TheLord Justice Clerkbegan his charge to the Jury at six o’clock on Thursday morning, and finished about half-past eight. His Lordship expressed great satisfaction at the defence having been committed to such eminent counsel; for he could assure them (the jury) he never had heard the defence of any individuals conducted with more zeal and consummate ability than that of the prisoners. There was another consideration which he was called upon to bring under their notice; namely, to express his thorough confidence that they would divest their minds of every impression or prejudice which might have been raised from what they had read or heard out of doors. It would be a matter of infinite regret, if writings or publications, or any sort of public feeling, should for one instant affect their minds; but he was sure they knew their duty too well, to be influenced by prejudice; they would be guided by nothing but the facts as disclosed during the investigation.
The evidence was partly circumstantial, and partly direct. The first was composed of a number of minute facts and circumstances; and the latter of the testimony ofsocii. It would be their duty,—First, to consider the general evidence; Secondly, that of thesocii; and, Thirdly, the combined effect of both conjoined. From these, the verdict, upon a fair inference drawn from a consideration of the whole, would be made up. His Lordship then directed the attention of the Jury to the way and manner the old woman, Campbell, had been bereaved of life, informing them, that if they were satisfied she had not died in consequence of violence, there would be an end of the inquiry. If they held the contrary opinion, they would proceed to consider, whether she had lost her life by the hands of the prisoners, or one or other of them.
The evidence of the identity of her person was the first branch of the investigation. His Lordship then went over the whole evidence with great minuteness, commenting upon those parts where there were seeming contradictions, or which had been specially alluded to by the Public Prosecutor, or the counsel for the pannels, in the course of the defence, but it is unnecessary to recapitulate his Lordship’s detail, as the reader has the whole evidence itself before him.
With respect to thesocii, his Lordship said they were entitled to credit, if they gave a true account of the transaction of which they spoke. He admitted they were not placed in the same situation with persons against whom no suspicionexisted; but it was the duty of the jury to sift their evidence, and in as far as it was corroborated by good evidence, it was entitled to such a measure of credibility as they in their consciences thought it merited. They had been told of the Hares being connected with other murders. With what murders they might be chargeable, he did not know; but to a certainty, they could not be libelled on either of the charges contained in the libel now under trial, and which had not been sent to the jury. It was, therefore, unfounded in law to say, that these two persons were liable to be tried for the two murders contained in the indictment. These individuals, who were under the protection of the Court, had been called as accomplices, in the same manner as associates in robbery, wilful fire-raising, and other capital crimes. With respect to M‘Dougal, his Lordship was understood to express his opinion, that if the evidence was to be believed, she had been an accessory before the commission of the crime, during its commission, and after it was committed; and, upon the whole, he considered the libel as made out against both.
The Jury then retired at half-past eight o’clock to consider their verdict, and after an absence of fifty minutes, returned into Court and gave in the following verdict by their chancellor,William Macfie, Esq.
The jury find the pannel, William Burke, guilty of the third charge in the indictment, and find the indictment not proven against the pannel Helen M‘Dougal.
The Lords assoilzie the pannel, Helen M‘Dougal, simpliciter, and dismiss her from the bar.
TheLord Advocatehaving moved for the sentence of the Court,
LordMeadowbankbank gave his opinion nearly in the following terms:
My Lords, after a trial of unexampled length—protracted to nearly twenty-four hours—a trial in which the minds of your Lordships have been exerted to the uttermost, it would be improper in me to detain the Court with commenting on the circumstances of this most atrociouscase; and I feel that it is quite impossible for any one who has attended to the proceedings on this trial, to think that we have any thing left to do, but to go through with the distressing duty which is now fallen to your Lordships to perform. But it is impossible, in considering the whole circumstances of this distressing case, not to advert to that extraordinary—that most unexampled, and that atrocious system, which every one must feel has been developed by the evidence that has been brought forward. I am sure, and I speak in the presence of your Lordships, who can correct me if I am wrong, that in the whole history of the country—I may say, in the history of civilized society—nothing has ever been exhibited that is, in any respect, parallel to this case. Murders have been committed before now; crimes of all descriptions have unhappily been too common; but we had flattered ourselves that our county was, in a great measure, free from the stigma of any great or heinous atrocity committed within its bounds. That there should have been found, therefore, not one but many leagued and combined together, in order to sacrifice their unoffending fellow-creatures, for the wretched purpose of disposing of their bodies, is, to the last degree, humiliating. The very announcement of such a system is sufficient to raise ideas of horror which it would be vain to search for words adequately to express. When I take a view of the other features of this case, it exhibits a picture of iniquity which the greatest stretch of imagination can hardly take in, yet it was so clearly brought in proof, that, I am sure, it must carry conviction to every one who heard the evidence. It is proved that the prisoner, in going up the street after some of his usual avocations in the morning, fell in with the poor unprotected old woman, with whom, it is quite clear, that he was perfectly unacquainted before. Now began his arrangements for ensnaring his victim. With the immediate feeling upon him of the object which he had in view, he claims kindred with her by a fictitious name; and by pretences of kindness endeavours to gain on her affections. He entices her into his own house, and there continued his friendship to her, insomuch that she expressed gratitude to Mrs. Connoway for the kindness with which he had treated her. He thus contrives so far to attain his object, that she seems to have opened her affection and confidence to him—she looked to him for protection—she felt he had dealt kindly with her—she refused to enter the house until he entered with her. She did enter with him. A struggle, or pretended struggle, ensued; and, whenI recollect that the moment she fell that struggle ended, I cannot rationally entertain a doubt that it was feigned, and got up for the purpose of entrapping her, and throwing her off her guard. What did the individual to whom she looked for protection now do? She is thrown down, and he, with the atrocity of a demon, instantly throws himself upon her, and extinguishes life in a few moments. I do not state this with any view whatever of exciting the feelings, or aggravating indignation against the unhappy prisoner, but really when such a system of crime, in which there are many actors, is developed in the midst of this great metropolis, I cannot resist stating the impression which it has made upon my mind as one of the most monstrous exhibitions of atrocity ever disclosed in the annals of criminal jurisprudence in this or any other country. Sitting as I do in this place, there is little occasion to advert to certain matters that were pointed at, and eloquently pointed at, in the course of the defence. I will only observe, that with matters of science we have nothing to do. We have nothing to do but to administer the law as handed down to us, and God forbid that the claims of science, or of philosophy, or of speculation of any kind, shall prevent us from feeling the horror which such offences are naturally calculated to excite. With respect to the issue to the prisoner, your Lordships are aware that that issue must be death. The highest law has said, “Thou shalt not kill—thou shalt do no murder;†and the law of this country says, that he who commits murder shall suffer death. The prisoner must have considered that he was committing the high crime of murder. In his breast, as in the breast of every one, must be implanted that feeling, that murder was the most heinous of crimes. There is no doubt that it is the duty of the Court to pronounce sentence on the prisoner; and I now suggest that he be detained in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and that he suffer death on the scaffold on the 28th day of January next, and his body be given for dissection.
LordMackenzieexpressed his concurrence.
TheLord Justice Clerkthen addressed the prisoner nearly as follows:—William Burke, you now stand convicted by the verdict of an intelligent and respectable Jury, of the atrocious murder charged against you in the indictment, upon evidence which could not leave a doubt of your guilt on the mind of any one who heard it. I so fully concur in the view which has been so eloquently given by my learned brother, ofthe nature of the offence, that I will not occupy the time of the Court with commenting on it. A crime more atrocious, a more cold-blooded, deliberate, and systematic preparation for murder, and the motive so paltry, was really unexampled in the annals of the country. It is now my duty to inform you, that if ever it was clear beyond all possibility of a doubt, that the sentence would in any case be carried into full execution, this is the case. You may rest assured that you have no chance of pardon; and I now would solemnly warn you to prepare your mind in the most suitable manner to appear in a very short time before the throne of Almighty God, to answer for this crime, and for every other with which you stand chargeable in your own conscience. The necessity of repressing crimes of this nature precludes the possibility of your entertaining the slightest hope of a remission of your sentence. The only doubt I have in my mind is, whether to satisfy the violated laws of your country and the voice of public indignation, your body ought not to be exhibited in chains, to bleach in the winds, in order to deter others from the commission of similar offences. But, taking into consideration that the public eye would be offended by so dismal a spectacle, I am willing to accede to a more lenient execution of your sentence, and that your body should be publicly dissected. I trust that if it is ever customary to preserve skeletons, yours will be preserved, in order that posterity may keep in remembrance your atrocious crimes. I earnestly advise you to lose no time in humbling yourself in the sight of God, and that you will seek the aid of the ministers of religion, to whatever profession you may belong. The present charges having been fully established against you, it is my duty to inform you that you have but a few days to remain on the earth. His Lordship then pronounced, with due solemnity, the sentence of the law, which was recorded in the following terms:
The Lord Justice Clerk and Lords Commissioners of Justiciary, in respect of the verdict before recorded, decern and adjudge the said William Burke, pannel, to be carried from the bar back to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, therein to be detained, and to be fed on bread and water only, in terms of an act of Parliament passed in the 25th year of the reign of HisMajesty King George the Second, entitled “an Act for preventing the horrid crime of murder,†until Wednesday the twenty-eighth day of January next to come, and upon that day to be taken furth of the said tolbooth to the common place of execution in the Lawnmarket of Edinburgh, and then and there, between the hours of eight and ten o’clock before noon of the said day, to be hanged by the neck by the hands of the common executioner upon a gibbet until he be dead, and his body thereafter to be delivered to Dr. Alexander Munro, Professor of Anatomy in the University of Edinburgh, to be by him publicly dissected and anatomized, in terms of the said act, and ordain all his moveable goods and gear to be escheat and inbrought to His Majesty’s use, which is pronounced for doom.
Counsel for the Crown, theLord Advocate, Robert Dundas, Esq.,Archibald Alison, Esq., andAlexander Wood, Esq., Advocate Deputies,James Tytler, Esq., Crown Agent.
Counsel for Burke, SirJames W. Moncrieff, Bart., Dean of Faculty,Patrick Robertson,Mark Napier, andDavid Milne, Esqrs.
Counsel for M‘Dougal,Henry Cockburn,Duncan M‘Neil,Hugh Bruce, andGeorge Patton, Esqrs.
Agent for both pannels,James Beveridge, Esq. W. S. one of the agents for the poor.
We understand that the learned counsel above named, all very handsomely gave their services to the prisoners gratuitously.
Having thus given a faithful account of the judicial proceedings in this important trial, it will not, we trust, be an unacceptable supplement if we subjoin some particulars connected with it, which might indeed have been interwoven in the progress of the foregoing report, but which would have only incumbered the technical details that are, of course, mostinteresting. To these particulars we may add such other facts connected with the nefarious system of murder which had been organized among us as have transpired since the trial; and in an affair which has excited the most extraordinary sensation ever perhaps known in Scotland, in reference to crimes of a private nature, it seems desirable not only to give a complete and connected account of them, but to collect and embody along with it, in a single record, the various expressions of public feeling, as these have come forth through the press in all parts of the country.
From the whole evidence there appears scarce the shadow of a doubt that Helen M‘Dougal was equally involved with the other in this scheme of systematic murder. She did not put forth her hands because this was not the part which she was best fitted to perform; but that she was privy to what was about to take place is clearly made out, by her reluctance to part with the woman Campbell, evidently from the fear of losing her prey; and that she was an accessary after appears from what she said to the Grays, that if they would conceal what they saw, it would be worth to them L.10 a week. This is proved by the testimony of those witnesses, which is above all challenge. That it should have been necessary to set at liberty a wretch of this description, stained with such foul crimes, to begin anew her career of iniquity, cannot be sufficiently regretted.
HELEN M‘DOUGALas she appeared at the Bar,taken in CourtPublished by Thomas Ireland Junr, Edinr.
HELEN M‘DOUGAL
as she appeared at the Bar,taken in Court
Published by Thomas Ireland Junr, Edinr.
We may mention also as a singular instance of the obliquity of the human understanding, or at least of the effect produced upon some by the Dean of Faculty’s powerful speech for Burke, that two of the Jury by whom he was tried were of opinion that the Prosecutor had not made outhis case against that unhappy man, and consequently were for returning a verdict of Not Proven in his case as well as that of M‘Dougal. No one who attended to the evidence as it was led, or who has examined it since, has been able to discover upon what ground such a verdict was returned even in the case of the female pannel; but had the opinion of these two gentlemen prevailed, and the charges against Burke been found not proven, Justice might have thrown away her balance and broken her sword, and the Prosecutor might well have despaired of ever again obtaining a verdict upon a charge of murder. Happily nothing so utterly monstrous as this occurred. Justice has received one victim, but she will not be satisfied with this solitary sacrifice. Others yet remain to be claimed, whose hands are dyed in blood, and whose criminality is not either in law or in morality inferior to that of the unhappy man whose days are numbered, and who is doomed to expiate his manifold crimes on the scaffold.
The intense sensation which has been excited among all classes by this extraordinary case, far exceeds what we have ever witnessed on any former occasion. The story, when it was first rumoured, created the deepest agitation. But it was treated by many as an idle tale, framed to feed the vulgar appetite for the marvellous, and too horrible to be believed. Nor need we wonder that the most credulous should have been startled by the recital of such atrocious cruelty, which far surpasses any thing that is usually found in the records of crime. The offence of murder, dreadful as it is, is unhappily too familiar in our criminal proceedings; but such an artfully contrived and deliberate scheme, such a systematic traffic in blood, was certainly never before heard of in this country. It is a new passage in our domestic history; it is entirely out of the ordinary range of iniquity;and stands by itself, a solitary monument of villany, such as would almost seem to mark an extinction in the heart of all those social sympathies which bind man to his fellow-men, and even of that light of conscience which awes the most hardened, by the fear of final retribution. In works of fiction, no doubt, where the writer, to produce effect, borrows the aid of his imagination, we have accounts of such deeds, perpetrated, perhaps, in the secret chambers of some secluded castle, or in the deep recesses of some lone and sequestered haunt. But the striking and awful peculiarity of the present case is, that we have laid open, not in the high-wrought scenes of romance, but in the sober records of judicial inquiry, a den of murderers in the very bosom of civilized society, in the heart of our populous city, amid the haunts of business and the bustle of ordinary life, who have been, if we may so speak, living on their fellow-creatures as their natural prey. Words would fail to convey an idea of the sensation that was excited in the Court as in the progress of the trial the horrid details of this conspiracy were gradually unfolded; the craft by which the unhappy woman was lured to her destruction; the artful preparations for the bloody tragedy; and the cool decision and ferocity with which, when the fitting time was come, the murderer sprung upon his victim and extinguished life in a few moments. At every new view of this unhappy story, it assumes a deeper dye. What a fearful character does it present of cunning and violence, the true ingredients of villany! From first to last we see the same master spirit of iniquity at work to contrive and to execute. We see no doubt, no wavering, no compunctious visitings of the conscience, nor any soft relenting; but a stern deliberation of purpose, that is truly diabolical; and it is fearful to reflect, that a person capable of such crimes should have been so long haunting our streets, mixing in society, and coolly selecting subjects for his sanguinary trade.
Among the other peculiarities of the present case, we may remark, that such acts of savage atrocity are rather out of place in so civilized a community as that in which we live. They are not in unison with the moral tone of society. Crimes of violence are the natural product of barbarism. They grow up to frightful maturity in that congenial soil; and all savage communities are accordingly distinguished by cruelty, and the most profligate indifference to human life. As mankind improve, and as knowledge is diffused, those crimes disappear, and are succeeded by others sufficiently odious, no doubt, but still of a less atrocious nature. The same process by which we cultivate the intellectual faculties would seem also to open the heart to more humane sentiments and to more kindly feelings. But however we may improve society and diffuse instruction, there is still a vast expanse of ignorance, poverty, and vice, which we may lessen by active efforts, but which we cannot altogether remove, and it is in this intellectual desert, if we may so speak, where nothing that is humane, enlightened, or moral, ever springs up to refresh the eye, that crimes are produced. Under the influence of ignorance all the best affections of the human heart wither and lie dead; and it is chiefly from those who are within its sphere, that the ranks of crime are recruited; and that, occasionally, such wretches arise as Burke or Hare, or their female associates, who distance all competitors in iniquity, and shock the feelings of the age by their enormous crimes. It will generally be found that these criminals are not only wicked and immoral, but that they are uneducated and grossly ignorant; living, no doubt, in a civilized community, and with certain habits of civilization that they cannot avoid, but still in respect to mental cultivation, scarcely, if at all, raised above the level of savages. Hence the vast importance to society of spreading knowledge, of bringing all ranks under some process of mentaltuition, and of establishing schools where instruction and morality, for they go together, are retailed at a cheap rate. It is only in this way that we can ensure the decrease of crimes; and more especially of such atrocious crimes as have been recently perpetrated.
In the course of this trial, some allusion was made to the interests of science, to which, in the impressive address of Lord Meadowbank, previous to passing sentence, there is a conclusive reply, and we would only remark, that the more this subject is agitated, the greater will be the prejudice excited; nor can any law be made that would be of the least service. The subject, involving as it does so many critical considerations, is far too delicate to be touched by act of Parliament; besides, that the popular ferment, that would thereby be raised, would multiply the present difficulties tenfold. We cannot possibly comprehend how Parliament could interfere in this matter, or how any act could be framed to make that legal which is at present illegal. Science, in short, may be injured, but it cannot possibly be benefited by any public agitation of the subject.
During the whole course of the trial Burke maintained the most perfect self-possession and tranquillity, even when some parts of the evidence that made others shudder came out against him. He conversed occasionally with M‘Dougal, and more than once we saw him smile at such parts of the testimonies as probably appeared to him not to be “the whole truth.â€
In the course of his trial we understand that Burke, about four o’clock, asked when he would get dinner, andbeing informed it would be about six, he begged that he might have a biscuit or two, as he would lose his appetite before that time. Both pannels ate bread and soup heartily; and although they displayed no external marks of inward emotion, they frequently, especially the woman, took copious draughts of water.
Before the jury retired, and during the time they were enclosed, Burke endeavoured to prepare the mind of M‘Dougal for her fate, as, from the address of the Lord Justice Clerk, he supposed she would be found guilty; in the view of which he gave her directions how she should conduct herself, desiring her to look at and observe him when the Lord Justice Clerk was pronouncing sentence. When the jury returned with their verdict, they mentioned first that they found the libel against M‘Dougal Not Proven. He was immediately heard coolly to exclaim, “Nelly, you are out of the scrape.†After the Lord Justice Clerk’s address to him he was very anxious that permission should be given to M‘Dougal to remain a day or two in the Lock-up-house, for her personal protection.
The advocates for the Crown and the pannels spoke in their addresses to the jury nearly six hours; and, altogether, the trial was one of the most interesting we ever witnessed, by the horrors which the investigation disclosed, by the intense interest which pervaded the whole assemblage, and by the picturesque and singular appearance of the scene. This was not a little heightened by the expedient to which the greater part of the audience were obliged to resort for self preservation against the inclemency of the weather. By orders from the Court a large window was thrown open as far as it could be done, and a current of cold damp air beat, for twenty-four hours, upon the heads of thewhole audience. How far this was necessary or considerate we presume not to say; and we trust no fatal consequences will ensue; but we must be permitted to express a hope that some plan will be adopted for preventing a repetition of a similar occurrence—such an occurrence as last winter, on Mrs. Smith’s trial, endangered the life of one of our most valuable and esteemed advocates. In the present instance, the greater part of the audience being Advocates and Writers to the Signet in their gowns, these were wrapped round their heads, and, intermingled with various coloured handkerchiefs in every shade and form of drapery, which gave to the visages that were inshrouded under them, such a grim and grisly aspect as assimilated them to a college of monks or inquisitors, or characters imagined in tales of romance,—grouped and contrasted most fantastically with the costume of the bench and crowded bar engaged in the trial.
The personal appearance of Burke and M‘Dougal has been already mentioned; and that of Hare has also been described in terms sufficiently glowing by the Counsel for M‘Dougal. Hare is indeed one of the most squalid-looking wretches we have ever seen; and when he gave his evidence, he had a sinister expression in his look which made his presence peculiarly revolting. After being warned not to answer any questions which might criminate himself, except with regard to the murder of Docherty, instead of answering Mr. Cockburn’s interrogatories, he repeatedly gave a silent diabolical nod with his head; and on his way from the witness-box to the Lock-up-house in the custody of the macer, he had a look of evident satisfaction in his imagined escape; and he even chatted and conducted himself with the most hardened levity. He repeatedly, when giving his evidence, distinguished Docherty by the contemptuous appellation of “the old wife.†His appearance betokens thegreatest effrontery, while it is altogether that of a low blackguard; and all his demeanour fully justifies Mr. Cockburn’s account of him as an embodiment of “penury and profligacy.†His wife is a short, stout, round-faced and fresh-complexioned personage, but withal has a look of coarse and determined brutality, fitting her to be a suitable consort to such a mate. From their demeanour and aspect it is perhaps less to be marvelled at that some of the jury, led away also by the eloquence of the Dean of Faculty and Mr. Cockburn, should have been unwilling to convict even Burke on the testimony of such wretches to whom falsehood seemed more familiar than truth.
The honest Irishman Gray, and his wife, to whom alone the public are indebted for the disclosure of this base murder, and the exposure of the gang of miscreants engaged in this trade of blood, forms an interesting contrast to the party with whom their miseries made them for a time bed-fellows. And when it is known, that in addition to the temptation for concealment which their poverty and the promised reward for secrecy supplied, there was the additional one of screening a near relation, their honesty assumes a higher character. Hitherto they have not met with the applause nor the reward to which their integrity and valuable services entitle them. They both gave their testimony with a clearness and precision, and in a manner which bespoke a clear conscience, and no one could see and hear them without sympathising sincerely with these poor but honest people, whose destitution subjected them and their child to repose on the bloody bed of straw, on which perhaps they were destined, at no distant period, to have perished, if they had not been providentially the means of bringing those hidden deeds to light. It has been well observed, that the fiendish gang gave a powerful though unwilling testimony totheir uncorrupted honesty when they found it necessary to put them out of the way until their deeds of darkness were perpetrated.[2]
Blame has sometimes been cast upon the periodical press for raising a popular excitement by exaggerated statements. In this case, no such charge could be made. The press, up to the time of the trial, remained nearly silent, and the dreadful and revolting crimes then divulged were beyond the conceptions almost of the most fertile imagination. Popular feeling was however excited; and the interest universally expressed, has seldom been equalled in intensity. At an early hour in the morning, the avenues to the Court were crowded; judicious arrangements had been made for the jurymen, witnesses, and those who were concerned, procuring admittance by private entrances; and due precautions used to prevent a rush and inconvenient crowding into the Court. Still, however, the court-room, which is small, was excessively crowded; and although very few were suffered to pass the cordons of policemen, who guarded the approaches, it continued in this state till the result was known. The usual good nature and sympathy towards a criminal were laid aside in this instance, and a universal desire seemed to pervade all classes, that both pannels should be convicted, and a regret that Hare also and his guilty partner could not share the same fate. All day, thestreets in the neighbourhood of the Parliament Square were thronged by anxious groupes, who eagerly questioned those proceeding from the Court as to the progress of the trial, and their reports speedily found their way to the remotest parts of the city. The imperfect rumours of the objection made to the relevancy of the indictment, and the subsequent account of its being confined to one charge, seemed to create a fear that the criminals were about to elude the grasp of the law on some technical grounds. Had such been the case, a popular tumult from the reckless, unthinking part of the assemblage appeared an inevitable consequence. Towards the evening, the numbers increased; and about nine o’clock, a gang of blackguard men and boys proceeded to Dr. Knox’s class-room, in Surgeons’ Square, for the purpose of destruction. By this time the high constables, and the other bodies of constables, joined to the ordinary police force, were in readiness, and the steady front that was exhibited quickly induced the assailants to withdraw. Some of the mob proceeded to the college, and broke a few panes of glass in the windows of Dr. Monro’s class-room and the neighbouring rooms; but the arrival of a party of constables and policemen speedily stopped their proceedings here also. During part of the night, the concourse continued; but as the inclemency of the weather continued, and the night advanced, without bringing a prospect of a speedy conclusion, the people gradually dispersed. The hour to which the proceedings were protracted, allowed time for them to reassemble next morning, and with renewed patience wait the conclusion. Hasty inquiries about the result were made by those citizens who had spent the night comfortably in bed, and were now proceeding to their places of business, of those coming from the direction of the Court, and whose jaded and pale appearance betokened that they had either been employed in some capacity, or had been so fortunateas to obtain a hearing of the interesting proceeding at the expense of a night’s rest. The citizens of Edinburgh are by no means blood-thirsty, and, on ordinary occasions, would rejoice to learn that a fellow-being had escaped the fearful death that the law adjudges to great criminals; but in this case there was expressed a universal feeling of satisfaction, and if at all alloyed, it was by the knowledge that the woman, who was considered equally guilty, should not have been equally punished. It seemed as if the enormity of their offences had stopped the channels of pity, and an unanimous requisition for vengeance was made by a whole population.
The offices of the newspapers published on that day were beset by eager purchasers, and the presses kept constantly at work could scarcely supply the unceasing demand. It has been computed, that eight thousand copies, in addition to their ordinary circulation, were sold in one week by the Edinburgh newspapers alone.
A general outcry has been raised for the blood of the miscreant Hare, and if he, who is believed to have been the author and principal actor in so many murders, be suffered to escape, it will be to the disappointment of the public; every confidence, is, however, felt in the Lord Advocate. He, it is understood, is still actively prosecuting his inquiries, and as long as the ruffian and his wife are detained in custody, hopes are cherished that it is with a view of putting them upon their trial. Discussions have taken place as to the policy and legality of such a course, some of which will be found in the subsequent parts of this work. It is not our part to decide upon the question, but apparently nothing will allay the public ferment until either a resolution to sift the matter regarding them to the bottom be promulgated, or some official annunciation of its impracticability be made public.
After the trial, Burke and M‘Dougal were removed to the Lock-up-house; Hare and his wife followed, and were lodged in different apartments. Burke had hardly been seated, when looking round, he said to the officers who had him in charge, “this is a —— cold place you have brought me till.†The officers had been long inured to moral turpitude, to bacchanalian frenzy, and wickedness of every description; but lying, as he then was, under sentence of an ignominious death, for a crime of unparalleled atrocity, his unseemly levity struck them with horror, and one of them rebuked him sharply for his conduct. Burke stated, that from the moment he heard that Hare had been admitted an evidence, he was aware that escape was impossible, and he was prepared for the worst. It was stated to him, that as he had for some time lived a life of unexampled wickedness, a fair confession of his crimes, and an accurate account of his life, might be read with interest, and be of service to mankind; he replied that he would make no confession whatever till he had consulted his priest on the subject. He stated, that he considered Hare was the most guilty of the two; for, said he, “he murdered the first woman, he persuaded me to join him, and now he has murdered me, and I will regret to the last hour of my existence that he did not share the same fate.†One of the officers stated, in Burke’s hearing, “I think I could never wish to see that man forgiven who could murder that poor harmless good-natured idiot, Daft Jamie.†Here the wretched man stared intently on the officer, and replied with peculiar emphasis, “My days are numbered—I am soon to die by the hands of man—I have no more to fear, and can now have no interest in telling a lie, and I declare thatI am as innocent of Daft Jamie’s blood as you are. He was taken into Hare’s house, and murdered by him and his wife; to be sure I was guilty in so far, for I assisted to carry the body to ——, and got a share of the money.â€
He stated, in answer to direct questions of course, that it was the general plan to look after poor and wretched strangers, who were not likely to be inquired after by any person of consequence; but promptly refused to state, till he had consulted his priest, whether or not he had been concerned in any other murders than those with which he was charged in the indictment, or whether he was in the practice of going to the country for the purpose of enticing poor wanderers to his house. He gave rather a different account of the mode in which he put the poor woman Campbell to death, from that given by his accomplice Hare. He stated, that after the sham fight was over, she was thrown down on her back; that Hare seized her by the legs; that he forced the mouth of a bottle into her throat, and poured down whisky till she was choaked or nearly so, and that he himself then sat down upon her, stopping up her nose and mouth so completely that she died in a few minutes. About three o’clock, he inquired if he might be permitted to offer up a short prayer; his request was instantly granted, and the unhappy man prayed with great fervour for a few minutes. In the course of his prayer, he implored forgiveness for the wicked life he had led, and more especially for the great crime for which he was about to suffer on the gibbet. He also entreated that his wretched partner in guilt might be brought to a full sense of the crimes of which she had been guilty,—that she might repent, and atone, as far as it was in her power to do so in this world, by a life of quietness, piety, and honest industry. At his request, the officer read about half a dozen chapters of the Scriptures, to whichhe paid great attention, occasionally saying, “That passage touches keenly on my crimes.†When preparations were making for his removal to the jail on the Calton-hill, he requested the officers to visit him in the prison. On being informed that there would be no admittance to him, he said, “Well, well, though I should never see you again, you will see me on the 28th January, at the head of Libberton’s Wynd. I have now only five weeks to live, and I will not weary greatly for that day.†While in the Lock-up-house, he expressed the greatest dread of the heavy irons in the condemned cell. On reaching the jail, however, he was secured in the usual way, and every possible precaution will be used lest he should in some degree defeat the ends of justice by suicide, and add self-destruction to the appalling list of murders to which he has been accessary. No person has since been permitted to hold any conversation with him, except his spiritual instructors. Though he has been brought up in the Roman Catholic faith, and has intimated his resolution to die a member of the church, in a belief of whose principles he has been educated, he receives the visits of the Rev. Messrs. Porteous and Marshall, with the same pleasure he does those of the Rev. Gentlemen of his own persuasion. He pays due attention to their exhortations—reads the Bible or some religious book constantly in their absence, and is making every preparation for the great and awful change which he must soon undergo.
The woman M‘Dougal, upon her release from the Lock-up-House, in which she had been detained for two days for her personal protection, had the audacity or folly to proceed to her old haunts in the West Port, and even to venture to the street. She was quicklyrecognised, and a mob collecting, was in danger of being roughly handled. Fortunately for her, the proximity of the place to the police watch-office, enabled protection to be immediately afforded, and with some difficulty she was conveyed to the watch-house. The mob increased to a somewhat alarming size for the slender force that was stationed there, and the officers had to resort to an expedient to prevent an assault. A ladder was placed at a back window, by which it was pretended that she had descended; this induced the populace to depart, when she was escorted to the head office. Since then she has been several times exposed to similar danger, and as often rescued by the police officers. Finding the lower classes too much exasperated to allow her to live in safety in Edinburgh, she left it, and proceeded to the village of Redding in Stirlingshire, where her father is now settled. It is said that she has since left that village, and is living in Glasgow with Constantine Burke.
On Sunday, after her confinement in the Lock-up as formerly detailed, this wretched woman related a horrible, but a plausible story, to one of the subalterns of authority. She stated, that one night Burke and Hare were carousing in one of the apartments of Hare’s human shambles, on the profit of a recent murder. In the midst of their unhallowed orgies, Hare raised his hand, and in a fit of fiendish exultation, stated that they could never want money, for, when they were at a loss for “a shot,†(a body for dissection,) they would murder and sell, first one and then the other of their own wives. Being in the adjoining apartment, the females overheard, and were petrified by this horrible resolution, as they had every reason to be assured that the monsters would certainly carry it into effect. A discussion of some length ensued, and Hare finally succeeded in persuading Burke to consent,that when the dreaded emergency did arrive, M‘Dougal should be the first victim. Hence, this woman may be supposed to have run as imminent a risk of a violent death by the hands of her inhuman husband, as she did of an ignominious end on the gallows.
When Burke was removed from the Court-room to the Lock-up house, he was considerably agitated, and throwing himself upon his knees, addressed a prayer to God, whom he had so grievously offended. During the rest of the day he was composed, and even spoke cheerfully to the policeman who had the charge of him. He expressed his joy at the acquittal of M‘Dougal. He also said that the Irishwoman was murdered, not by him, but by Hare, in the manner described in Hare’s testimony; but admitted that, during the shocking operation he held her hands. He confessed that he had participated in many more murders than those he had been indicted for; and said, that after his mind was composed, he would make disclosures which would implicate several others besides Hare and his wife, in the same crimes as those for which he was doomed to die. He was asked how did he feel when he was pursuing his most horrible avocation? He replied, that in his waking moments he had no feeling, but that when he slept he had frightful dreams, which previously he had been unaccustomed to. The fact is, that when awake, by means of ardent spirits, he steeped his senses in forgetfulness; and his excessive use of spirits accounts for his absolute penury at the time of his being apprehended. He expressed a wish that one of his Counsel, whom he mentioned, would call upon him, thathe might furnish him with notes of his life and adventures, as he was desirous to have his history published. At night he had short fits of sleep, during which he raved, but his expressions were inarticulate, and he grinded his teeth in the most fearful manner. Whenever he awoke he was in a frantic state, but always recovered his composure; and in the course of the evening he read two chapters of the Bible. At two o’clock on Friday morning he was removed in a coach to the Calton Hill Jail, and put upon the gad.
Burke since he went to Jail has been remarkably composed and devout. He has observed that he is by no means a bigot in religion; that besides Popish churches, he had, when a soldier, attended Presbyterian, Episcopalian, and Methodist ones, with the peculiar tenets of all which he appears to be perfectly conversant. He says that he has received instruction from good men of every faith; and that “real repentance and a strong belief,†are sufficient to ensure salvation.
He mentioned at first that he would wish to have a clergyman to attend him; and upon being asked of what persuasion he would like him to be, expressed indifference upon that point, but wished only one who would point out the way to salvation. He received the visits of the Reverend Mr. Marshall, minister of the Tolbooth Church, with whose ministrations he expressed himself much satisfied, and of the Reverend Mr. Porteous, chaplain of the Jail. One day Mr. Marshall, and the Reverend Mr. Stuart, Catholic priest, called to see him; and upon being askedwhich he would wish to converse with, he replied that he would have both; he has also received visits from the Reverend Bishop Paterson, and the Reverend Mr. Reid, Catholic priests; latterly, since the visits of clergymen of his own persuasion, he has declined those of Mr. Marshall, and they have consequently been discontinued. Whether it be that the horrors of his wretched death have been mitigated in the contemplation by the familiarity with it, which time must produce after the first shuddering sensations have passed away and left a comparatively apathetic calmness, certain it is, that he now displays less concern about the sin than he did during the first few days; he is penitent because his crimes have been detected and punishment awarded; but were not this the case, in all probability he would think little of the heinousness of the offences.
He continues to be particularly anxious that his associate Hare should be brought to trial, and receive the punishment he merits for his misdeeds, but asserts that it is not from any vindictive or revengeful feeling that he cherishes towards him, but from motives of humanity. When conversing lately upon the subject, he stated his perfect conviction, that if Hare should again be let loose upon society, he would recommence his murderous career when he wanted money; at the same time he declared that he was afraid the spirits of his future victims would reproach him in the regions of bliss, for not having taken means to get Hare executed, and thereby preventing their violent and untimely deaths.
A day or two after conviction he sent his watch and what money he possessed to M‘Dougal; and when informed that his mission was executed, expressed satisfaction, and observed, “poor thing it is all I have to give her, it will beof some use to her, and I will not need it.†He speaks in terms of great affection towards her, and anticipates that she will be allowed to have an interview with him before he suffers.
He is free and communicative to those who are necessarily about him, though strangers coming from motives of curiosity are excluded. Had liberty been afforded to the turnkeys to admit those who came, they might have cleared a handsome sum: so much as two guineas has been offered for admittance. He is watched day and night: and throughout the night it is ascertained every half hour that the watchman does not slumber at his post. Any thing by which self-destruction could possibly be effected is sedulously kept out of his way.
He is afflicted with a cancer which has been incorrectly stated to have been produced by a bite from Daft Jamie. It is of long standing, and distresses him much, and would, in all probability, have ended his days at no distant period, if he had escaped the gallows; and there is little doubt that Hare would have had no compunction in transferring his comrade’s body to the dissecting-rooms, as well as those he had so frequently trafficked in. This sore keeps him in great pain, and along with some of the adjuncts of prison fare and treatment, tends to divert his mind from his spiritual state to his bodily discomfort. The condemned cell, as he observed, is but a comfortless place, cold and cheerless and dreary, where hope, at least in such a case as his, never enters to enliven it; chained in such a place to the gad—much confinement to bed is necessary to produce a little warmth, especially at this season; while coarse bread and cold water are but unpalatable food for one who was accustomed to spend his profligate gains in debaucheryand drunkenness. The very deprivation of ardent spirits must be felt as an intolerable grievance, and while it is properly withheld, food, that could in some degree supply the craving for stimulants that such a long course of indulgence cannot fail to have produced, might surely be afforded. It is not from any notion that his appetite should be pampered that we mention this, but from a desire that a man in his awful situation, standing on the brink of eternity, and to whom a few calm days may be of eternal import, should not have his mind distracted by any needless bodily mortifications. The law in this part of the island humanely allows a period for the purpose of giving an opportunity of repentance to the criminal, and time to make up his peace with God, while it at the same time annexes conditions which in some degree renders the indulgence nugatory for the purpose. The statute is a British one, and probably the legislators did not contemplate that an interval of six weeks should be spent upon this hard regimen.
Captain Rose, the Governor of the Jail, does all that humanity dictates to alleviate his situation.
When the officers were removing Hare from the Courthouse to the Calton-hill jail, he is reported, to the horror even of those men accustomed to vice in its most hardened and depraved forms, to have been seized with a fit of diabolical glee at his fancied escape from justice. There is something awfully appalling in the merriment of a being who a few minutes before, had, to save himself from a merited fate on the gallows, by his testimony consigned his guilty partner to an ignominious death,—the comrade toowhom he had lured to the commission of the crimes, and instructed in the manner of executing them. It might even have been supposed, that the recollection of the appearance he made in the witness’ box, when he could only escape from the avowal of numberless murders, by skulking under the privilege of his situation, would have prevented his unseasonable mirth. His wife and he have since been kept in confinement, and inquiries have been instituted, apparently for the purpose of attempting to prove some of the numerous charges of murders alleged against him, which, although unauthenticated and unproved, have assumed such a shape as to be worthy of official investigation.
Stories have been sent abroad of his anxiety to shun the public gaze, and muffling himself under the bed-clothes when visited by the authorities. Usually, however, he shows no such indisposition to publicity; but amuses himself in the airing ground attached to the ward, along with the other prisoners confined in it, and exhibits no disinclination to be looked at. He has the appearance of the greatest effrontery; and whether from design or apathy, appears unconscious of his being remarkable, or that there is any thing about him that could satisfy curiosity. He is generally disliked by the prisoners, who, whatever may be their crimes, naturally share in the universal aversion that causes any person, preserving even a small portion of the ordinary feelings of humanity, to shrink from contact with a deep-dyed murderer. Joined to the horror of such companionship, another means of annoyance accompanies Hare; the ward is the greatest object of attraction to the numerous visitors to the jail, and a groupe is generally waiting his appearance; the other prisoners are thus either prevented from taking their usual exercise, or subjected to the gaze of the assemblage. To obviate this as much as possible, they are in the custom ofshoving Hare forward, and forcing him to satisfy the public curiosity, and thus rid them of the annoyance for a season.
It gives us no small pleasure to be able to inform the public, that the Lord Advocate has caused inquiries respecting these atrocious murders to be resumed with renovated zeal and activity; and it is said that Mr. Peel, Secretary of State for the Home Department, has communicated with his Lordship, requesting that the matter should undergo a complete investigation. On one day no less than seven individuals, including four resurrectionists, and three persons who were in the habit of frequenting Hare’s house, were examined; the different anatomical lecturers and various medical gentlemen have likewise been examined. We may also mention that one of the macers of the High Court of Justiciary has apprehended a woman in Glasgow, who had been servant to Hare, and there are no slight grounds to hope, that she and the others will unfold a tale of horror, which will cause a jury to consign that acknowledged murderer to the ignominious death he deserves. He is beginning to get remarkably uneasy in his confinement; and his anxious inquiries at the turnkeys in the jail, the decline of his health, and the dogged silence he maintains, evince that he is labouring, as he well may, under the most serious apprehension.
Public clamour is also loud against him and his wife; and every one is anxious, if it were at all possible, that criminal proceedings should be commenced against them. We have no doubt, however, that those who have so successfully investigated and brought to light those foul proceedings will anxiously deliberate, and firmly resolve, on what is bestto be done. They have before them all the evidence, and to their sound discretion the whole matter may be safely left.
It is stated upon good authority, that measures have been taken, with the sanction and by the authority of the nearest kindred of James Wilson, commonly called “Daft Jamie,†for investigating into the cause and manner of his death, and, if possible, bringing those concerned in his alleged murder to punishment. For this purpose, an able and active agent has been employed, and Mr. Jeffrey, we understand, is already retained as senior counsel for the intended prosecution, while other eminent counsel have also been retained.
The public at large are making anxious and universal inquiry after Paterson. This man, instead of checking at once the course of murder, and bringing the murderers to justice, encouraged the homicides and profited by the horrid traffic. Had he procured only such bodies as were indispensable for his employer’s hall, dire necessity might have been urged as a slight palliation of his odious conduct, but he enjoined the assassins to “procure as many subjects as they could,†“asked no questions,†and it is beyond dispute, that he offered the body of the woman Docherty to an eminent lecturer in town for L.15, who spurned the proposal with merited indignation and contempt. It was proved on Burke’s trial that he never paid more than L.10 for a body, and had this gentleman accepted his offer, here was at once a profit to Paterson of L.5. It will ever be regretted if no severer punishment than universal reprobation and abhorrence overtake this wholesale dealer in the bodies of his murdered fellow subjects. He has not absconded, as has been reported, though discharged from Dr. Knox’s service; he is still in Edinburgh.
Great numbers have been attracted to the habitations of Burke and Hare, where the slaughters were carried on. Mr. Alston, the witness on the trial, who has the key of Burke’s den, has been much annoyed by the multitudes who have beset him for admission. He has somewhat unusual punctilios against making profit by the transaction, and, not unreasonably, is unwilling to be farther troubled. Indeed, little damage could be done now though the doors of both houses were thrown open, and the public freely admitted; the places are completely dismantled, and only the bare walls remaining. The only danger to be feared is, that the eagerness to procure reliques, which has been so strangely manifested, should induce some individuals to break up the doors and windows. Great anxiety has been shown to be possessed of some article or other which belonged to the peerless criminals; one man boasts that he has got Burke’s hammer; another that he has obtained that invaluable article Hare’s whisky bottle; a third has had the marvellous good fortune to secure Burke’s cane, while others have actually carried off small pieces of wood, in order to be converted into snuff-boxes, or some articles of fancy. Hare’s furniture, if the trumpery sticks that decorated his walls and supplied the place of furniture can be called such, has been safely deposited in an adjacent cellar, which is securely padlocked, and all chance of a curiosity-monger getting access to the precious store excluded. In the late case of Corder, the rope that hanged the criminal was said to have been sold at the rate of a guinea per inch, and if the Edinburgh hangman be as well acquainted with the art of turning the penny as his southern prototype, he may possibly contrive to supply as large a demand as the taste of the public creates at the same rate,every inch, of course, being a genuine part of the cord by which Burke was suspended.