walls of the prison, and a
hideous-looking crew they are.
Seeing that another candidate for the “long drop” has next to be
interviewed the effect is not pleasing.
However, there is another delay, and this is accounted for by the fact
that the suspected culprit is being “mixed” with some more prisoners,
the more to test anyone in the task of identification.
At last the signal is given that all is ready, and after passing
through a short corridor a yard is seen, rather capacious and
surrounded with cell-doors.
But between the yard and the corridor were double gates of iron, and
anyone exercising in the yard had not a shadow of a chance of
communication with the outer world.
The iron gates were opened by the governor of the gaol; in front stood
the constable and another who had come to see if Peace was in the
hands of the police, and in front were twelve prisoners doing “the
circular drill.”
This is a performance best known to prison officials, and to those who
have been “wanted.” It consists in this:――
If there is a prisoner in the establishment whose identity needs to be
established, and there is anyone attending for the purpose of viewing
them, the prisoner is placed amongst others, and they follow each
other in circle.
The suspected prisoner must then be identified. Those who performed
the “circular drill” on this occasion in the Old Bailey, were a
curious lot.
First came a young man, of some three or four-and-twenty years, with
his neck half hidden in a muffler.
His gait was upright, but there was that cowed look about him which
showed him to be “an old prison bird.”
Before the march commenced the prisoners took a look at us; they did
not know who was “wanted,” and our visages were strange to all but
one.
Then the march began, and all the prisoners appeared to want to march
the double, but they had only a short time of duty.
The second man who passed was an old one, some forty years of age, who
wore a swallow-tail coat, and looked most like a defaulting
half-starved attorney’s clerk.
He gave a searching look, knit up his brows, as if to see “who in
creation there could be that he knew,” and then apparently satisfied
that he was not “wanted,” passed on with a livelier tread.
The third but a young man, with a bull neck, who held his head down
and stared at the ground, as though afraid of seeing anyone strange,
for fear they should recognise him.
He had apparently gone through this class of inspection before.
Two other young fellows passed, of lively mien, and then there came
ONE WHO WAS WANTED.
A man of about five feet three or four inches in height, with white
hair on his head, cut very short, and bald in the front of his head,
but the razor had lately done this.
His eyebrows heavy and overhanging the eyes, which were deeply
socketed.
A chin standing very prominently, and, as if to make it more so, the
head was thrown back with an air of half self-assertion, yet half
caution, as though there was a degree of hesitancy in the action.
The lower part of his cheek bones protruded more than was their wont
in years gone by, but he had apparently had some bruises recently, and
had had his whiskers shaven off since he was last seen in Sheffield.
[Sidenote: No. 83.]
[Illustration: THE IDENTIFICATION OF PEACE BY THE SHEFFIELD OFFICER.]
In addition to that he wore a pair of large brass-rimmed spectacles,
as if the more completely to make certain of his non-identification.
Slightly bending himself this man approached those who were inspecting
the prisoners, and then there was a sudden stop.
“That’s Peace,” said Morris. “I’d know him anywhere,” and the man
“Ward” stepped from the ranks and approaching the officer with a look
which betokened the most earnest inquiry, asked, “What do you want me
for?”
The governor here very severely said, “Go on, sir, with your walk,”
and Peace returned to his place in the ranks, which were no longer
marching.
The other prisoners were now staring at the identified man, and
evidently wanted to ask, “What has he done?” but they dared not.
Even Peace had had no intimation given to him that he was recognised
as the Sheffield murderer, and until he saw the officer who had come
to identify him he had no notion of why he was required to go on this
special parade.
The marks which were described as on the missing Peace are all
distinctly on him. Before he can appear in the police court at
Sheffield on the charge of murder, the Chief-constable for Sheffield
will have to apply to a superior court for a writ of _habeas corpus_.
Upon this he will be taken to answer the capital charge now made
against him.
After committing the murder on the night of the 26th November, 1876,
Peace was completely lost sight of; his career in this life, it was
said, was closed, for he had made away with himself.
But Peace was not such a fool as that, for he had no sooner finished
the murder than he took to his old game of burglary――an avocation
which appears to have had a curious attraction for him.
Subsequent events have proved that Peace went to Hull, and there
replaced his waning funds by breaking into a gentleman’s house, from
which, he extracted a large quantity of plate and valuable jewellery.
From thence, after realising on his spoil, he repaired to Nottingham,
where a near relative resided, and with her he took up his quarters.
Although it was well known that there was a heavy reward offered for
his apprehension, it does not seem that any of his relatives
considered it advisable to state who was in the midst of them.
After effecting a very clever warehouse robbery, in which silk goods
were the principal booty, Peace appears to have then considered that
his proximity to Sheffield was dangerous, and he again changed his
abode.
Thus it will be seen that the Sheffield authorities were correct when
they stated that they had traced the man to Hull, but there had lost
sight of him.
It was believed that he had escaped to the Continent. But not so; the
fox had “doubled,” and in the Midland Counties, with Nottingham for
his centre, was continuing his depreciations.
On reaching London some four or five months after the murder, he was
not very well off for money, and he took up his residence in Lambeth.
The police in charge of this district then became aware that night
after night the most audacious depredations were committed in the
district.
There was scarcely a night passed but a burglary was announced, and in
as even a succession the statement followed that the thieves had not
been caught.
The value of the booty thus secured was exceedingly great, and the
thieves――for they were then believed to be a gang――were said to be
well rewarded for their audacity.
But the place appears to have become too hot for him, and he then
removed to Greenwich, where he occupied a beautiful house, and
commenced to furnish it in a most expensive manner.
Whatever Peace failed in, it was not in the want of self-assurance and
the belief that he could pass through society as a gentleman.
Though he had repulsive features he appears to have had winning ways
in the eyes of some, for he now appears to have decided on engaging a
lady to share his improving fortunes.
This “lady” may perhaps figure elsewhere shortly, and her name will
then be found in the police record. But the establishment could not be
kept up without “means,” and again came the last resort.
Peace had described himself to the new sphere of respectable
neighbours――among whom he now moved――as a “gentleman of independent
means,” and he was looked up to as one who had done well in the world.
We have endeavoured, throughout this strange eventful history, to
place before the reader the leading and most noticeable circumstances
connected with the career of this sinful man. After his arrest for the
burglary and attempted murder of Police-constable Robinson, there was
but little chance of his escaping conviction for the Bannercross
murder, but there are many who have attributed his identification and
subsequent conviction upon the grave charge to the jealousy of a
woman, as will be seen by the following extract from a journal of the
time.
It has been remarked by ancient as well as by modern writers that
wherever there is a piece of outrageous mischief there is sure to be a
woman at the bottom of it.
The experience of the present civilised age does not present any
instances to the contrary, but rather strengthens the opinions
previously held. Charles Peace was clever in one thing, that he knew
his “profession” and succeeded in it so long as he did it
“single-handed;” but when he obtained a partner, like many others who
have preceded him, his fortunes, though apparently improving, were
really on the decrease.
Whilst in Nottingham――and this only happened within a month after the
murder of Mr. Dyson――he succeeded in securing to himself the
affections of a young female relative.
This young “lady” followed him through his many hazardous adventures
until at length the two were in Lambeth, where they occupied a decent
house, and to all intents and purposes were a well-conducted pair――the
lady being slightly younger than her husband, but as “Mr. Johnson” was
well-to-do it was supposed that there had been a marriage of love.
Business in Lambeth proved of a paying character, although those who
did the paying were not always aware of the fact until before banking
hours in the morning――when the news was brought to their bedroom doors
by the earliest risers in the house.
On removing to Greenwich, Peace was accompanied by the young lady who
had followed his fortunes, although she might not know the whole of
his crimes and there were again commenced the robberies which, have
made his name so notorious in the criminal annals of the country.
Peace resumed his business; as he had not to press sales on the market
he did not care what came to his hand, and being well versed in the
legerdemain of the light-fingered fraternity he obtained access to the
mansions of the rich around him, and their loss was his gain.
As the aristocrats in his neighbourhood became more indignant, he
became more pious, and his immediate neighbours, whilst looking out
for the midnight thieves, relied somewhat on his perception and
assurances that nothing would be wrong.
But all this time there was in Peace’s well-furnished household a
young woman who had been misled and wronged.
She had been led to believe that Peace, with whom she had associated
in Nottingham, was a steady, hardworking man. Peace had given to her a
number of costly goods, he was to her a man of sterling honesty, and
then it transpired that he was a burglar.
Then came her time of trial.
The man with whom she was associated was a thief, a burglar, and more
than that――and she knew it.
He was a murderer.
But what could she do? It was this man upon whom she was dependent for
a subsistence――it was this man who had committed murder once, and whom
she knew would not hesitate to commit it again.
So she helped to get rid of the goods which were brought by his
nightly marauds, and like other sensible people who are in a mess, she
held her peace.
But when Peace and this housekeeper had got to the new home at
Peckham, “a cloud came o’er the scene,” and the cloud was a woman.
This “cloud” took up her residence in the house of Mr. Peace――otherwise
“Johnson,” by which latter cognomen he was well known――and then
commenced the beginning of the end.
The first victim of Peace’s duplicity dared not speak, and the second
admirer of him dared not――so between the rivals the burglar had a fair
chance of bidding for favouritism.
But when the last “throw” came from the dice-box of criminal ingenuity
and the thrower lost, there were left in the house in Peckham a couple
of rivals.
One, the latest comer, “realised,” and the older and much-injured one
gave information which resulted in the disclosures which had now been
made public.
By the aid of “the first love” valuable goods were traced to
Nottingham and others to Sheffield.
She told the detectives where to work and where to _find_, and she
disclosed the name of her rival, Mrs. Thompson, who was asked to give
her address.
Charles Peace, as we have had occasion to observe before, was by no
means a man of retiring character, but in respect to audacity and
assurance he was certainly able to hold his own with any of those
great criminals in whose footsteps he so long and persistently
followed. It must, however, be admitted that there was one bright spot
in his character.
It was this: after his arrest and conviction he strove by every means
in his power to prove the innocence of his wife.
It is certain that he only sought to become acquainted with those who
were, in his estimation, likely to be useful to him in an emergency,
and this statement has been fully borne out by the latest phase of the
case.
A gentleman in Sheffield some years ago bestowed some favours on a
member of the miscreant’s family, and his name and address had been
treasured up, with a view to still further calls upon the benevolence
that was once exercised in his behalf.
The gentleman in question was infinitely surprised one morning to
receive a letter, which was directed in an unknown hand.
Tearing open the cover he saw a mass of cramped and crooked lines,
which ran higgledy-piggledy over the paper, and showed that the hand
which had written them might have been more familiar with the “jemmy”
and the skeleton key than with the pen.
A further consideration of the document revealed that the author was
either a most illiterate man, or that, to suit his own purpose, he
would fain appear to be such.
The simple rules of grammar were set at defiance, and the attempts to
decipher the letter were so painful that it would have been tossed
impatiently aside had not the eye been caught by the signature,
“Charles Peace or Ward.”
The gentleman at once made all efforts to decipher the letter, which
was from no other person than the notorious Bannercross murderer, who
was at that time in Newgate.
The purport of the letter was to supplicate the receiver to become
bail for Mrs. Peace, who for some time had been in custody in
consequence of the vast quantity of stolen property found in her
possession by Inspectors Phillips and Twibell.
He coolly went on to ask that counsel should be obtained for her
defence, and declared that his wife had no guilty knowledge when she
received the goods, but that he forwarded them to her in order that
she might convert them into money to supply her needs.
He again and again with some vehemence asserted that Mrs. Peace was an
innocent woman, and that the misfortunes into which she had fallen
were not attributable to any fault of her own.
It was much to Peace’s credit that he thus endeavoured to exculpate
his wife, and it is pleasant to record this one good trait in his
otherwise debased and odious character; but he made a fatal mistake in
forming a connection with the other lady of his establishment.
Mrs. Thompson (who may be known by some by the name of Susan Gray),
the woman with whom Peace was living at the time of his arrest for the
Blackheath burglaries, made a long statement as to her own career, and
her connection with our hero.
As this forms part of the history of the notorious criminal the reader
would be in no way pleased by our suppressing it.
The following is a tolerably accurate description of her personal
appearance.
In person she is tall, and considerably above the middle height. Her
figure is not robust. Her complexion is fair, and was no doubt at one
time good. Her hair is dark and plentiful, and her eyes of a deep
blue, what is known as a violet hue.
Mrs. Thompson, at the time I saw her, was dressed in a brown robe,
trimmed with velvet to match; and wore a cloth jacket and round hat,
becoming and neat. Both of these articles she removed in the course of
conversation.
Her manner was at first frank and agreeable, but as our interview
lasted it changed to a fitful moroseness, which was difficult to deal
with. Both in person and in manner Mrs. Thompson may be said to be
decidedly prepossessing――what may be called a taking woman.
She is manifestly a fairly well-educated woman, and writes a pretty,
ladylike Italian hand. The statement she made to me in answer to
questions and in course of conversation was as follows:――
MRS. THOMPSON’S PERSONAL HISTORY.
My maiden name is Susan Gray, and I was born in the year 1842, at
Nottingham. My parents are very respectable people, and carry on a
small business in that town. I am heartily sorry to have brought this
disgrace upon them.
In my childhood I went to various schools in Nottingham――to the
Trinity School when I was a youngster, when I was also picked out as a
singer in the choir.
I continued to attend the Trinity Schools until I was eight or nine
years of age, when my parents removed me to the College School.
There I remained until I was fourteen, when I went out to work.
I should not like to state where I was employed, as it might give pain
to persons living, but there are those alive who know that this
statement is true.
After I left my first situation I stayed at home and assisted my
father in his business as his bookkeeper.
When I was about twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, a Mr. Bailey
one day came for purposes of business to my father’s house.
He had occasion to see my handwriting, and asked me if I would make
out some bills for him. I obliged him, and from that day I kept his
books, and did all the writing he required.
One day he asked me if I would marry him, and, in a spirit of
vexation, I having had some little disturbance with a brother of mine,
I said “Yes.”
We were married on the 10th of October, 1872, but three months after
that I left him, on finding out what was his true character, and that
it would be impossible for me to live happily with him.
I went next to live with my married sister at Nottingham.
I then worked for my living, employing my time in the manufacture of
caps such as ladies and servants wear.
One Sunday evening, perhaps six months afterwards, as I was going to
chapel, I met Bailey again. He stopped and spoke to me, and finally
induced me to return to live with him.
I stayed with him for nearly a year, when I again left him, and since
that time I have not spoken to him, except to obtain from him a weekly
allowance, which I continued to enjoy until I met the man Peace, but
on my becoming connected with him that allowance was forfeited.
HER FIRST MEETING PEACE.
I met Peace in January, 1877, I think it was. He came to the house
where I was living at Nottingham about that time.
One evening, just as I was returning from work, when I entered the
house, I saw him there. I shall never forget the impression he made
upon me.
I thought him of very singular appearance, and, from what I saw at
first sight, I had reason to believe that he was a one-armed man; but
that appearance was only the result of one of his tricks and
deceptions.
When I went in he said to the landlady, “Is this your daughter?”
I was not living with my sister then. I had left home, and had not
spoken to any of my family for a long time.
In answer to Peace’s question, my landlady, after some hesitation,
gave an affirmative reply.
Some conversation in subdued tones then took place between Peace and
my landlady. I ought to have said that this occurred in a house in a
district known as “The Marsh,” at Nottingham――a very low neighbourhood
indeed. Peace had brought my landlady some boxes of cigars for sale.
She said to him, in reference to myself, “You can speak before her;
she won’t say anything.”
Peace then asked her if she would go and see if she could sell the
cigars.
This woman, who is since dead, was an accomplice of his, and used to
assist him in the disposal of stolen property. Her name was Adamson.
She thereupon went out and sold them, and when she returned gave him
18s., of which sum he returned her 6s. by way of commission.
After that he became a constant visitor, and we always spoke of him as
the one-armed old man. He not unfrequently had there his breakfast,
dinner, tea, and supper, and at last it became known to me what his
real character was.
At first he gave out that he was a hawker, and dealt in various little
articles such as pedlars invariably travel with――spectacles, cheap
finery, and jewellery, and miscellaneous goods of that description.
At last he openly showed himself in his true character――I mean as a
most daring burglar. He brought things into the house which it must be
evident to anybody were stolen property.
There were articles of silver plate, timepieces, watches, and even
quantities of tea, sugar, and other perishable articles.
I do not know at all where he got these from; but I am perfectly
satisfied that they were the proceeds of robberies or burglaries.
This knowledge was kept from me at first. I was led to suppose he was
what he seemed to be――viz., a hawker, and a quiet, respectable man.
On one occasion he went out of town, saying he had to go and see his
mother at Hull. By his mother he meant Hannah Peace.
Peace on that occasion took £5 to Mrs. Ward at Hull, and stayed there
three weeks.
During that time he committed several robberies either at Hull or in
the neighbourhood.
I know that to be the case, because when I have been in Hull he has
shown me the houses at which the burglaries were committed, and he
also told me that on one occasion he had to run for it, when he “fired
wide” at a policeman by whom he was in imminent danger of being
captured.
The property was disposed of in Hull. He returned after a while to
Nottingham. I was out at the time of his return, having business in
the evening, for I was still at work and getting my own living in an
honest way. I was not earning very much, for work was short, but still
it was honest.
On this particular night, on my return home, Mrs. Adamson said to me,
“Oh, Mrs. Bailey, who do you think has come back?”
I replied I did not know, to which she made answer, “Why, the
one-armed old man, and he has asked for you. He swears he will shoot
you unless you go to him.”
He was in the house of our next-door neighbour, and previously to that
the lady of the house came in, and said, “Oh, Mrs. Bailey, do come in,
the old man’s gone mad; he wants to see you so bad. He won’t be
satisfied with anyone until you go.”
When I went in I found him “drunk on Irish whiskey.”
He said, “Is that you, pet (for by that name he used to call me), I am
so glad you have come, where have you been?”
I told him I had just come in from business.
He said, “Oh, I am so glad you have come. I thought you were never
coming back. Are you not pleased to see me?”
I said, “Oh, particularly, very; I like you so much.”
People must not think by that that I loved him, or because he said in
his last letter to me that I did. I got him home, and made him a cup
of tea, after which he seemed better.
He went back to the place where he was then residing, for he did not,
as I have already said, live in the house with me.
The following day he came to me very early. That day I was rather
short of work.
He said he was sorry he had been in such a bad way and had behaved so
rudely. He next asked me to stay at home for the day.
I said “No, that would not do. I should lose my work.”
“Never mind that,” said he. He reckoned up how much I was earning, and
said, “Look here, darling! If you will promise me not to go to work
again, I will pay for your board and lodging. And if Mrs. Adamson
likes, I will give her 14s. a week for my board, and come and stay,
but not sleep here.”
There was no accommodation for him in the house. Eventually my better
feelings were overruled, and I submitted myself to him. He was
invariably very kind to me, and I did not live with him unhappily.
I knew that he made a living on the proceeds of burglaries which he
committed, but I never had any of the goods so stolen; and my dresses
were bought for me by him.
He said one day he would have given me a splendid ostrich feather, but
he had not got them, because the woman of the house at which he used
to lodge would not give them up.
I said “It is very strange if you have things where you used to lodge
and cannot get them if you don’t owe them anything.”
He replied “Never mind; I will buy you one.”
One Monday night he brought home a black silk dress, polonaise, and a
long jacket, which he said he thought would fit me.
I told him I did not wear such things. He offered to buy me some like
them, but this offer I also declined.
If I remember rightly, these things were the proceeds of a burglary at
Hull, and I believe they have been given up to the police. I have
since worn dresses that were stolen, but they have all been given up
now to the police.
Mrs. Adamson went with him one day to look at a pawnbroker’s shop,
into which she wanted him one night to force an entry, but the project
never came to a head.
I believe he thought the premises whereon was so much valuable
property were pretty sure to be watched.
Mrs. Adamson would have found means of getting rid of the spoil, but
he never did enter the place.
I would rather not mention the name of the street in which the shop
was situated.
After that he committed a great cloth robbery at one of the factories,
and in the course of a week he went again and stole a great number of
coats.
He brought several rolls of cloth and the coats to Mrs. Adamson, who
disposed of a great portion of the property to persons whom one would
have thought to be of unblemished respectability.
In June, 1877, Mrs. Adamson wanted some blankets, and Peace said he
could get her any amount.
He went to get some, or, at any rate, to try, but was detected in the
act of entering the house.
He made his escape through a stable and through a woodyard.
Resistance was offered by a man on the premises, but Peace pulled out
his revolver and threatened to shoot him; and the man, intimidated,
let him get clear away.
PEACE’S FLIGHT FROM NOTTINGHAM.
After that he was constantly concerned in robberies until the occasion
of the great silk robbery, for the perpetrator of which £50 reward was
offered. That was just before we came to London.
The silk was disposed of by Mrs. Adamson, and the detectives came to
her house two or three days after. Ward, as I then called him, and I
were sitting together. We were living together you know, sir,
then――――the fact is we were in bed together. I was asleep, but the
noise the officers made on entering awoke me.
I said, “Oh, Mr. G.,” that is the name of the officer who first
entered the room. He stood astonished when he saw me. “Oh, Mr. G.,” I
said, “let me get out of this.”
He said, “I am surprised to see you, Mrs. Bailey.”
The men turned to the convict Peace and said to him, “What is your
name?”
“John Ward,” was the rather sullen reply.
“What do you do for a living?” the officer next asked.
“I hawk spectacles.”
“Where is your licence?”
“I will show it to you when I come down.”
“Get up and dress,” said one of the officers.
“I shan’t before you,” was the reply, in the same sullen tone and
manner, “but I will be down directly.” They went downstairs, leaving
Ward in the room.
I said to Peace, “Let me go out,” whereupon he permitted me to leave
the room, and went to my next-door neighbour’s, where I was very much
hurt indeed at the thought of what had happened.
They asked me what was the matter, and I said, “I do not know.”
No sooner had I left the room, than Peace slipped on his clothes, and
made his escape through the window, squeezing himself between two iron
bars which I am sure were not more than six or eight inches apart.
He ran across the road into the house of a neighbour, whom he got to
fetch his boots for him, the detectives being at the time in the house
waiting for him to come downstairs.
At last one of them shouted out, “Come, young man, you are a long time
coming.”
No answer being returned, a move was made upstairs; the door was
thrust open, and the discovery made that the bird had flown.
Away from the neighbour’s house he went to the Trent side, where he
walked for a considerable distance.
When he considered himself safe from recognition, he entered a
public-house, where he gave a man 1s. and a note for me.
The note was one asking me to go to him at the place where he was
staying, but I declined, and the daughter of the house where I was
living went to see him in my stead.
I sent him some money by her, and the answer he made me was that he
did not care for all the detectives in England; that he would not lose
sight of me; that he would not go away from the place without me.
I belonged, he said, to him, and he would not leave the neighbourhood
without me.
He sent yet again, and then I met him by appointment in the evening
time, and from that time we have always been together.
We came to London together, and took apartments in the Lambeth
district, where he began again that career of crime which has made him
so notorious.
But here again his character to the outside world was the same as it
had ever been.
Though he was always regarded as a passionate man, he was at the same
time looked upon as quiet, peaceable, and inoffensive, and in the
highest degree respectable.
As a performer upon the violin he was anything but a mean proficient.
He mixed very little with his neighbours, to my knowledge, in this
locality, and but little was known of that wonderful fund of ingenuity
which he undoubtedly possessed.
Often and often have I said to him what a pity it was that he had not
turned his abilities to a better account than for the purpose of
committing depredations upon the property of his fellow-creatures; but
though his manner to me was kind, he would always jeer and scoff at my
rebukes.
It would be utterly impossible for me to enumerate all the robberies
he has committed. He has told me at times of his having been into as
many as four and even six houses in a single night, sometimes with
success, and sometimes, of course, without.
During the day it was his custom to remain in bed, preparing himself
for his work in the following evening, when he would regularly go out
upon his housebreaking exploits.
Sometimes he came in with a great deal of valuable plunder, consisting
chiefly of silver and gold watches, rings, and various other articles.
After a while I became tired of living at apartments. Some of his
friends from Darnall used to stay there.
We only had one room, though it was comfortable and nicely furnished;
and as I did not think it decent for them to come and live with us, I
insisted upon Peace providing me with a home that I could call my own;
and as he was uniformly good to me at that time, and gave me nearly
everything that I asked, he promised that I should have one.
He had just previously committed a great robbery, and he asked me if I
would take some money for him to some friends of his at a distance, as
he dared not write letters. I consented to this, and several times I
took money for him to Hull.
Hannah was living in that town at the time, and kept a shop there. I
particularly wish that fact to be stated. Several times I took money
to Hull, and never less than £5 at a time. Often I took a great deal
more.
MRS. PEACE GOES TO LONDON.
One Sunday evening a knock came at the door at the house where we
lived at Lambeth. I answered the door; and saw before me a little
elderly woman.
“Does Mrs. Thompson live here?” she asked.
I replied, “Yes.”
She then said that she was Hannah.
I called to Peace and said, “Jack, you’re wanted.”
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Come and see,” I replied.
He did, and he found to his surprise, I believe, that it was Hannah.
“What brought you here?” he asked.
I interrupted jocosely with the remark, “I suppose the train.”
Hannah, however, said, “Didn’t you get my letter? I have been waiting
two hours on the look out for you.”
I said, “We received no letter. There is no delivery here on a Sunday
morning.”
Jack said, “Come in,” and she came in. Having looked round our
apartment, she said, “You have a nice place here.”
Jack asked her if she would have some supper.
She replied in the affirmative, and this I had to get ready. She then
began to talk about his friends and of the people whom they both knew,
and I learned in the course of conversation that the shop at Hull had
been given up, and that she had realised the proceeds.
Peace asked my permission to have Mrs. Ward and the boy Willie in
London.
I could not do otherwise than consent, and eventually they came.
Shortly after their arrival we moved to a house at Greenwich, but as
we did not live comfortable in the same house, we moved into separate
habitations adjoining each other, Mrs. Ward and her son living in one,
and I and Peace in the other.
Whilst we were living in this manner Peace made a journey into the
provinces――a thing which he now very seldom did. Whilst upon this
excursion he committed a great burglary at Southampton.
The police say that the affair took place at Portsea, but I know
better; it was at Southampton. By this robbery Peace cleared something
like £200――£60 of the money being in gold and silver, and the
remainder in Bank of England notes.
These he found no difficulty in getting rid of. There is a place, I am
told, where all Bank of England notes can be disposed of without
inquiries being made, but I do not feel justified in stating where it
is. That is reserved for the Bank of England authorities.
It was upon the proceeds of that excursion that he started his pony
and trap, the expenses of maintaining which he found to be great.
In the first place we had no stable accommodation connected with the
house we occupied. This had to be paid for, and the cost of the food
for the pony was again a very considerable item.
One day I said to him:
“I don’t like this neighbourhood; let us remove from here and get
where there is a stable connected with the house.”
He told me he had seen a place in the Evalina-road, Peckham, and if I
would put my things on we would go and see it, which we did.
We inquired next door as to who was the agent or the landlord of the
house, and the lady whom we saw kindly referred us to Mr. Smith. We
looked over the house, which we both liked very much. Smith and Peace
came to an agreement as to the building of a stable.
When Smith asked for references, Peace said to him:
“Oh, come down and see my house.”
Smith did so, dined with us, and went away perfectly satisfied, for a
few days afterwards we received a note to say that the house was at
our disposal.
Shortly afterwards we removed to the house No. 5, East Terrace,
Evalina-road, Peckham, where my troubles commenced.
Mrs. Ward and the boy Willie came to live in the same house with
myself and Peace, and her presence occasioned much trouble between us.
When we were settled, Peace began his system of robberies again.
Oh! many a time have I, by my tears and by my entreaties, kept that
man at home.
I was not allowed to move from the house without either one or the
other being with me; but though they were so afraid of me, I should
never have breathed a syllable against them.
I have been threatened, and he latterly at times ill-used me.
I have had a pistol pointed at my head and more than once he has
threatened to kill me. Peace used occasionally to ill-use Hannah
cruelly, and in a way I shudder to think about.
On one occasion he threatened me because I had pawned a silk dress,
and he was afraid that it might be traced.
Racked by jealousy, a prey to remorse, and the object of constant
suspicion, is it to be wondered that I at last took to drinking?
In this respect Peace was again indulgent, for though he jealously
guarded me when I went out, at home I could have what I liked, and
with drink I deadened my senses, and fled from my shame and despair.
Peace, as a rule, went out nightly, unless he got a good haul, when he
would stop at home for a night or two.
What I call a “good haul” was when he was able to show me plenty of
jewellery and silver-plate. I have know him bring home sixty-six
ounces at a time. His method of procedure being this: he used to be
driven of an evening to within a certain distance of the house where
he intended to “work.”
If the nights were light, Peace used to be concealed all night and
return home, say, between six and seven o’clock in the morning, when
some one would go out and meet him.
He was very good to his horse, for I should like people to give him
his due; and it was only occasionally that he worked it hard.
He often went to his destination by train or by tram, and some one
would go with the trap to meet him at the hour and place appointed.
When he has come home haggard and black, as I have often seen him, he
has said to me, “Well, pet, have you not got a smile for me?”
According as he had been successful, or the reverse, he would say,
“Well, I have not done much, my girl or, “I have done pretty well;”
and then he would proceed to sort out the property, preparatory to its
disposal.
I have seen him shake his head sometimes over the proceeds of the
night’s takings, and say, “I don’t think they will fetch much.” Then
he would tell me of his struggles and his escapes, and the number of
houses he had been into.
Once he told me that, in order to get a gold watch and chain from
under a lady’s pillow, he had to shift her position slightly.
The lady, he told me, muttered something fond, and turned over to her
husband, whom she believed to have been the cause of the very slight
disturbance occasioned.
Peace abstracted the watch and chain, and came away. I verily believe
that, when such adventures occurred to him, he used to come back sick
at heart, for, notwithstanding the profession which he followed, and
the fact that he had always firearms which he would not have hesitated
to use had he been disturbed, he was generally very kind to me, and I
am sure he felt such things.
Now, as to the disposal of the property. If it was valuable, he used
to send for those persons who bought of him, and obtain for them such
a sum of money as he required.
I am not at liberty to say who those persons were, but Peace used to
swear that if ever he was taken he would do for them, and confess as
to his accomplices, but I hope I shall not be mixed up in that affair.
I always told him he would go to Blackheath once too often. I cannot
say more than the persons to whom he disposed of the property were
Jews.
Two I know of, certainly, and they will “Jew” me, I expect, if they
get hold of me. One day I went with him while he disposed of some
property.
He used to take the property wrapped up like drapers’ parcels――innocent
and unsuspicious-looking enough. He used to treat me with great
kindness when Mrs. Ward was nowhere about.
He seemed to be never so happy as when he could get me alone. We
occupied the drawing-room floor, using the front room as a
sitting-room and the back as a bedroom, the breakfast-room below being
my private sitting-room or boudoir, and the rest of the house being
devoted to our lodgers.
The care of Peace’s animals, of which, by the way, he was extremely
fond, devolved upon myself.
It would be as well, I think, to say what they were, as the collection
was heterogenous.
There were ten guinea pigs, every one of which I gave away when he was
taken; a goat, two cats, two Maltese terriers, and a cockatoo; and in
addition to these, Mrs. Ward kept a Maltese dog, a parrot, a dog, and
four pigeons.
When Peace went out at night to work he always took with him a
revolver, a “jemmy,” a sharp knife, and various-sized screws wherewith
to fasten the doors of rooms in which he was “working,” so as to
ensure his being able to thoroughly ransack them without being
disturbed; but he never took skeleton keys, for he was so skilful that
he would take out the panel of a door almost noiselessly and with
great rapidity.
When the police caught him they caught the cleverest thief and the
cleverest beast that I should think there ever was in human form.
Here, Mrs. Thompson, as I shall continue to call her (that being the
name by which she is best known), produced to me an old pair of
Peace’s trousers.
In addition to the usual side pockets, they were fitted with pockets
behind on a level with the hip, and in these receptacles he used, she
told me, to stow away his revolver, and whatever instruments he had to
take with him.
The inside of the trousers on the left-hand side was filled with a
piece of oilskin or glazed cloth, to prevent the iron from chafing the
burglar’s skin.
Mrs. Thompson also showed me how, by turning in his left foot and by
bending up his make-believe arm towards his shoulder, the little man
used to assume deformity.
I also obtained from her a description of a burglar’s stick, as she
called it, which Peace found useful in climbing, and an instrument
still more remarkable which, she said he possessed, as a kind of
portable step ladder of seventeen steps, which he was able to fold
into so small a compass that he could go out with it underneath his
coat without attracting attention.
It was provided with hooks, for the purpose of fastening to walls and
window ledges, but she said he never used it, owing, I suppose, to the
fact that it was a clumsy apparatus to affix noiselessly.
After that she continued her narrative as follows:――
Peace never went out without leaving me with a revolver which, I dare
say, I should have the courage to use had occasion presented. He had
four revolvers altogether, and the three he left at home I destroyed,
when I found he had been taken. Yes, as you suggest, I sank them. When
he came to London he ceased to appear as a one-armed man, except in
the presence of a man whose name I will not mention.
PEACE’S CAPTURE――DISPOSAL OF PROPERTY.
When we saw in the papers that he had been taken Mrs. Ward cried out,
“Oh, my poor Charlie――my poor Charlie! I must go――I dare not stay
here; Willie, you must go too.”
I then asked her, “And what is to become of me then?”
“Oh,” she said, “You are young; you can fight your own battle.”
She was for selling everything, but I objected to my furniture being
sold, as I thought I might be able to get a living by letting
apartments.
My rooms were well furnished, though I had no carpets, and Jack bought
every stick that was in them. We divided all the money that was in the
house, about £5, and sold the trap, harness, cushions, and rug for £8,
though he had given £14 for the trap alone.
It does not matter to whom they were sold, because the man who bought
them did not know at that time that we were other than very
respectable people, and I should not like to expose him as having had
dealings with us.
Hannah took all the moveables. We divided the ready money, and parted.
I was very firm about the furniture, which Jack said he had bought to
be my own. If I liked, he said, he would buy me more.
I was to have had a piano on the 14th December last, as a birthday
present.
Heigho! I cannot help feeling that I have made a great mistake. It has
blotted my life; but there, I am not going to be sentimental any more.
I am not a sentimental sort.
Mrs. Thompson then went on to state that when she found herself quite
alone she had applied to a gentleman who had befriended her, and
through whom she received the following letter from the wretched man
in prison:――
“From John Ward,
“A prisoner in H.M. Prison, Newgate,
November 5, 1878.
“My dearly beloved Wife,
“Oh! do forgive me for what I have brought on myself, and
the disgrace upon you. Oh! have mercy on me all of you, and
do forgive me for my drunken madness and do all you can for
me on my trial, which I think will be about the 18th
November, so, my dear wife, do have pity upon me and do your
very best for me, for I think that you may do me a great
deal of good, that is by doing just as I tell you to do. You
must go and tell Mr. ―――― that I do very much want to see
him at once about him coming to speak as to my character. I
want to see Mr. ―――― to see if he will come to speak for me,
and I want you to go with Mr. ―――― to Mr. ―――― to see if he
will come forward to speak to my dealing with him in musical
instruments, and tell him that I only want him to come
forward and speak the truth of me. My dear wife, you must
also find everyone of my letters about my income, and also
every invoice about my dealing in musical instruments, and
give them to Mr. ―――― for him to take along with his letters
to my solicitor, now, at once, and also let them have some
of my cards. My darling dear wife, this must really be
attended to at once.
“My dear wife, I feel that there is one great favour, that
this has been my first offence, and never having been in
prison before, so that by your doing your best for me, and
with the help of God, hope it may be better for me than may
be expected, and as soon as ever this comes to your hands
you must come direct to see me, and never mind the disgrace
of your having come to see me in a prison, for I must really
see you, so do come to see me, and I want to see my
solicitor for something very particular, so that you must
tell him to come and see me, and give my dear love to Mr.
and Mrs. ―――― and also to my dear friends.
“I am, your ever loving husband,
“(Signed) JOHN WARD.”
This gentleman, as Mrs. Thompson further went on to state, had been
engaged with Peace in the getting out of a patent for raising sunken
vessels. To him she applied when Peace was taken, she stating that he
had left her and gone off with another woman.
He took her into his house, and under his persuasion she disclosed
what she knew of him――not, she said, for her own protection, for she
would willingly have been taken herself, but because it was
represented to her that she must forward the ends of justice.
I then tried to obtain from her some particulars of the past life of
Peace, but as to these she was extremely reticent.
“How did he really escape on the night of the murder?” I asked.
Mrs. Thompson replied――
“I have never breathed this to any one. I have had people try and try,
and try over again.
“According to what he has told me, he climbed over a wall opposite Mr.
Dyson’s house, and walked deliberately over a field.
“He has told me the name, but I do not remember. I got a lot out of
him through his dreams, but he never told me he had committed murder.
He said it was something else he had to run away for.
“He went direct to his aunt’s house. Having first cut off his beard,
he dressed himself in a fustian suit, and went across country,
committing little depredations to help him on his journey, for he had
no money until he arrived at Bradford.
“He did not personate a one-armed man then; that device he did not
carry into effect until he was at Hull. He took a room at Bradford and
kept two women there, who used to assist him in burglaries.
He has often boasted to me of his achievements in that town and
others, and he seemed to find a particular sort of pride in the fact
that in one case it took him and one of his accomplices three days to
remove some things from a furnished house which the tenants had
temporarily left, and which, so far as articles of value were
concerned, he literally cleared out.
“He has told me a good deal about his earlier career, but I can’t
recall it to mind just now. First of all, he told me he was a sort of
worker in the iron trade; that ever since he was fourteen he was a
thief. Sometime between 1852 and 1854 he resided with Mrs. Peace at
Manchester. He was brooght up for trial on a charge of burglary about
that time, and Mrs. Peace had to sell the things in the house they
lived in――most of them being stolen――to procure him professional
advice upon his trial. He was committed for seven years, and while he
was in prison he communicated with her, and always know of her
whereabouts.
“He managed to write more than the police officials knew of, for he
had a way of pasting up his letters which he has shown me. When he had
regained his liberty, which he told me was in 1858, he rejoined Hannah
and resumed his old courses. When he went out on his exploits he wore
stockings over his boots to conceal his footmarks.”
Mrs. Thompson made various other statements respecting the notorious
man who was the subject of our conversation, but they were not
calculated to add much to the existing stock of information concerning
him.
Either she did not know much of Peace before she went to live with
him, or she did not care to make any disclosures; but, as our
interview lasted for something over five hours, she must have been
tired and her memory confused.
[Sidenote: No. 84.]
[Illustration: A MOTHER SEEKING HER SON IN THE THIEVES’ KITCHEN.]
I was not such a barbarian as not to have offered her some refreshment
during that period. She took it in the form of steak and onions,
rinsed down with brandy and water.
“When we parted we were the best friends in the world; she shook me
warmly by the hand, and her last remark was, “I have my own character
to redeem, and if I have my health and strength I hope to do it.”
The foregoing is a faithful chronicle of the account given by the
woman Thompson.
We have on more than one occasion given the reader an insight of the
mode in which Peace disposed of his stolen property. He did not,
however, confine his business transactions in this respect to one
receiver, or “fence.”
This has been already demonstrated. He had several confederates to
whom he disposed of the goods he had so dexterously purloined, but in
most cases he had to part with them at what drapers are accustomed to
term “a ruinous sacrifice.”
This is invariably the case with burglars and robbers of every
description. The receiver has always the best of the bargain.
The property must be got rid of, and this the “fence” knows perfectly
well.
Peace, in addition to the two other Israelites already introduced to
the reader had a Petticoat-lane confederate, who during his London
career bought largely of him. This personage was interviewed by one of
the special correspondents of the press. We subjoin a graphic account
of his visit.
“That’s my name, and you’re quite right about my keeping a tobacco
shop in this lane, and about my buying and selling ’most all kinds of
old stores.”
This was the reply given to a comprehensive interrogatory addressed by
a Sheffield reporter to a middle-aged keeper of a public-house in
Petticoat-lane, whose name indicated that he was “of the order of
Melchisedeck,” and who, rumour said, knew something of the manner in
which the convict Peace had invested some of the money it is supposed
he must have been possessed of shortly before his arrest.
If the police with their finished machinery and well-trained
inquisitors have been able to discover nothing, it was hardly to be
expected that the astute Hebrew dealer would allow himself to be
trapped into any prejudicial admissions by a newspaper emissary, even
though he was simply charged with the high and philanthropic duty of
affording that dealer opportunity for clearing from his character
aspersions which had been unjustly cast upon it.
Having informed the “old stores” man of the charitable nature of his
mission, said the “special”:――
“Now, I suppose you never knew or had any dealings with Peace?”
“Me, dealings with Peace! Why, I never heard or seen ’im, except when
I was bound over to keep it for six months, ’cause I give a cove a
knock in the eye.”
At this sally the rowdy-looking congregation in the bar who had
evinced a lively interest in the interview, delivered themselves of a
unanimous guffaw. The special smiled blandly, and went on:
“I suppose you have seen what the papers have been saying about your
supposed connection with Peace?”
“Oh, yes; I’ve seen it all. It’s all wrong. I’m quite innocent o’ this
thing. Besides, it aint nothing to do with me. It aint me they mean.
It’s the other man with the same name that keeps the ‘knell’ down the
lane. If they wrote about me I should ’a took it up; but as they
didn’t, I shall not trouble about it.”
“Glad to find you’re so clear of this nasty business; but have you
heard much about the rumours here in the lane?”
“No; nothing except what there’s bin in the newspapers.”
“Ah! then I think I’ll call on the man at the ‘knell,’ and hear what
he’s got to say.”
“Yes, that’ll be ’sgood a thing as you can do,” said the store dealer;
and as the special passed the threshold sounds of merry cachinnation
reached him from the idlers at the bar.
Trudging through the snow-slush, with pipe in mouth as an antidote to
the many-flavoured, fever-charged atmosphere, the interviewer in a few
minutes found himself outside the “knell.”
The proprietor having been inquired for, he was summoned from
upstairs, and in about five minutes presented himself. He was a very
young man. He was in his shirt sleeves.
He was short, but had good shoulders and breadth of chest, and his
face, which had a puffiness betokening free application to the pewter
pot, was adorned with a nose off one side of which the skin had been
almost entirely scraped. A smile was as foreign to him apparently as
vegetation to an iceberg.
The interviewer made no attempt to smile upon this young and promising
vendor of Old Tom. He did not make another.
There was not the remotest smirk of sympathy or approbation in the
countenance of his _vis-à-vis_.
He listened stoically to a few introductory original observations by
the special, such as, “Very unexpected fall of snow this.”
“Quite an old-fashioned winter.”
“Spring will soon be here now, though.”
But on learning the nature of the caller’s business he was no longer
passive.
His eyes brightened and jumped a bit, and he became loquacious, but
continued cynical.
“I haven’t got nothing to say about the matter. All I know is that I
don’t know nothing about Peace or about his money, or his loan
society, or anything else. Besides, the newspapers know all about the
case already. If they knows s’much, what do they want to send to me
about it for?”
“Well, the fact is,” answered the special, “the function of a
newspaper is to put the public in possession of reliable information.
Reports which compromise your honour have been given currency, and
although minute inquiry has been made no particle of foundation has
been found for them. What I want is to get hold of the facts necessary
to put the public _au courant_ with things as they really are, and at
the same time afford a much-injured party a means of retrieving his
good name.”
The short man with the broad shoulders, stuck his hands in his
breeches pockets, spread his legs, swung his head to and fro, lifted
his eyelashes, and remarked, “Ah! you do――do you?”
Then he turned round to his wife and inquired of her in surly tones
why she had called him down, and muttered something to her not at all
complimentary to newspaperdom or its labourers.
“Well, look here, Mister. I don’t care for what the newspapers say.
Let ’em find out what they can. I aint got nothin’ to say. All I knows
is that if the papers says anything about me they’ll be sorry for it,
that’s all.”
“Ah! but they have done so already. They have mentioned both your name
and that of your house.”
“Well, what if they have? What good have they done?” rejoined the
innkeeper, and then he continued, “I’ve been bothered enough over this
matter already, and I don’t want to be bothered any more.” So saying
he left the special in dudgeon.
The rumours which have been afloat anent Peace’s confederates in
Petticoat-lane have been sufficiently weighty to justify a descent by
the police on the houses of the suspected parties.
Nothing criminating was, however, forthcoming, and the probability is
that, wanting divulgence by Peace, the public will remain ignorant
what has become of whatever money he has stored.
Inspired by the extraordinary statements circulated at this time as to
the enormous amount of property alleged to have been disposed of by
Peace, and by the reported “finds” of hidden spoil in London, the
_Daily Telegraph_ writes:――
“For a precedent to the curious museum of plunder now in police
custody at Bethnal-green we must go back to the days of that very
eminent ‘fence,’ Jonathan Wild.
“The real character of this remarkable scoundrel has been
unfortunately obscured, first in Fielding’s masterly ‘Jonathan Wild
the Great,’ which is fundamentally a satire upon the statesmen of his
time; and next in Mr. Ainsworth’s foolish and mischievous romance of
‘Jack Sheppard.’
“We must peruse the straightforward and dispassionate Old Bailey
sessions papers to study Jonathan in his true aspect as a cunning,
adroit, and not ill-educated rascal, who first reduced robbing to a
system, and organised a detailed scheme for receiving and disposing of
stolen goods.
“He started in business on a very small scale as the landlord of a
little alehouse in Cock-alley, Cripplegate, where he surreptitiously
purchased the ‘takings’ of the juvenile pickpockets from Moorfields.
“At night he would perambulate the brandy shops of Fleet-street, and
traffic with the women who had contrived to rob drunken people of
their watches or pocket-books.
“Growing bolder with success, it is on positive criminal record that
he convened a meeting at his house of the most notorious thieves in
London, and represented to them that if they took their booty to such
of the pawnbrokers as were known not to be troubled with scruples of
conscience, they――the thieves――would scarcely receive a fifth of the
value of the goods which they had stolen; whereas if they could agree
to bring their prizes to him he would make much more liberal terms for
them.
“The penalty for failing to constitute Jonathan Wild their
receiver-general was simply death. Bad faith was immediately resented
by the denunciation of the thief to justice; and unless he could come
to an arrangement with Wild the chances were overwhelming in favour of
the robber going to Tyburn.
“Thus Jonathan Wild was not only a preceptor of thieves and a
‘putter-up’ of robberies, but also a receiver of stolen goods, and a
thieftaker to boot.
“Removing from Cock-alley to a house in the Old Bailey, he found at
length that he had accumulated an embarrassingly heavy stock of stolen
property, and he absolutely purchased a sloop in order to transport
his plunder to Holland and Flanders.
“The command of this vessel was entrusted to one Roger Johnson, a
noted river pirate; and Wild’s factor at Ostend, and general
Continental agent, was a superannuated thief called Randall.
“The sloop――her name, unfortunately, is not mentioned in the records
of rascality――having discharged her cargo at Ostend, brought back to
England such commodities as lace, wine, and brandy, which were landed
at night, and, it is almost needless to say, without the custom-house
authorities being troubled in the matter.
“Smuggling and dealing in stolen goods are operations possibly, no
longer carried on in conjunction; still, who shall say that our modern
Jonathan Wilds have not their favourite lines of steamers――it is not
now necessary that they should buy ships of their own――and that they
have not their factors and agents at Continental ports and in
Continental cities?
“Many thousands of pounds’ worth of jewellery and bank-note――to name
only two sorts of plunder――are stolen every year.
“There must be a mart for this precious merchandise, a mart the
whereabouts of which must be perfectly familiar to professional
burglars and thieves.
“Bank robbers and pickpockets have been known coolly to admit that the
market price for a stolen five-pound note is three pounds ten
shillings. Who buys stolen bank notes at this rate? Who melts down the
stolen plate? Who wrenches the stolen gems out of their settings? Who
sends the unset jewels to Amsterdam and elsewhere?
“If the police are unable to find out the wholesale dealers in stolen
property, and trust to chance to make such a haul as they made the
other day in the Commercial-road, might it not be expedient to allow
the next professional burglar we catch to turn Queen’s evidence
against the receivers?
“No terms can be made with a murderer, and Peace must be left to the
gallows; but most useful revelations might be obtained from a
professional housebreaker permitted to turn approver.
“Such a witness, if his evidence proved trustworthy, should
receive――strictly or once in away――a full pardon.
“Convicts sentenced to penal servitude are not apt to be very grateful
for a partial remission of their term of durance; and, indeed, in the
case of Mr. Harry Benson, the Government, it appears, does not
conceive that it is under any obligation at all to the convict for
having made an exhibition of the old detective force in its full
iniquity.”
In tracing the criminal career of a desperate character like Peace, it
is curious to note how prone to wrong-doing he was from his earliest
youth. His first theft is thus described:――
An apple of beautiful hue tempted Eve to her first sin, and it is said
that fruit of a similar name first induced Peace to commit a serious
theft. In the year 1830 he lived close to the orchard of the Rev.
Joseph Smith, whose residence was known as the Plantation.
“The rev. gentleman was the pastor of the flock who worshipped at the
Nether Chapel in Norfolk-street. But the ‘Plantation’ on Langsett-road
had a different prospect to what is now the case.
“Then it was in the country really; on the banks behind the houses
were farms and orchards; beneath the house were meadows sloping to the
River Don, which was then alive with fish, trout being plentiful in
the waters, and at times a salmon or sea-trout strayed into these
higher regions from the Ouse.
“The railway connecting Sheffield with Manchester had not made its
black streak across the opposite Old Park-hill, and a pleasant place
was the residence of the Independent minister of those days.
“Behind the good man’s house was a goodly orchard, and within the
enclosure fruit trees which carried crops of heavy, golden fruit.
“The lads of the neighbourhood viewed those crops with envy, and one
of the leading spirits among them was Charles Peace, a well-instructed
lad, fearless, venturesome, and domineering in spirit.
“He planned the robbery of the pastor’s orchard, but being
inexperienced, was captured――whilst in an apple tree.
“He had not learnt in those days the wiles and deceits which have
since come so naturally to him.
“But he had not to cope with detectives, inspectors, constables, and
other professional men, who render life obnoxious to a thief. His
captor was actually the parish beadle.
“Had that man lived until these days how proudly he might have said――
“‘I caught Peace!’
“But the youthful aspirant to future honours did not obtain the reward
he should have had for his speculation.
“He bargained for apples, and instead was taken before the wrathful
owner of the fruit, Mr. Smith. The beadle shortly afterwards had a
task to undertake which left no mark in local history, but did on the
young man who stole the apples.
“Such was the commencement in ‘active’ life of him who now occupies a
cell in Newgate, from thence to be taken to answer a record of crime
the which has not been paralleled by Claude Duval, Thomas King,
Richard Turpin, or others of that ilk.
“Those men had not the telegraph to compete with, yet failed; Peace
had the widespread information of modern days to watch, and yet for a
time succeeded.
“The marauders of the old shool, above mentioned, defeated justice for
a time because on their thoroughbred horses they could outride the
messengers of justice.
“Peace had to fight against the magnificent apparatus of science by
which information is flashed across a thousand miles in a second of
time, and yet he succeeded in baffling all who sought to track him.”
The blow that had fallen on Peace and his domestic circle was a
terrible one, and in a short space of time, after his conviction, the
house in the Evalina-road was tenantless.
A visit to the locality is thus described by an eye-witness:――
“Peckham approached from Greenwich, with a suggestion of sunshine in
the sky, looked much prettier to-day. There are some goodly houses
along Queen’s-road, but as one climbs the hill to Peace’s part, the
houses taper away till long lines of modest brick buildings meet the
eye. Where Peace lived may be called the tail-end of Peckham.
“His house is still to let, and though nobody that I can hear of has
been to visit it――except members of the Press――the gentleman who has
the letting of it thinks he will get a couple of pounds extra now that
it has sprung into notoriety.
“Well, he may. I don’t know so much about the peculiarities of the
Peckham people; but on this point I am inclined to agree with the lady
who lives next door. She wants to let her front room, and has
‘Apartments’ in the window.
“That card appeals in vain to the eligible young gentlemen who usually
want comfortable chambers, and she is afraid that respectable people
will not care to come into such a ‘dreadful’ neighbourhood.
“She considers it a bad day for her when she came there, which she did
a week before Peace was found out. Indeed, it was from Peace she had
the keys to look over the house. An ominous introduction truly.
“Her idea is that before that house lets again £2 will have to be
taken off, instead of being put on, the rent. I agree with her, for I
can hear of nobody who has a good word for the house, except perhaps
the postman, who told me, as we trudged together through the mud, that
‘it wasn’t a bad place in his view of it. The Thompsons did not
trouble him much――they had very few letters.’
“A neighbour says that when the Thompsons came their house was a treat
to look at, Mr. Thompson filling all the front windows with choice and
costly flowers, which he carefully tended and watered with his own
hands.
“People at Peckham are beginning to be a trifle impatient with
inquisitive strangers who want to know about their most famous
character. On my first visit to Peckham I looked in on the gentleman
who combines the duties connected with her Majesty’s mails with
dispensing flour and other household necessities to her Majesty’s
females.
“I asked him if he knew and could tell me where ‘Mr. Smith’ lived――the
party who had let the house to Mr. Thompson? This gentleman shut me up
very sharp.
“‘I know where Mr. Smith lives, but I don’t think I would be justified
in telling you, as you would only be bothering him like the rest.’
“I left that establishment with a feeling that my introduction to the
natives of Peckham was not encouraging. A few yards further on I saw
Mr. Smith’s address ln the windows of half-a-dozen empty houses, the
notices inviting people to apply to ‘Mr. Smith, Ryde Villas, St.
Mary’s-road.’
“I accepted the invitation, and found Mr. Smith a most obliging and
very communicative gentleman.
HOW PEACE WAS FOUND OUT.
“I find the police scout the idea that the man ‘Ward’ was discovered
through the jealousy of Mrs. Thompson, the younger of the
‘housekeepers’ at Peckham, and the professed wife of Peace.
“Those who had to do with the case told me that they had no
information whatever from Mrs. Thompson, who never communicated with
them, but disappeared as she sniffed danger.
“‘How then,’ I asked, ‘did it occur to you to connect the Blackheath
burglar with the Bannercross murderer?’
“‘Well,’ was the reply, ‘we can scarcely tell you. We could not get
our evidence so complete as we could wish, and we were obliged to wait
for a time. That waiting served us well. Trifles, mere trifles, such
as we can scarcely repeat to you, made us believe that this man was
‘somebody.’ We watched those who came about our place at Greenwich;
then we watched those who came about Newgate. We got, after great
trouble, a hint or two; we acted upon what we received, and were
ultimately able to connect the man ‘Ward’ with Peckham; then from
Peckham we worked Nottingham and Sheffield, and then the case
gradually worked itself into shape.’
“For the police it was a lucky thing Mrs. ‘Ward’ took those two boxes
to Sheffield.
“That, I believe, was really the first indication that Blackheath and
Bannercross were connected.
“It suddenly flashed across one of the Greenwich division that this
mysterious man, who called himself a ‘half-caste,’ resembled in every
respect except one the man so urgently ‘wanted’ at Sheffield.
“That exception was his hair, particularly the absence of beard and
whiskers. Height, breadth, eyes, manner of talking, singularity of
fingers, and wide, straddling walk――to quote the police description,
‘walking with his legs apart’――all tallied. Put beard and whiskers
upon that face, and it was――Peace.
“Inspector Bonny went to Nottingham; Inspector Phillips to Sheffield.
“Phillips was shown a portrait of Peace. He was confirmed in his
suspicions. The photograph resembled the man in Newgate so closely
that he had no doubt as to the identity.
“The rest of the story you know. How Phillips and Twibell found the
property at Darnall in the possession of Mrs. Peace, how the property
was identified as part of the proceeds of the Blackheath burglaries,
how Police-constable Morris came to London and identified Peace in
Newgate, and (as I telegraphed to you) how the Treasury, appreciating
the importance of the case in the light of the identification,
undertook the prosecution on its own account.
“To Police-officer Robinson undoubtedly belongs in the first instance
the credit of capturing Peace. He unquestionably risked his life in
his courageous encounter with the desperate convict, and well deserves
such recognition as has been suggested by your correspondent.
“Let it not be forgotten, however, that Robinson’s share in the
transaction terminated there. Without him nothing would have been
done; yet after Peace’s bullet pierced his arm and the two constables
came to his help, Robinson dropped the thread, which was picked up by
Inspector Phillips and Inspector Bonny.
“These officers have been indefatigable in their exertions to bring
home the graver charge against Peace. Day by day, and night after
night they have laboured, and many a night since the memorable evening
when Peace was caught in the act, they have slept not, neither have
they rested, so anxious have they been to close once for all the
career of the dreadful villain whose escape made everybody so uneasy.
“But it should not be forgotten (observed a writer at the time) if
testimonials are spoken of, to remember these two officers.
“Robinson was a brave fellow, and acted like a hero; yet if Bonny and
Phillips had not used their brains, and set their highly-trained wits
to work, ‘John Ward’ might have been convicted of the Blackheath
burglary and the shooting of the intrepid Robinson, and he might have
been sentenced to penal servitude for life; but in Sheffield the
Bannercross murder would have been regarded as an undiscovered crime.
“To Bonny and Phillips belong the credit of proving that Ward was
Peace, that Blackheath meant Bannercross, that burglary was
overshadowed by the bigger crime of murder. A wave of relief swept
over Sheffield when it was known that Peace had really been captured
at last. To Phillips and Bonny was due the fact that he was thought of
at all as the man who shot Dyson two years before.
THE TROUBLES OF THE PEACES.
“There is really no peace for the Peaces. Now that Charles Peace, the
man of Bannercross, has been caught there are dozens of persons who
are anxious to tell all they know about him and his family.
“Several of them have got it into their heads that there is only one
family of Peace, the head and front of which now awaits in Newgate the
reward of his desperate misdeeds.
“Thus it comes about that several most excellent people are getting
uneasy about the name they bear, particularly when they find it
connected with some of the early doings of “the insignificant-looking”
gentleman who has recently sprung into so much significance.
“The latest instance is that of a family of Peace who lived some time
ago in Philadelphia――not the Philadelphia which figures in Sacred
Writ, but the exceedingly secular locality of that name which figures
in Sheffield.
“Mr. Charles Peace, of George-street, Philadelphia, has no connection
whatever with the Charles Peace of the many aliases, burglar and
murderer; neither is it right that his son, who also bears the (in
these days) somewhat burdensome name of Charles Peace, should be
associated with the person who has proved himself so eligible a
candidate for the last attentions of the law.
“It is certainly a trifle too bad, even when people are thirsting for
every particle of information about that extraordinary character, that
the respectable member of a respectable firm of file manufacturers in
Pea-croft, or his son who earns his livelihood in an honourable way in
the file trade at Rotherham, should have themselves brought up in
public as connected in even the remotest degree with the ruffian who
had the misfortune to call himself by their name.
“So that, once for all, readers will understand the Philadelphia Peace
and the Bannercross Peace are wide as the poles asunder.
“This incident reminds one of the trouble and suspicion to which many
people were put shortly after the murder.
“Peace, it will be remembered, was described as a ‘little,
insignificant-looking man, with grey hair.’
“There was at once an eager look-out kept for people who answered that
somewhat general description. It was a bad time for ‘little
insignificant-looking men,’ and as our local world has a good many
people who come fairly within that description, several estimable and
other citizens were frequently the object of glances which were not at
all flattering in their meaning.
“Two elderly gentlemen were pointed out as greatly resembling the
notorious Peace, and enjoyed a reputation on that account only a shade
less comfortable than other gentlemen in this district, of most
substantial proportions, who up to a short time ago were repeatedly
referred to as remarkably like the Claimant.
“Even when a more specific description of Peace appeared mistakes were
freely made, though not with the provoking results of a double
apprehension, as in the case of that poor tramp at Barrow-in-Furness,
who was subsequently apprehended at Hexham, and who complained
bitterly――and not unnaturally――to our reporter who interviewed him in
prison, that he should have been arrested a second time ‘when the
police had already let him go once.’
“This poor fellow, to put matters right once for all, made a
pilgrimage to Sheffield and called upon the Chief Constable, who, of
course, had no more to do with his arrest at Barrow-in-Furness and
Hexham than the poor tramp had to do with the arrest of the real Peace
by Police-constable Robinson in that garden at Blackheath.”