John Peisley is another classical example of a young colonial who saw the path to life's success and happiness was at the point of a gun. He sought riches through the appropriation of other people's possessions. He ended with nothing but the end of a rope.

There was no police or social persecution, no class war, no injustice against a poor young man. No conflict between "haves and have nots", no guerrilla war against the bourgeoisie as modern socialists would claim. Just a vicious lout with a bully's streak and a brace of Colt Navy revolvers to enforce his demands.

John Peisley was born at O'Connell's plains, near Bathurst, in 1834. Little is known about his family. His record shows he was a Labourer, a common term for bush workers, his religion was Protestant, presumably Church of England. His complexion was ruddy fair, hair light sandy, eyes grey. Height 5'8" or 5'9". He was described as a "fine-looking man at a distance, but when examined closely there was a shifty, disagreeable look about his eyes." Earlier descriptions include the facts that he was long-featured, nose a little pock-marked, with a scar on the bridge. Scars on his right wrist, hand and arm, middle finger on the left hand disfigured (the end and nail had been crushed), arms and legs hairy.

As an indicator of the life he was living the Police Gazette of January 1862 offers the following additional comments, "stout, well made, very small light whiskers, quite bald on top of head and forehead, several recent marks to face and a mark from a blow of a spade on top of head. Puffed and dissipated-looking from hard drinking, Invariably wears fashionable Napoleon boots, dark cloth breeches, dark vest buttoned up the front, large Albert gold guard, cabbage-tree hat and duck coat. Sometimes wears a wig and always carries a brace of revolvers." In short, not the type of man to invite home despite the flash clothes.

Nothing is known of his early life. However, based on the careers of other villains of the time, we can surmise that he would have left home at an early age, with some limited schooling, and worked at stations around the area as a station hand and stockman. He may have tried his hand at a bit of prospecting but eventually would have shied away because of the hard work needed and little success. He certainly would have frequently the numerous pubs and sly grog shanties in the area and would have mixed with bushrangers, cattle duffers, hocussers and other bush dwellers who lived on the edge or left of the law. Eventually he would have drifted into cattle and horse duffing and probably made a reasonable amount of money because of the prices being commanded by stock and meat on the goldfields.

He first came to attention when he was arrested and charged at Bathurst Quarter Sessions with stealing horses on 13 September 1854. He was sentenced to five years on the roads. He seems to have escaped custody at some stage because on 11 February he was resentenced, this time to Darlinghurst Gaol with extra time added to the sentence. He served almost three years and was released on 20 March 1857. This was typical of the judicial system of the day where the emphasis was on rehabilitation rather than punishment. However, he took no notice of the opportunity offered to him and on 8 December 1857 he was charged before the Supreme Court in Sydney for horse stealing.

He copped another five years plus the time remaining from his original sentence, a total of about seven years. Because this was a repeat offence he served his time at Cockatoo Island. Here he met another colonial villain who would soon turn the rural districts on their collective ear. Francis Christie, alias Frank "The Darkie" Gardiner. During his incarceration he received another nine months for trying to escape by "taking to the water". Nevertheless, once again he was fated not to serve his full term (as was Gardiner) and on 23 November 1860 he was released on Ticket of Leave to the Scone District.

Peisley had now had two opportunities to redeem his life, however, he appears determined not to avail himself of new opportunities. He returned to the Bathurst District and began a new life as a fully-fledged bushranger. Sometimes he operated alone, at others with a man named John McKenzie. Eventually, however, he reunited with Frank Gardiner and, finally, for a short time as a four-man gang, with John Gilbert. Reports also refer to him (and them) operating with another man who was not identified. This may refer to Peisley and one of the other's who was not recognised, or it may refer to other bushrangers who drifted into the gang's orbit and then disappeared. However, whilst it cannot be substantiated at this stage, based on a number of contemporary writings, there are indications that this individual may have been Ben Hall.

Peisley wasted no time in making his presence felt. In late December he, and presumably McKenzie, bailed up and robbed the Gundagai to Yass Mail Coach. In early 1861 few days later they robbed several travellers over a period of four days along the Lambing Flat to Cowra Road, taking goods and sums of money ranging from 18 pence in copper (all one poor man had) to around fifty pounds, almost two years' wages for a labourer. They then returned to the Abercrombie area, bailing up Cheshire's Inn at Caloola in the process, before returning to the area around Yass where at least on coach and several travellers fell victim to their depredations. During this time they were chased by parties of troopers but escaped because of their superior horses. They then returned to the Abercrombie and continued their activities, at this stage being joined in May 1861 by Gardiner and, eventually, the others.

On 23 March 1861 he bailed up and robbed Mr. Richard Cox of the Bank of New South Wales of 565 pounds and his pistol as he rode along the road between Louisa Creek and Hill End. Not a bad haul, noting a labourer made only 30 pounds a year. In May 1861 he and Gardiner bailed up the Cowra Mail Coach. Shortly afterwards a reward of 100 pounds was offered for his capture. In July 1861 he was implicated in the Affray at Foggs' when Trooper Hosie accused him of releasing Gardiner from custody at gunpoint. This annoyed Peisley so much that on 4 September 1861 he wrote to the Editor of the Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal,

Sir,
You will no doubt be surprised to receive a note from the (now by all account) noted Peisley; but, sir, through your valuable paper I must make it known that, if it be my lot to be taken, whether dead or alive, I will never be tried for the rescue of Gardiner, in the light in which it is represented; nor did I fire at Trooper Hosie. And such I wish to be known, that it is in my power to prove what I here assert, and that beyond a doubt. I am no doubt a desperado in the eyes of the law, but never, in no instance, did I ever use violence, nor did I ever use rudeness to any of the fair sex, and I must certainly be the Invisible Prince to commit one-tenth of what is laid to my charge. And, sir, I beg to state that it is through persons in high positions that I now make this assertion, and I trust I may never have to allude to it again. I love my native hills, I love freedom and detest cruelty to man or beast. Trusting you will publish this, my bold letter no doubt, but you can be assured it comes from the real John Peisley, and not any of his representatives.

Whether or not Peisley in fact was involved in the release of Gardiner remains a matter of controversy to this day, and it is noteworthy that Peisley was to continue to deny his involvement on the gallows. However, one cannot be amused by the errant hypocrisy in his comments that he never used violence and detested cruelty to man or beast. Every one of his crimes involved violence or at the least the real threat of violence at the point of a gun while some people were manhandled. Also, he deprived almost all his victims of everything they had for his own short-term gain. This would have caused them enormous distress, at a time when there was no such thing as insurance.

His protestations now publicly aired Peisley could resume his activities, presumably with a clear conscience. Over the next few months the gang spread a web of terror which spread from the Abercrombie across to Carcoar, down to Cowra and Lambing Flat, and even for a brief period as far west as the Weddin Mountains. Robbery seemed to becoming an almost daily affair, much to the alarm of the press who had not seen such an outbreak of bushranging in New South Wales since the 1840s. The few police in the area did what they could. Several times they got into pursuit of the gang, only to be outrun and outsmarted by a foe who were far better mounted and knew the country intimately.

On 14 September Peisley robbed Mr. O'Sullivan between Cowra and Marengo and a few days later forcibly entered the hut of William Dawkins near Marengo, robbing John Dawkins. On 30 October he and an unknown man (probably Gardiner) robbed James Eldridge, J. Laverty and Catherine Vardy near Binda. Interestingly, Catherine was the sister of Thomas Vardy who owned the Limerick Races Inn nearby. The inn was a well-known haunt of cross coves and it was where Fred Lowry was captured by a police party in 1863. However, time was running out for Mr. Peisley. Although no-one had as yet been injured during his various depredations he was showing an increasingly vicious streak. Also, he was increasingly drinking and becoming even more morose and vicious when drunk. This was at odds with Gardiner, who usually endeavoured to maintain a veneer of chivalry and humour to his robberies. The gang may also have been afraid of Peisley. Whatever the reason by November 1861 they had parted company with Peisley who now returned to the Abercrombie.

On 25 December 1861 he arrived at an inn owned by Thomas McGuiness and remained drinking there for three days. At the end of this time he was in an ugly drunken frame of mind. On 28 December he left the inn and proceeded to the farm of childhood acquaintances, Stephen and William Benyon. On arrival the men began a heavy drinking session during which Peisley accused William of cheating him over a horse deal when they were teenagers. He said, "I have a down on you, Benyon. You swopped a horse on me when I was a kid, which was no good, but I am no kid now." He challenged him to "run, jump or fight for ten pounds." William agreed to fight him, so the two men took off their coats, with Peisley rolling his revolvers in his. They then started to fight. Peisley soon got the upper hand, knocking William to the ground and beating him until he was semi-conscious. He then grabbed the man and started bashing his head against a paling fence. Seeing this brutal treatment of his brother Stephen now entered the fray and was soon locked in combat with the drunken bushranger. Meanwhile, Martha, William's wife, frightened of what he might do, took Peisley's coat containing the revolvers and hid it in a nearby garden. As she did so, William staggered into the house, pursued by the still-enraged Peisley who grabbed a large knife from the kitchen and tried to stab him with it. Once again Stephen intervened by belting the bushranger over the head with a shovel. At this Peisley visibly calmed and, throwing the knife into the corner, suggested they all shake hands and have another drink. This done he asked about his revolvers. Martha said she would return them if he left the station. Peisley agreed, the revolvers were returned and he mounted and rode away.

William was worried he would return and perhaps try to hurt them again, particularly Stephen. He got a double-barrel shotgun, loaded it and then took it out to the barn where Stephen was now working. About half an hour later Peisley returned, cleaned up, but still drunk. After dismounting he proceeded toward the barn and was met by Stephen pointing the shotgun at him. As soon as he saw him, the bushranger walked up to him saying, "Surely you're not going to shoot me?". Stephen replied that he had heard Peisley intended to shoot him. Peisley laughed again and said he had never done a cowardly thing and would certainly not do so now. He held out his hand and Stephen shook it. As he did so he lowered the shotgun. Peisley grabbed it and shot him in the arm. Stephen turned and staggered out through the back door of the barn while Peisley tried to fire the second barrel. He then seized one of William's sons and threatened to shoot him unless he showed him which way Stephen had gone. The boy pointed in the wrong direction and Peisley, now in a complete rage, ran.

Failing to find Stephen and now screaming abuse at the top of his lungs, Peisley returned to the barn where an employee named Hammond tried to grab the gun. He missed and Peisley bashed him to the ground with it, holding it by the barrels. As he did so the gun discharged, the shot nearly striking him. Peisley now went completely berserk. Throwing the empty shotgun away he drew a revolver and ran around the yard, cursing and accusing everyone of trying to shoot him for the reward. William ran forward, saying, "You're the only one shooting!" As he did so, Peisley called on him to stand. However, William, fearing for his life, sprang at him. As he did so Peisley fired. The ball struck William in the throat, lodging in his spine. He fell to the ground paralysed. Peisley calmed down at once and, apologising to the shocked Martha for what he had done, mounted and galloped away. William lingered for six days in agony before dying. Peisley the thief was now Peisley the murderer.

During January the police nearly caught Peisley twice and on one occasion they recovered a packhorse in his possession which contained a considerable amount of stolen property. However, as was often the case, it was a group of citizens who brought his career to a close. On 28 January 1862 he arrived at McKenzie's Pub, near Tarcutta. It is believed he may have been trying to leave the colony. He started drinking heavily while talking to another individual in the bar. Mckenzie was suspicious of this customer because he was trying to hide a revolver. He listened to the conversation and became convinced the man was indeed John Peisley. He enlisted the aid of a John Campbell and a Mr. Beveridge who was the overseer of Wantabadgery Station (which would become famous 19 years later as the place where the Moonlite gang of bushrangers was destroyed). By this time Peisley was having a meal in the kitchen with the man with whom he had been talking. Both men were drunk and started a quarrel in which Peisley was challenged to a fight. At this point McKenzie, Campbell and Beveridge rushed in and grabbed the villain, quickly overpowering him. Peisley was chained to the kitchen table overnight but tried unsuccessfully to escape. Next day McKenzie and Beveridge took him to Gundagai and handed him over to the local police. On 31 January he was taken before the Court, formally identified and ordered taken to Carcoar. At Marengo he was placed in custody of the single policemen there while his escort sought accommodation. Again, Peisley tried to escape but was quickly recaptured.

Peisley arrived at Carcoar on 7 February and brought before the bench charged with murder and Robbery under Arms. He was remanded to appear in Bathurst and this duly occurred on 13 March. The jury retired for ten minutes and returned a unanimous verdict of Guilty. Peisley was then sentenced to death. As he was taken from the court a friend in the crowd called out, "Well, Johnny, what is it?" Peisley replied, "Oh, it's a swinger."

On 25 April 1862 Peisley was taken to the scaffold and, after prayer, was asked if he wished to say anything. He began a rambling speech in which he tried to justify his murder of Stephen Benyon until finally the attending Reverend said something to him. He then spoke about his life, claiming he had been forced into crime, had never used violence against a woman, considered himself the most honourable man who had ever taken up to the bush with arms and denied he had committed most of the crimes of which he was accused. Most significantly he again denied being involved in the rescue of Gardiner after the affair at Fogg's repeating his former accusation that Trooper Hosie had been bribed to let him go. He finished his speech by saying he hoped God would forgive his enemies as he had forgiven them all and concluded by saying, "Goodbye, Gentlemen and God bless you."

This article © Andrew Stackpool, 1998.

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