was not the man?――Because he was so much in the habit of disguising
himself.
So it might have been him? Did you speak to the man?――I don’t
remember.
Did he speak to you?――He asked me where I had been, or where I was
going, or something of that kind.
Did you answer him? Yes, I passed some remark.
Did the man go out when you went out?――Yes, he followed me out.
Do you mean, on your oath, to say that you did not see the prisoner,
and that he did not tell you he would come to see you the next
night?――No, he did not.
Did he say anything to you?――Nothing particular, because I did not
take any notice of him.
Not after you left the public-house?――I did not speak to him after
leaving the public-house.
Did you think at the time that it might have been the prisoner?――I had
not the slightest thought. I had not been in the fair that night. I
passed by. I might have said to Mrs. Redfern that I had been. I had
not been in any public-house before going into the “Stag.” I had
previously been to the house of some friends of mine named Muddiman.
Did you tell Peace that you were going there?――Witness: What had he to
do with it?
Answer the question.――Mr. Muddiman does not live at Sharrow.
Will you swear you did not tell him that?――I did not. I did not see
the prisoner at all.
How long were you at Mr. Muddiman’s?――Perhaps an hour or so.
And from there you went to the “Stag”――Yes.
Witness continued: I have seen the landlady of the “Halfway House” at
Darnall here.
Have you ever been turned out of that house on account of being
drunk?――No.
What! never?――No. I have never been drunk in my life.
Will you swear this?――Yes.
Bring in the landlady. Now, will you swear you have never been drunk
in this woman’s house?――Well I might have been slightly inebriated.
(Laughter.)
Will you swear you have never been turned out of the house for being
“slightly inebriated?”――No, not to my knowledge.
Mr. Lockwood: Quite true. You might not have been aware of it. That is
all I ask you.
Mrs. Dyson was then re-examined by Mr. Foster, who asked: You have
been questioned as to whether your husband got hold of Peace. Are you
quite sure that he never tried to get hold of Peace?
The question was objected to by Mr. Lockwood.
Continuing, Mr. Foster asked: Can you tell me how your husband
fell?――The witness: On his back rather slanting.
Was that in the passage or in the little court?――It was in the little
court.
What is the width of the court?――It is about twice as wide as the
passage.
Did you observe when he fell whether the side of his face went against
the wall or not?――He fell close to the wall, slanting, and then on his
back.
You have been asked about going to a dining-room, near the market,
with two children. I think you answered that you went for
refreshments?――Yes. The children were hungry, and I went to give them
some refreshment.
My friend has asked you about a man bringing a note to you from Peace.
Is that correct?――Yes, but I sent it back again.
Have any others been sent to you by Peace at all?――Not to my
knowledge.
My friend got out the last answer from you about Mrs. Norton, that you
might have left the house “slightly inebriated.” How did it occur?――I
cannot tell. I might be slightly inebriated, but I cannot tell.
The Judge: You said the prisoner came to the closet door?――Yes.
How long was it after that the first shot was fired?――About a minute
or two? It may be a little more.
What time elapsed between the first shot and the second?――About a
second; it was almost immediately.
So far as you could see, did he stand in the same place when he fired
both shots;――No; he stood on the lower step when he fired the second
shot, and in the yard when he fired the first.
How far was your husband away from the prisoner at the time?――They
were about four feet apart. There were only two steps between them.
The prisoner was on the bottom step.
This concluded the examination of the witness, and the court adjourned
for half an hour.
On the re-assembling of the court, Mr. Lockwood said if the case for
the prosecution lasted till five o’clock he should ask his lordship to
adjourn the defence till the following day.
His Lordship said that if it would be a convenience to Mr. Lockwood,
he would certainly do so.
Mr. Lockwood added that if the case for the prosecution was over
before five, he should not then ask his lordship to adjourn, but would
proceed with the defence and finish the case that evening.
Mary Ann Gregory, wife of John Gregory, grocer, Bannercross, said she
lived next door to the house occupied by the Dysons, and on the night
of the murder the prisoner who had previously visited the shop, came
again and asked to see her husband, who was away. The prisoner left
the house, going down the road. An hour afterwards she saw Mrs. Dyson
walking towards the closet, and two minutes afterwards heard her
scream loudly. She told Mr. Dyson to go to his wife immediately, and
he went directly along the passage. She then heard a banging noise, or
rather two noises, and heard footsteps coming up the passage. The next
thing she saw was Mr. Dyson bleeding from the head as he was propped
up in a chair in his own house.
In answer to Mr. Lockwood, the witness said she heard Mrs. Dyson
scream within a couple of minutes of her going into the closet. When
Mr. Dyson left to go down in the direction of the closet he walked
quickly.
Sarah Colgraves, wife of Thomas Colgraves, of Dobbin-hill, said she
remembered going to the shop kept by Gregory on the night of the 29th
of November, about half-past seven o’clock. She met the prisoner about
thirty yards from the shop, and he asked her if she knew who lived in
the second house down the road. She said she did not. He asked if she
knew whether they were strangers, and she replied in the affirmative.
The prisoner then said, “Do you mind going to the house to say that an
elderly gentleman wants to speak to her?” Before that he had said,
“You don’t know them?” and she replied, “No.” He then said, “I will
tell you. She is my b―――― ――――.” She told the prisoner he had better
mind what he said, particularly to strangers, and told him to take the
message himself. About ten minutes afterwards she saw the prisoner
come out of the passage by the side of the house.
This witness was not cross-examined.
Charles Brassington, living in the Lane End, Ecclesall, said he was on
the road near Bannercross, on the 29th of November, standing opposite
the Bannercross Hotel, about twenty yards from Mr. Gregory’s shop. It
was about eight o’clock. The night was moonlight, and he noticed the
prisoner walking to and fro on the causeway. Standing beneath a lamp
at the time, he could see the prisoner quite distinctly. Peace
approached him and said, “Have you any strange people come to live
about here?” He replied, “I don’t know.” Peace then showed him some
photos and letters, and desired him to read the latter. He said he
could not. The prisoner then told him that he would make it warm for
those strangers, for he would shoot them, and after saying this Peace
walked down the road towards Gregory’s. He next saw the prisoner in
Newgate, walking round the yard along with several others, and he was
certain he was the man who uttered the threat at Bannercross.
In cross-examination the witness was severely questioned as to the
date when he saw the prisoner and had the conversation with him. He
admitted that he could not himself tell the date, but had been told by
other witnesses.
Charles Wyville, living at Ecclesall, said on the night of the murder
he was in the Bannercross Hotel, when his attention was attracted by
hearing two reports of a gun or pistol. On his going to the door to
see what was the matter he heard Mrs. Dyson screaming “murder.” He
went in the direction of the screams and saw Mr. Dyson lying on the
ground, with Mrs. Dyson holding his head.
Thomas Wilson, scythe-maker, of Brincliffe-hill, said he was outside
the Banner-cross Hotel about twenty minutes past eight on the night of
the 29th of November, when he heard two reports from a revolver. The
sound came from Gregory’s house, and on looking that way he saw a man
run across the road from the end of Bannercross-terrace and get over
the wall on the opposite side. It was a moonlight night, but as the
man was crossing the road the moon was under a cloud and he did not
see the man distinctly. But he heard Mrs. Dyson scream, and on going
into the passage from which he had seen the man emerge, he found Mr.
Dyson lying on the ground and Mrs. Dyson was holding up his head.
Mr. J. W. Harrison, of Sheffield, surgeon, said on the 29th of
November, he was called by Thos. Wilson to see Mr. Dyson, who had been
placed on a chair in his own house. He was unconscious, bleeding from
the temple, and there was a quantity of blood on the floor. He laid
the injured man on the floor and attended to him, but he did not
recover consciousness, and died about half-past ten o’clock the same
night. Subsequently he made a _post-mortem_ examination. On the left
temple there was a valvular wound in the skin, flesh, and muscles. On
removing the scalp he found in the substance of the brain, running
upwards and backwards, a groove, and on the right side of the brain he
discovered the bullet produced. It had entered the temple and passed
in an oblique line to the right side of the head. The cause of death
was the entrance of the bullet to the brain.
By Mr. Lockwood: He found some light abrasions on the nose and chin.
He did not think they were caused by a fist, because in the case of
abrasions the skin was grazed. A fist he did not think would produce
the effect, not even if there was a ring on the finger. The abrasions
seemed to have been caused by sand. At the coroner’s inquest he might
have said he noticed a bruise on the nose and chin as if Mr. Dyson had
fallen on his face. That really was correct, and he would adhere to
that statement.
Police-constable Ward stated that on the 30th of November he searched
in a field opposite Mr. Dyson’s house at Bannercross. The field was
divided from the house by a road, a garden, and a wall. About fifteen
yards from the wall dividing Mr. Dyson’s garden from the field he
found a bundle of papers, and amongst them Mr. Dyson’s card.
At this stage a discussion took place between the counsel on either
side and the learned judge in regard to putting in the letters found
by this witness.
Mr. Campbell Foster objected to their being put in, on the ground that
they were irrelevant; but Mr. Lockwood contended that his learned
friend had gone too far, and that, inasmuch as he had opened the
letters to the jury, he was bound to put them in now. His lordship
entertained a contrary opinion, and consequently none of the documents
were brought before the court.
Inspector Bradbury produced the bullet found by the surgeon in Mr.
Dyson’s brain.
At the request of Mr. Lockwood, witness produced the photograph of
Mrs. Dyson and Peace taken in the fair ground.
He said it was handed over to him by Mr. Jackson, the chief constable
at Sheffield.
Mrs. Dyson was here recalled, and in answer to Mr. Lockwood she said
the photograph was that to which she referred in her evidence.
This was the whole of the evidence regarding the murder, and Mr.
Foster proposed to call evidence of threats used by the prisoner
against the Dysons in July, 1876.
Mr. Lockwood objected to this course, but his lordship ruled that the
evidence was admissible.
Rose Annie Sykes, wife of James Sykes, Darnall, proved that on the 1st
July, 1876, she saw Mr. Dyson coming down the street. The prisoner was
following him, and endeavouring to trip him up. On the night of the
same day she saw the prisoner take a revolver out of his pocket, point
it at Mrs. Dyson’s head, and say he would blow her brains out, and
those of her husband, too.
Cross-examined by Mr. Lockwood: Witness said she heard nothing about a
poker or a threat from Mrs. Dyson that she would use one. She did not
hear about this time of any disturbance with the police, or of Mrs.
Dyson being inebriated. She was quite certain about the date, because
her little boy was born on the Tuesday following.
James Sykes, Darnall, said on a day in July, 1876, he was with his
wife and Mrs. Dyson at Darnall. Peace came up at the time, and Mrs.
Dyson said “That’s the man that’s always annoying my husband.” Peace
replied, “I will annoy your husband and you and all.” At the same time
he pulled a revolver out of his pocket, and presenting it at Mrs.
Dyson, said, “I’ll blow your brains out and your husband’s too.” Peace
then went up a passage, as if he was going into Mr. Dyson’s back door.
He returned in a minute, and said, “Now, Jem, you be a witness that
she struck me with a life-preserver.” Witness replied, “No, I will be
a witness that you threatened to take her life.” He did not notice
that Mrs. Dyson had a life-preserver, or that she struck at the
prisoner.
During the examination of this witness Peace seemed somewhat excited,
and kept muttering to himself.
Jane Wadmore said, in 1876 she was living in Britannia-road, Darnall.
She knew both Mrs. Dyson and Mr. and Mrs. Sykes.
On the 1st of July in that year she was talking with them, when the
prisoner came up. Mrs. Dyson said to him, “Why do you annoy my husband
in the way you do?” Peace replied, “I will annoy you. I will blow your
brains out and your husband’s too before I have done with you.” Peace
then went in the direction of Mrs. Dyson’s back door, and subsequently
went into his own house.
In answer to Mr. Lockwood, witness said she remembered going to
Mansfield with Mrs. Dyson. Peace did not accompany them, but he
followed them. On their arriving at Mansfield, she and Mrs. Dyson went
to a house for some refreshments. Peace followed them right into the
room, and called for a bottle of something to drink. She did not leave
Mrs. Dyson alone with Peace on the occasion. Mrs. Dyson returned home
with her. Peace did not ride in the same compartment, nor did he treat
them to anything to drink. She did not accompany Mrs. Dyson to a fair,
but she remembered that there was a fair in Whitweek of 1876.
Police-constable Robinson, of the Metropolitan Police Force, related
the well-known circumstances under which he captured the prisoner when
committing a burglary at Blackheath on the 10th of October, 1878, and
described how he was fired at by Peace three times, and was wounded by
the third shot.
Charles Brown, sergeant in the Metropolitan Police, who went to the
assistance of the last witness, produced the revolver taken from the
prisoner on the occasion.
James Woodward, a gunmaker, of Manchester, examined the revolver
produced, and said it contained seven barrels. He believed it was of
Belgian manufacture. The bullet produced found in Mr. Dyson’s head
would fit the barrels.
In reply to Mr. Lockwood, witness said the revolver was of a common
description.
This was the evidence for the prosecution.
Mr. Campbell Foster then summed up the evidence. He said, if it was
true that Mrs. Dyson was on terms of intimacy with the prisoner, was
that any justification for his shooting her husband? He characterised
strongly the attempts made to discredit the evidence of Mrs. Dyson,
and to prejudice the jury against her; and he showed what a conclusive
case this was against the prisoner, even excluding the testimony of
the murdered man’s widow. But taking Mrs. Dyson’s evidence, as
reasonable men must take it, the case against the prisoner was
irresistible.
Mr. Lockwood then rose (at five o’clock) to address the jury on behalf
of the prisoner. In the course of a powerful appeal he declared that
there had been a wild and merciless cry for blood, which was a
disgrace to the country, and he spoke fiercely against the action of
the press in this matter.
This remark elicited a low “Hear, hear,” from the prisoner, who
listened with the utmost eagerness to the words advanced on his
behalf.
The learned counsel maintained that he had placed Mrs. Dyson’s
evidence in a light which necessitated a most suspicious examination
on the part of the jury. It had been all-important to show at the time
when Mr. Dyson became dissatisfied with his wife, she was still
keeping up communication with the prisoner; and he claimed to have
done this. Pointing especially to her prevarication as to the date of
the fair at which she was photographed, the learned counsel claimed to
have irretrievably shaken the testimony of Mrs. Dyson by means of the
persons with whom he had confronted her. He dwelt emphatically upon
her answers as to what transpired at the “Stag” Inn on the night
before the murder, and her credibility, he insisted, was an essential
element, because other than that woman and the prisoner no one could
say what took place at Bannercross. The theory he adduced was that
Peace fired a first shot to frighten Dyson; that a struggle ensued,
and that during the struggle the pistol went off and killed the man.
That was not murder, he pointed out. Mr. Lockwood maintained that
there was strong corroborative evidence of a struggle. Turning to the
letters, he commented strongly on the refusal of the prosecution to
put them in evidence. They dared not place in the hands of the jury
documents which might throw light upon the case, and might benefit the
prisoner. Was not that an additional reason for looking with suspicion
upon the woman who was accused of writing them? The whole case
depended on Mrs. Dyson’s testimony, and it was not upon such evidence
that human life should be taken. A detailed examination of the
statements of the other witnesses followed, Mr. Lockwood maintaining
that all these were consonant with his defence, or were fatal to Mrs.
Dyson’s statement. He did not deny that his client had been a wild and
reckless man, and it would be quite possible for one with such a
temperament to use threats which he did not intend to carry out. He
appealed to the jury to spare the man’s life. However bad he might
have been, he was all the less fitted to die. But he had stronger
grounds, and he asked whether on the uncorroborated testimony of that
woman they were going to condemn this man to die? He concluded with a
powerful appeal to the jury.
In summing up, the learned judge briefly defined murder as
distinguished from manslaughter. The theory of the defence was that
there had been a struggle between the two men; that the first shot had
been fired merely to frighten, and that the second was the result of
accident in the struggle. If that was the opinion of the jury, then
they could not find the prisoner guilty of murder, but it was
important to tell them that this was only a theory, and was not
supported by a particle of evidence. The jury would be shown a
revolver taken from the prisoner, which it was suggested was like the
one, if not the same, which had been in his possession on the evening
of the sad occurrence, and it would be for the jury to say for
themselves whether they thought such a weapon could have gone off
accidentally. To press home their theory the prisoner’s counsel
discredited the testimony of Mrs. Dyson, and it would be for the jury
to carefully weigh her evidence. At the same time he would remind them
that the case did not rest alone on her evidence.
His lordship having remarked that no one could regret more than he did
that the case had been talked about and written of so much, then
proceeded to read over the evidence.
THE VERDICT AND THE SENTENCE.
The jury retired to consider their verdict at a quarter past seven,
and returned into court ten minutes subsequently.
Having answered to their names,
The Clerk of Arraigns asked: Are you agreed upon your verdict? Do you
find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?
The Foreman: Guilty.
The Clerk of Arraigns (addressing the prisoner): You have been
indicted and convicted of wilful murder. Have you anything to say why
sentence should not be passed upon you according to law?
The prisoner (very faintly): It’s no use my saying anything.
One of the ushers having called for silence,
His Lordship said: Charles Peace, after a most careful trial, and
after every argument has been urged by your learned counsel on your
behalf which ingenuity can suggest, you have been found guilty of the
murder of Arthur Dyson by a jury of your country. It is not my duty,
still less is it my desire, to aggravate your feelings at this moment,
by a recapitulation of any portion of the details of what, I fear, I
can only recall your criminal career. Imploring you, during the short
time that may remain to you to live, to prepare for eternity, I pass
upon you that sentence, and the only sentence, which the law permits
in cases of this kind. (Here his lordship assumed the black cap.) The
sentence is that you be taken from this place to the place from whence
you came, and thence to a place of execution, and that you be there
hanged by the neck until you are dead; and that your body be buried
within the precincts of the prison in which you shall have been last
confined after your conviction. And may the Lord have mercy on your
soul!
The prisoner was then removed from the dock, but before leaving he
expressed his thanks to Mr. W. E. Clegg for the efforts he had made in
his behalf, and his appreciation of all that had been done for him.
Immediately after he was handcuffed, and leg chains were put upon him.
The prisoners’ van was then backed to the inner gate of the Town Hall.
Peace walked along the corridors to the gate, muttering as he went. He
was lifted into the van, and he was driven to Armley gaol shortly
before eight.
Mr. Keene, the governor of the gaol, accompanied the van. There was
one warder outside, and four warders were inside with Peace.
The only meals which he had on Tuesday, at the Town Hall, were
breakfast and dinner, both of which he ate heartily.
Mrs. Dyson, attended by Inspector Bradbury, and several of the
witnesses for the prosecution, left Leeds for Sheffield the same night
by the 10.5 train.
CHAPTER CLXIII.
AFTER CONVICTION――PEACE AT ARMLEY GAOL――INTERVIEW WITH HIS
RELATIVES――PEACIANA.
The accounts which appeared in the several papers of the condition of
Charles Peace were at this time most conflicting. Some declared him to
be in a sinking, desponding state, and hinted at his committing
suicide if he was not carefully watched, while other journalists said
he was perfectly resigned to his position, and was preparing, as best
he could, to meet his doom with becoming fortitude.
Very much was made of the supposed letters which Peace dropped whilst
running away from Bannercross on the night of the murder, and their
supposed authorship by Mrs. Dyson.
They formed the subject of much of her cross-examination at the trial,
and have been often referred to to show the terms of intimacy upon
which she must have been with Peace. We are, therefore, glad to be
able to say upon authority that the letters are not hers. That
authority is none other than the statement of Mr. Dyson himself.
During the summer of 1876, when Mr. Dyson took out a peace warrant
against Peace for threatening and annoying himself and family, he
consulted Mr. Chambers, solicitor.
At that time the letters alleged to have been written by Mrs. Dyson to
Peace were in existence, and had been seen by Mr. Dyson and other
persons.
Mr. Dyson expressed to Mr. Chambers his full assurance that the
letters were not his wife’s, but were forgeries concocted by Peace for
purposes of annoyance. He was anxious that Peace should not be able to
bring the letters into court, for he felt sure he would do so, if
possible, for the sake of further annoyance and persecutions.
Peace’s step-son, accompanied by a friend, visited him in Armley Gaol.
The cell was in a sort of cage within the cell, two sides made by the
walls, and two composed of iron bars from floor to ceiling. Beyond
this was the cell itself, into which no friends were allowed to pass.
The prisoner was dressed and sitting in a rail-backed arm chair, such
as is common in old-fashioned public-houses. As the visitors entered
his face was turned towards the door, and over his head, behind him,
was a gas light.
Seated a little to the left, and looking him stedfastly in the face,
was one warder; and behind him, a little to his right, was a second
official――not lolling back in their chairs with folded arms, and
endeavouring to make their irksome task as pleasant as possible.
Nothing of the kind. They were all attention, ready to spring forward
to the convict in an instant.
Willie asked his father how he was, and he replied, “I am a little
better, but very weak.”
Dropping his head and breathing apparently with difficulty, he
repeated, “I am really very weak.” He then looked at the friend as
much as to say, “Who are you?”
Willie told his father that his friend was the gentleman to whom he
referred on the previous day; and the convict nodded, as though
gratified to see him. Peace asked respecting the witnesses who could
be collected at Darnall.
“There are plenty of people there,” he said, “who can tell what sort
of a woman Mrs. Dyson is, if you can only get them to come.”
Then becoming more animated and apparently wishful to get closer to
the bars which separated him from his friends, he made a move as
though he would stand up and draw his chair towards them.
Instantly the warders were at his side, and one of them said, “Don’t
disturb yourself! We’ll move you!” Instead, however, of drawing him
nearer to his son, they lifted the chair perhaps a foot further from
the visitors, nearer to the wall, and more immediately under the gas.
A savage scowl came over his face, and he gave them a look that
plainly said, “That was not what I wanted.”
An almost painful silence prevailed for a few moments, and then the
convict looked at his son and said, “Do you know a house in Westbar,
opposite to the top of Bower Spring? There is such a shop and such a
shop (mentioning the business carried on in each), and then there is
the house I mean.”
Willie asked him if he meant the “Little Tankard” or the “Old
Tankard?”
The convict said he did not mean the singing-room. It was a little low
house, with a shop front. Asked if it was opposite the “Shakespeare,”
he answered, “Yes, it is opposite the ‘Shakespeare.’ It is a little
beershop, with a passage up the side of it. The window of the snug
looked into the passage. One day I was in the snug alone with Mrs.
Dyson, and the landlord went out at the front door, down the passage,
and peeped in at the window. I want you to get him to come to tell the
jury what he saw. He will remember us; try and get him to come.”
Peace was then asked if anything occurred during the fortnight between
his leaving Hull after the quarrel with his family, and the 29th of
November, when Mr. Dyson was shot.
The convict replied, “I went from Hull to Manchester, and after
stopping there three or four days, I went to Sheffield. Oh, yes; I
went backwards and forwards to Sheffield several times. I saw Mrs.
Dyson more than once,” and he repeated what he had said several times
before, that on the evening of the 28th he was at the “Stag,” at
Sharrow with her.
The convict was then asked where he went when he left Hull after the
affair at Bannercross?
“I went from Hull to Cottingham, then to Beverley, and then to York. I
there took train to London; but got out at a little station before I
got to London, and went by the Underground to Paddington. From
Paddington I went down to Didcot, from Didcot to Oxford, then to Bath,
and on to Bristol. They will know that I was down there by this fact,
that when going, I think it was from Didcot to Oxford, I travelled in
the same compartment as a police-sergeant. He had been some where, and
had apprehended a young woman for stealing £40, and he was bringing
her to lock her up. I sat next to him, and talked to him nearly all
the way, and he told me all about the case. He seemed a very smart
chap; but not smart enough to know me. If you can find out the day an
officer took a girl to Oxford that is the day I travelled there. I
stopped in Bristol a few days and did a little ‘work,’ and then I left
for Nottingham, and reached there, I remember, on the 9th January, or
about six weeks after I had left Bannercross.”
Peace, apparently proud of the manner in which he had gone shoulder to
shoulder with the police, went on to tell them how he once lodged at
the house of a police-sergeant in Hull. He also entertained his
friends with the story of his escape through the bars of the bedroom
at Nottingham. It exactly corresponded with the version given more
than a week before, and subsequently confirmed by Mrs. Thompson.
The convict seemed pleased to have someone to speak to, and he would
laugh when he told them that he once threatened to report an officer
for insulting him.
Willie asked him when that occurred.
The convict replied: In the summer after that affair at Bannercross I
went down to York to see the races. The militia were up, and one day I
found myself standing by the side of Mr. Cooke, who lived next door to
us when we were on the Brocco. I think he was doing duty as a military
policeman. I knew him, but he did not know me. A row broke out whilst
I was there amongst a lot of the militiamen, who were drunk, and
presently a mounted policeman rode up to help to quell it. He rode
close past me, and his horse nearly knocked me down. I went after him,
got hold of his horse’s bridle, and insisted on knowing his number. A
superior officer came up and said, “Don’t stop him now, while the row
is on. Come in the morning, if you have a complaint against him.” I
replied “All right; I’ll be there; I’ll see if he is to knock people
down like that.” Of course, said the convict, I did not go to pick him
out. If you mention it to Cooke he will remember it.
On Monday Mrs. Bolsover, the daughter of the convict, with her little
baby in her arms, and her husband, visited him. Peace, although
dressed, was lying down in his little bed, and by his side were his
two warders. The convict heard the visitors enter, and roused himself.
Seeing his son-in-law, he said “How art thou, Billy?” The young man
appeared overpowered, and he was unable to reply. Seeing his daughter,
Peace then said, “Come forward, Jennie, and sit down.” She stepped
forward, and sat on the little seat to the left of the door, but still
within the barred enclosure.
“Have you” said he, “brought the baby with you?” The daughter replied
that she had. “Then,” said he, “Let me look at it.” The mother held
the child up to the bars, and Peace exclaimed with much earnestness,
“God in heaven bless its little soul.” Peace asked how his wife was,
and whether she fretted much. He was told that she was very poorly and
in low spirits. “I should like to see her,” he said; “I should like to
see her.” He then asked what efforts were being made for his defence,
and if they remembered a row that took place one day at Darnall when
Mrs. Dyson came out of her house with a “potato masher” and challenged
any of the neighbours to fight. They did remember such an occurrence,
and he asked that some who witnessed it might be called to speak to
it.
Mr. Bolsover told him that Mr. Hutton’s little girl, who carried notes
from Mrs. Dyson to Peace, was coming forward.
[Sidenote: No. 93.]
[Illustration: PEACE GIVING HIS SPECTACLES TO HIS WIFE AS A KEEPSAKE.]
The Convict: I am very glad to hear that. Heaven bless her! I hope she
will come.
Mr. Bolsover reminded him that two persons were in the ’bus with him
and Mrs. Dyson when they rode up to the “Stag” at Sharrow on the night
before the Bannercross affair, and told him that one of them would
come forward and speak to that fact if he was asked.
The convict was pleased, and said, I hope you will tell Mr. Clegg all
about that, and look after that witness.
The convict then alluded to the current version of the circumstances
under which he jumped from the express train when on his way to
Sheffield, and he said the warders stated that one of them caught him
by the foot and held him head downwards for a distance of nearly two
miles. Nothing of the sort, he said. Before he left London he made up
his mind to jump from the train, and to kill himself if he could. When
the train had passed Worksop, he stood up on the footwarmer, put his
hands together, and sprang clean through the window. His heels struck
the top of the window, and he fell head first on the footboard, and
bounded away from the train. He did not remember anything that
occurred after that until late in the afternoon. He declared the
warder never had hold of his foot――otherwise he could have held him.
He had not the slightest intention of escaping; he wanted to kill
himself.
Mr. Bolsover told him he understood that the prosecution were going to
bring down a gunsmith from London to prove that the bullets found at
Blackheath and the bullet found in Mr. Dyson’s head were of the same
size.
The convict replied that he had four revolvers――a little one that had
five chambers, one that had six, one that had seven, and one that had
ten chambers. The six-chambered one taken from him at Blackheath
carried the same size bullet as the seven chamber. He did not attach
much importance to evidence of that sort.
The convict then expressed the hope that Mr. Bolsover would take
warning by what had befallen him; told them that he did not care who
came forward against him if they only spoke the truth, and then asked
to be allowed to shake hands with them. He was told that that could
not be allowed; his friends withdrew, and the interview terminated.
Peace is said to have made an extraordinary statement respecting the
murder. He stated that on the night Mr. Dyson was shot he was at
Bannercross at the request of Mrs. Dyson, with whom he had an
appointment. On reaching the house, he saw her go upstairs, and he
alleged that she made signs to him signifying that Mr. Dyson was
within, and that he (Peace) was not to enter the house. In consequence
of these signs he remained outside, and, presently, Mrs. Dyson came
into the yard with a lighted candle. She went into the closet and he
followed her and remained talking to her for some time. At the time
there was a warrant out against Peace, at the instance of the Dysons,
and he asked Mrs. Dyson to get her husband to withdraw it. She
replied, “I can’t do it; you know what an old devil he is for cash; he
wants £40 to square the matter.” At this moment Mr. Dyson came out in
the yard, and, according to Peace, a struggle took place between the
deceased and his wife, in the course of which a pistol which Mrs.
Dyson had in her hand went off. Peace then ran away.
PEACE’S EARLY CRIMES.
We now give some authentic particulars of Peace’s childhood and youth.
It is said that when, having recovered from two years’ illness caused
by an accident at Kelham Rolling Mills, he had been in the service of
Mr. Edward Smith, and had after that become, under the tuition of one
Bethley, a player on the violin at public-houses. There is a tradition
that soon after this, having had a quarrel with his sister, he slept
out, in an empty house, was caught, and got a month’s imprisonment
therefor. Whether this be so or not, the next glimpse we get of him is
making a highly promising commencement in his future profession. He
was charged at the Sheffield Sessions on Saturday, Dec. 13, 1851,
along with George Campbell, with breaking into the house of Mrs.
Catherine Ward, Mount View, and stealing two pistols, a mahogany box,
a bullet mould, and other articles. An entrance apparently had been
effected by climbing upon the balcony and opening the bedroom window.
The only property missed was a case containing Mrs. Ward’s jewels, a
case containing a brace of rifle pistols, and a silk dress. The jewel
case was found unopened on the balcony. The prisoners were afterwards
found dealing with the pistols; Campbell was discharged, while Peace,
who received a good character for honesty from his employer, got one
month’s imprisonment. This robbery shows how closely Peace adhered
through life to the _modus operandi_ adopted thus early, and it fixes
his then age (19).
A CROP OF BURGLARIES IN 1854.
During the subsequent years 1852-3-4, he continued his musical
services at public-houses, and became familiar with company no better
than it should be. In the autumn of 1854 he carried on a daring game
of house robbery, and it appeared, that on the 13th of October, 1854,
Charles Peace, Mary Ann Niel, his sister, and Emma James were placed
in the dock of the Town Hall to answer several charges of felony.
James had offered a pair of boots in pledge at the shop of Messrs.
Wright, Westbar, and on her being detained on suspicion, Peace came
forward and claimed the boots, and was given into custody. In Peace’s
mother’s house in Bailey-field, there were found a large quantity of
jewellery and wearing apparel (including crape shawls, silk dresses,
&c.), the proceeds of robberies effected at the residences of H. E.
Hoole, Esq., Crookes Moor House; R. Stuart, Esq., Brincliffe Edge; Mr.
G. F. Platt, Priory Villa, Sharrow-lane; and Mr. Brown, Broomhall-street.
The houses of all these parties had been robbed by effecting an
entrance through the bedroom windows in the evening before the windows
were closed and fastened for the night. At Mr. Hoole’s the thief had
climbed the portico, and from Mr. Stuart’s a good deal of jewellery had
been stolen. The prisoners were clearly proved to have been in
possession of this property. The defence raised did not place in a
very amiable light the affection subsisting between the sister and
that brother who used to avenge the wrongs she sustained at her
husband’s hands. Each accused the other of being the culprit. At the
sessions at Doncaster (October, 20, 1854), Peace (who was undefended)
said that a watchmaker named Bethley, in Division-street, had kept his
sister (Neil) for some years, and she had had three children by him.
Bethley, not having given her any money lately, sent the jewellery and
a bundle of wearing apparel by him to her, instead of money. Peace was
sentenced to four years’ penal servitude, and the female prisoners
each to six months’ imprisonment.
Peace was described in the calendar at that time as being 22 years of
age. The mention of Bethley’s name will remind our readers that he was
the person who instructed Peace in the art of violin-playing, and Mrs.
Neil’s connection with the case does not shed much lustre on the
family annals. She died we may add by way of completing her history,
on the 2nd April, 1859, aged 33.
MARRIAGE AND SIX YEARS’ PENAL SERVITUDE.
The matrimonial alliance with Miss James was, of course, rudely
interrupted by the sentence pronounced at Doncaster. The tender
passion does not seem to have survived his four years of penal
servitude. It is believed that Peace served his whole term of four
years. This brings us to the October of 1858, and the term of
imprisonment conflicts with Mrs. Peace’s statement, that she was
married to him in July, 1858. On his liberation he resumed his
strolling vocation of fiddling at public-houses and feasts. It was at
one of these that he met Hannah Ward, a widow, with one son Willie,
and she became his wife. He was then earning a fair livelihood, partly
in the way mentioned and partly by hawking cutlery, but his ingrained
fondness for entering the houses of others, and for appropriating
goods that did not belong to him, had not been eradicated by his
prison discipline, and it was not many months after her marriage that
Mrs. Peace’s eyes were enlightened as to the extra-professional
avocation of her husband by a police visit to her house. The police at
Manchester, having discovered a quantity of stolen property in a place
of concealment, set a watch, and caught, but not without a violent
resistance, two men who came to remove the goods. One of the prisoners
gave the name of George Parker, and they both hailed from Sheffield.
Parker was really Charles Peace, the other being the keeper of a
beershop in Spring-street. They were tried at Liverpool Assizes,
August, 1859, when Parker (Peace) was sentenced to six years’ penal
servitude, and his companion to fifteen months’ hard labour.
DARING ADVENTURE AT WAKEFIELD.
In serving his time Peace made the acquaintance of the prisons of
Millbank, Chatham (where he was mixed up in a mutiny, for his share in
which he was punished――flogged), and Gibraltar. His handiness caused
him then, as at other times, to be employed as a sort of general
utility man about the prisons, doing any odd jobs in which dexterity
and tact were needed. It was this sort of work which enabled him to
make that daring attempt to escape from Wakefield during one of his
sojourns there. Perhaps it is worth while to tell the story in some
detail. The repairs he was executing gave him an excuse for smuggling
a short ladder into his cell, and an opportunity also of nicking for
himself a sort of saw out of a piece of zinc or tin. Thus armed he cut
through a beam in the ceiling, made a hole through the plaster, and
got through on to the roof. He was just drawing the ladder after him
when an official opened the cell door. As he attempted to seize the
ladder Peace gave him a blow with it in the chest and knocked him
down. Then running along the roof he got on to the prison wall and was
making his way along it when, the bricks being loose, he fell. It was
supposed that he had fallen outside, and there was a hue and cry after
him, but he had really fallen inside, not far from where some servants
were looking out from the door of the governor’s house. Their
attention was, however, directed away from Peace, and with the cunning
of a hunted fox he slipped quietly past them into the house, and ran
upstairs. Stripping off his prison clothes, he appropriated a suit of
the governor’s, and watched for an opportunity to escape. But none
came; and after being in the bedroom for an hour and a half, he was
found and recaptured.
THE PICTURE-FRAME BUSINESS.
At the end of November, 1859, not long after Peace’s enforced
departure for penal quarters, his wife gave birth to a daughter――now
Mrs. Bolsover. The lonely wife had sold up her home to provide the
means of defence at his trial, and had afterwards begun to keep a
shop――that little bow-windowed shop so well known in Kenyon-alley.
Hither he came, one night in the summer of 1864, the returned convict,
released on ticket-of-leave, after serving nearly five of his six
years.
It was now that he commenced that picture-frame making, which was the
ostensible business of the remainder of his life. And for a time he
seems to have been industrious, and to have done well. It was in
Kenyon-alley that he began this trade, and he worked for Close’s in
Gibraltar-street. Afterwards he was manager at Peters’ in
Westbar-green. Then he engaged a workshop at the end of Kenyon-alley,
and found so much to do, that from having only a boy he employed two
journeymen to help him. In this way he got a good business together,
and the place being too small, he made the unfortunate venture of
taking a shop in West-street, two doors from Rockingham-street. The
moment he got there his luck seemed to turn, and the takings were not
as great in a month as they had been in Kenyon-alley in a day.
EIGHT YEARS’ PENAL SERVITUDE.
In this state of things the West-street shop was given up, and Peace
migrated with his family to Manchester. He took with him a stock of
frames; but he had not been there a fortnight when he was once more in
the hands of the officers of the law. “Doing a job” at a house in
Lower Broughton, he was caught in the act, and his excuse for such
clumsiness was that he, who was usually strictly temperate, had had
nine glasses of whiskey, and did not know what he was doing. He was
tried at the Manchester Assizes on the 3rd of December, 1866, under
the name of George Barker, alias Alexander Mann, and he was sentenced
to eight years’ penal servitude.
HIS LAST RETURN.
Upon that Mrs. Peace for a short time kept a little shop in Long
Millgate, Manchester, but before long she came bak to Sheffield, and
got employment in charing, and in the bottling department of a wine
merchant. At first she lived in Trippet-lane, but afterwards in
Orchard-street, where Peace’s mother also lived. In 1865, shortly
before leaving Kenyon-alley, there had been a son――John Charles――born,
but he did not live to see the return of his father, who, on the night
of the 9th of August, 1872, re-appeared at home. His eight years’
sentence had been commuted to less than six.
Having provided himself with picture-frame making tools, Peace then
took a house in Brocco, and lived a few doors from Inspector Twibell,
and his family helped him in the business. Here Brahma fowls were
kept, and Peace there, besides resuming his performances on the
violin, attempted, but without much success, to instruct Willie in the
art. The frame-making prospering, there was a removal to
Scotland-street. The testimony is that Peace was really industrious at
this time, and being particular in the execution of his work he got
much custom. His children attended the day and Sunday-schools of the
parish church in Queen-street, and he was very strict with them as to
the companions and the hours they kept. For himself he had never been
known to go to church. He was accustomed to profess his belief in the
existence of a God and a Devil, but he declared that he feared neither
one nor the other. But he wished his children, he said, to believe in
God and to fear Him.
Peace left Scotland-street through a disagreement with his landlord,
and removed to Darnall, in the beginning of 1875. The house he chose
was a semi-detached one in Milton Villas, Britannia-road. Next door
but one, with an unoccupied house intervening (a circumstance which
explains one of the letters found in the field at Bannercross), lived
Mr. Arthur Dyson and his wife. And these were the materials out of
which has to be developed the tragic termination of Charles Peace’s
career.
The Bannercross murder led to the performance of extraordinary feats
in telegraphing. On the day that Mrs. Dyson was under examination in
the corridor at the Sheffield Police-offices press messages numbering
180,000 words were telegraphed away. The number of words actually sent
away from Leeds in one day, in connection with Peace’s trial, was
200,000. The number of words delivered to all papers exceeded 300,000.
With respect to Sheffield two special wires were used solely for the
local papers. Ten men were specially employed at that end in writing
up the news, and at no time throughout the day were they above twenty
words behind hand. The news was delivered almost sheet by sheet by
special messengers.
SALE OF PEACE’S MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.
The excitement which prevailed at Mr. Harvey’s auction mart, in
Bank-street, during the sale of Peace’s violins, was only excelled by
that manifested at the Sheffield Town-hall when the convict was first
brought up for the murder of Mr. Dyson. For several days it had been
publicly announced that those celebrated violins which had accompanied
Peace in his wanderings would be sold by auction by Mr. Harvey; and on
the afternoon, long before the hour fixed, the room was filled by
persons who were either intent upon purchasing if possible, or having
at least a sight of the instruments.
Scores who were unable to obtain admittance collected outside the
premises, and it required the efforts of two policemen to prevent a
disturbance amongst the crowd, as there were a great number of roughs,
who frequently indulged in shouts and yells.
The proceedings were characterised by no little amusement, and when,
in the first place, Mr. Harvey inquired whether there was anyone
present “concerned” about the property to be disposed of, he was met
by the felicitious rejoinder, “Do you mean concerned with Peace?” and
much laughter was created. Mr. Harvey then proceeded to open the sale,
and first offered a copy of the “Duke” fiddle.
He said a gentleman had come a distance of 225 miles to look at the
fiddles, that he might be able to say he had had Peace’s fiddles in
his hand. He had also received letters from gentlemen residing at
Tunbridge Wells, Manchester, London, and other places, offering to
purchase them by private treaty. They were capital instruments, and if
Peace had stuck to his music, he would not have been in the position
he was now. There was no doubt the man had good as well as bad
qualities.
The instrument having been handed round, several tunes were played
upon it, and the bidding commenced at £1, followed by offers of £5 and
£10. An offer of eleven guineas was increased by steady bids of one
guinea each, until a bid of 20½ guineas was made, and at that price
the violin was knocked down to Mr. G. C. Millward, provision merchant,
York. Mr. Harvey said that £50 had been offered for the fiddle before
it was put up for auction, and he firmly believed it was worth quite
that to any person. He declared that there was not a bit of pluck in
Sheffield, or the fiddle would have sold for double the amount.
The “Kit” violin was next put up, Mr. Harvey assuring his audience
that there was no want of genuineness about the original ownership of
both instruments. They were first pledged, he said, to pay for the
defence of Mrs. Peace, and they had recently been redeemed by Messrs.
Clegg and Sons to be sold for the convict’s defence. The offer made
was 5s., which was quickly followed by offers of £2 10s., £5, £5 10s.,
£6, £6 10s., £7 10s., £8, and £8 10s., and an offer of £8 15s. being
refused, it was sold to Mr. Lofthouse, of the “George Hotel,”
Bridlington, for £9 10s.
A “Short Grand” piano, formerly the property of Peace, was then
offered. An offer of ten guineas was first made, and the bids rising
by one guinea each to nineteen, 19½ was offered, the figure slowly
rising, by three other bids, to 23 guineas. Half-guinea bids were made
in rapid succession, till 24½ guineas were realised, the purchaser
being a gentleman from Hull, who desired that his name should not be
published.
A violin, made by Peace himself, twenty years ago, was next offered
for sale. Bidders were now, however, very scarce, and, though the
instrument was of infinitely better tone than the one first disposed
of, it only realised about one-third the sum. Mr. Harvey said the
violin was now the property of a person named Hewitt, better known by
the name of “Little Teddy,” who told him that he and “Charley” had
played upon the instrument many a time. Mr. John Stansfield, of the
Music Hall of Varieties, Leeds, was the buyer, for £6 10s.
No small amount of surprise was expressed that the instruents should
have been permitted to leave the town.
PEACE AND MRS. THOMPSON.
It was suggested that there was some secret behind Mrs. Thompson’s
alleged potent influence over the convict Peace. He sometimes treated
her with more partiality and kindness than he did his wife; but when
Sue got drunk and pawned the proceeds of his robberies, which he had
given to her, he would treat her with as much savage brutality as he
ever did his wife, and for days after she would carry the marks of his
violence.
Mrs. Thompson, it was stated, was never asked to help Peace to make
away with the goods he had stolen; but Hannah was frequently called
upon to share in the risk of removing them. In this selection of his
tool, Peace knew perfectly well what he was about; and it furnished no
proof of his partiality for Sue over his wife.
She was his paramour, and had she been detected in possession of his
stolen property, she could have been indicted with him. His wife, as
the trial at the Old Bailey proved, could not be punished for making
away with such goods, as she was supposed to act under his influence
and control.
On the day when Peace’s daughter, Mrs. Bolsover, her husband, and his
other relatives visited him at Armley Gaol, they implored the
condemned man not to see Mrs. Thompson, stating that if he did Mrs.
Peace would not come over. When put to him in that way Peace promised
not to see her.
Mrs. Thompson called at the gaol immediately after they were gone, in
response to a letter she had received from Peace, dated Feb. 9th,
saying she would be allowed to see him; but after waiting two hours
she had to leave without seeing him. A second letter addressed to her
by Peace was, however, read to her by the Governor. For some reason
the Visiting Committee were also opposed to letting Mrs. Thompson see
Peace.
On Wednesday Mrs. Hannah Peace, her son, Willie, and the nephew, anew
importuned Peace not to see Mrs. Thompson, threatening they would not
come again if he did so, and they obtained a promise from him that he
would not see her. In addition to his promise, they relied on the
position assumed towards the woman by the Leeds Visiting Committee,
who were indisposed to allow a mistress to visit her paramour in gaol.
It is also inconceivable that, knowing the unenviable position in
which she stood to Peace, and knowing that he does not wish to see
her; that his friends were strongly opposed to the interview; and that
the local authorities had repeatedly refused her admission; that she
should still hang about the gaol and persist in her attempts to obtain
admission to the cell of the condemned man.
The following is the letter above alluded to, that Mrs. Thompson
received from Peace, the envelope being addressed, “On her Majesty’s
service, Thompson――letter box General Post-office, Leeds, to be called
for.”
“From Charles Peace, H.M.’s Prison, Leeds, Feb. 9, 1879.
“My poor Sue,――I receive your letter to-day and I have my
kind governor’s permission for you to come and see me at
once so come up to the prison and bring this letter with you
and you will get to see me I do wish particular to see
you it is my wish that you will obey me in this one thing
for you have obeyed me in many thing but do obey me in this
one Do not let this letter fall into the hands of the
press Hoping to see you at once I Remane your ever well
wisher
“CHARLES PEACE.”
The letter was written on the usual official paper. Mrs. Thompson took
the original with her to Armley Gaol, and at Governor Keene’s request,
give it to him. One of her friends, who went to the post-office for
her, had, however, taken a copy of it. Had Mrs. Thompson gone with
this letter at once, she would probably have seen Peace; but she
delayed, and the permission to see him was delayed.
LETTERS TO PEACE’S FAMILY.
After the sentence of death had been passed upon Peace his wife and
family were astonished at the interest taken in their welfare by
people about whom they knew nothing. They received several letters
expressing sympathy with them, and other people showed their regard
for them by asking that some small article which the convict had used
might be sent to them to keep in remembrance of him. It need hardly be
stated that none of these modest requests were complied with. The
following was one of the latest letters received:――
“Market Place, Middlesbro on Tees,
“Feb. 11, 1879.
“Mrs. Peace,――I Have Taken the Liberty of writing to you
under Your Painful Circumstances to ask if any think is
beeing done on behalf of Your Husband Charles Peace i mean
in the Ways of appealing to the Home Secretary for a Respite
for your Husband i have made an Appeal in his Behalf to Mr.
Cross the Secretary of State and the Reply is that it Shall
have their Carefull attention i hope Some one or at Least a
Large number will follow up in the Same line and urge for a
Respite of Course i know nothing of your Husband only from
the accounts of the Papers which i think as been most
erroneous and Must have damaged his case in the Mind of the
Public and i fear the Judge and Jury also it is upon this
head that i make my appeal for his life to be Spared and i
Should like to know if any other Effort is being Putt forth
Please write a few lines if You Can or Get Some one else to
do it for you and let me Know if you hear of any one that is
making any Effort for what is done Should be done quickly
and without delay and i hope God in his mercy will uphold
You and Yours under Your Most trying Circumstances and i
trust by the Mercy of God that Your Husband May not Come to
die by the hands of the Exicuitor but i hope his life may be
spared that he May depart at Last as is the way of all
flesh. i am only a Poor man and a stranger to you all but
never the Less i am doing all that i Can in this matter
hopeing you Pardon me for intrudeing upon you in the manner
i have done by writeing to you but i fell as tho i Should
like to know if any think is beeing done in the way of
Partitioning about where You live.――“Yours Respeffully
“E―――― W――――
“Please write by Return and let me know if any thing is
beeing done”
* * * * * * *
To the above letter the following reply was at once sent:――
“Darnall, Feb. 13, 1879.
“Mr. W――――
“Dear Sir,――I received your letter this morning, and on
behalf of my mother and family I heartily thank you for your
kind and sympathetic letter. In reference to the petition,
your letter is the first intimation we have had, and we are
not aware that anything is being done in that direction.
“I quite agree with your remarks about the public being
prejudiced against my father through the action of the
press; for many of the papers have published things that are
utterly untrue; but not too untrue or too romantic for the
public to believe. The blacker a paper has painted him, and
the more romance has been mixed with it, the more it has
suited the public appetite.
“With reference to the jury being prejudiced I can only say
they took a very short space of time in which to make up
their minds to return a verdict of guilty in such a serious
case. I thank you for your kind wishes towards us, and am
pleased to tell you that Mr. Peace is resigned to his fate,
and his state of mind is all that could be desired.
“Hoping you will not think it any intrusion if you wish to
write again, I remain,
“Yours respectfully,
“WILLIAM WARD.”
The following may be taken as a specimen of another class of letters
that were received:――
“Dear Mrs. Peace,――I Hope you Will go and See your Husband
Mr. Pease In Reading The Papers I think Hee Is not aware
That It was Mrs. Tompson Thot Betraid Him ask Him If He Ever
Come To Nottinghamshir with Mrs. Tompson If Mrs. Pease Is Not
able To Goo I Hope Some of The Famely Will and Bee Shur and
ask Him I Hope God Will Pardon Is Sins Befor The Execusion
Takes Plais I Feel Sorry For You all But not For Those Two
Wimen I think They Have Led Him To Mor Then He might Hev
Don――Yours truly ―――― I will Right agoin to you.”
* * * * * * *
Charles Peace, while under sentence of death in Armley Gaol for the
murder of Mr. Arthur Dyson, addressed the following letters to his
son-in-law and son. They were written on one sheet of paper, the one
letter following the other. Both the writing and the spelling were
much better than in some previous letters received from the convict.
The letters will speak for themselves; and will afford additional
proof――if proof were needed――of the sort of man he was.
L. P.――C. 4. H. M. C. P. M. 12――73.
From Charles Peace.
“H.M. Prison, Leeds, 7th February, 1879
“My dear Son-in-law,――I hope this lettr will find you as
well as it can do i am Still very week and ill but a little
better then i have been. You will know well that i have been
perged (purjured) against by three persons in Darnall what I
wish to say to you is this do not attempt to avenge the
wrong that was done to me by Jim and his wife and Mrs.
Padmore, for under my Present feelings i feel no
imbetterness against no Person in this world, for if i must
be forgiven i must forgive. So, My Dear Son, do you Not
Commit yourself in either thought, word, or deed against any
of these Persons, but in Place of being in their Company do
all you Can to avoid them, and this will keep you from doing
anything at each other that will be offencive. I do Send you
a form of Prayer that I Compiled Myself before i left Pen
ton vile Prison.
O Lord, turn not Thy face from me, but have mercy. Good
Lord, have mercy on me. I need not to Confess my life to
thee, for thow knows what i have been and what i am. So O My
Blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me,
and wash and cleanse me from all my Sins and Make Me Clean,
and save me from the danger of sin and from the Power of
Hell. O God do not despise me nor Cast me from thee, but
have mercy Good Lord have mercy upon me, and make me what
thou would have me to be, to enter into the Kingdom of
heaven, and then receive my Poor Soul at the last for Jesus
Christs his Sake. Amen. “The Lord have mercy upon me, Christ
have mercy upon me. Amen.”
“My Dear Son,――I have sent you this Prayer to Show you the
State of Mind that i do now feel myself to be in i do not
feel no trouble so great as i do my Sinful life against my
God i begin to feel that my God will have mercy upon me and
forgive me all my Sins and receive my Poor Soul into the
Kingdom of heaven i send my best love, thanks and Good
wishes to all friends that came up on my trial to Speak for
me i do want to see all my family as often as i can do
before i die you Can See me any week day but you will have
to bring this lettr with you and go the Leeds Town Hall and
enquire for Mr. John Thornton magistrates clerk and he will
give you every information yo require to see me you cannot
see me without an order from him So to Save time and trouble
go and see him before you Come to the Prison. I send my
Dearest love to my Dear, dear wife and all of you my loving
children.――I am Your Wrecthed Husband and Father,
“CHARLES PEACE.”
* * * * * * *
WILLIE’S LETTER.
The above letters are in answer to the following:――
“Darnall, Feb. 6, 1879.
“Dear Father,――We had hoped to have had a letter from you
this morning to tell us how you are. Will was in court on
Tuesday and heard your trial, and when he came home and told
us what the sentence was, it upset us all.
“We did all we could for you, and if there is anything more
that we can do, write and let us know. We cannot come to see
you as often as we could wish, but we hope you will write to
us, and let us know how you are getting on.――Your
affectionate son,
WILLIE.”
INTERVIEW WITH HIS RELATIVES.
On Monday, no fewer than thirteen of Peace’s relatives and friends
went from Sheffield to Leeds to have an interview with the convict
Peace in his condemned cell. There were eleven in the first group, but
in their appeals to Mr. Thornton, the magistrates’ clerk, for tickets
of admission, they were not all successful.
Only five of them――Mr. Daniel Peace (the convict’s brother), and his
wife, and three of their children――were granted permission to see the
condemned man. The others were refused. The second group consisted of
Mrs. and Mr. Bolsover (Peace’s daughter and son-in-law), and they
readily obtained the necessary authority to see him.
On their arriving at Armley, the governor (Mr. Keene) gave them very
strict injunctions as to how they were to behave themselves when in
the presence of the convict. They were to restrain their feelings, and
on no account whatever was there to be any “scene.” They were also to
be extremely careful what they said to him. Having been thus suitably
admonished as to their conduct, they were taken in two parties by the
governor to the condemned cell. It was the same that the convict has
occupied from his arrival at Armley, and they were simply admitted
within the barred-off portion of the cell. He was sitting in a chair,
and on either side of him stood a warder, watching his every movement;
He seemed very weak――much weaker than when he appeared in the Crown
Court to take his trial. Indeed, those who had not seen him for some
time were quite startled at his pale, shrunken, weak appearance.
Peace was asked by one of the party how he was, and he replied, in
very feeble tones, “I am no better; my head is very bad.” From further
remarks he made it appear that he was suffering very much from the
effects of his jump from the train. He said the wound on his head had
broken out afresh, and he was in much pain from concussion of the
brain. Proceeding, he said, “I am sorry now that I made such a rash
attempt upon my life; I would never do it again.”
The governor, seeing the condemned man was becoming somewhat excited,
interposed, and urged him to keep himself calm, and not to talk too
much. Peace thereupon became quiet, and said little more, except to
express a wish to see his wife. The interview allowed to either party
was of short duration. The impression they formed was that the convict
was perfectly resigned to his sentence, and that we had given up all
hope of having his life prolonged. He was wearing the spectacles which
the Home Secretary had given instructions that he should be furnished
with, and near him were three books, which he had been reading. When
the time allowed for the interview had expired, the relatives were
exceedingly desirous to shake hands with him, but that was not
allowed. The culprit, as one after the other bade him “good-bye,”
quite broke down, and his grief expressed itself in tears.
INTERVIEW WITH HIS WIFE.
On Wednesday, Mrs. Peace, Willie Ward, her son, and Thomas Neil, a
nephew, went from Sheffield to Leeds to visit the condemned man in his
cell at Armley.
They left Sheffield by the Midland 9.5 train, and arrived at Leeds at
10.20. After an interview at the Town Hall with the chairman of the
visiting justices the necessary order was then given to them, and they
went a circuitous route to Armley.
The governor then conducted them to the cell, and the interview with
the condemned man lasted more than an hour-and-a-half. He was sitting
up, and since Monday the bandages had again been placed on his head.
He was exceedingly pleased to see them; and, though weak, he appeared
in excellent spirits, and during the whole time the interview lasted
he carried on a most animated conversation with them. He gave his wife
minute instructions with respect to private matters, about which
nothing further need now be said; and as a memento of her visit he
took off and handed to her, with the case, the pair of gold-framed
spectacles about which so much has been said and written.
Peace had had those spectacles for many years, and he had them on the
night he was captured by Robinson. They were then taken from him under
the impression that a burglar would not come by a pair of gold
spectacles honestly, and that they were part of the proceeds of some
robbery. While he was in Pentonville, he asked to be supplied with
spectacles, as he could not without them see to read and write, and
the pair of brass-framed spectacles which gave him such a grotesque
appearance――and which it was assumed he had adopted with a view to
better disguise himself――were supplied to him. In his leap from the
express train when on his way to Sheffield he lost those spectacles,
but others were supplied to him while he was in Armley. A few days
previously he wrote to the Home Secretary, asking that his own
spectacles might be forwarded to him, and they were sent carefully
packed in a small box. He was much gratified to receive them, and as
they were almost the only articles with which he could part, he took
them off, put them in their steel-bound leather case, and handed them
to his wife, asking her to keep them for his sake.
With Willie and the nephew Peace talked with equal freedom, and gave
them much good advice. Mrs. Peace had not seen her husband for four
months, and she could not but observe the change that had taken place
in him. But although he appeared feeble in body――so feeble that he
could not walk alone, yet his mind was as clear as ever it was in his
life, and never did he talk more sensibly. He had in his cell a Bible
and a Prayer-book, and a number of tracts and letters which had either
been supplied to him by the chaplain, or sent to him by sympathising
friends. In reading, writing, listening to the exhortations of the
chaplain, praying, and in talking, the convict passed his time. He
appeared to be not only perfectly resigned to his sentence, but to
have no fear of death whatever. Indeed, he expressed a hope that he
would have sufficient strength to walk firmly to the scaffold, not in
a spirit of bravado, but to show that he was not afraid to die. He
asked his wife to forgive him every wrong he had done her, admitting,
that had he followed her advice he would not have been in his present
terrible position. She freely forgave him. He then said he entertained
feelings of ill-will towards no one; and he hoped to receive the
forgiveness of everybody towards whom he had done wrong. He spoke in
terms of gratitude of the kind treatment he received at the hands of
the governor and all who had to do with him, and said he had nothing
to wish for at their hands. Towards the end of the interview his
remarks were of so kind and tender a character as to affect his
relatives to tears, and when they were leaving he entreated them to
visit him again, and they promised to do so.
The Central News special reporter, referring to the interview with his
family, wrote:――“There was an affecting scene between Peace and his
daughter, who carried her baby in her arms. The woman sobbed bitterly,
and even Peace himself cried. He inquired in affectionate terms after
her mother, and seemed disappointed at her not being among the party.
Mrs. Bolsover told him that she would tell her mother of his desire to
see her, and that she would visit him. Peace took a great deal of
notice of the child, and hoped that God would bless it as well as all
his relations and friends. Although he seemed depressed, still he
chatted freely and showed no reluctance to talk on any subject. He
complained that he had not received justice, and that several of the
witnesses against him had perjured themselves. Both Mr. and Mrs.
Bolsover reproved him for thinking any more about Mrs. Thompson, and
when they learned that he had written to her again, they became quite
angry. They begged him to have nothing further to do with her, as she
had been the means of giving him much trouble. Peace reluctantly vowed
he would have no more to say to her. After an interview of over an
hour the party took an affectionate good-bye of him, some of them
promising to come back again if they could get admission.”
MRS. THOMPSON AGAIN.
It seems that before leaving Leeds Mrs. Thompson wrote the following
letter, and entrusted it to one of her friends to deliver:――
“7th February, 1879.
“To the Postmaster, Leeds.
“Please give the bearer any letters addressed ‘Mrs. S.
Thompson, Post-office, Leeds, to be called for,’ and oblige.
“S THOMPSON, OR BAILEY.”
On Monday morning an elderly woman, dressed very plainly, called at
the Post-office, and got two letters for Mrs. Thompson, one of which,
was, it was known, from the convict Peace. The party receiving the
letters must have telegraphed for Mrs. Thompson, for she was seen to
enter the gaol shortly after four o’clock. She said she came from
London, having left that place early in the forenoon.
She remained within the gaol about two hours, and had a long
conversation with Governor Keene, but was not allowed to see Peace,
the latter, it is said, declining to see her.
Mrs. Thompson cried a good deal, and said she had had her second
journey for nothing. It was stated that this sudden change of the
convict’s mind was brought about by the visit of his relatives earlier
in the day.
A Leeds correspondent telegraphed:――“To the surprise of the officials
of Armley Gaol, Mrs. Thompson made her appearance there again on
Monday, accompanied by a young man. She drove up to the gates in a cab
at dusk, and at once sought another interview with Mr. Keene, the
governor. When she applied to the visiting justices, at Leeds Town
Hall, on Friday week, she was told emphatically that she could not be
allowed to see her former associate. On Monday, she received no more
satisfaction. She was not admitted, and she seemed little
disappointed.”
PEACE’S WILL.
Peace’s will was drawn up by Deputy-sheriff Ford, who is a member of a
local firm of solicitors. It extended to but four or five lines and
devised his property to Hannah Ward or Peace, his wife, the mention of
her first name obviating the necessity of legal proof of marriage. The
text was not to be published until the day of his execution.
In regard to the former will be made, bequeathing everything to Mrs.
Thompson, the latter’s sister burnt the document, so that neither
Peace nor his family need have any fears on that score. Mrs. Thompson
has again made her appearance in Leeds. She was evidently bent on
seeing the convict.
On Thursday morning she called at the office of Messrs. Ford and
Warren, solicitors, 25, Albion-street. Shortly afterwards, or about
noon, Mr. Warren drove to the gaol in a cab with Mrs. Thompson, and,
presenting the following letter to Governor Keene, asked him to allow
her to see Peace:――
“Prison Department,
“Home Office, Whitehall, S.W.,
“8th February, 1879.
“Madam,――I am directed by the Chairman of the Commissioners
of Prisons to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the
7th inst., requesting to be allowed to see John Ward, alias
Charles Peace, a prisoner under sentence of death in Leeds
Prison. In reply, I am to acquaint you that by desire of the
Secretary of State the Governor of the Prison has been
authorised to permit you to have an interview with the
prisoner under the usual restrictions, and subject to his
wishing to see you, on your presenting this letter at the
prison.――I am, madam, your obedient servant,
“C. N. JOSEPH.
“Mrs. Thompson, Post-office, Leeds.”
The letter, to which the foregoing was a reply, was as follows:――
“February 7th, 1879.
“Gentlemen,――I beg to be allowed to see the condemned man,
Charles Peace, Thompson, or Ward, now in Armley Gaol, Leeds.
He has been my reputed husband for years, and he has no
other legal wife. He has ‘earnestly’ desired to see me, and
for reasons that can easily be understood. I deeply hope and
pray, gentlemen, that you will furnish me with the authority
to see him before the end. I will not disturb his mind, but
try to sooth him. Imploring you will speedily grant my
prayer,
“I am your obedient servant,
S. THOMPSON.
“P.S.――Please address to me, ‘Post Office, Leeds, to be left
till called for.’”
Governor Keene said to Mr. Warren that since the letter sent by the
prison authorities had been received, his (the governor’s) authority
to allow the interview had been countermanded by the Home Office, but
that if Mrs. Thompson had applied at the gaol immediately the letter
reached Leeds he should have allowed her to have seen Peace.
Mr. Warren explained that there were difficulties that prevented her
doing so, and withdrew, saying he would make a formal application, for
leave for her to see Peace, to the Visiting Committee. After
proceeding to the Town Hall, and being unable to find any of the
members of the Visiting Committee, Mr. Warren went to the office of
the chairman of the committee, John Ellershaw, Esq., who declined to
accede to Mr. Warren’s petition, saying he should not do so unless Mr.
Warren could show him a letter from the convict dated since Peace’s
interview with his daughter, Mrs. Bolsover, stating the convict’s wish
to see Mrs. Thompson.
MRS. BRION IN LEEDS.
As Mr. and Mrs. Bolsover were returning from Armley to Leeds, they
were greatly astonished to see Mrs. Brion, the wife of Peace’s friend
at Peckham, wending her way to the gaol. She told them that she had
come down from London, and was going on to Armley, and hoped she would
be allowed to have an interview with Peace.
She expressed great concern for his state of mind, and said she
believed if she could see him she should be able “to say something to
him that would do him a little good.” At that time she had not seen
the magistrates’ clerk, and had obtained no authority to see Peace.
OFFERS TO HANG PEACE.
After Peace had been tried and condemned, the authorities had several
applications to fill the grim office of executioner. These were from
amateurs, one of whom, from the neighbourhood of Sheffield, wrote to
say that he would undertake the duty gratuitously; whilst another
asked the modest sum of only £3 10s. for his services, should they be
accepted. It is scarcely necessary to say that no notice was taken of
them, and Marwood was engaged to carry out the sentence.
SUGGESTED POSTPONEMENT OF THE EXECUTION.
A letter was forwarded to the Home Secretary on behalf of the convict,
which said: “I hope you will kindly bear with me whilst I venture to
address you upon a matter the immediate attention to which must prove
of the utmost importance to one who stands condemned to suffer capital
punishment, according to the organs of the newspaper press, in the
course of the coming fortnight. There can be no disguising the fact
that a large number of persons in the metropolis and throughout the
country entertain the idea that the prisoner Peace’s late trial before
the judge and jury was too hurried to be just. Such persons believe
that the very circumstances which had been alluded to by the learned
counsel for the defence――namely, that the cry for the prisoner’s blood
and the sensational intelligence of the prisoner’s career which had
appeared in the columns of the leading organs of the press――had
combined to induce the jury to come to their most serious decision in
the reported space of a quarter of an hour. A very unpleasant
sensation has likewise been created, that the whole matter, namely,
the condemnation of Peace, had been previously arranged――had, indeed,
been cut and dried.… As I am confident that the spirit of justice of
English law would rather permit ninety-nine guilty to escape than that
one innocent should suffer, and as I feel it would lie upon my
conscience did I abstain from laying the ‘evil’ alluded to before you,
I have herewith endeavoured to discharge my duty――a duty which I feel
I owe to the prisoner, his sympathisers, and to the best interests of
English justice. Certainly, if the sentence cannot be reversed, the
impression of unfairness would be removed by postponing the date for
Peace’s execution.”
To this communication the following reply was received from the Home
Secretary on Tuesday:――
“Whitehall, Feb. 8.
“SIR,――I am directed by the Secretary of State for the Home
Department to acknowledge the receipt of your application on
behalf of Charles Peace, and I am to acquaint you that the
same will be fully considered.――I am, Sir, your obedient
servant,
“A. F. O. LIDDELL.”
MR. BRION ALSO CLAIMS A REWARD.
The Central News said at this time Mr. Brion, of 22, Philip-road,
Peckham, had prepared for the Treasury a statement of his work in
connection with this case, in order that payment might be made him for
his services.
It was with Mr. Brion that Peace was engaged in perfecting his
invention for raising sunken ships; in fact, witness and the prisoner,
in their quieter days, were in the habit of taking a large model ship,
which had been built by them for experimenting in regard to the
invention, to the pond at Peckham Rye, where they attracted the
general attention of the neighbourhood.
Brion claims to have been the first to identify Peace after his
apprehension for the Blackheath burglary. The notorious convict, when
in Newgate, wrote to Mr. Brion in the name of Ward, on Nov. 3rd,
beseeching him to come and see him, and attributing the whole of his
misfortunes to drink.
Mr. Brion went to Newgate to see who the man was, and was very much
surprised to find it was Mr. Thompson, his friend and neighbour. This
fact he at once communicated to the governor of the gaol, and the
police, being put on the alert, searched Thompson’s house at Nunhead.
The woman Thompson, it will be recollected, had got herself into the
meshes of the law by being a party after the crime and acting as a
receiver of his stolen goods.
[Sidenote: No. 94.]
[Illustration: MRS. THOMPSON REFUSED ADMISSION TO SEE PEACE UNDER
SENTENCE.]
The detectives worked upon her fears, and in this they were aided by
Mr. Brion, who heard her drop words of a criminating character while
she was under the influence of drink, so that partly by threats and
promises of immunity if she would confess all and assist the officers
of the law, the woman informed on Peace.
Mr. Brion received two other letters from Peace, but they merely
referred to making subsequent visits, and arranging for the defence,
and getting money for that object, and nearly all the facts narrated
by this witness as regards Peace himself were published when he gave
evidence before the magistrates.
He appears to have been most anxious to aid the police in their
endeavours to recover the stolen property, and the long list of
journeys which he undertook at that time with them testifies to the
value of his services in this respect.
He was particularly successful in revealing the establishment in
Petticoat-lane, where Peace had much of the proceeds of his robberies
placed, and by representing himself to the receiver as an accomplice
of Peace, and then revealing the results of his interview to the
police, the latter were able to act with promptness and decision.
Among the many attributes of Peace, according to Mr. Brion, none were
more remarkable than his wonderful ability to hide in the smallest
limits.
He could place himself in a box with almost the same promptitude as
Mr. Cook, of Egyptian Hall celebrity; in the bottom drawer of a chest,
and in a cheffonier he was frequently hidden, while from long practice
he was able to hide under an ordinary round table, clinging to the
spiral stem in such a manner that even if the table had no cover he
would escape the glance of a casual observer.
PEACE’S CYPHER CODE.
A Central News telegram states:――The convict evidently kept fully
abreast of the age in all he did, for instead of making use of the
ordinary thieves slang, when he had anything of a secret nature to
communicate to his friends, he made known his message by means of
numerals, each of which represented a word.
This cypher code of his, though somewhat crude and cumbersome, bore a
general resemblance to those used by business firms and Government
officers. Messages containing the secret cyphers of Peace were usually
sent to certain receivers of stolen goods to whom he disposed of the
proceeds of his burglaries, and to Mrs. Thompson.
As to Mrs. Peace, or Hannah, none of these messages were sent to her,
for, as she says herself, “I am nae schullar.” Peace had 144 words at
least in his secret vocabulary, as the number ran from 1 to 144. The
numbers 27, 13, 21, 39, 40, 98, 100, 101, 102, were respectively the
words, “he, me, of, we, call, pet, coming, house, pounds, night, and
right.” In fact, the code was well calculated to enable him to
communicate secretly in respect to almost any matter.
Peace had also another peculiarity. He kept a careful and accurate
account of the money he received and expended in his city house. In
little pass-books, each alternate leaf of which was provided with
blotting paper, he entered an account of his payments and expenditure.
Mrs. Thompson had an interview with Governor Keene at Armley Gaol
after Peace’s conviction, and he read a long letter to her which he
had just received from Peace’s hands. The letter was full of most
endearing terms, even fulsomely so, the convict calling Mrs. Thompson
his “pet” and “darling,” and professing undying love for her. Mrs.
Thompson wept passionately on hearing it read, and appeared much
crushed.
The Central News special reporter, wrote:――As doubt has been expressed
respecting the existence of Peace’s cypher code, the following is
furnished as an accurate copy of it, the original having been for some
time in the hands of the police authorities:――
1 one 2 I 3 is
4 oh 5 he 6 to
7 me 8 my 9 in
10 as 11 it 12 at
13 of 14 up 15 on
16 or 18 a 18 aye
19 am 20 so 21 we
22 us 23 but 24 you
25 nap 26 hope 27 they
28 thy 29 was 20 will
31 she 32 well 33 went
34 who 35 has 36 let
37 and 38 can 39 call
40 time 41 still 42 her
43 out 44 four 45 give
46 kiss 47 dear 48 pet
49 there 50 some 51 that
52 had 53 life 54 are
55 poor 56 course 57 come
58 coming 59 where 60 but
61 from 62 much 63 many
64 what 65 this 66 mean
67 when 68 must 69 may
70 read 71 uneasy 72 money
73 love 74 loving 75 every
76 then 77 old 78 how
79 never 80 name 81 Ben
82 sent 83 say 84 ――
85 almost 86 friends 87 sum
88 pull 89 post 90 happy
91 wish 92 pain 93 until
94 bear 95 word 96 shall
97 used 98 house 99 back
100 pounds 101 night 102 right
103 write 104 mind 105 oblige
106 cannot 107 sold 108 things
109 said 110 know 111 just
112 railway 113 yes 114 believe
115 about 116 owes 117 told
118 fact 119 belong 120 word
121 since 122 away 123 early
124 such 125 finish 126 best
127 first 128 whose 129 early
130 Monday 131 Tuesday 132 Wednesday
135 Thursday 134 Friday 135 Saturday
136 Sunday 127 home 138 have
139 fancy 140 face 141 washed
142 ready 143 for 144 Johnny
Johnny being of course himself.
PEACE IN THE COMPANY OF MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT.
We cannot refrain from telling a story of Peace’s extraordinary
coolness and impudence. He was, as the reader perhaps has heard, the
inventor of a plan for raising sunken vessels, and he actually
exhibited his patent at Bristol, where, too, he offered £50 for the
salvage of a wrecked schooner, though as the money was not
forthcoming, the bargain was never concluded.
This invention, however, brought him into the acquaintance of several
M.P.’s interested in the subject of his patent, and a friend of ours
remembers going with him to the lobby of the House of Commons to see
these gentlemen.
Peace conducted himself throughout these negotiations as a quiet,
respectable, steady, and apparently well-to-do man. He seemed to be
acquainted with most of the prominent M.P.’s, and quizzed them upon
their peculiarities; at one time, indeed, it was thought he was the
author of some of the political quizzing in _Truth_.
It would, doubtless, surprise Mr. Plimsoll and the First Lord of the
Admiralty to learn that they had been in the company of Peace in
connection with his patent. But we are told there is no doubt of it.
And it was after the Dyson murder.
PEACEIANA.
Peace, it will be remembered, on more than one occasion assumed the
_role_ of a hawker of spectacles, and he provided himself with the
necessary proof had his representation been challenged.
On one occasion, when visiting his friends at Hull, he was asked what
he was doing, and he replied, “I am selling spectacles.” At the same
time he produced a travelling sample case, made of leather and
elaborately gilded, and on opening it exposed to view some thirty
pairs of spectacles of different kinds.
He never did much in the way of pushing the spectacle trade; but no
doubt the taking of it up assisted to conceal his identity. He had for
many years worn the gold-framed spectacles about which so much has
since been said. Previous to his murdering Mr. Dyson he only used them
when reading or doing fine work; but afterwards he wore them out in
the streets, and was seldom seen without them.
Peace was once terribly annoyed at a disappointment he met with at
Croydon. He went down there one afternoon, and selected a house to
rob. The same night he visited it again, expecting to obtain a good
booty.
He reached one of the bedroom windows and forced back the hasp, but to
his chagrin he found that the sash was secured from opening wider than
a hand-breadth by patent fasteners――those little metal knobs, the
shape of an acorn, that screw into a brass socket. He could not,
therefore, open either that or any other window within reach.
He returned home in a most ill-conditioned humour, and made no secret
how he had been “duffed,” but he said he would not be beaten. Provided
with the necessary tools, he went to the same house the next night;
took off the strips of wood which held the sashes of the bedroom
window in its place, drew the lower sash forward and got into the
bedroom.
He then not only gathered up jewellery and other articles of
considerable value, but revenged himself for the disappointment he had
experienced on the previous night by taking the patent fasteners off
the window. When he got home he threw them on the table, and with an
air of triumph exclaimed――“There’s your patent fasteners!”
A good many versions have been given as to the circumstances under
which Peace met with the injury to his hand. The account he gave to
his family was that one night in October, while he was living in the
Brocco, he was going up Hollis-croft, when a young man struck him. He
was about to return the blow, when either his assailant or some
companion shot at him with a pistol, blowing off the first finger and
otherwise injuring his left hand.
Peace walked to the Public Hospital, where he was treated as an
in-patient for a month. He then took his discharge and “doctored his
hand himself.” The police never discovered his assailant; and the
opinion some of them arrived at was, that the injuries were
self-inflicted――accidentally of course. They believed that Peace was
carrying the pistol in his pocket, and that it exploded and shattered
his hand.
Reference has previously been made to the long screws which formed
part of Peace’s burglarious implements. It will be remembered that he
used these to secure himself from intrusion while ransacking a room,
and he also employed them to prevent pursuers from cutting off his
retreat.
On one occasion he showed his confidence in them in a remarkable
manner. It was night time, and he selected one of a row of houses in a
main street at Brixton. He went to the front door and fastened it with
a screw.
On going to the back he saw two doors, one of which opened to the
lawn. He secured both of them in the same way. He then climbed a spout
and entered the house by a bedroom window.
The door of the room he so fastened with a screw that it could not be
opened from the outside, and then proceeded leisurely to ransack the
drawers. He was just upon the point of forcing open the desk when a
servant came to the door, and when she could not open it she began to
scream.
There was a rush to both back and front doors, but it was impossible
to open them. Peace remained in the room until he had broken open the
desk and abstracted it contents, and then he left the house as he had
entered it and escaped.
The “specials” of many newspapers drew the long bow very considerably
when they began to pile on the agony in describing Peace’s appearance
when sentenced to death. There was talk among them about fierce
scowls, and convulsive twitchings of the mouth, and a pallor that
extended to his very lips.
Others descended still lower, and described the tremblings of his
limbs, and spoke of him as if carried out in something like a swoon.
There was a great deal in all this as imaginary as Dr. Potter’s
“trembling like an aspen leaf.” As the judge pronounced sentence Peace
sat with one leg crossed over the other knee, without the symptoms of
even a passing tremour.
And as for his face, it was almost expressionless. He had seemed the
whole day to be in a sort of lethargy; if there was any change at the
end it amounted only to an increase of stupor.
We wonder where Dr. Potter picked up his story about the convict
having broken his aged mother’s heart? Possibly from the unreliable
source whence many of the other fictions promulgated from St. Luke’s
pulpit came.
We mean no disrespect to the ancient lady who was wont to hawk tapes
and ribbons about the outskirts of the town, but her heart took an
uncommon lot of breaking.
As to Peace having dishonoured his mother, if we mistake not she was
largely responsible (far more responsible than the father, who
received such short shrift at Dr. Potter’s hands) for his evil start
in life. She is credited with having possessed a pretty accurate
acquaintance with the details of her illustrious son’s career.
She had a domestic establishment, around which hovered anything but an
atmosphere of sanctity; and our readers know how the poor creature was
dragged over to Manchester Assizes to swear to an _alibi_ for her son.
She managed to survive the tragedy, which according to Dr. Potter,
broke her heart, by something like a twelvemonth.
Did Dr. Potter receive his intelligence “by electric telegraph?” That
is the latest form of journalistic enterprise――to have news specially
wired from Bank-street to High-street, that it may be reproduced from
other columns in a surreptitious second edition, and that it may be
claimed as confirming statements which it emphatically contradicts.
The account of Peace’s doings after the murder may be taken as one
among the innumerable episodes which the Sheffield papers were the
first to publish. They gave the route he took on that fatal night, and
the manner in which he made his escape. That account was contradicted
by the journal which was so sure Mrs. Dyson could not be found.
Two days afterwards one print ventured to give a route of its own. It
told how Peace went down Ecclesall-road, on Sharrow vale, through
Frog-walk, and into Cemetary-road. The statement by Peace, which was
published afterwards showed that this story was the purest fiction.
AN OFFER TO MRS. THOMPSON.
Notoriety has with some people more merit than business qualifications,
as the following indicates:――
“J. Myers, Queen’s Music Hall, 20, Bridge-street,
Manchester, February 10, 1879.
“Mrs. Thompson. Madam,――You will excuse me taking the liberty of
writing to you, as I thought I should like you at my house as
waitress. If you would like to come to Manchester I could give
you 25s. per week, if you think you would like to come. Hoping
there is no offence in my proposition.――I remain yours most
respectfully.
“JOHN MYERS.”
CHAPTER CLXIV.
MRS. DYSONS DEPARTURE――AUTOBIOGRAPHIC SKETCH AND SELF-VINDICATION.
After the trial and condemnation of Charles Peace, Mrs. Dyson left for
the United States, and subsequently she conducted herself while in New
York in anything but a creditable manner. She left Sheffield for
Liverpool on Thursday morning, Feb. 26th. 1879, and later in the day
she embarked on board the White Star steamer Britannic (the vessel in
which she returned to this country) _en route_ for Cleveland, Ohio.
She was accompanied by Police-constable Walsh as far as Queenstown.
Mrs. Dyson was desirous, before leaving this country of contradicting
in the most emphatic terms the imputations which had been freely cast
upon her character and her morality. She accordingly left the
following narrative behind her with an earnest request that, by its
publication, she would be set right in the estimation of her husband’s
townsmen:――
I was born in Ireland, at Maynooth. There I remained until I was
fifteen years old. Then, having just left school, I started off by
myself to see my sister, who had previously gone off to America. She
was living at Cleveland, Ohio, and is the wife of Mr. Mooney, captain
on one of the Lake Erie steamers.
Though I only went originally to see my sister, I stayed at Cleveland,
for I liked the place, the people, and the life. It was there that I
first met my husband. He was then a civil engineer, in the service of
Sir Morton Peto, and was at that time one of the engineers on the
Atlantic and Great Western Railway.
We married, and spent our honeymoon on a visit to the Falls at
Niagara. Coming back from our honeymoon, we went into housekeeping at
Cleveland, but we did not remain there long. We stayed only until the
section of the line of which Mr. Dyson had charge was finished.
Then he received another appointment――that of engineer to the St.
Louis Railway, known as the Iron Mountain Road, and went to reside
there. He subsequently became the engineer of other lines then in
course of construction, and his last engagement in America was as
superintendent engineer of the magnificent bridge which spans the
Mississippi, and here his health broke down.
He had been often compelled to lead a very rough kind of life, and it
began to tell. His duties made that necessary, for the railways on
which he was engaged opened up quite new country. The life, however,
had many charms for me. I am a good hand at driving, and am fond of
horses. I always used to drive Mr. Dyson. He used often to say that I
could drive better than he, and he would sit back in his buggy――they
call them buggies there――whilst I held the reins and sent the horses
along.
I liked the excitement of driving him to and from his work, and
especially when we were in new country, and he was out surveying. I
have driven him through forests where there were bears, and over
creeks――they call rivers creeks in America――that were swollen by the
floods. The horses have often had to swim.
I remember on one occasion sending the horses and the buggy across a
river, and then coming over myself on a piece of timber. Of course
such a life has some drawbacks, but I was young and strong, and it
possessed for me considerable fascination.
My husband loved me and I loved him, and in his company and in driving
him about in this wild kind of fashion, I derived much pleasure.
Afraid? Not I. I did not then know what fear was. Besides, I have a
good deal of courage――I think I have gone through sufficient (here
Mrs. Dyson’s tone was tinged with some sadness) of late to show
that――and I always felt safe. To be in positions attendant with danger
caused me not fear, but a kind of excitement which, if not always
pleasurable, certainly possessed some kind of fascination.
But, as I have said, Mr. Dyson’s health broke down, and he was
compelled to return to England. This was about four years ago. We
first lived at Tinsley, with Mr. Dyson’s mother; then at Highfield,
nearly opposite the police station; and afterwards we took a house in
the Alexandra-road, Heeley. Then we went to Darnall, and it was there
that my troubles began. But for our going there, Mr. Dyson would
probably have been still alive, and I should have been spared all that
has happened since.
You will naturally ask how I became acquainted with Peace. It was
impossible to avoid becoming acquainted with him. Besides, at that
time I did not know the sort of man he really was. He lived the next
door but one to us at Darnall, and he used generally to speak to Mr.
Dyson in going in and out.
Mr. Dyson was a gentleman, and, of course, when Peace spoke to him he
used to reply. He introduced himself, and would have you to talk with
him whether you would or no. At first Mr. Dyson did not object, and
Peace became a constant visitor to the house. Our impression of him at
that time was that he was really a nice old man. I suppose you have
heard how plausible he was? He was plausibility itself. To hear him
talk, you would have thought him the most harmless of men.
To us he appeared to be simply a picture-framer in anything but good
circumstances, for he had but little business to do, and his wife used
to go out every morning washing bottles. We considered they were poor.
Mr. Dyson soon began to tire of him. He very soon began to show that
he was anything but a gentleman. Mr. Dyson could not stand that; and,
besides, he had seen something which disgusted him――some obscene
pictures which Peace had shown him. He said he didn’t like a man of
that kind, and wouldn’t have anything more to do with him.
Besides, another thing greatly repelled Mr. Dyson. It was this. Peace
wanted to take him to Sheffield to show him what he called the “sights
of the town.” Mr. Dyson knew what that meant, and being, as I have
said, a gentleman, he became much disgusted at Peace and annoyed that
he should force his company upon us. My husband had been used to other
society. But we couldn’t get rid of him. We were bound to show him
common politeness. Though he must have seen that we didn’t want his
company, he forced himself upon us.
He would, for instance, drop in just when we were sitting down to tea,
and we were compelled almost to ask him to have a cup. His constant
visits to the house at last became intolerable to us, and then it was
that my husband placed his card in the garden, desiring Peace not to
annoy him or his family.
When he found that he could no longer gain access to the house, Peace
became awfully impudent. He would, for instance, stand on the doorstep
and listen through the keyhole to what we were talking about, or look
through the window at us. His persecutions at this time became almost
unbearable. He did everything he could to annoy us. I was not afraid
of him, and should have taken the law into my own hands, but my
husband would not hear of such a thing. He always advised me to keep
quiet.
Amanuensis: It is impossible for you, Mrs. Dyson, to be unaware of the
rumours afloat as to the terms on which you and Peace were at Darnall.
Would you like to say anything about that matter?
Mrs. Dyson: That is just what I want to speak about. (Here Mrs. Dyson
spoke under some emotion and her face became quite flushed with
excitement.) That’s what I want to speak about, and I want you to do
me the justice of writing down just what I state.
The public of Sheffield――the vulgar public I mean――have been
prejudiced against me. I have been tried in every shape and form since
I came over here to give evidence, and my character and credibility
have been made light of. But I want the people of Sheffield to see
that I am a different kind of person from that which they have taken
me for. They have classed me with Peace and Mrs. Thompson, and others
of his gang, but I wish to show them that I am far superior to any of
them.
Mr. Dyson did not take a stronger disgust to Peace than I did. In
fact, I think I was the first to express my disgust. I could not stand
his impudence and the way in which he went on. I had not been used to
such society as his proved to be, and I rebelled against it. I can
hardly describe all that he did to annoy us after he was informed that
he was not wanted at our house. He would come and stand outside the
window at night and look in, leering all the while; and he would come
across you at all turns and leer in your face in a manner that was
truly frightful. How is it that having been so friendly with me and
Mr. Dyson, Peace should conceive so intense a dislike to us? Well, I
admit that’s a matter which has never been clearly stated, and I want
it clearly stating now. His object was to obtain power over me, and,
having done that, to make me an accomplice of his.
I have told you that when I knew him first I thought him to be a
picture-framer, and nothing more. Since then, however, I have learnt a
good deal, and much that was difficult to understand has been made
plain.
He wanted me to leave my husband. “What should I do that for?” I said,
“If you will only go to Manchester,” he answered, “I will take a store
(American for shop) for you, and will spend £50 in fitting it up. You
shall have a cigar store, or a picture store. You are a fine-looking
woman. You look well in fine things, and I will send you fine clothes
and jewellery, and if you wanted to pawn them it would be easy. The
pawnbroker would think everything all right. Suppose for instance, you
had a grand pair of bracelets on, all you would have to do would be to
go into the pawnbroker’s, take them off your wrist, and say, ‘I want
to pawn these things.’” He also said, “If you will only do what I want
you, there shall not be such another lady in England as you may be.”
At the time I couldn’t understand what was his object. Of course, I
see it plain enough now. At that time I didn’t know he was a burglar.
But I was suspicious.
I remember on one occasion he offered me a sealskin jacket and several
yards of silk. If I had accepted them I should have been quite in his
power. I declined his present, and told him that if he had a sealskin
jacket and some silk to spare, he had better make a present of them to
his wife and daughter.
I also told him that they wanted them much more than I did, and that
if I desired to have a sealskin jacket, I would wait for it until my
husband bought it, and that if he couldn’t I was content to go
without.
Some time afterwards he offered me a gold watch; but I wouldn’t have
it. That, of course, was stolen. I consider that he offered me these
presents as one means of getting me into his power.
I remember, when he was speaking to me about Manchester, he said, “If
you will only go, I’ll fix you up there nice. You will have a splendid
business, and will live like a lady.”
“Thank you,” I said, “I always have lived like one, and shall continue
to do so quite independently of you.” I was getting downright mad with
him, because of his constantly bothering me.
What he wanted me to go to Manchester for was to pass off his stolen
goods――at least that is my opinion. When he found he could not succeed
by fair means, then he tried what threats and persecution would do. He
once came into my house, and said as I would not do what he wanted, he
would annoy and torment me to the end of the world.
“Don’t you ever come into my house again,” I said, “or ever darken its
doors.”
But it was no use. He still came whenever he could get in, and when he
couldn’t he watched for me and followed me wherever I went. I have
known him go to the railway station and say to the booking clerk after
I had taken my ticket, “Give me a ticket for where she’s going.”
That’s how it was he followed me to Mansfield, and then came into the
same house there where I and my companion were staying.
That was, too, how it was that he was seen with me in the streets. So
it was as regards his being with me in the fair ground, about which so
much has been made.
I went to the fair with a neighbour and her children, and when we got
into the photographic saloon my intention was to have the children
photographed. I had no intention whatever of having myself taken with
Peace, but he stood behind my chair at the time my likeness was taken.
That was quite unknown to me, though, at the time.
You can have no idea, unless you know the man, how he persecuted one,
and attempted to get me within his power.
Once I was terribly frightened at him. I was busy, I remember, doing
something in the kitchen, and my back was turned to the door. Hearing
a slight noise, I turned round, and then I saw Peace standing just
inside the door. The expression on his face was something dreadful. It
was almost fiendish――devilish. He had a revolver in his right hand,
and he held it up towards me and said, in an excited and threatening
manner, “Now, will you go to Manchester? Now will you go to
Manchester?” I did not shriek, but I cried out “No, never! What do you
take me for?”
Finding that I was firm, he dropped his hand and went out; but I can
assure you that I was frightened at the time. He had a way of creeping
and crawling about, and of coming upon you unawares; and I cannot
describe to you how he seemed to wriggle himself inside the door, or
the terrible expression on his face. He seemed more like an evil
spirit than a man.
He turned against me solely because he could not make me do as he
wanted. He thought he could handle me as he liked, that I was a weak
sort of a woman, and could be got over like others who have been
associated with him; but he found he was mistaken. I was terribly
tried by him, though, and at last I was frightened――I don’t deny it.
There have been times when I haven’t feared him, and when I should
have thrashed him if Mr. Dyson would have allowed me. I once did give
him a good hiding, because he had insulted and annoyed me, but perhaps
I had better not say much about that now. I used to be especially
afraid of him at nights, because he had a habit of continually
prowling about the house, and of turning up suddenly. He would, too,
assume all sorts of disguises. He used to boast how effectively he
could disguise himself; and I was afraid of his coming in some guise
or other at night, and carrying out his threats.
I never saw such determination and persistency as his. It seems to me
there was scarcely anything which he couldn’t accomplish if only he
was determined. The only way to get rid of him was to knock him down,
as I once did.
Determined as he was one way, I was equally determined the other, and
that was why he never succeeded with me. He once made use of this
expression to me, “I don’t care how independent you are, I’ll get hold
of you some way or other.” But I said as firmly as I could, “Never!”
and so I have always said.
The statement is not true that your husband was jealous of you and
Peace, and so decided to go to Bannercross? Why should he be jealous?
There was no cause; for all this time that we were at Darnall I was
doing my best to withstand Peace. I know what has been thought and
what has been said. (Here Mrs. Dyson spoke excitedly and in a tone of
much bitterness.) I think no woman has ever been tried as I have.
Why, ever since I came from America to give evidence, they have been
trying me, not Peace. I want the public to understand that I have been
tested to the utmost, and yet what has been proved against me? Why
absolutely nothing.
All that has been said about myself and Peace is a lie, and I wish it
to be put down as a LIE. If you could draw three strokes under the
word, so as to make it plainer I should like it done. I wanted this
opportunity of saying what I have on this matter. I had no one to
speak up for me, I had to speak for myself. I deny what has been said
and imputed with regard to Peace and myself, and I dare and defy any
one to say with truth that my conduct with regard to him was anything
but what was right. We went to Bannercross simply because we were
afraid of Peace. What became of Peace after the warrant was taken out
I never knew, except that I heard he had gone over to Manchester.
He suddenly disappeared, and I did not see him again until on the very
day that our furniture was being removed to Bannercross. I and my
husband saw him coming out of our new house there. So annoyed and
irritated was I at this that I really should have caught hold of him,
and held him until a policeman could have been fetched. But my husband
would not hear of such a thing. I really felt quite mad.
This was on the 25th October, and I did not see him again till the
night of the murder. There is no truth whatever in the imputation that
I was with Peace on the day and night previous to the murder. I say I
never saw him from the time of his coming out of our house on the 25th
of October till I saw him, pistol in hand, standing outside the closet
door on the night of the murder. To say that I did is an abominable
and wicked lie. But no one can really say that I did.
It is true certain persons were brought at the trial, but could they
say that they had seen me? No, not one of them: and I defy them to say
it.
I am aware, as you say, that when I was asked if Peace did not follow
me into the “Stag” Inn on the night before the murder, I replied that
I could almost swear it wasn’t Peace. I know also that it seemed as if
my evidence at that point was weak. But I didn’t want to swear a lie.
Peace had been in the habit of so disguising himself and of following
me about that I should not have been surprised if it had been him.
That was why I answered Mr. Lockwood in the way I did. It certainly
was not Peace. Of that I am confident.
It is not true, as it was imputed, that I was in the fair with Peace
on the day before my husband was shot. I simply passed along the road
from the Victoria Station and looked over the wall. Neither is it true
that I went with him to any dining-rooms, or to a public-house. That
is a lie altogether.
The only place I called at was at Mr. Muddiman’s shop, at the top of
Pinstone-street, and I went from there to the “Stag” at Sharrow.
If I were to die this minute, I am altogether innocent of seeing Peace
or of having anything to do with him from the time of our going to
Bannercross till the night of the murder. I cannot put the matter
plainer than that, and I want it putting plainly.
As to the letters which Peace dropped on the night of the murder, I
say as I have always said――that I never wrote them. They were base
forgeries, and were written with an object. I cannot say whether Peace
wrote them himself or whether they were written by members of his
family, because they, as well as he, tried to get me into their power.
But I know what the object was. It was to endeavour to compromise me.
Yet how much has been said about those letters, and how I have been
maligned in regard to them! I don’t think any woman has been tried as
I have, or has been compelled to go through so much. But I have been
able to stand up through it all, because I have spoken nothing but the
truth. If the letters were mine, the handwriting could have been
easily proved. Wasn’t I tried in court about it? Didn’t they ask me
not once, but twice, to give specimens of my handwriting? If the
letters were mine, they could then easily have proved it.
The letters must have been manufactured for a purpose. I don’t see how
else they could have come into existence. So far from writing to Peace
after the murder, I never wrote to him in my life. I never heard
anything about Peace from the night of the murder until Walsh came
over to Cleveland to fetch me.
I was staying at my sister’s house there, and Walsh went direct to the
house. When told that he had come, I knew at once what he wanted me
for, and to his question whether I was willing to go back with him to
give evidence against Peace, I said “I would go back if I had to walk
on my head all the way.”
That’s just what I said, and it will show how willing I was to give
evidence.
Of course, at the time I didn’t know what I should have to pass
through, but if it were to come all over again I would do the same. My
friends didn’t want me to come, and did all they could to dissuade me.
I also received a threatening letter from Sheffield. But I was
determined to come. My desire was that Peace should receive the
justice he so richly deserved.
I didn’t really know that Peace was a burglar until after the murder.
If I had he would never have entered our doors. But what I know now
explains a good deal.
For instance, when we were out walking together, if I happened to look
into a shop window, he would say to me, “Is there anything there you
would like? If there is I will get it for you before morning.” He
would say that if I looked into a jeweller’s or a draper’s shop. I did
not know what he meant then, but I do now.
My suspicions were aroused, for I used to see him leave his house at
Darnall in the evenings with a little satchel under his arm, and he
would come back early in the morning carrying a large bundle. The
satchel, I suppose, contained his housebreaking implements. He often
used to go to Manchester with this satchel.
He came to my door one morning just as he was going to Manchester. He
then had his satchel with him. Looking into the room where I was, he
said, “I’ll have you alive or dead. I’ll have you, or else I’ll
torment you till the end of your life.”
On another occasion, when I had defied him, he said, “I’ll make you so
that neither man nor woman shall look at you, and then I’ll have you
to myself.”
I answered, “Never. What can you do? What are you capable of?”
“No matter,” he replied “I’ll do it.”
He was always wanting to get my photograph, and as I wouldn’t give him
it, he or some member of his family stole one out of a locket which I
had. It was afterwards copied by a photographer in Sheffield, and I
have fancied since that he wanted to get my features transferred in
some way or other to one of his obscene pictures and so disgrace me.
I cannot understand in any other way what he meant by saying that he
would make me so that neither man nor woman should look at me.
My opinion is that Peace is a perfect demon――not a man. I am told that
since he has been sentenced to death he has become a changed
character. That I don’t believe. The place to which the wicked go is
not bad enough for him. I think its occupants, bad as they might be,
are too good to be where he is. No matter where he goes, I am
satisfied there will be hell. Not even a Shakespeare could adequately
paint such a man as he has been. My life-long regret will be that I
ever knew him.
CHAPTER CLXV.
PEACE CONFESSES HIMSELF TO BE THE MURDERER OF A POLICEMAN NEAR
MANCHESTER――THE CONVICT AND MRS. THOMPSON.
It was understood on the Wednesday night that the convict Charles
Peace was expected to confess to having murdered Constable Cock, at
Whalley Range, near Manchester――a crime for which a youth of eighteen
years of age, named William Habron, had been sentenced to death, and
only escaped with a commutation of his sentence to penal servitude for
life. Peace, in justice to this young man, made a full and explicit
confession. He admitted, with many professions of penitence, that he
murdered the officer, and declared Habron to be perfectly innocent of
the crime, for which he was at that time so cruelly and injustly
suffering.
When, in July, 1876, Peace heard that Mrs. Dyson had taken out a
warrant against him, he packed up his “tools” and some other things
and prepared to leave Darnall. His family asked him where he was
going, and he replied, “To Manchester.” He had often been there
before. Indeed, it was a favourite resort of his. When he lived on the
Brocco, and in Scotland-street, as well as after he went to Darnall,
he frequently ran over to Manchester, sometimes remaining there for a
week or more.
It is no secret that he went there to commit robberies. There was a
man there to whom he sold his plunder, and he would come back to
Sheffield with nothing but the proceeds in hard cash. Of course there
was nothing remarkable in his going to Manchester, and he confessed
that he went there on this particular occasion――as he had often gone
before――“to work.”
On the afternoon of the 1st August he went round by Whalley Range to
select a likely house as the object of his burglarious intentions, and
he “put up” that occupied by Mr. Gatrix, at West Point, where three
public roads, and an occupation road, converge. Towards midnight he
went to the place, and as he was creeping along under the overhanging
trees on the opposite side of the road he saw Mr. Simpson and the two
policemen, Cock and Beanland, talking together on the footpath.
Presently he left his hiding-place and crossed from Upper
Chorlton-road to Seymour-grove, looking distinctly at the officers as
he passed. He entered Mr. Gatrix’s grounds, but before he could get up
to the house he heard a policeman on his track; and it is a fact that
Beanland followed him.
Peace doubled, and attempted to leave the grounds by another way, when
he was confronted by Police-constable Cock, who attempted to apprehend
him. Said Peace, I told him to “Stand back!” and, to frighten him, I
fired one barrel of my revolver. He, however, came towards me, and was
about to collar me, when I hit him. By “hitting him” Peace meant that
he fired at him; the officer fell and he escaped.
Peace remained in Manchester for several days, and heard of the arrest
of the Habrons, and the committal of John and William on the charge of
“Wilful murder.” He then left the city and went to Hull.
During the next few weeks he gravitated between Hull, Sheffield, and
Manchester several times, and he was in the latter place at the end of
November. Incredible as it may seem, he distinctly stated that he went
to the Assize Courts and heard the two Habrons tried for the crime
which he had himself committed. He was present when John was
acquitted, and he heard William sentenced to death.
He appeared to have had no compunctions of conscience whatever at the
terrible position in which he had placed the youth. Had the sentence
been carried out there is no reason whatever to suppose that Peace
would have come forward and confessed to the crime. It would almost
seem that his escape from the remotest suspicion at Manchester only
made him more reckless, as the night after the trial he went to
Bannercross and shot Mr. Dyson.
Since he was himself sentenced to death at Leeds, and he had occupied
the condemned cell, he had thought not only of the crime for which he
was suffering, but also of that other almost more diabolical act of
his at Whalley Range, for which an innocent man was undergoing
punishment. Having given up all hope of life himself, and having
nothing to fear from any confession he might make, he decided to do
tardy justice to young Habron.
Some days before his execution he asked the Governor to supply him
with the necessary paper, pencils, rule, compassses, and so forth,
that he might draw some plans. Having satisfied the Governor as to the
object for which he wanted them, the articles asked for were supplied.
He then began working diligently upon the plans; and the progress of
his work was a matter of no small interest, not only to the governor
and the chaplain, but to all the officials who had to do with him. The
plan which he drew of Bannercross two years after the murder proved
that Peace could remember localities, and that he could transfer to
paper his recollections. The plans he drew of West Point――for they
were in three or four parts――represent very accurately the locality,
and on them the precise spot as indicated where Peace encountered Cock
and shot him, and the route he took to escape. He completed the plans,
and handed them over to the governor, together with a full confession
of his guilt.
Peace affected to the extremely sorry for the young man Habron, but he
excused himself for not having done him the scant justice he deserved
at his hands in a very plausible way. He said that if he had come
forward and accepted the responsibility of his act he would have been
sentenced to death without any doubt whatever; whereas the one who had
to bear it had escaped with penal servitude.
We give the circumstances under which the murder was committed, and it
will be seen at once that the crime looks very much more like the work
of a man of Peace’s experience than of a lad of eighteen, who probably
never fired a revolver in his life.
Nicholas Cock, the officer who was murdered, was twenty-three years of
age, and had been in the county constabulary about eight months. He
was a Cornish man, but had gone from Durham to Manchester to join the
force. His beat on the night of the 1st of August was from Chorlton
village, along Chorlton-road, to its junction with Seymour-grove and
Upper Chorlton-road. The junction is known as West Point, and is near
Manley Hall. The officer’s beat terminated there, and from that place
he would retrace his steps to Chorlton village. The junction is a
triangular piece of ground, from which three roads diverge――Chorlton-road,
Upper Chorlton-road, and Seymour-grove――and there is also a small
occupation road leading from that triangle to Firs Farm.
Cock arrived at West Point at midnight, and there he was met by Mr.
Simpson, who was at that time a law student, and whose father resided
in Upper Chorlton-road. They walked together a short distance along
that road, and meeting Police-constable Beanland they stopped and
conversed for a few minutes.
Whilst they were standing they observed a man walk out of the shadow
of the overhanging trees in Upper Chorlton-road, and cross over the
triangle to Seymour Grove. Here he stopped under a lamp, and, after
gazing steadlastly at the officers, passed on. Beanland said to Cock,
“Who’s that man?” and he replied that he did not know.
They watched the man go up Seymour-grove, but finding that he did not
pass the gates leading to the house of a Mr. Gatrix, Beanland said he
would go and see who the man was.
The officer accordingly went up to the gate, and finding it open
passed in and went up to the house. He tried both doors and windows,
and found them safe, and was turning to leave the grounds when he
heard two shots, and saw two flashes of fire.
At the same time he heard some one shout, “Oh, murder, murder! I’m
shot, I’m shot!” Scarcely half a minute had elapsed since he had left
Cock, and, running back to the spot, he found the officer lying on the
kerbstone. He was bleeding from a wound in the breast.
Police-sergeant Thompson, who was on duty in Whalley Range, and had
heard the shots, came running up, and joined Beanland, at the same
time that Mr. Simpson returned.
That gentleman also heard the firing when he was about two hundred
yards from the end of Upper Chorlton-road. At that moment a night-soil
cart came past, and the injured man was lifted into it and taken to
Dr. Dill’s surgery in Lower Chorlton-road.
Cock was unsconcious when he arrived there, but after stimulants had
been administered he revived a little, and was repeatedly asked who
had shot him.
Once he said “I don’t know,” but afterwards relapsing into
semi-unconsciousness, he said “Leave me a-be. Oh, Frank, you are
killing me.” There was no one named Frank in the room.
He died shortly afterwards, and at the post-mortem examination made by
Dr. Dill, a gun-shot wound was found in the breast near the right
nipple.
The ball had struck the fourth rib, shattered the bone, and had then
gone through the right lung to the spine, where it had lodged. Death
had resulted from hæmorrhage, which was very great, both internal and
external.
Suspicion fell upon three brothers named John, William, and Frank
Habron, the first of whom had been employed for nine years, the second
for seven years, and the third for eight years, by Mr. Francis Deakin,
nurseryman, of Chorlton-lane. Cock being a young officer, was disposed
to take notice of things that older and more experienced men would
have tolerated with impunity.
He had not been long in the neighbourhood before he incurred the
ill-will of the Habrons, and both John and William were heard to use
threats of violence towards him. In July, Cock saw John and William
the worse for drink, and he obtained summonses against them.
The case against William was heard on the 27th July, and he was fined
5s. and costs. The case against his brother was adjourned until the
1st August, and between those dates John, on several occasions, and
William, at least once, was heard to threaten what they would do to
Cock if he was not careful. At the adjourned hearing, John was fined
10s. 6d., and that very night Cock was murdered.
Cock had told his superior officers what these young men had been
heard to say, and immediately after his death, Superintendant Bent
went with Inspector Whittam and a large staff of officers to apprehend
the two brothers.
They occupied one room――a sort of outhouse――upon the premises of Mr.
Deakin, their employer; and as the officers went up Chorlton-lane the
room was full in view, and they saw a light in the window.
Superintendent Bent called up Mr. Deakin, and then went to the
outhouse, and found that in the meantime the light had been put out,
and the police having rapped at the door, which was opened by one of
the brothers, the three were arrested.
Next day the prisoners were brought before the magistrates.
[Sidenote: No. 95.]
[Illustration: PEACE DRAWING THE PLAN OF THE WHALLEY RANGE MURDER.]
CHAPTER CLXVI.
THE CONDEMNED MAN VISITED AGAIN BY HIS RELATIVES――PEACE CONFIRMS HIS
CONFESSION.
On Friday, Nov. 21st, Peace was again visited in Armley by his wife,
Mrs. Hannah Peace, Willie Ward, his son, and Mr. and Mrs. Bolsover,
his daughter and son-in-law.
Though this visit was intended to be kept a secret from any but the
prison and other officials, this object, very much to their annoyance,
was defeated.
At the Normanton station they were discovered by a couple of
reporters, and on their arrival at the Leeds station they were met by
several others.
Taking shelter in a cab from their persistent attentions, they drove
to Mr. Watson’s, the solicitor engaged to draw up Peace’s deed of
gift, and then proceeded to the Town Hall, to get the necessary order
of admission to the gaol.
There they had to wait for a couple of hours in consequence of the
absence of the clerk to the visiting justices, who had ultimately to
be sent for.
Two visits were made by them to the gaol during the day, for there was
much business to transact, and this was the last occasion upon which
it could be done.
When the relatives arrived at Armley on the first occasion, and
reached the cell of the condemned man, they found him in a somewhat
perturbed state.
He had got hold of the notion that the authorities were endeavouring
to prevent his relations from seeing him, and he was determined that
they should not be excluded from visiting him.
He was assured that he was labouring under a misapprehension, and that
the relatives who had any claim to see him should be admitted. He
thereupon became calm and expresssd regret that he had been so hasty.
Peace then conversed for some time about his “deed of gift,” and the
disposition of his property. He told them that on the previous day Mr.
Brion came to see him and spent nearly three hours with him.
He obtained from Mr. Brion a list of the articles retained by him, and
which belonged to Peace, and a promise that they should be given up to
the proper owner of them.
He also assigned to Mr. Brion the right to make use of three
inventions that he had discovered, if they should be worth following
up.
Having made the necessary arrangements for the completion of certain
legal documents, the visitors left and returned to Leeds to again
consult a legal gentleman.
In the afternoon they returned to Armley, and had another long
interview with Peace. They found him――as they had found him during
previous visits――calm and collected, and prepared to reply to any
questions put to him. A number of subjects were referred to.
The chief of them was as to his remarkable confession that he murdered
Police-constable Cock at Whalley Range, on the night of the 1st
August, 1876.
He was told that a portion of the public had received the statement
with considerable incredulity, that some persons would not believe
that he had made any such confession, and others that if he had made
it he had done it to throw discredit on the police, and that it was
still untrue.
He repeated that he had made such a confession, and that he had
prepared plans of the locality where the murder occurred.
The plans and the confession he had, he said, placed in the hands of
the governor, by whom they had been forwarded to the proper
authorities. In due course, he said, it would be seen whether or not
he had not made such a confession.
Of course his relatives needed no confirmation of the statement at his
hands. They knew perfectly well that he had made such a confession,
and, what was more, it was no news to them.
It is true Peace never had a confederate in his work, but he could not
do without a confidant. There is perhaps not a crime of any
consequence that he had committed that he did not make known to some
one.
He, however, exercised great discretion in the choice of his friends,
and while he had his liberty he did not suffer anything at their
hands.
He had not been back from Manchester among his friends long before he
dropped hints that during his absence he had “done the biggest thing
in his life.”
Months went on, and one day when in a more than usually confiding
state of mind, he told a relative the whole story; and it differed in
no particular from the story he told in the condemned cell.
He said then that when he heard that the Dysons had taken out a
warrant against him he went to Manchester.
He had not been there many days when he put up the house of Mr.
Gatrix, at Whalley Range, intending to work it at night.
He went there before twelve o’clock, and it was he whom Mr. Simpson
saw cross the road. He did not think the police were watching him when
he went in at the gate, but before he got up to the house of Mr.
Gatrix, he heard Police-constable Beanland following him.
He turned back towards the road, and jumped over the wall close to
where Police-constable Cock was standing.
That officer tried to capture him, and as he would not keep back with
the first shot he fired again, and hit him in the chest.
Attracted by the reports of his revolver he heard people coming in
both directions, and to escape he jumped over the wall again into the
grounds of Mr. Gatrix, and went through them past the place where the
Habrons lived, and escaped without anyone having seen him.
The next day he heard of the arrest of the three Habrons, and he
followed the course of the proceedings taken against them with the
deepest interest.
On one occasion, when speaking of the murder to a relative at Hull, he
said he was truly sorry for the young Habron who was sentenced to
death, and subsequently let off with penal servitude for life, and
said if he could get him his liberty, without sacrificing his own, he
would do so.
At one time the crime appeared to weigh so heavily upon him that he
declared he would draw plans of the place, showing precisely the spot
where the murder was committed, and trscing the course of his flight
from it, and forward them to the authorities, with a full statement of
the facts, but withholding his name.
He thought, perhaps, that would lead to inquiry, and to the liberation
of Habron. He did not carry out his intention at the time, and
subsequently he said he should abandon it; but if he ever did get into
trouble, one of his first acts would be to try to prove the innocence
of Habron.
Peace did get into trouble, and a few days after he had himself been
sentenced to death he bethought him of his determination.
He knew there was no prospect of a reprieve being obtained in his
case; he knew that, say what he would, no further harm could come upon
him; and he therefore set to work upon his plans and his confession,
that he might do tardy justice to the young man he had so grievously
wronged.
On Monday the Mrs. Peace visited him in his cell he was engaged upon
the plans, and a hint was quite sufficient to let her know what he was
doing.
When Mrs. Bolsover was with him on Wednesday he had completed his
work――done, he said, all that lay in his power to secure the
liberation of Habron; a load seemed taken off his mind, and he
conversed with her freely on the subject.
He begged of her not to let this additional proof of his baseness
trouble either her or the rest of his family, and said if there was
anything more that he could do to prove his own guilt and Habron’s
innocence, he would gladly do it.
To the Rev. J. H. Littlewood, Vicar of Darnall, he told the same
story, and when the subject was referred to, Peace adhered to all he
had previously said upon it, and declared that he had spoken nothing
with respect to it but the most naked truth.
There is no foundation whatever for the story that Peace had spoken
about a crime committed by him seven or eight years before, or that he
persisted in saying it was as long since he shot the policeman at
Manchester.
The fact is that at that time Peace was in penal servitude doing the
penitent business and winning a “ticket of leave.”
Peace, during his last days, frequently expressed the hope that he
would be able to walk to the scaffold.
On this matter he seemed exceedingly anxious; for, courageous as he
undoubtedly was, he imagined that if he had to be carried it would
look as if he was a coward.
The impression of one who saw him at the time was that he was
suffering from partial paralysis of the lower extremities――a result,
it might be, of his terrible leap from the train on his way to
Sheffield.
His general health had somewhat improved.
He had, from the very moment of his conviction, regarded his speedy
death as inevitable, and now that the time was rapidly approaching he
showed no fear, nor gave any indication that he was not to meet the
last act of justice with composure.
The stealing of the portrait, by Gainsborough, of the Duchess of
Devonshire will be fresh in the minds of many of our readers.
It will be remembered that the picture, which was valued at ten
thousand guineas, was very cleverly cut from its frame one night, and
that since then no tidings whatever have been obtained as to its
whereabouts.
The robbery looked like such a one as Peace would commit――it was so
cleverly managed, and the thief left no trace behind.
It is not unnatural, therefore, that he should have been regarded as
the thief, and we believe he had been seen on the subject by two or
three gentlemen interested in the matter.
Peace stated that he did not steal the picture, nor did he know where
it then was.
He had also been seen or written to regarding some valuable lace which
was stolen some time before, and very urgent requests have been made
to him to say where it now is.
But notorious as Peace is for his many burglaries and his successful
way of “working” them, there are other burglars besides himself, and
it is not surprising therefore that he knows nothing of the lace.
Peace had no actual accomplices; but he found a ready means of
disposing of the booty which fell into his hands. The receivers,
however, whoever they are, were not likely to suffer by any confession
from Peace as to their whereabouts.
We understand that pressure had been put upon him――we suppose by the
authorities――to induce him to say where he disposed of his plunder.
But he had steadfastly refused to say.
When pressed on this point, his answer had generally been, that if any
man were in prison on his account he would now do his best to get him
out, but that he was the last man to be the means of getting anybody
else into trouble.
The receivers, therefore, are safe so far as Peace was concerned; but
we should have thought that Mrs. Thompson could have told all that the
police wanted to know.
It may be, though, that Peace didn’t tell her all, and that there were
some things which he considered it wise to keep to himself.
During the course of an interview, Peace gave his relatives some
excellent advice as to their future conduct, and expressed an earnest
hope that they would all meet in heaven.
One of his relatives thereupon remarked that the Rev. Dr. Potter, of
Sheffield, had preached a sermon about him, in which he said that “all
hope for his (Peace’s) salvation was gone for ever.”