He had, moreover, very considerable histrionic faculty, acting all sorts of characters to the police, whom he specially liked to deceive, and “changing his face” in a way which astonished those who knew him best, and made them declare that even they could not recognise him as he passed in the street.
He certainly could effect remarkable change in a moment, and the one which most disguises dark faces, by bringing the blood into his face till he looked bloated, instead of thin, and this without holding his breath, or any preparation.
There can scarcely be any doubt that he could have lived, and lived well as a carver and gilder; while as an engineer, with his gift for invention, and his very peculiar daring, which was not so much courage as a force of will, enabling him to do exactly what he intended to do, he might, had he possessed any virtues, have risen to competence and credit.
He was just the man for a mining engineer in a dangerous mine, or to superintend torpedo experiments, or in fact to perform any one of the functions in which ingenuity and recklessness have to be displayed at one and the same time.
He had the power, as he showed in his leap from the railway-carriage at Darnall, of compelling himself to accept any risk, however appalling, that stood in the way of his design, and this without losing the full control of all the intellect he possessed.
That form of courage is very rare—the impulse caused by danger seldom increasing both the courage and the brain-power even of brave men. It was noticed by the comrades of General Picton and Lord Gough that this was the case with them, and noticed as a peculiarity very exceptional even in armies.
Peace’s daring seems to have been of this kind, and never failed him by night or day, under any circumstances of danger or solitude, any more than it fails a ferret or an otter.
That such a man should have deliberately elected to lead a life of unsuccessful crime and violent crime can be explained only by an inborn propensity to evil, which, if Mrs. Thompson’s sketch of her paramour’s life is in any part correct, seems to have distinguished Peace.
For, be it remembered, he was no successful criminal, living in luxury through a long life, and only found out by accident at last.
From the time he was nineteen, and robbed Mrs. Ward’s house in Sheffield, to his final arrest, a period of twenty-eight years, Peace was always a hunted man, always in danger from the police, and so repeatedly convicted, that he passed sixteen years of his life, more than half the period of his criminal career, in penal servitude; and his last sentence, of which only a year had elapsed, when he was tried for murder, was for life.