CHAPTERCLXXI.EVENTS BEFORE THE EXECUTION—LETTER FROM THE HABRONS.On Monday, February 24th, Mrs. Peace, Willie Ward, and Mr. and Mrs. Bolsover went to Leeds and had a final interview with Peace in his condemned cell in Armley Gaol.It was their intention when they went on Friday to have taken their leave of him for ever in this world; but he begged of them to come again on Monday, so that they might be the last of his relatives he would see before he was executed, and they promised him that they would do so.They left Sheffield by the 10.50 train, and on arriving at Leeds they went to the Town Hall, where they found the orders ready for them to admit them to Armley. They got there soon after one o’clock, and after waiting for a short time they were conducted to the cell of the condemned man.Peace was up and sitting at his little table writing a letter. He appeared better and more cheerful than he had been, although he complained of being very weak, and of suffering much pain, especially in his head.When the chief warder conducted the party into the barred portion of the cell he called out, “Visitors, Peace!” The convict looked round and gave them a smile of recognition.The two warders, who were in the cell with him, lifted him up—one taking hold of each arm, and then his chair was removed so close to the bars that when Peace was placed in it again he was able to rest his hand upon them.Two chairs were then placed for the accommodation of Mrs. Peace and Mrs. Bolsover, and the two men were allowed to occupy the little seat that is always there. These were attentions that had not been shown to visitors on former occasions.Peace was the first to speak, and beginning with his wife he addressed each by name, and asked how they were. Seeing that they were scarcely able to suppress their feelings, and to reply to him, he told them he hoped they would restrain their grief, or it would upset him. At present he said he felt very happy, and he did not want to be disturbed.He then informed them that Messrs. Ford and Warren, solicitors, had been instructed to prepare another will and deed of gift, and that everything necessary had now been done to ensure their obtaining possession of whatever property he had.They would now have no difficulty in claiming all he had possessed wherever they found it.He next told them that Mr. Brion had been to see him, and had acknowledged to having in his custody their drawing-room suite, the model boat and case, cockatoo and cage, and that he would give them up to whoever might be legally entitled to receive them.The chaplain and the warders had heard that statement and would corroborate it if necessary.The goods were made over to Willie and Mrs. Bolsover, and he told them what he should like each to have; and how they were to proceed to recover the things.While conversing on this point reference was made to Mrs. Thompson, and Peace said he wished her well, but he was afraid she was going the wrong road. It was his belief that the best that could be done for her would be to place her in a prison or a reformatory for a short time, so as to break her off her intense craving for drink. He was afraid she would make away with herself.On one occasion, when living at Peckham, Mrs. Thompson attempted to strangle herself, and Peace then told her he “would rather die on the scaffold than live the life they were living.” He now said he little thought when he made that remark that he should die on the scaffold.Speaking of the articles he possessed when he was at Peckham, he said there was his small monument which was missing, the larger monument they had now at Darnall, the model boat, and his fiddle walking stick—four of about as well made and curious things as could be seen anywhere.The fiddle is a hollow bamboo cane, to which a tail piece, bridge, and screws can be attached, and then it can be played upon. Peace has played upon it many a time.He told his friends if they could collect these four articles and have them exhibited at some music-hall in Sheffield as curiosities which had belonged to him, they might make money out of them.Peace then alluded to the interview he had with theRev.Mr. Littlewood, vicar of Darnall, and said he believed he had convinced that gentleman that it was really not him that stole the clock from Darnall schoolroom.Mr. Littlewood had written to him for information about robberies which had been committed at Darnall and the neighbourhood, and he had replied to him, telling him that he never did a robbery at Darnall, Hardsworth, or any other place nearer than Sheffield.Mr. Brion had asked him to send him a letter from the scaffold, and he had promised to do so, but he had not then had time to write it.He said for several days he had done nothing else but write to his relatives and friends. He had got nearly all the letters ready, and he intended to take them with him to the scaffold.“You know,” he said, “my hands will be fastened behind me before I leave my cell, but I shall hold the letters, and when I reach the scaffold I shall ask the chaplain to take them out of my hand and to post them to you.”At this stage of the interview the sound of men hammering reached the cell. Peace listened for a moment, and then said, “That’s a noise that would make some men fall on the floor! I hear they are working at my own scaffold. I have heard them before this morning.”The chief warder made answer, “You are mistaken, Peace; it is nothing of the sort.”Peace: No I am not. I have not worked so long with wood without knowing the sound of deals; and they don’t have deals inside a prison for anything else than for scaffolds. I have heard them knocking the nails in, and I am sure I am right.But (continued he), it does not matter much; it makes no difference to me. I should like to see my own coffin, and my own grave. It would not make the slightest difference to me, because I am prepared. I only look upon the scaffold as a short cut to Heaven. Alluding to the manner in which he would be buried, he said: I shall be thrown into my grave like a dog; but it won’t matter; it will only be my poor body that will be there. My soul, I believe, will be in Heaven.Peace then told his friends that he had received a letter from the father and mother of young William Habron, who was undergoing a sentence of penal servitude for life, for the murder of Police-constable Cock, asking him if he really had made a confession, and whether there was any probability of their son returning home to them.Peace said he had written back to them at Manchester telling them that he had made a full confession of the murder, had drawn plans of the place where it occurred, and had sent them to the Home Secretary. He further told them that if their son had justice done to him he would be set at liberty.Indeed he had no doubt that he would he restored to them.He said he had asked the father and mother to forgive him for the great wrong he had done them, and had begged of them to ask their son when he came home to forgive him as well. He should be dead then; but he hoped to have the forgiveness of them all.Since he had confessed to the crime he had been much happier than he was before; and he hoped his confession would be believed.Suddenly arousing himself the convict said, “I have a good thing to tell you;” and he proceeded to relate the following remarkable incident:—He said, “You have often heard ministers and others speak of the value of a soul and what sacrifices they would make to be the means of the conversion of one soul. I believe that, base and bad as I am, I have been the means of the conversion of one man. It occurred when I was brought down from Pentonville to Sheffield on the first occasion to be tried.“There was a traveller to Manchester in the same train, and when we reached Sheffield he left his carriage and came out of mere curiosity to see me taken by the warders from the train to the cab.“He went back to his carriage very much impressed with what he had seen of me and heard about me, and began to think about his own past life, and where such a life was likely to lead him. He could not shake off the feelings that had taken possession of him; he began to pray, and has since become a Christian.“He has written to the chaplain, telling him all the story, and assuring him that through me he had believed, and had found salvation. He asked the chaplain if the prison rules would allow of it, to bring his letter and read it to me, and he has done so.“Who would have thought,” repeated Peace, “that a bad, base man as I am should have been the means of the conversion of anybody? There is just that one good thing I have done, at any rate.”Peace then told them that he had received letters from several persons whose houses he had robbed, telling him that they forgave him, and that they were praying for him.The recollection of such unexpected kindness seemed to quite overpower the convict, and he displayed more feeling than he had done throughout.No.98.Illustration: LAST BREAKFASTPEACE’S LAST BREAKFAST ON THE MORNING OF EXECUTION.Commencing with his daughter, he asked each separately whether there was anything either wanted to ask him or to say to him. They were too much overcome to reply to him for a while; but presently Mrs. Peace said they had plenty to say to him, but not then.He begged of her not to break down, and reminded her that that was the last time she would have an opportunity of speaking to him on this side of the grave.He again asked her what she wished to say, and she reminded him that when there before he promised to pray with them when they came that day. He replied, “So I will.”The warders assisted him to kneel, and his friends knelt with him, and more than half an hour he prayed with them. He remembered each of them separately, and was especially earnest in his petitions for the little babe that his daughter had with her.He then prayed for young Habron, and asked that his innocence might be proved; and he prayed for Habron’s father and mother.With a choking voice, almost drowned by the sobs of his relatives, he prayed for the two men he had murdered, and for the relatives they had left behind; and, in conclusion, he prayed long and earnestly for himself that his sins might be forgiven him, and that he might meet them all in heaven.There was not much more conversation when Peace and his friends rose from their knees, and then came the moment when the final separation had to take place.For the first time since he was sentenced to death Peace was allowed to shake hands with his family.Taking the hand of each in turn he held it for several minutes while he blessed them, and prayed for them, and then kissed their hands.When he saw the great distress of his wife and children, he broke down himself, and the last few moments they were altogether were truly sorrowful moments for them all.Then they were conducted from the cell, and the interview, which had lasted nearly three hours, terminated.The relatives came away with the belief that Peace had committed no other great crimes, or he would have confessed them.FINAL INTERVIEW WITH HIS BROTHER AND OTHER RELATIVES.On Saturday, Dan Peace, his wife, John Peace, and Ellen Peace, their son and daughter, and Tom Neil, a relative, had their final interview with him in Armley Gaol.Cheerful, and apparently unconcerned at his fate hitherto, the condemned man, knowing that he was speaking to his brother and those who accompanied him for the last time, lost his old buoyancy of spirits, and, although he did not seem at all alarmed at the end awaiting him, appeared very much depressed in mind, and manifested considerable emotion.His brother, Dan Peace, and the other relatives mentioned, were with him nearly two hours. The invitation was extended also to Mary Ann Neil, but she was not present at the gaol, as she did not arrive in Leeds in time for the interview.The party had been specially invited by Peace, so that he could bid them farewell. They found the convict lying down, but as soon as he saw his brother, and the rest of the party, he struggled to raise himself to a sitting posture.Finding it difficult to do this, he asked the warders to raise him.The two warders, each getting on one side of the condemned man, took him by the arms, and lifted him up. So weak was he that even this alteration of position seemed to exhaust him, and, according to his brother Dan, he was “a pale, wretched, haggard man altogether,” almost feeble as a child.In answer to his brother, who asked, “How are you?” he replied, “I am very, very ill, and very, very weak.” And in the opinion of his relatives he certainly spoke the truth, for they affirm that he was very much weaker than he had ever previously appeared.His head was still bandaged, and he told them that although the authorities were taking every possible care of him it seemed impossible to stop the discharge from his wound, and that he felt very weak and depressed in consequence.Suffering much physically, and the subject of much mental depression, he nevertheless made a great effort to welcome his brother and relatives cordially.“I am very glad to see you,” he said, and then remarked that he had also invited two friends—George Goodlad, and Arthur Cragg—to see him.Being asked why they were not present, he said he had discovered that none but his own relatives could be admitted to the gaol.He regretted this very much, and said he had got into some little trouble by persisting in asking to see these two friends.He admitted now, however, that he had really no right to expect their admission; yet, at the same time he stated that he was very, very sorry he should not be allowed to see them; and, whilst speaking about his acquaintance with them, and the improbability of meeting them again on this side the grave, betrayed great emotion. “Give them my kind love,” he said, “and tell them that I hope God will bless them, and that I shall meet them in heaven.”During the interview he became utterly exhausted, and was compelled to cease from speaking altogether for a few minutes; and even when he was able to converse, it was in such a low tone that his words were almost inaudible to his friends, although they were only a few feet away from him.Dan said he understood that his brother was going to send them all a farewell letter. Peace replied that it was his intention to do so.He was going to write several letters, take them to the scaffold with him, and on arriving there he should seal them up and hand them to the chaplain, with the request that he would gratify him by sending them to his friends by as early a post as he could after the execution was over.He hoped, he said, that the letters would be delivered by the same evening’s post, and then his relatives would have, before the day was over, his last thoughts about them.The convict then went on to speak about his execution, mentioning details that made some of his relatives shudder, and all of them to grow sad.He said: I am to die precisely at eight o’clock—so you will know when it is all over with me. After I am dead they will hold an inquest on my body, and I shall be buried, I expect about four o’clock in the afternoon.Here he paused for a few minutes, partly because he seemed to be exhausted, and partly because he was overcome by his own feelings.His relatives, seeing the distressed state he was in, broke down utterly, and for some little time there was nothing to be heard but their sobs.Peace was the first to recover himself, and going on to speak of what would be done on Tuesday, he said: I shall be buried in my clothes, just as I am. They might, however, change my shirt, or something like that.Then, again giving way and betraying more feeling than could possibly have been expected in a man who had led the life he had led, and committed the crimes to which he had confessed, he said: I shall be thrown into my grave, and there will be no service read over me; no sermon preached; nothing of that sort.He again seemed exhausted and stopped speaking, and his relatives could only look at him and weep.Peace after awhile aroused himself again, and alluding to the men he had murdered and the robberies he had committed, he said: I wish it was in my power to restore them to life, and to replace all the property I have stolen; but, he added, that can never be.His relatives asked him if he had any wish that they could carry out, or anything that they could do to please him?Peace replied with more animation than he had shown so far during the interview: Yes, there is one thing you can do, and I wish you would do it.I want you on the day of my execution to go to the cemetery and plant a flower or a little tree on my mother’s grave and on another grave that he named, and then when you see them think of me, and where I am, and where I am buried.His relatives promised him that his wish in this respect should be gratified, and he seemed much pleased.Peace, referring again to his execution, said he did hope he should have strength to walk to the scaffold, but he was afraid he should not be able to do so—he was so very weak.Dan replied: Yes; I should like thee to be able to walk. Stand it like a man!Peace answered with much show of feeling—Dan, thee knows I shall do that if I can.Dan afterwards asked him why he jumped out of the train when coming from London to Sheffield; and he repeated what he had said before, that he wanted to commit suicide.He said he neither wanted to spend his life in prison and then die there; nor to pass through what he had had to pass through since. He thought if he had killed himself then he might have been buried amongst his friends at Darnall.Much of the convict’s conversation during the interview was on religious topics. He said he wished he could speak to all his friends, and then he would entreat them never to enter a public-house, or to gamble, or go to handicaps.He made a personal appeal to Dan, and begged of him to change his mode of life and to become a good man; or as he put it “to become religious.” In this strain he talked for a long time; at intervals resting from sheer exhaustion, and then going on again.Much of what he said, however, they could not hear, he spoke in so low a tone of voice. He made no further reference to either of the murders he had committed.When the time came for the interview to terminate not only the condemned man, but Dan and all his friends were much affected, and as may be imagined the final farewell was a very sorrowful scene.His last utterances to them were kind remembrances to George Goodlad and Cragg, and a promise that he would write to them both.The relatives left the cell, feeling that they had indeed taken leave of a “poor, wretched, haggard man.”As the party were returning from Armley to Leeds they were accosted by Mrs. Brion and Mrs. Thompson who were urgent in their inquiries as to what had passed between them and “Dear Jack.”Dan, we understand, took no notice of them; but the others conversed with the two women a short time. They were much impressed with Mrs. Thompson, and greatly astonished that she should ever have taken up with a man like him.PEACE AS A PUBLIC PERFORMER.An Ashton-under-Lyne correspondent telegraphs:—It is a well-known fact that Peace on more than one occasion plied his many vocations in Manchester and the neighbouring towns.From inquiries made in Levenshulme it transpires that the notorious criminal resided in that suburb about four years ago.He stayed there only four months, and after he left the local residents thought little more about him.A day or two ago, however, a policeman took a photograph of Peace to the locality, and many tradesmen at once recognised the portrait as that of the man who had formerly lived among them, and for a time had been quite a favourite in the district.He rented a small detached house called Olive-cottage, in Rushford-road Park, which he fairly well furnished.He gave his name as Thompson, and he was accompanied by a woman supposed to have been Mrs. Peace.He was never idle, and always had some project on foot. He was constantly painting his cottage, and took such trouble with the work that the neighbours took it for granted that he meant to remain there for some years.He was very affable and obliging to everybody, and was, until he decamped without paying his accounts, a great favourite with the tradesmen.To ladies he was especially polite and attentive, indeed almost too much so, for if he met a woman in a shop he would say “Good morning” in an agreeable tone, but usually accompanied his salutation by a wink at the shopman.He obtained considerable notoriety by his skill in contorting his features and assuming the appearance of a cripple. Subsequently he was known to have been the “Burnage bogie,” an apparition that had scared many people in Burnage-lane, and made folks afraid to use the thoroughfare after nightfall.At the same time it is remarkable that he was never suspected of committing any robbery, nor has it been proved that he gave effect to his thievish prospensity in the neighbourhood.Ostensibly he earned his livelihood as an acrobat, and was engaged at the Abbey Hey Park in this capacity.He was considered exceedingly clever, and it is stated that he could throw half-hundred weights about like pounds of sugar.He likewise performed publicly on the violin, and was regarded by frequenters of the grounds as an able musician.A Bristol gentleman who was staying with Mr. Plimsoll,M.P., at the time Peace called upon him to submit plans for raising sunken vessels, said that these plans were introduced as a grand scheme for raising the “Vanguard,” “Captain,” and “Eurydice.”The stranger wished Mr. Plimsoll to introduce him to the First Lord of the Admiralty, and Mr. Samuda and Mr. Reed.Mr. Plimsoll declined, desiring him, if he wished to communicate further with him, to do so in writing through his visitor from Bristol.That gentleman afterwards received letters asking to be supplied with the names of the owners of any sunken vessels in the Bristol Channel or on the western coastline.The writer was informed of the wreck on the Hook Sands of a Greek brig, for which the owner wanted £50. He thereupon asked Mr. Plimsoll’s Bristol friend to pay the £50, assuring him that the money would be refunded; but, as may be supposed, asked in vain.The Ashton-under-Lyne correspondent of theCentral Newswrote:—“From inquiries made in Levenshulme it transpires that Peace, about four years ago, came to reside in that place, but stayed only three months.“He had been forgotten, but several of the inhabitants, on seeing a portrait of the convict a day or two ago, recognised in him their neighbour, Mr. Thompson, who resided in a small detached house called Olive-cottage, in Rushford-road Park.“He lived with a woman who is supposed to have been Mrs. Peace, and, being always affable and obliging, was a great favourite until he decamped without paying his accounts.“He was never suspected of robbery, but in consequence of fancied apparations the people of the neighbourhood were afraid to use the thoroughfare close to his house after dark. He ostensibly earned his livelihood as an acrobat, and was considered extremely clever in this direction.”Peace’s will was drawn by Deputy-Sheriff Ford, member of a local firm of solicitors.It extended to but four or five lines, and bequeathe property to Hannah Ward, or Peace, his wife.The text was not to be published until the day of his execution. In regard to the former will he made bequeathing everything to Mrs. Thompson, the latter’s sister, it is said, burnt the document.
On Monday, February 24th, Mrs. Peace, Willie Ward, and Mr. and Mrs. Bolsover went to Leeds and had a final interview with Peace in his condemned cell in Armley Gaol.
It was their intention when they went on Friday to have taken their leave of him for ever in this world; but he begged of them to come again on Monday, so that they might be the last of his relatives he would see before he was executed, and they promised him that they would do so.
They left Sheffield by the 10.50 train, and on arriving at Leeds they went to the Town Hall, where they found the orders ready for them to admit them to Armley. They got there soon after one o’clock, and after waiting for a short time they were conducted to the cell of the condemned man.
Peace was up and sitting at his little table writing a letter. He appeared better and more cheerful than he had been, although he complained of being very weak, and of suffering much pain, especially in his head.
When the chief warder conducted the party into the barred portion of the cell he called out, “Visitors, Peace!” The convict looked round and gave them a smile of recognition.
The two warders, who were in the cell with him, lifted him up—one taking hold of each arm, and then his chair was removed so close to the bars that when Peace was placed in it again he was able to rest his hand upon them.
Two chairs were then placed for the accommodation of Mrs. Peace and Mrs. Bolsover, and the two men were allowed to occupy the little seat that is always there. These were attentions that had not been shown to visitors on former occasions.
Peace was the first to speak, and beginning with his wife he addressed each by name, and asked how they were. Seeing that they were scarcely able to suppress their feelings, and to reply to him, he told them he hoped they would restrain their grief, or it would upset him. At present he said he felt very happy, and he did not want to be disturbed.
He then informed them that Messrs. Ford and Warren, solicitors, had been instructed to prepare another will and deed of gift, and that everything necessary had now been done to ensure their obtaining possession of whatever property he had.
They would now have no difficulty in claiming all he had possessed wherever they found it.
He next told them that Mr. Brion had been to see him, and had acknowledged to having in his custody their drawing-room suite, the model boat and case, cockatoo and cage, and that he would give them up to whoever might be legally entitled to receive them.
The chaplain and the warders had heard that statement and would corroborate it if necessary.
The goods were made over to Willie and Mrs. Bolsover, and he told them what he should like each to have; and how they were to proceed to recover the things.
While conversing on this point reference was made to Mrs. Thompson, and Peace said he wished her well, but he was afraid she was going the wrong road. It was his belief that the best that could be done for her would be to place her in a prison or a reformatory for a short time, so as to break her off her intense craving for drink. He was afraid she would make away with herself.
On one occasion, when living at Peckham, Mrs. Thompson attempted to strangle herself, and Peace then told her he “would rather die on the scaffold than live the life they were living.” He now said he little thought when he made that remark that he should die on the scaffold.
Speaking of the articles he possessed when he was at Peckham, he said there was his small monument which was missing, the larger monument they had now at Darnall, the model boat, and his fiddle walking stick—four of about as well made and curious things as could be seen anywhere.
The fiddle is a hollow bamboo cane, to which a tail piece, bridge, and screws can be attached, and then it can be played upon. Peace has played upon it many a time.
He told his friends if they could collect these four articles and have them exhibited at some music-hall in Sheffield as curiosities which had belonged to him, they might make money out of them.
Peace then alluded to the interview he had with theRev.Mr. Littlewood, vicar of Darnall, and said he believed he had convinced that gentleman that it was really not him that stole the clock from Darnall schoolroom.
Mr. Littlewood had written to him for information about robberies which had been committed at Darnall and the neighbourhood, and he had replied to him, telling him that he never did a robbery at Darnall, Hardsworth, or any other place nearer than Sheffield.
Mr. Brion had asked him to send him a letter from the scaffold, and he had promised to do so, but he had not then had time to write it.
He said for several days he had done nothing else but write to his relatives and friends. He had got nearly all the letters ready, and he intended to take them with him to the scaffold.
“You know,” he said, “my hands will be fastened behind me before I leave my cell, but I shall hold the letters, and when I reach the scaffold I shall ask the chaplain to take them out of my hand and to post them to you.”
At this stage of the interview the sound of men hammering reached the cell. Peace listened for a moment, and then said, “That’s a noise that would make some men fall on the floor! I hear they are working at my own scaffold. I have heard them before this morning.”
The chief warder made answer, “You are mistaken, Peace; it is nothing of the sort.”
Peace: No I am not. I have not worked so long with wood without knowing the sound of deals; and they don’t have deals inside a prison for anything else than for scaffolds. I have heard them knocking the nails in, and I am sure I am right.
But (continued he), it does not matter much; it makes no difference to me. I should like to see my own coffin, and my own grave. It would not make the slightest difference to me, because I am prepared. I only look upon the scaffold as a short cut to Heaven. Alluding to the manner in which he would be buried, he said: I shall be thrown into my grave like a dog; but it won’t matter; it will only be my poor body that will be there. My soul, I believe, will be in Heaven.
Peace then told his friends that he had received a letter from the father and mother of young William Habron, who was undergoing a sentence of penal servitude for life, for the murder of Police-constable Cock, asking him if he really had made a confession, and whether there was any probability of their son returning home to them.
Peace said he had written back to them at Manchester telling them that he had made a full confession of the murder, had drawn plans of the place where it occurred, and had sent them to the Home Secretary. He further told them that if their son had justice done to him he would be set at liberty.
Indeed he had no doubt that he would he restored to them.
He said he had asked the father and mother to forgive him for the great wrong he had done them, and had begged of them to ask their son when he came home to forgive him as well. He should be dead then; but he hoped to have the forgiveness of them all.
Since he had confessed to the crime he had been much happier than he was before; and he hoped his confession would be believed.
Suddenly arousing himself the convict said, “I have a good thing to tell you;” and he proceeded to relate the following remarkable incident:—
He said, “You have often heard ministers and others speak of the value of a soul and what sacrifices they would make to be the means of the conversion of one soul. I believe that, base and bad as I am, I have been the means of the conversion of one man. It occurred when I was brought down from Pentonville to Sheffield on the first occasion to be tried.
“There was a traveller to Manchester in the same train, and when we reached Sheffield he left his carriage and came out of mere curiosity to see me taken by the warders from the train to the cab.
“He went back to his carriage very much impressed with what he had seen of me and heard about me, and began to think about his own past life, and where such a life was likely to lead him. He could not shake off the feelings that had taken possession of him; he began to pray, and has since become a Christian.
“He has written to the chaplain, telling him all the story, and assuring him that through me he had believed, and had found salvation. He asked the chaplain if the prison rules would allow of it, to bring his letter and read it to me, and he has done so.
“Who would have thought,” repeated Peace, “that a bad, base man as I am should have been the means of the conversion of anybody? There is just that one good thing I have done, at any rate.”
Peace then told them that he had received letters from several persons whose houses he had robbed, telling him that they forgave him, and that they were praying for him.
The recollection of such unexpected kindness seemed to quite overpower the convict, and he displayed more feeling than he had done throughout.
No.98.
Illustration: LAST BREAKFASTPEACE’S LAST BREAKFAST ON THE MORNING OF EXECUTION.
PEACE’S LAST BREAKFAST ON THE MORNING OF EXECUTION.
Commencing with his daughter, he asked each separately whether there was anything either wanted to ask him or to say to him. They were too much overcome to reply to him for a while; but presently Mrs. Peace said they had plenty to say to him, but not then.
He begged of her not to break down, and reminded her that that was the last time she would have an opportunity of speaking to him on this side of the grave.
He again asked her what she wished to say, and she reminded him that when there before he promised to pray with them when they came that day. He replied, “So I will.”
The warders assisted him to kneel, and his friends knelt with him, and more than half an hour he prayed with them. He remembered each of them separately, and was especially earnest in his petitions for the little babe that his daughter had with her.
He then prayed for young Habron, and asked that his innocence might be proved; and he prayed for Habron’s father and mother.
With a choking voice, almost drowned by the sobs of his relatives, he prayed for the two men he had murdered, and for the relatives they had left behind; and, in conclusion, he prayed long and earnestly for himself that his sins might be forgiven him, and that he might meet them all in heaven.
There was not much more conversation when Peace and his friends rose from their knees, and then came the moment when the final separation had to take place.
For the first time since he was sentenced to death Peace was allowed to shake hands with his family.
Taking the hand of each in turn he held it for several minutes while he blessed them, and prayed for them, and then kissed their hands.
When he saw the great distress of his wife and children, he broke down himself, and the last few moments they were altogether were truly sorrowful moments for them all.
Then they were conducted from the cell, and the interview, which had lasted nearly three hours, terminated.
The relatives came away with the belief that Peace had committed no other great crimes, or he would have confessed them.
FINAL INTERVIEW WITH HIS BROTHER AND OTHER RELATIVES.
On Saturday, Dan Peace, his wife, John Peace, and Ellen Peace, their son and daughter, and Tom Neil, a relative, had their final interview with him in Armley Gaol.
Cheerful, and apparently unconcerned at his fate hitherto, the condemned man, knowing that he was speaking to his brother and those who accompanied him for the last time, lost his old buoyancy of spirits, and, although he did not seem at all alarmed at the end awaiting him, appeared very much depressed in mind, and manifested considerable emotion.
His brother, Dan Peace, and the other relatives mentioned, were with him nearly two hours. The invitation was extended also to Mary Ann Neil, but she was not present at the gaol, as she did not arrive in Leeds in time for the interview.
The party had been specially invited by Peace, so that he could bid them farewell. They found the convict lying down, but as soon as he saw his brother, and the rest of the party, he struggled to raise himself to a sitting posture.
Finding it difficult to do this, he asked the warders to raise him.
The two warders, each getting on one side of the condemned man, took him by the arms, and lifted him up. So weak was he that even this alteration of position seemed to exhaust him, and, according to his brother Dan, he was “a pale, wretched, haggard man altogether,” almost feeble as a child.
In answer to his brother, who asked, “How are you?” he replied, “I am very, very ill, and very, very weak.” And in the opinion of his relatives he certainly spoke the truth, for they affirm that he was very much weaker than he had ever previously appeared.
His head was still bandaged, and he told them that although the authorities were taking every possible care of him it seemed impossible to stop the discharge from his wound, and that he felt very weak and depressed in consequence.
Suffering much physically, and the subject of much mental depression, he nevertheless made a great effort to welcome his brother and relatives cordially.
“I am very glad to see you,” he said, and then remarked that he had also invited two friends—George Goodlad, and Arthur Cragg—to see him.
Being asked why they were not present, he said he had discovered that none but his own relatives could be admitted to the gaol.
He regretted this very much, and said he had got into some little trouble by persisting in asking to see these two friends.
He admitted now, however, that he had really no right to expect their admission; yet, at the same time he stated that he was very, very sorry he should not be allowed to see them; and, whilst speaking about his acquaintance with them, and the improbability of meeting them again on this side the grave, betrayed great emotion. “Give them my kind love,” he said, “and tell them that I hope God will bless them, and that I shall meet them in heaven.”
During the interview he became utterly exhausted, and was compelled to cease from speaking altogether for a few minutes; and even when he was able to converse, it was in such a low tone that his words were almost inaudible to his friends, although they were only a few feet away from him.
Dan said he understood that his brother was going to send them all a farewell letter. Peace replied that it was his intention to do so.
He was going to write several letters, take them to the scaffold with him, and on arriving there he should seal them up and hand them to the chaplain, with the request that he would gratify him by sending them to his friends by as early a post as he could after the execution was over.
He hoped, he said, that the letters would be delivered by the same evening’s post, and then his relatives would have, before the day was over, his last thoughts about them.
The convict then went on to speak about his execution, mentioning details that made some of his relatives shudder, and all of them to grow sad.
He said: I am to die precisely at eight o’clock—so you will know when it is all over with me. After I am dead they will hold an inquest on my body, and I shall be buried, I expect about four o’clock in the afternoon.
Here he paused for a few minutes, partly because he seemed to be exhausted, and partly because he was overcome by his own feelings.
His relatives, seeing the distressed state he was in, broke down utterly, and for some little time there was nothing to be heard but their sobs.
Peace was the first to recover himself, and going on to speak of what would be done on Tuesday, he said: I shall be buried in my clothes, just as I am. They might, however, change my shirt, or something like that.
Then, again giving way and betraying more feeling than could possibly have been expected in a man who had led the life he had led, and committed the crimes to which he had confessed, he said: I shall be thrown into my grave, and there will be no service read over me; no sermon preached; nothing of that sort.
He again seemed exhausted and stopped speaking, and his relatives could only look at him and weep.
Peace after awhile aroused himself again, and alluding to the men he had murdered and the robberies he had committed, he said: I wish it was in my power to restore them to life, and to replace all the property I have stolen; but, he added, that can never be.
His relatives asked him if he had any wish that they could carry out, or anything that they could do to please him?
Peace replied with more animation than he had shown so far during the interview: Yes, there is one thing you can do, and I wish you would do it.
I want you on the day of my execution to go to the cemetery and plant a flower or a little tree on my mother’s grave and on another grave that he named, and then when you see them think of me, and where I am, and where I am buried.
His relatives promised him that his wish in this respect should be gratified, and he seemed much pleased.
Peace, referring again to his execution, said he did hope he should have strength to walk to the scaffold, but he was afraid he should not be able to do so—he was so very weak.
Dan replied: Yes; I should like thee to be able to walk. Stand it like a man!
Peace answered with much show of feeling—Dan, thee knows I shall do that if I can.
Dan afterwards asked him why he jumped out of the train when coming from London to Sheffield; and he repeated what he had said before, that he wanted to commit suicide.
He said he neither wanted to spend his life in prison and then die there; nor to pass through what he had had to pass through since. He thought if he had killed himself then he might have been buried amongst his friends at Darnall.
Much of the convict’s conversation during the interview was on religious topics. He said he wished he could speak to all his friends, and then he would entreat them never to enter a public-house, or to gamble, or go to handicaps.
He made a personal appeal to Dan, and begged of him to change his mode of life and to become a good man; or as he put it “to become religious.” In this strain he talked for a long time; at intervals resting from sheer exhaustion, and then going on again.
Much of what he said, however, they could not hear, he spoke in so low a tone of voice. He made no further reference to either of the murders he had committed.
When the time came for the interview to terminate not only the condemned man, but Dan and all his friends were much affected, and as may be imagined the final farewell was a very sorrowful scene.
His last utterances to them were kind remembrances to George Goodlad and Cragg, and a promise that he would write to them both.
The relatives left the cell, feeling that they had indeed taken leave of a “poor, wretched, haggard man.”
As the party were returning from Armley to Leeds they were accosted by Mrs. Brion and Mrs. Thompson who were urgent in their inquiries as to what had passed between them and “Dear Jack.”
Dan, we understand, took no notice of them; but the others conversed with the two women a short time. They were much impressed with Mrs. Thompson, and greatly astonished that she should ever have taken up with a man like him.
PEACE AS A PUBLIC PERFORMER.
An Ashton-under-Lyne correspondent telegraphs:—It is a well-known fact that Peace on more than one occasion plied his many vocations in Manchester and the neighbouring towns.
From inquiries made in Levenshulme it transpires that the notorious criminal resided in that suburb about four years ago.
He stayed there only four months, and after he left the local residents thought little more about him.
A day or two ago, however, a policeman took a photograph of Peace to the locality, and many tradesmen at once recognised the portrait as that of the man who had formerly lived among them, and for a time had been quite a favourite in the district.
He rented a small detached house called Olive-cottage, in Rushford-road Park, which he fairly well furnished.
He gave his name as Thompson, and he was accompanied by a woman supposed to have been Mrs. Peace.
He was never idle, and always had some project on foot. He was constantly painting his cottage, and took such trouble with the work that the neighbours took it for granted that he meant to remain there for some years.
He was very affable and obliging to everybody, and was, until he decamped without paying his accounts, a great favourite with the tradesmen.
To ladies he was especially polite and attentive, indeed almost too much so, for if he met a woman in a shop he would say “Good morning” in an agreeable tone, but usually accompanied his salutation by a wink at the shopman.
He obtained considerable notoriety by his skill in contorting his features and assuming the appearance of a cripple. Subsequently he was known to have been the “Burnage bogie,” an apparition that had scared many people in Burnage-lane, and made folks afraid to use the thoroughfare after nightfall.
At the same time it is remarkable that he was never suspected of committing any robbery, nor has it been proved that he gave effect to his thievish prospensity in the neighbourhood.
Ostensibly he earned his livelihood as an acrobat, and was engaged at the Abbey Hey Park in this capacity.
He was considered exceedingly clever, and it is stated that he could throw half-hundred weights about like pounds of sugar.
He likewise performed publicly on the violin, and was regarded by frequenters of the grounds as an able musician.
A Bristol gentleman who was staying with Mr. Plimsoll,M.P., at the time Peace called upon him to submit plans for raising sunken vessels, said that these plans were introduced as a grand scheme for raising the “Vanguard,” “Captain,” and “Eurydice.”
The stranger wished Mr. Plimsoll to introduce him to the First Lord of the Admiralty, and Mr. Samuda and Mr. Reed.
Mr. Plimsoll declined, desiring him, if he wished to communicate further with him, to do so in writing through his visitor from Bristol.
That gentleman afterwards received letters asking to be supplied with the names of the owners of any sunken vessels in the Bristol Channel or on the western coastline.
The writer was informed of the wreck on the Hook Sands of a Greek brig, for which the owner wanted £50. He thereupon asked Mr. Plimsoll’s Bristol friend to pay the £50, assuring him that the money would be refunded; but, as may be supposed, asked in vain.
The Ashton-under-Lyne correspondent of theCentral Newswrote:—“From inquiries made in Levenshulme it transpires that Peace, about four years ago, came to reside in that place, but stayed only three months.
“He had been forgotten, but several of the inhabitants, on seeing a portrait of the convict a day or two ago, recognised in him their neighbour, Mr. Thompson, who resided in a small detached house called Olive-cottage, in Rushford-road Park.
“He lived with a woman who is supposed to have been Mrs. Peace, and, being always affable and obliging, was a great favourite until he decamped without paying his accounts.
“He was never suspected of robbery, but in consequence of fancied apparations the people of the neighbourhood were afraid to use the thoroughfare close to his house after dark. He ostensibly earned his livelihood as an acrobat, and was considered extremely clever in this direction.”
Peace’s will was drawn by Deputy-Sheriff Ford, member of a local firm of solicitors.
It extended to but four or five lines, and bequeathe property to Hannah Ward, or Peace, his wife.
The text was not to be published until the day of his execution. In regard to the former will he made bequeathing everything to Mrs. Thompson, the latter’s sister, it is said, burnt the document.