James Throup, a student from the School of English at the University of
Sheffield, will be spending time in the archives uncovering some of the
fascinating documents which tell the history of Sheffield. In a series of blogs, he will share his
findings…
Over
this coming series of blogs I hope to guide you through a selection of
Sheffield’s rich historical treasures, delving deep into Sheffield Archives and
Local Studies Library to unearth some of the golden relics of the city’s bygone
days. In the process, I aim to show the valuable role such documents play in
our consideration of ideas such as community, identity, social progress, local
heritage, and the lessons that history can teach us.
Our
first journey takes us back to Sheffield in the late nineteenth century, a
period when wages were low, employment was unsecure, and subsequently crime was
rife. Amidst all this, there was a growing fear in Victorian society of a burgeoning
social ‘residuum’ - a class of congenital criminals who were considered beyond
reform.
To
quell such fears, the Habitual Criminals Act of 1869 was passed, followed hotly
by the Prevention of Crimes Act in 1871. These stipulated that repeat
offenders, when released on parole, could be hauled before a magistrate and
made to prove that they were honestly employed. Failure to do so could result
in a further sentence. Additionally, this resulted in the need for a detailed record
of all criminals.
Sheffield
Archives is the proud owner of a ‘Ticket-of-Leave’ book (1864-1874), a ledger
in which the details of each paroled criminal from the Sheffield area was
recorded. In addition to a photograph, each criminal profile features an index
of crime committed, sentence, hair and eye colour, complexion, height, and any
distinguishing marks. In this manner criminals were rendered easier to identify,
and therefore easier to capture if required, but also liable to receive much
harsher sentences for repeat offending. However, some convicts became adept at
circumventing these new modes of surveillance.
One
popular means of evading scrutiny over past crimes was to provide an alias. This
technique is evident in the double entry of George Parker (pages 2 and 132),
aka infamous criminal Charles Peace. Over the course of his criminal career
Peace was guilty of multiple counts of burglary, and eventually hanged in Leeds
in 1879 for committing murder. However, in the entries of the Ticket-of-Leave book,
‘George Parker’ has been convicted for the more prosaic crime of receiving
stolen goods in the first instance, and then burglary with previous conviction
in the second. What I considered most striking about Peace’s first entry is his
photograph. Sat in a wooden chair with his hands clasped in front of him, fingers
entwined, he looks relaxed, as if unconcerned by the proceedings. When Peace
was arrested for the final time in his life, he was not initially recognised
due to the fact that he had disguised himself by shaving the front of his hair
and darkening his skin using walnut juice (Bean 1987: 71). However, suspicions
arose when, as the days in jail passed, the accused man began to change colour.
Throughout
the book, I thought it curious that there is a lack of uniform composition
across the various mugshots, indicative, perhaps, of the fledgling nature of
the practice. Some, such as James Horne (page 20), appear as disembodied heads
and shoulders, as if they are lost souls suspended in the ether. Many have
adopted a strong look of defiance, staring straight down the lens with arms
crossed bullishly across their chests, such as William Roebuck (page 143).
Nevertheless, the overwhelming air of these snapshots is one of despair: a
tangible sense of how these people knew they were locked into a system of
little or no work, habitual crime, and then, as a result, increasingly harsher
sentences.
The
vast majority of entries reveal an economic impetus behind the crime committed.
One of the most frequently reported crimes is that of counterfeiting coins.
Crudely cut, ill-weighted coins made counterfeiting an easy crime to detect,
but the sheer number of cases speaks volumes about the economic desperation of
those convicted.
The
Ticket-of-Leave book provides an excellent window into how the Victorian
criminal mind was calibrated, at once rendered more visible and quantifiable,
yet also deemed more incorrigible. Though we may feel we have progressed in our
attitudes from an age where criminality was seen as hereditary, and though
prisoners are no longer subjected to the cruelty of penal servitude, official
statistics for proven re-offenders show that recidivism is slowly rising. Such
artefacts as the Ticket-of-Leave book show how a greater understanding of
punishment and rehabilitation is needed.
James
Throup
‘Ticket-of-Leave
Book (1864 – 1874)’ Sheffield Archives:
SY295/7/3
J.P.
Bean, Crime in Sheffield (Sheffield:
Sheffield City Libraries, 1987) in Local
Studies Library: 364.1 S
