CHAPTERCLXVII.THE CONVICT’S CONFESSION.TheSheffield Daily Telegraphgave the following as the full text of Peace’s confessions to theRev.Dr. Littlewood, vicar of Darnall:—When Mr. Littlewood entered the cell he saluted the convict according to the custom he followed when he was chaplain at Wakefield Prison—“Well, my old friend Peace, how are you to-day?”Peace looked up at him with a wistful glance, and replied, “I am only very poorly, sir,” and then, after averting his face, as if to hide the emotion upon it, he turned round and added, “but I am exceedingly pleased to see you.” Mr. Littlewood said, “I should have been much more gratified, Peace, to have visited you under different circumstances. This is a very sad errand for me to have to attend upon you in such an awful position.”The convict shook his head and slightly moaned. “But I assure you,” added Mr. Littlewood “that there is at least one person in the world who has deep sympathy with you.”Peace seemed a little surprised at this, and after some hesitation he asked, as Mr. Littlewood paused, “Who is that?” Mr. Littlewood looked at him intently, and as their eyes met for a moment he added, “It is myself.”Peace seemed overpowered, muttered the words “I deeply thank you,” and burst into tears. He remained sobbing for a considerable time, his body quivering, his lips moving as if he was muttering something, and altogether he appeared remarkably moved.That remark, Mr. Littlewood says, made the criminal as humble as a child.“I wanted to see you,” said Peace after a few moments, to unburden my mind to you. I know I am about to die, and I want to take from my conscience some things which weigh heavy upon it, but before I begin I want to ask you—do you believe I am anxious to speak the truth, and nothing but the truth?” He paused for a minute, and Mr. Littlewood also waited.Peace then resumed: “I know, sir, I am about to meet my God. I know that He will hear all that I now say in my cell, and that He will require me to give an account not only of what I have done, but of what I am now telling you. Do you believe me?”Mr. Littlewood intimated that he would, but Peace did not seem satisfied with this, and pressing his face as close to the grating as he could, he said earnestly, “I do assure you, sir, I want to utter nothing but the truth and the whole truth in everything I say.”The convict paused again, and repeated the question in a firmer tone, as if he was determined not to proceed until he was assured that Mr. Littlewood had thorough confidence that he desired to speak the truth.Mr. Littlewood looked at him carefully, observed his manner very closely, and states that from his experience as a prison chaplain in Wakefield, having had to do with criminals of the deepest dye for many years, his own conviction was that the convict really was in earnest, and as sincere as any man could be.Peace waited during all this trying time until Mr. Littlewood at last said, “Yes, Peace, I believe you are sincere, and desire to speak the truth. No matter how bad you are or have been, I cannot conceive it possible that any human being in your terrible position could deliberately lie and confirm those lies, knowing that your Creator and Judge is conscious of all you say, and that you will have to give an account of all you utter.”Peace seemed relieved at what Mr. Littlewood said, and after waiting a little he said, “You know, sir, I have nothing to gain and nothing to lose in my present position. I know I shall be hanged next Tuesday. I desire to be hanged. I do not want to linger out my life in penal servitude. I would rather end my days on Tuesday than have that dreadful looking forward to all those years, but I do want as far as I can to atone in some measure for the past by telling all I know to some one in whom I have confidence,” and he added, looking up earnestly into Mr. Littlewood’s eyes, “I have perfect confidence in you.”Proceeding, Peace said, “I am exceeding grieved and repentant for all my past life, and if I could only undo anything I have done, or make amends for it in any possible way I would”—and he spoke very firmly, “I would suffer my body as I now stand to be cut in pieces inch by inch.” He then turned again to Mr. Littlewood, evidently to see what effect his words had upon him, and as therev.gentleman made no response he asked him again, sharply and firmly, but yet somewhat pleadingly, “Do you really think, sir, I am speaking the truth?”Mr. Littlewood again assured him that he believed him, and then Peace continued, in lower and mournful tones: “I feel, sir,” and he raised his hands wearily, “I feel, sir, that I am too bad either to live or to die, and having this feeling I cannot think that either you or anyone else will believe me, and that is the reason why I ask you so much to try and be assured that you do not think I am telling lies. I call my God to witness that all I am saying and wish to say shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”Mr. Littlewood says that at this moment Peace talked with all the earnestness of a judge, and repeated these words with a deliberate solemnity which greatly impressed him. As he spoke he turned not only to Mr. Littlewood, but motioned also towards the warders, as if he were invoking God in the presence of them as witnesses. He was not at all excited, but spoke most rationally and coherently.“Well, now, sir,” said Peace, evidently reassured by Mr. Littlewood’s belief in him, “in the first place I understand that you have still the impression that I stole the clock from your day-schools.” He waited for an answer.“Well,” said Mr. Littlewood, “I have that impression.”“I thought you had,” replied Peace, “and this has caused me much grief and pain, for I can assure you I have so much respect for you personally that I would rather have given you a clock, and much more besides, than have taken it.” Then he added, “At the time your clock was stolen I had reason for suspecting that it was taken by some colliers whom I knew.”Peace stopped again. Mr. Littlewood thought he was going to mention the names of the colliers, but he did not, and as therev.gentleman was not disposed to follow that subject up, thinking it was too trifling compared with the others that were to follow, it was about to be dropped, when the convict turned to him again sharply, and earnestly asked, “Do you now believe that I have spoken the truth in denying that I took your clock, and will you leave me to-day, fully believing that I am innocent of doing that?”Mr. Littlewood looked at him again, to confirm his own conclusion, and paused for some few moments, as if deliberating what he should reply.The convict watched him keenly all the time, and seemed rather uneasy at the answer about to be made, but in the end Mr. Littlewood said, “Peace, I am convinced that you did not take the clock. I cannot believe that you dare deny it now in your position, if you really did.”The convict looked immensely relieved, and burst into tears afresh, and it was some time before he was able to proceed. He next abruptly said—“Now, Mr. Littlewood, about the Bannercross murder. I want first to say solemnly before you in the sight of these men, and in the hearing of God, that several witnesses grossly perjured themselves. Brassington and Mrs. Padmore were two. They have grossly perjured themselves, but I freely and fully forgive them, and hope to meet them in Heaven. You may ask me what their perjury was. Well, they swore that they heard me threaten Mrs. Dyson. That was a lie. I call God to witness that I never did threaten Mrs. Dyson. I tell you, sir, that Mrs. Dyson and I were on such intimate terms that I could not have done so. It would not have suited my purpose to have quarrelled with or threatened Mrs. Dyson.”Here the convict made use of language expressive of his familiarities with Mrs. Dyson which we cannot reproduce in print, but, if true, confirms all that has been alleged on that delicate subject. Without another word he then burst out:“And now about Whalley Range.”Mr. Littlewood was a little anxious to keep him on the Bannercross murder for a little time, but Peace would have his own way, and he went on.“I was in Manchester in 1876, and I was there to ‘work’ some house. I went to a place called Whalley Range. I had ‘spotted’ a house there which I thought I could get into without much trouble. I was always respectably dressed. I made a point of dressing respectably because I knew the police never think of suspecting one who appears in good clothes.“In this way I have thrown the police off their guard many a time. I walked through the streets of Manchester, and occasionally went between policemen who were all the time exercising their brains as to the burglar who had ‘done’ some houses there. On my way to the house that night I passed two policemen on the road. I may tell you I did not go to any house by accident.“I always went some days, sometimes weeks, before, carefully examining all the surroundings, and then, having ‘spotted’ a likely house, I studied the neighbourhood, both as to the means of getting in and as to getting away. There were some grounds about that house, and my object was to get into these grounds in the dark, and wait a convenient time for getting into the house.“I missed the policemen, and for a moment I thought they had not suspected me, and had not come my way. I must have been mistaken. I walked into the grounds through the gate, and before I was able to begin to ‘work’ I heard a rustling and a step behind me. Looking back I saw a policeman, whose figure was the same as one of the two I passed on the road, coming into the grounds. He had evidently seen me, urned back and followed.“I saw I could do no work that night, and then doubled to elude him. For a moment I succeeded, and taking a favourable chance, I endeavoured to make my escape. As quickly as I could I jumped on the wall, and as I was dropping down, and had cleared the premises, I almost fell into the arms of a second policeman, who must have been planted in the expectation that I would escape that way.“This policeman—I did not know his name—made a grab at me. My blood was up, because I was nettled that I had been disturbed, having ‘spotted’ that house for a long time and determined to do it—so I told him, ‘You stand back, or I’ll shoot you.’ He didn’t stand back, but came on, and I stepped back a few yards and fired wide at him purposely to frighten him that I might get away.“And now, sir, I want to tell you, and I want you to believe me, that I always made it a rule during the whole of my career never to take life if I could avoid it.”The convict said this very earnestly, and looked at Mr. Littlewood as if he expected a further reassurance of his faith in him on that score.“Yes, sir,” he repeated, “whether you believe me or not, I never wanted to take human life. I never wanted to murder anybody. I only wanted to do what I came to do and get away, but it does seem odd, after all, that in the end I should have to be hanged for having taken life—the very thing I always endeavoured to avoid. I have never willingly or knowingly hurt a living creature. I would not even hurt an animal, much less a man.“That is why I tell you, sir, that I fired wide on him, but the policeman, like most Manchester policemen, was a determined man. They are a very obstinate lot, these Manchester policemen. He was no doubt as determined as I was myself, and you know that when I am put to it I can do that which very few men can do.“After I fired wide at him—and it was all the work of a few moments, sir—I noticed that he had seized his staff, which was in his pocket, and was rushing at me and about to strike me. I saw I had no time to lose if I wanted to get away at all that night. I then fired the second time, and I assure you again that then I had no intention of killing him.“All I wanted to do was to disable the arm which carried the staff, and in order that I might get away. But instead of that he came on to seize me, and we had a scuffle together. I could not take as careful an aim as I would have done, and the bullet missed the arm, struck him in the breast, and he fell. I know no more. I got away, which was all I wanted.”Peace then rested for a little, and afterwards proceeded.“I left Manchester and went to Hull. Some time afterwards I saw it announced in the papers that certain men had been taken into custody for the murder of this policeman. This greatly interested me. I always had a liking to be present at trials, as the public no doubt know by this time, and I determined to be present at this trial.“I left Hull for Manchester, not telling my family where I had gone, and attended the assizes at Manchester for two days, and heard the youngest of the brothers, as I was told they were, sentenced to death. The sentence was afterwards commuted to penal servitude for life.“Now, sir, some people will say that I was a hardened wretch for allowing an innocent man to suffer for my guilt, for the crime of which I was guilty, but what man would have given himself up under such circumstances, knowing as I did that I should certainly be hanged for the crime?“But now that I am going to forfeit my own life, and feel that I have nothing to gain by further secrecy, I think it is right in the sight of God and man to clear this young man, who is entirely innocent of the crime.“That man was sentenced to death the day before I shot Mr. Dyson. I did not intend—I really did not intend—to kill this policeman, but only to disable him, and then to get away myself, and I call God to witness that his life was taken by me unintentionally.“I came to Sheffield the night after the trial, and went to Bannercross in the evening. There is a low wall at the back of the house where the Dysons lived, which is one of the houses in the terrace called Bannercross-terrace.“I wanted to see Mrs. Dyson. I stood on the low wall at the back of the house. I knew the house very well, both front and back, and I knew that the bedroom was to the back.“While I was standing I noticed a light in the bedroom. The blind was up, and I could see plainly Mrs. Dyson carrying a candle and moving about the room.“I watched her for some time, and I then saw that she was putting her boy to bed. I then ‘flipped my fingers’—and the convict imitated the action to Mr. Littlewood—and gave a sort of subdued whistle to attract the attention of Mrs. Dyson, as I had often done before at other places.“I had not long to wait. Mrs. Dyson came downstairs—she had evidently heard the signal, and knew I was there—and in response to my call she came out and passed out to the closet. I then got down off the wall into the yard, and went towards the closet.“I was with her there some time. You may ask what I wanted to do with her there. Well, I did not want to do what people think. I went simply for the purpose of begging her to induce her husband to withdraw the warrant which had been issued against me.“I was tired of being hunted about, not being able to go and come as I liked. I only wanted the warrant withdrawn. That was my only object, and if I had got that done I should have gone away again.“Mrs. Dyson became very noisy and defiant, used fearful language and threats against me, and I got angry. Taking my revolver out of my pocket, I held it up in her face, and said, ‘Now, you be careful what you are saying to me. You know me of old, and know what I can do. You know that I am not a man to be talked to in that way. If there is one man who will not be trifled with by you or anybody else, it is Charles Peace.’“She did not take warning, but continued to use threats against, me, and angered me. I tried to keep as cool as I could. While these loud and angry words were going on Mr. Dyson hastily made his appearance. As soon as I saw Mr. Dyson I immediately started down the passage which leads to the main road. I was not sharp enough.“Mr. Dyson seized me before I could get past him. I told him to stand back and let me go, but he did not, and I then fired one barrel of my revolver wide at him to frighten him, expecting that he would then loose me and that I should get off. I assure you I purposely fired wide.“I was so near to him I could have shot him dead at the first shot, but I purposely fired wide and the bullet hit the gable end of the house. Mr. Dyson kept his hold of me, struggled with me, and at last was about to get the better of me. He got hold of the arm to which I had strapped my revolver, which I always did, and I then knew I had not a moment to spare.“I made a desperate effort, wrenched the arm from him, and fired again.“It was a life and death struggle, Mr. Littlewood, but even then I did not intend to shoot Mr. Dyson. This you must remember—my blood was up. I had been angry at what that woman had said to me.“I had only come to ask that which I thought I should get, and I would have gone away and not troubled them again; but, then, with Mr. Dyson struggling with me, and having fired off one shot, I knew if I was captured it would mean transportation for life.“That made me determined to get off somehow. I fired again, as I told you, but with no intention of killing him. I saw Dyson fall. I did not know where he was hit, nor had any idea that it was such a wound as would prove fatal.“All that was in my head at the time was to get away, and if he had not so obstinately prevented me I should have got away.“I assure you, sir, that I never did intend, either there or anywhere else, to take a man’s life; but I was determined that I should not be caught at that time, as the result, knowing what I had done before, would have been worse even than had I stayed under the warrant.“After firing the first shot I knew then how serious it was; and, whatever was sworn to at the trial, I tell you that we had a scuffle, that it was a life and death struggle, and for a time Dyson had the best of it.“With my revolver I could have shot him dead at the first, but I did not do so, and when I next fired I could not calculate my aim owing to the excitement. If I had been able to do so I should simply have disabled him and got away.“After Dyson fell I rushed into the middle of the road, and stood there for some moments. I hesitated as to what I should do. I felt disposed at first to go back and assist Dyson up, not thinking that he was wounded fatally; but I was labouring under great agitation, a number of people were gathering about. I heard them moving and rushing, and at last I decided to fly.“I jumped over the wall on the other side of the road, and as I did so a packet of letters fell from my pocket just as I was jumping down over the fence.“It is not true that I deliberately left these letters as a plot against Mrs. Dyson.“They fell from my pocket. It is not likely that I should leave any letters about to show where I had gone.“I call God to witness, sir, that I did not kill Mr. Dyson intentionally, and I most solemnly swear that in shooting at him I did not intend to murder him.“Mrs. Dyson committed the grossest perjury in saying that no struggle between Dyson and myself took place. There was a fearful struggle, and she saw it.“I want to be assured, Mr. Littlewood, that you really believe what I say. I tell you that if anyone thinks he will see that I never intended murder when I went to Bannercross.“If I had meant to murder Mr. and Mrs. Dyson, or either of them, I knew the place well enough. All I had got to do was to go to the door, walk in, and shoot them both as they were sitting.“And do you think, sir, if I had gone there to murder Dyson, that I should have allowed myself to be seen by so many persons? No, I would have gone about it in another way altogether.“Of course I took Mr. Dyson’s life as it turned out, but I did not go there with the intention of doing it.“It was as unintentional a thing as ever was done, and it would not have been done if it had not been that I was interrupted in trying to get Mrs. Dyson to speak to her husband to withdraw that warrant, and if Mr. Dyson had not been so determined to get me into trouble and to prevent me getting away.“Now, sir, will you tell me your candid opinion of Mrs. Dyson? I know what they say, but I would like to know what you think of her.”TheRev.Mr. Littlewood was not much disposed to state to the convict, as probably he would be to anyone, his candid opinion of Mrs. Dyson, but Peace insisted, and after a good deal of wavering and hesitation Mr. Littlewood answered him. His answer, of course, has nothing to do with this story.Peace seemed slightly assured after hearing what Mr. Littlewood had said, and a little later, after resting himself, he added:“During my life I have never once attempted to take life wilfully. I did not mean to take the life either of the Manchester policeman or of Mr. Dyson. Instead of taking life my object has been to save life.“I have fired many a hundred barrels at people to frighten them, and I did succeed in frightening them, and in getting away after I had done what I came to do.“Where they have lost their lives has been when they have roused me, struggled with me, and prevented me getting away, and even then it has been in a scuffle and never intentionally. Of course I have used threats that I would shoot them, but that was only meant to frighten them also.“My great mistake, sir, and I can see it now as my end approaches, has been this—in all my career I have used ball cartridge. I can now see that in using ball cartridge I did wrong. I ought to have used blank cartridge; then I would not have taken life.“If I had been captured after firing with blank cartridge in the face of anyone, I should have been able to say when I was taken that it was blank cartridge, and the worst thing that could have been done to me would only have been penal servitude. If I had to do it again I should not use ball cartridge.“Now, sir, I am very anxious that this man who was committed at Manchester should be set at liberty, for God knows that he is innocent; and in order to prove that I took that man’s life I want to tell you something.“If they will take the bullet which they extracted from his body and examine it and weigh it they will find it was such a one as I was in the habit of using, and would fit my revolver.“I shot him with the same revolver that I shot Mr. Dyson. In both Dyson’s and the Manchester case one reason why fatal wounds were inflicted was, I tell you, because of the struggle, not knowing exactly what I did or the way the bullet would go. My revolver is a peculiar one.”Peace proceeded to describe technically as to its being a self-acting needle revolver, but Mr. Littlewood did not follow him so closely as to be able to reproduce his description. He gave Mr. Littlewood to understand that the revolver being self-acting he had no control over it after the first shot.“I have drawn plans,” continued Peace, “showing the place where the murder was done. I have furnished all the full particulars I have remembered. All this I have done in order that I may clear this innocent man, and unburden my own conscience of the crime before I go to the scaffold, when it will be too late. These plans and particulars I have handed to the governor, and he has told me that he has forwarded it to the Home Secretary.”“What was your object, said Mr. Littlewood, “in telling me all about this murder?”“Well, sir,” said Peace, “I want you to be an additional witness to my confession that I am now making to you that I did commit it.”“Do you want me to take any steps in the matter to bring this man’s innocence out?”“No,” replied Peace, “not necessarily. But the fact of my having given this statement to you may be of some service to the young man when I am done with. And now, sir, after my poor body is done with I want to be entirely forgotten by everybody; and after my execution I hope my name will never again be mentioned.”“I also beg that you will use your influence in Darnall in preventing the people from persecuting the dear members of my family. They could not help anything I have done. They could not prevent it. They had not the slightest control over me in any possible way. They have no more to do with all my crimes than the greatest stranger in the land.“Give my kind remembrances to the different people in Darnall whom I knew. Say to them, sir, that I hope they will be warned by my fate. Wish them good-bye, and tell them that Charles Peace, bad as he is, has still the hope that all of us may meet again in heaven.“I hope God will give me strength to go like a hero to the scaffold. I do not say this, sir, in any sort of bravado. I do not mean a hero such as some persons will understand when they read this. I mean such a hero as my God might wish me to be. I feel sensible of my position. I feel penitent for all my crimes. I feel in speaking to you that one foot is on the scaffold, and I tell you, sir, before God and before men, that I am deeply grieved for all I have done. I would atone for it to the utmost of my power, and I shall endeavour to die bravely.”A long pause took place. Peace seemed somewhat exhausted, and looked wearied, worn, and anxious.Mr. Littlewood then touched him upon a very delicate subject which he had determined to broach before he left Darnall. This was on the point of disclosing the names of the receivers who had taken his goods.“I want you,” he said to the convict, “to do me one favour. Will you grant it?”“I will grant it if I can,” replied Peace.“Well,” said Mr. Littlewood, “in the first place, I want you to be submissive and prepared for your great change. You say that you will do anything you can to atone to those you have wronged, and to make reparation for your wasted life.”“I do say so,” said Peace; “I am most anxious to do so.”“Well,” said Mr. Littlewood, “I can’t point you out a way in which you can atone in a great measure to society for what you have done. Your disclosure about the Manchester murder is an act of justice, but there is a wider act due to society upon whom you have preyed. It is due to society still further that you reveal the names of those who have received your stolen goods.“I have no hesitation in saying that such a disclosure would be greatly to your benefit in the sight of God. You could either make it to me or to anyone you think proper, but it is only your due to society to do it, and you have the best reason in the world for doing it, for you may attribute your present position in a great measure to those persons who have been in the habit of receiving your plunder.”Mr. Littlewood proceeded, “You know you would not have stolen sealskin jackets, silver plate, gold watches, diamond rings, and all those other things if you had not been able to dispose of them. They would have been really of no value to you unless you could have turned them into money. You committed a great injustice to society, and now I ask you to do an act of justice to society, and I ask you to do it as well for your own sake.”“Well, but you see, sir,” replied Peace, with great emphasis, “I have always been a man, and I mean to be a man to the end. You know, sir, the public generally look on this kind of thing in the same light as you do. It is quite a mistake. I suppose you mean to say, sir, that if there were no receivers there would be no stealers?”“Yes,” said Mr. Littlewood; “that is what I say and what I think.”“Well, then,” replied Peace, “I assure you, sir, that the impression is wrong. Supposing I have taken rings, containing diamonds or other brilliants, directly I have got them in my possession I have taken the gems from the gold, and then no one can swear to them in any court of justice.“I always did that quickly. I sometimes did it on the night I got possession of the plunder, and before I went to bed. Then I had a crucible in which I melted down the gold and silver into small ingots, and disposed of them by simple weight.”No.96.Illust: MEMORIALS OF WHALLEY RANGE MURDERMEMORIALS OF THE WHALLEY RANGE MURDER, DRAWN BY PEACE IN PRISON.“Well, but, Peace,” said Mr. Littlewood, “it seems to me your reply is not a sufficient reason for refusing to give up the names of the receivers of stolen property. If you would do so it would raise you considerably in the estimation of all respectable citizens, and confer an incalculable boon upon this country.”Peace made no response, and Mr. Littlewood continued: “You know, what you say about diamonds and gold and silver may be all true. I don’t dispute with you on that point, but you could not melt down sealskin jackets and things of that kind.”Peace still refused to make any response, and the subject eventually had to be dropped, as he seemed determined on the point.[The reason Peace did not give the names may be stated here. His property was believed to be in the hands of receivers, and the law of felon’s property is now altered. At one time when a felon was hanged all his property was forfeited to the Crown. The law has since taken a more merciful view of the convict’s family, and permits the felon to will his property as he pleases. Of course there will no doubt be certain restrictions in the event of the property being identified as the proceeds of burglaries, but a person of Peace’s habits would take care that his most valuable property was promptly realised and placed where it could be obtained. It is therefore more than probable that the reason we have stated is the correct explanation—that in the event of his disclosing the names of the receivers they would have cleared out and carried away all the booty, so that the family whom Peace seems disposed to benefit at the last would have received nothing.]Passing from this subject Peace said to Mr. Littlewood, “Now, sir, may I ask you a favour?”“Yes,” said Mr. Littlewood, “you may.”“I want you, sir, to preach a special sermon over my case, but I do not want it to be preached till after my execution. I want you to hold me up to the people of Darnall and to the world—to hold me and my career up as a beacon, that all who see may avoid my example. I want all who have known me to have me stated exactly as I am, that in the end my death may not be altogether without service to society.“You know, sir, that the public of Darnall have nothing to say against me. They will certify to this fact—that I was respected by them. And they had no reason to think otherwise. I never did any of them any harm all the time I was there.”Mr. Littlewood told him that he could not quite see his way to preach a special sermon about his case, particularly as he had already expressed the wish that after he was executed his name should never be mentioned, but Peace held to this point. Eventually, however, Mr. Littlewood was enabled to pass on to some other subject.“Now, sir,” continued Peace, “I think I have told you all I have to say, and I want before you go that you should do me another thing. I should like you to hear me pray.”Mr. Littlewood assented, and Peace, turning to the warders, desired them to help him out of his chair that he might kneel down by his bedside. He also commanded them to kneel down. Mr. Littlewood also knelt close to the grating.The convict then commenced a long and earnest prayer of nearly twenty minutes’ duration. He prayed with great fervency and fluency. First of all he prayed for himself, and asked God for Christ’s sake to blot out all his trangressions, and implored that his sins might be washed away in the blood of Jesus, and invoked the Holy Spirit to cleanse and purify his heart.He referred to each member of his family, and prayed for them with equal earnestness.From thence he went on to pray for those whom he had wronged, and interjected there a special prayer for Mr. Littlewood and his family, whom he hoped God would greatly bless and prosper.He then prayed for society generally, all classes of the community, and one special part of his prayer powerfully impressed his hearers.In a lower tone of voice and with subdued earnestness he prayed most devoutly for those two poor souls he had launched into eternity without any warning or any time to be prepared for their great change.He prayed that he might meet them before God, and that God would forgive him for such a wicked act, that they might meet in His presence, and he obtain full forgiveness for his crimes, and that thus meeting and recognising each other they might forgive and forget all that had happened on earth, and enjoy the fulness of God’s presence for evermore.Before Mr. Littlewood left Peace said, “I could like to ask you one thing, sir. Do you think it would be necessary for my own welfare that I should see Mrs. Dyson personally, and ask her forgiveness for shooting her husband?”Mr. Littlewood had understood that Mrs. Dyson had gone away, although she really did not leave till the next day, and he told the convict that Mrs. Dyson had left, adding—“What you want, Peace, above all things, is the forgiveness not of any human being, but the forgiveness of your Maker; and to that, with my last words to you, I want to direct your attention.”The convict looked perfectly satisfied, and asked Mr. Littlewood to engage in prayer, which he did Mr. Littlewood’s prayer was frequently interrupted by fervent responses on the part of Peace.“Oh, God,” he cried, “answer this prayer! Have mercy upon me.” And he cried and sobbed incessantly.Though his face was buried in the bed-clothes, the sound of his sobbing was painful to hear, while his whole body quivered with emotion.The scene was most affecting, and can never be forgotten by Mr. Littlewood or the warders who were present.On rising from his knees Mr. Littlewood asked for a Bible and Prayer Book, which were handed to him by the warders.Mr. Littlewood reminded Peace that the day of his execution would be Shrove Tuesday, and the day following that Ash Wednesday, the first day in Lent. He pointed out the peculiar appropriateness of various passages in the Prayer Book, particularly the well-known words of the Communion Service commencing “Let us therefore return unto Him who is the merciful receiver of all true penitent sinners, assuring ourselves that He is ready to receive us, and most willing to pardon us, if we come unto Him with faithful repentance, if we submit ourselves unto Him,”&c.He also directed his attention to the introductory sentences of morning and evening prayer, the Confession and the Absolution, as well as the seven Penitential Psalms, the beautiful words of which might almost have been written to meet the case of a great sinner like the condemned criminal crouching behind his prison bars.The convict seemed pleased at Mr. Littlewood’s attention, and glad to have anything to occupy his mind. He asked the reverend gentleman to turn the leaves down at these passages that he might ponder over them in his cell.As Mr. Littlewood was preparing to leave, Peace, with tears in his eyes, said, “I suppose, sir, we shall never meet again in this world. I pray God to bless you, and all your family, and I pray we may meet again in heaven.”Then taking the left hand of the warder, who, at the same time, took Mr. Littlewood’s right hand, the two parted, the visitor leaving the cell deeply affected by the interview, while the miserable being he had left was lifted wearily back into his bed, where he turned his face to the wall and wept.
TheSheffield Daily Telegraphgave the following as the full text of Peace’s confessions to theRev.Dr. Littlewood, vicar of Darnall:—
When Mr. Littlewood entered the cell he saluted the convict according to the custom he followed when he was chaplain at Wakefield Prison—“Well, my old friend Peace, how are you to-day?”
Peace looked up at him with a wistful glance, and replied, “I am only very poorly, sir,” and then, after averting his face, as if to hide the emotion upon it, he turned round and added, “but I am exceedingly pleased to see you.” Mr. Littlewood said, “I should have been much more gratified, Peace, to have visited you under different circumstances. This is a very sad errand for me to have to attend upon you in such an awful position.”
The convict shook his head and slightly moaned. “But I assure you,” added Mr. Littlewood “that there is at least one person in the world who has deep sympathy with you.”
Peace seemed a little surprised at this, and after some hesitation he asked, as Mr. Littlewood paused, “Who is that?” Mr. Littlewood looked at him intently, and as their eyes met for a moment he added, “It is myself.”
Peace seemed overpowered, muttered the words “I deeply thank you,” and burst into tears. He remained sobbing for a considerable time, his body quivering, his lips moving as if he was muttering something, and altogether he appeared remarkably moved.
That remark, Mr. Littlewood says, made the criminal as humble as a child.
“I wanted to see you,” said Peace after a few moments, to unburden my mind to you. I know I am about to die, and I want to take from my conscience some things which weigh heavy upon it, but before I begin I want to ask you—do you believe I am anxious to speak the truth, and nothing but the truth?” He paused for a minute, and Mr. Littlewood also waited.
Peace then resumed: “I know, sir, I am about to meet my God. I know that He will hear all that I now say in my cell, and that He will require me to give an account not only of what I have done, but of what I am now telling you. Do you believe me?”
Mr. Littlewood intimated that he would, but Peace did not seem satisfied with this, and pressing his face as close to the grating as he could, he said earnestly, “I do assure you, sir, I want to utter nothing but the truth and the whole truth in everything I say.”
The convict paused again, and repeated the question in a firmer tone, as if he was determined not to proceed until he was assured that Mr. Littlewood had thorough confidence that he desired to speak the truth.
Mr. Littlewood looked at him carefully, observed his manner very closely, and states that from his experience as a prison chaplain in Wakefield, having had to do with criminals of the deepest dye for many years, his own conviction was that the convict really was in earnest, and as sincere as any man could be.
Peace waited during all this trying time until Mr. Littlewood at last said, “Yes, Peace, I believe you are sincere, and desire to speak the truth. No matter how bad you are or have been, I cannot conceive it possible that any human being in your terrible position could deliberately lie and confirm those lies, knowing that your Creator and Judge is conscious of all you say, and that you will have to give an account of all you utter.”
Peace seemed relieved at what Mr. Littlewood said, and after waiting a little he said, “You know, sir, I have nothing to gain and nothing to lose in my present position. I know I shall be hanged next Tuesday. I desire to be hanged. I do not want to linger out my life in penal servitude. I would rather end my days on Tuesday than have that dreadful looking forward to all those years, but I do want as far as I can to atone in some measure for the past by telling all I know to some one in whom I have confidence,” and he added, looking up earnestly into Mr. Littlewood’s eyes, “I have perfect confidence in you.”
Proceeding, Peace said, “I am exceeding grieved and repentant for all my past life, and if I could only undo anything I have done, or make amends for it in any possible way I would”—and he spoke very firmly, “I would suffer my body as I now stand to be cut in pieces inch by inch.” He then turned again to Mr. Littlewood, evidently to see what effect his words had upon him, and as therev.gentleman made no response he asked him again, sharply and firmly, but yet somewhat pleadingly, “Do you really think, sir, I am speaking the truth?”
Mr. Littlewood again assured him that he believed him, and then Peace continued, in lower and mournful tones: “I feel, sir,” and he raised his hands wearily, “I feel, sir, that I am too bad either to live or to die, and having this feeling I cannot think that either you or anyone else will believe me, and that is the reason why I ask you so much to try and be assured that you do not think I am telling lies. I call my God to witness that all I am saying and wish to say shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
Mr. Littlewood says that at this moment Peace talked with all the earnestness of a judge, and repeated these words with a deliberate solemnity which greatly impressed him. As he spoke he turned not only to Mr. Littlewood, but motioned also towards the warders, as if he were invoking God in the presence of them as witnesses. He was not at all excited, but spoke most rationally and coherently.
“Well, now, sir,” said Peace, evidently reassured by Mr. Littlewood’s belief in him, “in the first place I understand that you have still the impression that I stole the clock from your day-schools.” He waited for an answer.
“Well,” said Mr. Littlewood, “I have that impression.”
“I thought you had,” replied Peace, “and this has caused me much grief and pain, for I can assure you I have so much respect for you personally that I would rather have given you a clock, and much more besides, than have taken it.” Then he added, “At the time your clock was stolen I had reason for suspecting that it was taken by some colliers whom I knew.”
Peace stopped again. Mr. Littlewood thought he was going to mention the names of the colliers, but he did not, and as therev.gentleman was not disposed to follow that subject up, thinking it was too trifling compared with the others that were to follow, it was about to be dropped, when the convict turned to him again sharply, and earnestly asked, “Do you now believe that I have spoken the truth in denying that I took your clock, and will you leave me to-day, fully believing that I am innocent of doing that?”
Mr. Littlewood looked at him again, to confirm his own conclusion, and paused for some few moments, as if deliberating what he should reply.
The convict watched him keenly all the time, and seemed rather uneasy at the answer about to be made, but in the end Mr. Littlewood said, “Peace, I am convinced that you did not take the clock. I cannot believe that you dare deny it now in your position, if you really did.”
The convict looked immensely relieved, and burst into tears afresh, and it was some time before he was able to proceed. He next abruptly said—
“Now, Mr. Littlewood, about the Bannercross murder. I want first to say solemnly before you in the sight of these men, and in the hearing of God, that several witnesses grossly perjured themselves. Brassington and Mrs. Padmore were two. They have grossly perjured themselves, but I freely and fully forgive them, and hope to meet them in Heaven. You may ask me what their perjury was. Well, they swore that they heard me threaten Mrs. Dyson. That was a lie. I call God to witness that I never did threaten Mrs. Dyson. I tell you, sir, that Mrs. Dyson and I were on such intimate terms that I could not have done so. It would not have suited my purpose to have quarrelled with or threatened Mrs. Dyson.”
Here the convict made use of language expressive of his familiarities with Mrs. Dyson which we cannot reproduce in print, but, if true, confirms all that has been alleged on that delicate subject. Without another word he then burst out:
“And now about Whalley Range.”
Mr. Littlewood was a little anxious to keep him on the Bannercross murder for a little time, but Peace would have his own way, and he went on.
“I was in Manchester in 1876, and I was there to ‘work’ some house. I went to a place called Whalley Range. I had ‘spotted’ a house there which I thought I could get into without much trouble. I was always respectably dressed. I made a point of dressing respectably because I knew the police never think of suspecting one who appears in good clothes.
“In this way I have thrown the police off their guard many a time. I walked through the streets of Manchester, and occasionally went between policemen who were all the time exercising their brains as to the burglar who had ‘done’ some houses there. On my way to the house that night I passed two policemen on the road. I may tell you I did not go to any house by accident.
“I always went some days, sometimes weeks, before, carefully examining all the surroundings, and then, having ‘spotted’ a likely house, I studied the neighbourhood, both as to the means of getting in and as to getting away. There were some grounds about that house, and my object was to get into these grounds in the dark, and wait a convenient time for getting into the house.
“I missed the policemen, and for a moment I thought they had not suspected me, and had not come my way. I must have been mistaken. I walked into the grounds through the gate, and before I was able to begin to ‘work’ I heard a rustling and a step behind me. Looking back I saw a policeman, whose figure was the same as one of the two I passed on the road, coming into the grounds. He had evidently seen me, urned back and followed.
“I saw I could do no work that night, and then doubled to elude him. For a moment I succeeded, and taking a favourable chance, I endeavoured to make my escape. As quickly as I could I jumped on the wall, and as I was dropping down, and had cleared the premises, I almost fell into the arms of a second policeman, who must have been planted in the expectation that I would escape that way.
“This policeman—I did not know his name—made a grab at me. My blood was up, because I was nettled that I had been disturbed, having ‘spotted’ that house for a long time and determined to do it—so I told him, ‘You stand back, or I’ll shoot you.’ He didn’t stand back, but came on, and I stepped back a few yards and fired wide at him purposely to frighten him that I might get away.
“And now, sir, I want to tell you, and I want you to believe me, that I always made it a rule during the whole of my career never to take life if I could avoid it.”
The convict said this very earnestly, and looked at Mr. Littlewood as if he expected a further reassurance of his faith in him on that score.
“Yes, sir,” he repeated, “whether you believe me or not, I never wanted to take human life. I never wanted to murder anybody. I only wanted to do what I came to do and get away, but it does seem odd, after all, that in the end I should have to be hanged for having taken life—the very thing I always endeavoured to avoid. I have never willingly or knowingly hurt a living creature. I would not even hurt an animal, much less a man.
“That is why I tell you, sir, that I fired wide on him, but the policeman, like most Manchester policemen, was a determined man. They are a very obstinate lot, these Manchester policemen. He was no doubt as determined as I was myself, and you know that when I am put to it I can do that which very few men can do.
“After I fired wide at him—and it was all the work of a few moments, sir—I noticed that he had seized his staff, which was in his pocket, and was rushing at me and about to strike me. I saw I had no time to lose if I wanted to get away at all that night. I then fired the second time, and I assure you again that then I had no intention of killing him.
“All I wanted to do was to disable the arm which carried the staff, and in order that I might get away. But instead of that he came on to seize me, and we had a scuffle together. I could not take as careful an aim as I would have done, and the bullet missed the arm, struck him in the breast, and he fell. I know no more. I got away, which was all I wanted.”
Peace then rested for a little, and afterwards proceeded.
“I left Manchester and went to Hull. Some time afterwards I saw it announced in the papers that certain men had been taken into custody for the murder of this policeman. This greatly interested me. I always had a liking to be present at trials, as the public no doubt know by this time, and I determined to be present at this trial.
“I left Hull for Manchester, not telling my family where I had gone, and attended the assizes at Manchester for two days, and heard the youngest of the brothers, as I was told they were, sentenced to death. The sentence was afterwards commuted to penal servitude for life.
“Now, sir, some people will say that I was a hardened wretch for allowing an innocent man to suffer for my guilt, for the crime of which I was guilty, but what man would have given himself up under such circumstances, knowing as I did that I should certainly be hanged for the crime?
“But now that I am going to forfeit my own life, and feel that I have nothing to gain by further secrecy, I think it is right in the sight of God and man to clear this young man, who is entirely innocent of the crime.
“That man was sentenced to death the day before I shot Mr. Dyson. I did not intend—I really did not intend—to kill this policeman, but only to disable him, and then to get away myself, and I call God to witness that his life was taken by me unintentionally.
“I came to Sheffield the night after the trial, and went to Bannercross in the evening. There is a low wall at the back of the house where the Dysons lived, which is one of the houses in the terrace called Bannercross-terrace.
“I wanted to see Mrs. Dyson. I stood on the low wall at the back of the house. I knew the house very well, both front and back, and I knew that the bedroom was to the back.
“While I was standing I noticed a light in the bedroom. The blind was up, and I could see plainly Mrs. Dyson carrying a candle and moving about the room.
“I watched her for some time, and I then saw that she was putting her boy to bed. I then ‘flipped my fingers’—and the convict imitated the action to Mr. Littlewood—and gave a sort of subdued whistle to attract the attention of Mrs. Dyson, as I had often done before at other places.
“I had not long to wait. Mrs. Dyson came downstairs—she had evidently heard the signal, and knew I was there—and in response to my call she came out and passed out to the closet. I then got down off the wall into the yard, and went towards the closet.
“I was with her there some time. You may ask what I wanted to do with her there. Well, I did not want to do what people think. I went simply for the purpose of begging her to induce her husband to withdraw the warrant which had been issued against me.
“I was tired of being hunted about, not being able to go and come as I liked. I only wanted the warrant withdrawn. That was my only object, and if I had got that done I should have gone away again.
“Mrs. Dyson became very noisy and defiant, used fearful language and threats against me, and I got angry. Taking my revolver out of my pocket, I held it up in her face, and said, ‘Now, you be careful what you are saying to me. You know me of old, and know what I can do. You know that I am not a man to be talked to in that way. If there is one man who will not be trifled with by you or anybody else, it is Charles Peace.’
“She did not take warning, but continued to use threats against, me, and angered me. I tried to keep as cool as I could. While these loud and angry words were going on Mr. Dyson hastily made his appearance. As soon as I saw Mr. Dyson I immediately started down the passage which leads to the main road. I was not sharp enough.
“Mr. Dyson seized me before I could get past him. I told him to stand back and let me go, but he did not, and I then fired one barrel of my revolver wide at him to frighten him, expecting that he would then loose me and that I should get off. I assure you I purposely fired wide.
“I was so near to him I could have shot him dead at the first shot, but I purposely fired wide and the bullet hit the gable end of the house. Mr. Dyson kept his hold of me, struggled with me, and at last was about to get the better of me. He got hold of the arm to which I had strapped my revolver, which I always did, and I then knew I had not a moment to spare.
“I made a desperate effort, wrenched the arm from him, and fired again.
“It was a life and death struggle, Mr. Littlewood, but even then I did not intend to shoot Mr. Dyson. This you must remember—my blood was up. I had been angry at what that woman had said to me.
“I had only come to ask that which I thought I should get, and I would have gone away and not troubled them again; but, then, with Mr. Dyson struggling with me, and having fired off one shot, I knew if I was captured it would mean transportation for life.
“That made me determined to get off somehow. I fired again, as I told you, but with no intention of killing him. I saw Dyson fall. I did not know where he was hit, nor had any idea that it was such a wound as would prove fatal.
“All that was in my head at the time was to get away, and if he had not so obstinately prevented me I should have got away.
“I assure you, sir, that I never did intend, either there or anywhere else, to take a man’s life; but I was determined that I should not be caught at that time, as the result, knowing what I had done before, would have been worse even than had I stayed under the warrant.
“After firing the first shot I knew then how serious it was; and, whatever was sworn to at the trial, I tell you that we had a scuffle, that it was a life and death struggle, and for a time Dyson had the best of it.
“With my revolver I could have shot him dead at the first, but I did not do so, and when I next fired I could not calculate my aim owing to the excitement. If I had been able to do so I should simply have disabled him and got away.
“After Dyson fell I rushed into the middle of the road, and stood there for some moments. I hesitated as to what I should do. I felt disposed at first to go back and assist Dyson up, not thinking that he was wounded fatally; but I was labouring under great agitation, a number of people were gathering about. I heard them moving and rushing, and at last I decided to fly.
“I jumped over the wall on the other side of the road, and as I did so a packet of letters fell from my pocket just as I was jumping down over the fence.
“It is not true that I deliberately left these letters as a plot against Mrs. Dyson.
“They fell from my pocket. It is not likely that I should leave any letters about to show where I had gone.
“I call God to witness, sir, that I did not kill Mr. Dyson intentionally, and I most solemnly swear that in shooting at him I did not intend to murder him.
“Mrs. Dyson committed the grossest perjury in saying that no struggle between Dyson and myself took place. There was a fearful struggle, and she saw it.
“I want to be assured, Mr. Littlewood, that you really believe what I say. I tell you that if anyone thinks he will see that I never intended murder when I went to Bannercross.
“If I had meant to murder Mr. and Mrs. Dyson, or either of them, I knew the place well enough. All I had got to do was to go to the door, walk in, and shoot them both as they were sitting.
“And do you think, sir, if I had gone there to murder Dyson, that I should have allowed myself to be seen by so many persons? No, I would have gone about it in another way altogether.
“Of course I took Mr. Dyson’s life as it turned out, but I did not go there with the intention of doing it.
“It was as unintentional a thing as ever was done, and it would not have been done if it had not been that I was interrupted in trying to get Mrs. Dyson to speak to her husband to withdraw that warrant, and if Mr. Dyson had not been so determined to get me into trouble and to prevent me getting away.
“Now, sir, will you tell me your candid opinion of Mrs. Dyson? I know what they say, but I would like to know what you think of her.”
TheRev.Mr. Littlewood was not much disposed to state to the convict, as probably he would be to anyone, his candid opinion of Mrs. Dyson, but Peace insisted, and after a good deal of wavering and hesitation Mr. Littlewood answered him. His answer, of course, has nothing to do with this story.
Peace seemed slightly assured after hearing what Mr. Littlewood had said, and a little later, after resting himself, he added:
“During my life I have never once attempted to take life wilfully. I did not mean to take the life either of the Manchester policeman or of Mr. Dyson. Instead of taking life my object has been to save life.
“I have fired many a hundred barrels at people to frighten them, and I did succeed in frightening them, and in getting away after I had done what I came to do.
“Where they have lost their lives has been when they have roused me, struggled with me, and prevented me getting away, and even then it has been in a scuffle and never intentionally. Of course I have used threats that I would shoot them, but that was only meant to frighten them also.
“My great mistake, sir, and I can see it now as my end approaches, has been this—in all my career I have used ball cartridge. I can now see that in using ball cartridge I did wrong. I ought to have used blank cartridge; then I would not have taken life.
“If I had been captured after firing with blank cartridge in the face of anyone, I should have been able to say when I was taken that it was blank cartridge, and the worst thing that could have been done to me would only have been penal servitude. If I had to do it again I should not use ball cartridge.
“Now, sir, I am very anxious that this man who was committed at Manchester should be set at liberty, for God knows that he is innocent; and in order to prove that I took that man’s life I want to tell you something.
“If they will take the bullet which they extracted from his body and examine it and weigh it they will find it was such a one as I was in the habit of using, and would fit my revolver.
“I shot him with the same revolver that I shot Mr. Dyson. In both Dyson’s and the Manchester case one reason why fatal wounds were inflicted was, I tell you, because of the struggle, not knowing exactly what I did or the way the bullet would go. My revolver is a peculiar one.”
Peace proceeded to describe technically as to its being a self-acting needle revolver, but Mr. Littlewood did not follow him so closely as to be able to reproduce his description. He gave Mr. Littlewood to understand that the revolver being self-acting he had no control over it after the first shot.
“I have drawn plans,” continued Peace, “showing the place where the murder was done. I have furnished all the full particulars I have remembered. All this I have done in order that I may clear this innocent man, and unburden my own conscience of the crime before I go to the scaffold, when it will be too late. These plans and particulars I have handed to the governor, and he has told me that he has forwarded it to the Home Secretary.”
“What was your object, said Mr. Littlewood, “in telling me all about this murder?”
“Well, sir,” said Peace, “I want you to be an additional witness to my confession that I am now making to you that I did commit it.”
“Do you want me to take any steps in the matter to bring this man’s innocence out?”
“No,” replied Peace, “not necessarily. But the fact of my having given this statement to you may be of some service to the young man when I am done with. And now, sir, after my poor body is done with I want to be entirely forgotten by everybody; and after my execution I hope my name will never again be mentioned.”
“I also beg that you will use your influence in Darnall in preventing the people from persecuting the dear members of my family. They could not help anything I have done. They could not prevent it. They had not the slightest control over me in any possible way. They have no more to do with all my crimes than the greatest stranger in the land.
“Give my kind remembrances to the different people in Darnall whom I knew. Say to them, sir, that I hope they will be warned by my fate. Wish them good-bye, and tell them that Charles Peace, bad as he is, has still the hope that all of us may meet again in heaven.
“I hope God will give me strength to go like a hero to the scaffold. I do not say this, sir, in any sort of bravado. I do not mean a hero such as some persons will understand when they read this. I mean such a hero as my God might wish me to be. I feel sensible of my position. I feel penitent for all my crimes. I feel in speaking to you that one foot is on the scaffold, and I tell you, sir, before God and before men, that I am deeply grieved for all I have done. I would atone for it to the utmost of my power, and I shall endeavour to die bravely.”
A long pause took place. Peace seemed somewhat exhausted, and looked wearied, worn, and anxious.
Mr. Littlewood then touched him upon a very delicate subject which he had determined to broach before he left Darnall. This was on the point of disclosing the names of the receivers who had taken his goods.
“I want you,” he said to the convict, “to do me one favour. Will you grant it?”
“I will grant it if I can,” replied Peace.
“Well,” said Mr. Littlewood, “in the first place, I want you to be submissive and prepared for your great change. You say that you will do anything you can to atone to those you have wronged, and to make reparation for your wasted life.”
“I do say so,” said Peace; “I am most anxious to do so.”
“Well,” said Mr. Littlewood, “I can’t point you out a way in which you can atone in a great measure to society for what you have done. Your disclosure about the Manchester murder is an act of justice, but there is a wider act due to society upon whom you have preyed. It is due to society still further that you reveal the names of those who have received your stolen goods.
“I have no hesitation in saying that such a disclosure would be greatly to your benefit in the sight of God. You could either make it to me or to anyone you think proper, but it is only your due to society to do it, and you have the best reason in the world for doing it, for you may attribute your present position in a great measure to those persons who have been in the habit of receiving your plunder.”
Mr. Littlewood proceeded, “You know you would not have stolen sealskin jackets, silver plate, gold watches, diamond rings, and all those other things if you had not been able to dispose of them. They would have been really of no value to you unless you could have turned them into money. You committed a great injustice to society, and now I ask you to do an act of justice to society, and I ask you to do it as well for your own sake.”
“Well, but you see, sir,” replied Peace, with great emphasis, “I have always been a man, and I mean to be a man to the end. You know, sir, the public generally look on this kind of thing in the same light as you do. It is quite a mistake. I suppose you mean to say, sir, that if there were no receivers there would be no stealers?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Littlewood; “that is what I say and what I think.”
“Well, then,” replied Peace, “I assure you, sir, that the impression is wrong. Supposing I have taken rings, containing diamonds or other brilliants, directly I have got them in my possession I have taken the gems from the gold, and then no one can swear to them in any court of justice.
“I always did that quickly. I sometimes did it on the night I got possession of the plunder, and before I went to bed. Then I had a crucible in which I melted down the gold and silver into small ingots, and disposed of them by simple weight.”
No.96.
Illust: MEMORIALS OF WHALLEY RANGE MURDERMEMORIALS OF THE WHALLEY RANGE MURDER, DRAWN BY PEACE IN PRISON.
MEMORIALS OF THE WHALLEY RANGE MURDER, DRAWN BY PEACE IN PRISON.
“Well, but, Peace,” said Mr. Littlewood, “it seems to me your reply is not a sufficient reason for refusing to give up the names of the receivers of stolen property. If you would do so it would raise you considerably in the estimation of all respectable citizens, and confer an incalculable boon upon this country.”
Peace made no response, and Mr. Littlewood continued: “You know, what you say about diamonds and gold and silver may be all true. I don’t dispute with you on that point, but you could not melt down sealskin jackets and things of that kind.”
Peace still refused to make any response, and the subject eventually had to be dropped, as he seemed determined on the point.
[The reason Peace did not give the names may be stated here. His property was believed to be in the hands of receivers, and the law of felon’s property is now altered. At one time when a felon was hanged all his property was forfeited to the Crown. The law has since taken a more merciful view of the convict’s family, and permits the felon to will his property as he pleases. Of course there will no doubt be certain restrictions in the event of the property being identified as the proceeds of burglaries, but a person of Peace’s habits would take care that his most valuable property was promptly realised and placed where it could be obtained. It is therefore more than probable that the reason we have stated is the correct explanation—that in the event of his disclosing the names of the receivers they would have cleared out and carried away all the booty, so that the family whom Peace seems disposed to benefit at the last would have received nothing.]
Passing from this subject Peace said to Mr. Littlewood, “Now, sir, may I ask you a favour?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Littlewood, “you may.”
“I want you, sir, to preach a special sermon over my case, but I do not want it to be preached till after my execution. I want you to hold me up to the people of Darnall and to the world—to hold me and my career up as a beacon, that all who see may avoid my example. I want all who have known me to have me stated exactly as I am, that in the end my death may not be altogether without service to society.
“You know, sir, that the public of Darnall have nothing to say against me. They will certify to this fact—that I was respected by them. And they had no reason to think otherwise. I never did any of them any harm all the time I was there.”
Mr. Littlewood told him that he could not quite see his way to preach a special sermon about his case, particularly as he had already expressed the wish that after he was executed his name should never be mentioned, but Peace held to this point. Eventually, however, Mr. Littlewood was enabled to pass on to some other subject.
“Now, sir,” continued Peace, “I think I have told you all I have to say, and I want before you go that you should do me another thing. I should like you to hear me pray.”
Mr. Littlewood assented, and Peace, turning to the warders, desired them to help him out of his chair that he might kneel down by his bedside. He also commanded them to kneel down. Mr. Littlewood also knelt close to the grating.
The convict then commenced a long and earnest prayer of nearly twenty minutes’ duration. He prayed with great fervency and fluency. First of all he prayed for himself, and asked God for Christ’s sake to blot out all his trangressions, and implored that his sins might be washed away in the blood of Jesus, and invoked the Holy Spirit to cleanse and purify his heart.
He referred to each member of his family, and prayed for them with equal earnestness.
From thence he went on to pray for those whom he had wronged, and interjected there a special prayer for Mr. Littlewood and his family, whom he hoped God would greatly bless and prosper.
He then prayed for society generally, all classes of the community, and one special part of his prayer powerfully impressed his hearers.
In a lower tone of voice and with subdued earnestness he prayed most devoutly for those two poor souls he had launched into eternity without any warning or any time to be prepared for their great change.
He prayed that he might meet them before God, and that God would forgive him for such a wicked act, that they might meet in His presence, and he obtain full forgiveness for his crimes, and that thus meeting and recognising each other they might forgive and forget all that had happened on earth, and enjoy the fulness of God’s presence for evermore.
Before Mr. Littlewood left Peace said, “I could like to ask you one thing, sir. Do you think it would be necessary for my own welfare that I should see Mrs. Dyson personally, and ask her forgiveness for shooting her husband?”
Mr. Littlewood had understood that Mrs. Dyson had gone away, although she really did not leave till the next day, and he told the convict that Mrs. Dyson had left, adding—
“What you want, Peace, above all things, is the forgiveness not of any human being, but the forgiveness of your Maker; and to that, with my last words to you, I want to direct your attention.”
The convict looked perfectly satisfied, and asked Mr. Littlewood to engage in prayer, which he did Mr. Littlewood’s prayer was frequently interrupted by fervent responses on the part of Peace.
“Oh, God,” he cried, “answer this prayer! Have mercy upon me.” And he cried and sobbed incessantly.
Though his face was buried in the bed-clothes, the sound of his sobbing was painful to hear, while his whole body quivered with emotion.
The scene was most affecting, and can never be forgotten by Mr. Littlewood or the warders who were present.
On rising from his knees Mr. Littlewood asked for a Bible and Prayer Book, which were handed to him by the warders.
Mr. Littlewood reminded Peace that the day of his execution would be Shrove Tuesday, and the day following that Ash Wednesday, the first day in Lent. He pointed out the peculiar appropriateness of various passages in the Prayer Book, particularly the well-known words of the Communion Service commencing “Let us therefore return unto Him who is the merciful receiver of all true penitent sinners, assuring ourselves that He is ready to receive us, and most willing to pardon us, if we come unto Him with faithful repentance, if we submit ourselves unto Him,”&c.
He also directed his attention to the introductory sentences of morning and evening prayer, the Confession and the Absolution, as well as the seven Penitential Psalms, the beautiful words of which might almost have been written to meet the case of a great sinner like the condemned criminal crouching behind his prison bars.
The convict seemed pleased at Mr. Littlewood’s attention, and glad to have anything to occupy his mind. He asked the reverend gentleman to turn the leaves down at these passages that he might ponder over them in his cell.
As Mr. Littlewood was preparing to leave, Peace, with tears in his eyes, said, “I suppose, sir, we shall never meet again in this world. I pray God to bless you, and all your family, and I pray we may meet again in heaven.”
Then taking the left hand of the warder, who, at the same time, took Mr. Littlewood’s right hand, the two parted, the visitor leaving the cell deeply affected by the interview, while the miserable being he had left was lifted wearily back into his bed, where he turned his face to the wall and wept.