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THE HISTORY OF BURKE AND HARE




  THE HISTORY OF BURKE AND HARE

  _And of the Resurrectionist Times_

  _A FRAGMENT FROM THE CRIMINAL ANNALS OF SCOTLAND_


  BY GEORGE MAC GREGOR, F.S.A. SCOT.,
  _Author of "The History of Glasgow," and Editor of
  "The Collected Writings of Dougal Graham."_


  _CONTAINING SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS_


  GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORISON
  LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO.
  1884




PREFACE.


The history of the Scottish nation has, unfortunately, been stained with
many foul crimes, perpetrated either to serve personal ends and private
ambition, or under the pretence of effecting the increased welfare of the
people. These have given life to a large amount of literature, much of it
from the pens of some of the most distinguished legal and antiquarian
authors the country has produced, such as Arnot, Pitcairn, MacLaurin,
Burton, and others. But of all the criminal events that have occurred in
Scotland, few have excited so deep, widespread, and lasting an interest as
those which took place during what have been called the Resurrectionist
Times, and notably, the dreadful series of murders perpetrated in the name
of anatomical science by Burke and Hare. The universal interest excited at
the time of these occurrences, also, has called forth a great quantity of
fugitive literature; and as no narrative of any considerable size,
detailing in a connected and chronological form the events which bulk so
largely in the history of the country, had yet appeared, the Author
considered a volume such as the present was required to fill up an
important hiatus in the criminal annals of his country.

In the preparation of this work the Author has had a double purpose before
him. He has sought not only to record faithfully the lives and crimes of
Burke and Hare, and their two female associates, but also to present a
general view of the Resurrectionist movement from its earliest inception
until the passing of the Anatomy Act in 1832, when the violation of the
sepulchres of the dead for scientific purposes was rendered unnecessary,
and absolutely inexcusable. He has, in carrying out this object,
endeavoured to give due prominence to the medical and legal aspects of the
whole subject; and to the social effects produced by the movement
throughout the century and a half during which it flourished in Scotland.
In order to do this the Author has consulted books, newspapers, and
documents of all kinds, and has sought, where that was possible, to
supplement his information by oral tradition. But in addition, he has, in
the body of the work, and in the Appendix, brought together stray ballads,
and illustrative cases and notes, which help to give a better and fuller
understanding of the historical aspect of the question, and of its
influence on the minds of the great bulk of the Scottish people.

The Author has to express his thanks to the many gentlemen who have kindly
allowed him access to their rare and valuable collections, from which he
derived great assistance in the course of his investigations.

GLASGOW, May, 1884.




CONTENTS.


                                                                      PAGE

  INTRODUCTION.--

    _The Resurrectionist Movement--Its Contributing Causes and
    Results_,                                                           13

  CHAPTER I.--

    _Early Prohibition of Dissection--Shakespeare's Tomb--The
    Progress of Anatomy--Curious Incident in Edinburgh--An Old
    Broadside Ballad on Body-Snatching--Tumults in Edinburgh
    and Glasgow--Female "Burkers"_,                                     16

  CHAPTER II.--

    _Tales of the Resurrectionists--The Students at Work_,              25

  CHAPTER III.--

    _Tales of the Resurrectionists--What the Doctors did_,              33

  CHAPTER IV.--

    _Tales of the Resurrectionists--The Professional
    Body-Snatchers--A Dundee Resurrectionist Ballad--A Strange
    Experiment in Glasgow_,                                             38

  CHAPTER V.--

    _The Early Life of Burke and M'Dougal--Their Meeting with
    Hare and his Wife--Some Notes Concerning the Latter_,               47

  CHAPTER VI.--

    _Death of Donald the Pensioner--Hare's Debt--Negotiations
    with the Doctors--A Bargain Struck--Sale of Donald's Body_,         54

  CHAPTER VII.--

    _New Prospects--Description of Hare's House--The Murder of
    Abigail Simpson, the Old Woman from Gilmerton--The Two Sick
    Men_,                                                               57

  CHAPTER VIII.--

    _Qualms of Conscience--The Murder of Mary Paterson, and
    Escape of Janet Brown--Preservation of the Fallen Beauty_,          63

  CHAPTER IX.--

    _Unknown Victims--The Two Old Women--Effy the Cinder
    Raker--"A Good Character with the Police"--Burke and Hare
    Separate--The Murder of Mrs. Hostler_,                              69

  CHAPTER X.--

    _Old Mary Haldane--The End of her Debauch--Peggy Haldane in
    Search of her Mother--Mother and Daughter United in Death_,         74

  CHAPTER XI.--

    _A Narrow Escape--The Old Irishwoman and her Grandson--
    Their Murder--Hare's Horse rising in Judgment_,                     79

  CHAPTER XII.--

    _Jealousy--An Undeveloped Plot--Hare Cheats Burke, and they
    Separate--The Foul Work Continued--Murder of Ann M'Dougal_,         82

  CHAPTER XIII.--

    _James Wilson, "Daft Jamie"--Some Anecdotes concerning
    him--Daft Jamie and Boby Awl_,                                      88

  CHAPTER XIV.--

    _Daft Jamie Trapped into Hare's House--The Murder--The Body
    Recognised on the Dissecting Table--Popular Feeling_,               94

  CHAPTER XV.--

    _The End Approaches--Proposed Extension of Business--Mrs.
    Docherty claimed as Burke's Relative--The Lodgers
    Dismissed--The Murder of Mrs. Docherty_,                            99

  CHAPTER XVI.--

    _An Ill Excuse--Strange Behaviour--Discovery--The Threat--
   Unavailing Arguments--The Last Bargain_,                            103

  CHAPTER XVII.--

    _The Arrest of Burke and M'Dougal--Discovery of the Body--
    Hare and his Wife Apprehended--Public Intimation of the
    Tragedy--Burke and M'Dougal give their Version of the
    Transaction_,                                                      107

  CHAPTER XVIII.--

    _Public Excitement at the West Port Murder--The
    Newspapers--Doubts as to the Disappearance of Daft Jamie
    and Mary Paterson--The Resurrectionists still at Work_,            113

  CHAPTER XIX.--

    _Burke and M'Dougal amend their Account of the Murder--The
    Prosecution in a Difficulty--Hare turns King's Evidence--
    The Indictment against Burke and M'Dougal_,                        118

  CHAPTER XX.--

    _Public Anticipation of the Trial--Appearance of Burke and
    M'Dougal in the Dock--Opening of the Court--The Debate on
    the Relevancy of the Indictment_,                                  124

  CHAPTER XXI.--

    _The Trial of Burke and M'Dougal--Circumstantial Evidence--
    Hare's Account of the Murder of Docherty--What he Declined
    to Answer--Mrs. Hare and her Child_,                               130

  CHAPTER XXII.--

    _The Trial--Speeches of Counsel--Mr. Cockburn's Opinion of
    Hare--The Verdict of the Jury_,                                    136

  CHAPTER XXIII.--

    _The Last Stage of the Trial--Burke Sentenced to Death--The
    Scene in Court--M'Dougal Discharged--Duration of the Trial_,       142

  CHAPTER XXIV.--

    _The Interest in the Trial--Feeling as to the Result--Press
    Opinions--Attack on Dr. Knox's House_,                             146

  CHAPTER XXV.--

    _Burke's Behaviour in Prison--Liberation of M'Dougal, and
    the Consequent Riot--Visitors at Burke's House in the West
    Port--Burke's Idea of the Obligations of Dr. Knox--His
    Confessions_,                                                      150

  CHAPTER XXVI.--

    _"The Complicity of the Doctors"--Numerous Disappearances--
    Dr. Knox and David Paterson--Paterson Defends Himself--"The
    Echo of Surgeon's Square"--The Scapegoat_,                         155

  CHAPTER XXVII.--

    _The Legal Position of Hare and his Wife--Gossip about
    Burke--Mrs. Hare and her Child--Constantine Burke--
    Anatomical Instruction--Mrs. Docherty's Antecedents_,              163

  CHAPTER XXVIII.--

    _Burke's Spiritual Condition--The Erection of the
    Scaffold--The Criminal's Last Hours--Scene at the
    Execution--Behaviour of the People_,                               169

  CHAPTER XXIX.--

    _Lecture on Burke's Body--Riot among the Students--
    Excitement in Edinburgh--The Public Exhibition--Dissection
    of the Body of the Murderer--Phrenological Developments of
    Burke and Hare_,                                                   174

  CHAPTER XXX.--

    _Hare's Position after the Trial--Warrant for his
    Commitment Withdrawn--Daft Jamie's Relatives seek to
    Prosecute--The Case before the Sheriff and the Lords of
    Justiciary--Burke's Confession and the "Courant"--The Lord
    Advocate's Reasons for Declining to Proceed against Hare--
    Pleadings for the Parties_,                                        182

  CHAPTER XXXI.--

    _Hare's Case before the High Court of Justiciary--Speech by
    Mr. Francis Jeffrey--Opinion of the Judges--A Divided
    Bench--The Decision of the Court_,                                 191

  CHAPTER XXXII.--

    _Popular Feeling against Hare--His Behaviour in Prison--
    Withdrawal of the Warrant--His Liberation and Flight--
    Recognition--Riot in Dumfries, and Narrow Escape of Hare--
    Over the Border--Ballad Version of the Flight_,                    198

  CHAPTER XXXIII.--

    _The Confessions of Burke--The Interdicts against the
    "Edinburgh Evening Courant"--Burke's Note on the "Courant"
    Confession--Issue of the Official Document--Publication of
    both Confessions_,                                                 206

  CHAPTER XXXIV.--

    _Burke's Confession before the Sheriff--A Record of the
    Murders--The Method--Complicity of the Women and the
    Doctors--Murderers, but not Body-Snatchers_,                       211

  CHAPTER XXXV.--

    _The "Courant" Confession of Burke--Details of the
    Crimes--Burke's Account of his Life--The Criminals and Dr.
    Knox_,                                                             219

  CHAPTER XXXVI.--

    _The Fate of Hare--Mrs. Hare in Glasgow--Rescue from the
    Mob--Her Escape to Ireland, and Subsequent Career--Helen
    M'Dougal--Burke's Wife in Ireland_,                                229

  CHAPTER XXXVII.--

    _Dr. Knox's Connection with Burke and Hare--His Egotism--
    Knox's Criticism of Liston and his Assistants--Hanging
    Knox's Effigy--Popular Tumults--Demand that he should be
    put on Trial_,                                                     234

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.--

    _Inquiry into Dr. Knox's Relations with Burke and Hare--
    Report of Committee_,                                              240

  CHAPTER XXXIX.--

    _English Newspapers on the West Port Tragedies--The "Sun,"
    and its Idea of the Popular Feeling--Gray and his Wife_,           244

  CHAPTER XL.--

    _The Relations of the Doctors and the Body-Snatchers--Need
    for a Change in the Law--A Curious Case in London--
    Introduction and Withdrawal of the Anatomy Bill_,                  249

  CHAPTER XLI.--

    _"Burking" in London--Apprehension of Bishop, Williams, and
    May--Their Trial, Confession, and Execution--Re-introduction
    and Passing of the Anatomy Act_,                                   254

  CHAPTER XLII.--

    _The Passing of the Anatomy Act--Its Terms and Provisions_,        260

  CHAPTER XLIII.--

    _Conclusion--Review of the Effects Produced by the
    Resurrectionist Movement--The Houses in Portsburgh--The
    Popular Idea of the Method of Burke and Hare--Origin of the
    Words "Burker" and "Burking"_,                                     267

  APPENDIX.--

    _The Case Against Torrence and Waldie_,                            275

    _Interview with Burke in Prison_,                                  278

    _Confession of Bishop and Williams, the London "Burkers"_,         281

    _Songs and Ballads_,                                               288




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


                                            PAGE

  PORTRAIT OF WILLIAM BURKE,                  21

  PORTRAIT OF HELEN M'DOUGAL,                 53

  INTERIOR OF BURKE'S HOUSE,                  85

  PLAN OF HOUSES IN WESTER PORTSBURGH,       133

  PORTRAIT OF WILLIAM HARE,                  173

  FAC-SIMILE OF BURKE'S CONFESSION,          229

  PORTRAIT OF MRS. HARE,                     272




KEY TO ILLUSTRATIONS

APPEARING OPPOSITE PAGES 85 AND 86 RESPECTIVELY.


_References to View of the Interior of Burke's Room, as it appeared upon
the Day after the Trial._

1. The bed, or wooden frame, full of rags and filth.

1. Straw under it.

2. The straw under which the body of the old woman was hid.

3. A chair, on which Hare pretended that he sat during the murder.

4. Two wooden stools.

5. An iron pot, full of potatoes.

6. A cupboard, or wall-press.

7. A window, large for such a den, looking towards the Castle Hill.

8. Implements for shoe-making, old shoes, and rubbish.

A fac-simile of Burke's signature, carefully traced from his first
declaration of 3rd November, 1828.


_References to Plan of Houses in Wester Portsburgh, and Places adjacent,
reduced from the Plan drawn by Mr. James Braidwoood, 22, Society, 20th
November, 1828._

A. House possessed by William Burke.

B. Bed in Burke's house, filled with case straw, covered with a blanket.

C. The dark mark near C represents the appearance of blood on the floor of
Burke's house.

D. House possessed by Mrs. Connoway.

E. House possessed by Mrs. Law.

F F F F. The dotted line on which the four letters F are placed shows the
passage from the street and flat above, and corresponds with the passage
in the sunk floor.

G. Steps and door to back court.

H. Passage and stair leading from back court to Weaver's Close.

I. House possessed by William Hare.

K. Stable possessed by William Hare.

L. Shop possessed by Mr. Rymer.

M. The loose straw at the foot of the bed.

N. The dotted lines S S S S represent the direction of Paterson's house,
distant 208 feet from the point N.

O O O. Private passage to Burke's house.

P P P P. Common passage to all the houses and cellars on the sunk flat.

R R R R. The strong line marked with the letter R shows the different
entries to Burke's house.




THE HISTORY OF BURKE AND HARE.




INTRODUCTION.

    _The Resurrectionist Movement--Its Contributing Causes and Results._


There is perhaps no portion of the social history of Scotland which
possesses greater interest of a variety of kinds than that which relates
to the rise, development, and ultimate downfall of the resurrectionist
movement. To many persons now living, but who are nearing the verge of the
unseen world, the interest is in a sense contemporary, for their younger
days were spent under the shadow which so long overspread our country; to
those of a later generation the traditions--perhaps the events are
scarcely of sufficiently remote occurrence to call the stories of them
traditions--of that dreadful time served to make their young imaginations
vivid, and render them more obedient to behests of their parents or
nurses. How many can remember the time when they were frightened into good
behaviour by the threat that, if they did not do what they were told,
"Burke and Hare" would take them away; or who, passing by a churchyard on
a dark night, with the light of the moon casting a gruesome glamour over
the tombstones, recalled to mind the tales of the doings of the terrible
resurrectionists. How many children--some of them old men and women
now--in their play chanted the lines--

  "Burke an' Hare
  Fell doun the stair,
  Wi' a body in a box,
  Gaun to Doctor Knox";

who trembled, even during the day, when they passed the houses occupied by
these two men in the West Port of Edinburgh, remembering the fearful deeds
that were enacted there. But in addition to the extraordinary impression
which the resurrectionist movement made on the minds of the people of
Scotland, it must be admitted to have had one good result. In the face of
restrictive laws it gave an impetus to anatomical study, which was in the
first instance beneficial to humanity; and in the second to the medical
schools of this country, notably to the Edinburgh medical school, which
attained great reputation at the period when the majority of the subjects
for dissection were obtained in a manner revolting to the best feelings of
humanity.

This practice of violating sepulchres, which must ever be regarded as one
of the foulest blots on Scottish civilization, may be said to have had
several contributing causes. The principal of these is admitted on all
hands to have been the discovery on the part of the medical faculty that
the knowledge they possessed of the human frame was founded rather upon
uncertain tradition than upon empirical science; that they were
practically ignorant of anatomy; and that if they hoped to make any
advance in the art of healing human diseases they must devote more
attention to a minute study of the dead subject. Having arrived at this
conclusion--and it is a wonder they did not do so earlier--they were met
by a difficulty brought about by prejudice. The people of Scotland, even
in the most lawless ages, had an almost superstitious reverence for the
dead; a reverence, indeed, which they did not always pay to the living. In
this they only showed their human nature, and exhibited those instincts
which seem to characterise men of all countries and all times. The
"something beyond" the mortal sphere caused a peculiar regard for the
dead; their belief in a resurrection was rather material, and it was
thought impossible by many that when the last trump should sound the dead
could rise if the bodies were cut up in dissection. The bodies of the
dead, therefore, were carefully entombed to await the last call. The
almost insurmountable difficulty, then, that presented itself to the
doctors when they awoke out of their dream of ignorance, was where to
obtain those subjects upon which they could experiment, and gain that
knowledge of which they stood so much in need. The prejudice of the
people, it has been stated, was against the subjection of the bodies of
their deceased friends to such sacrilegious treatment, even though they
were willing, for the most part, to admit that benefit was to be derived
from it. As a consequence, science and prejudice came into violent
conflict, and the war was carried on by the representatives of the former
with a determined persistency that led more or less directly to shocking
crime, but ultimately to a _modus vivendi_ that was for the interests of
all concerned. These were the two main causes of the traffic; but there
were others which, while not bearing so directly upon it, greatly aided
its development. It received considerable assistance from the remarkable
superstitions long attached to graveyards, the stories of ghosts and of
wandering spirits

  "Doom'd for a certain time to walk the night";

of spiteful goblins and playful "brownies," or of the uncanny dabblers in
the forbidden art, whose dominion over the world was only during the
midnight hour. It was then that the witches met in solemn conclave with
the "father of lies" to plot against the peace of humanity, and that the
denizens of the nether hell breathed the free air of earth, away from the
choking fumes of the infernal brimstone. Such were the beliefs, and it
therefore behoved every well-conducted person to keep the house after
night-fall; and when any ventured abroad during the magic hours the
working of superstition on minds either naturally credulous, or muddled
with deep potations at the village tavern, or both, was sure to produce
all kinds of apparitions, more or less fearful. Through this means the men
employed by the surgeons to obtain bodies for dissection,--men, generally,
whose utter absence of moral principle gave them the power to discredit
the fears of their more conscientious countrymen,--were enabled for a time
to go about their dreadful work with great immunity. Gradually the people
threw off their superstitious feelings about church-yards, and
considering themselves safe from unhallowed influences by the presence of
numbers, they took guard in the protection of the bodies of their friends.
Many skirmishes ensued between these watchers and the resurrectionists,
and these have given to Scottish literature a large collection of
anecdotes of rather a unique description. Then the large iron cages, or
railings, placed over graves, give our churchyards an aspect peculiarly
their own. All these matters have made an impression on the Scottish mind
which it will yet take generations to efface.

There is, however, another aspect in which the resurrectionist movement
can be regarded. It gave rise to a series of the most shocking crimes,
committed in Edinburgh by Burke and Hare and their female confederates;
and the discovery of these, again, brought about a trial occupying a most
prominent and curious place in the annals of Scottish criminal law. In
that trial legal points of the utmost importance were involved; and in
connection with it the most eminent lawyers of the time were engaged. Were
it only because of the great trial with which the movement may be said to
have terminated it is deserving the attention of all interested in the
history of Scotland. Further than that, it brought about the passing of a
measure which relieved the medical faculty of the restrictions to inquiry
and investigation under which they had so long laboured, and tended
towards the development of a science in which humanity is too deeply
interested to neglect.




CHAPTER I.

    _Early Prohibition of Dissection--Shakespeare's Tomb--The Progress of
    Anatomy--Curious Incident in Edinburgh--An Old Broadside Ballad on
    Body-Snatching--Tumults in Edinburgh and Glasgow--Female "Burkers."_


At the first blush one is apt to think that the resurrectionist movement,
culminating in Scotland by the apprehension of Burke and Hare, and the
execution of the former, is of modern growth. That this, however, is not
the case, is shown by a little investigation into the records of the past.
There are numerous instances, in all civilised countries, if not of active
body-snatching, at least of prohibitions of it or anything akin. The early
Christians put epitaphs on the tombs of deceased relatives calling the
curses of heaven upon the sacrilegious hand that dared disturb the ashes
of the dead; Pope Boniface VIII. issued a bull condemning even the profane
perforation of a skeleton; and who knows but the well-known inscription on
Shakespeare's tomb, written long before the great poet had become the
object of a world's regard, may have been dictated by a similar feeling:--

  "Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear
  To dig the dust inclosed here:
  Blest be the man that spares these stones,
  And curst be he that moves my bones."

Then, again, the desire expressed by the dying Bruce that his heart should
be cut from his body and taken to Jerusalem by the faithful Douglas,
called forth the malediction of Pope Benedict XII. Mahomet, also, in the
pages of the Koran, has forbidden dissection. All these instances show a
most pronounced antipathy to the mutilation of the human body after death;
and argue two things, first, that it was instinctive, and not a trait in
the character of any particular nation or type of civilization; and,
second, that unless a molesting cause existed, there would have been no
need for the prohibitions. But the advancement of science was not to be
bound down by this superstitious reverence for the dead; and, ultimately,
in the sixteenth century, with the revival of learning, the bodies of
criminals and unclaimed paupers were granted to surgeons for dissection,
but then so sparingly that little progress in anatomy was made. The
ignorance of the functions of the human body was so great, that the most
haphazard methods of cure were adopted. If a sick person recovered it was
more by chance than science, and if he died there is little doubt that
death was hastened by the ignorance of his so called medical attendant,
who clung tenaciously to the traditions of his profession, be the result
kill or cure.

The first indication of anything approaching body-snatching in Scotland is
to be found in the Fountainhall MS., in the Library of the Faculty of
Advocates in Edinburgh. As the entry is of more than ordinary interest it
may be quoted _in extenso_:--

    "6 Februarii 1678.--Four Ægyptians [Gypsies] of the name of Shaw were
    this day hanged, the father and three sones, for a slaughter committed
    by them upon one of the Faws (another tribe of these vagabonds, worse
    than the _mendicantes validi_ mentioned in the code), in a drunken
    squabble, made by them in a randevouz they had at Romanno, with a
    designe to unite their forces against the clans of Browns and
    Bailzies, that were come over from Ireland to chasse them back again,
    that they might not share in their labors; but in their ramble they
    discorded, and committed the foresaid murder, and sundry of them of
    both sydes ware apprehended.... Thir four being throwen all unto on
    hole digged for them in the Grayfrier Church Yeard, with their clothes
    on; the nixt morning the youngest of the three sones (who was scarce
    sixteen) his body was missed, and found to be away. Some thought he
    being last thrown over the ladder, and first cut downe, and in full
    vigor, and no great heap of earth, and lying uppermost, and not so
    ready to smother, the fermentation of the blood, and heat of the
    bodies under him, might cause him rebound and throw off the earth, and
    recover ere the morning, and steall away; which, if true, he deserves
    his life, tho' the magistrats, or their bourreau, deserved a
    reprimande; but others, more probably, thought his body was stolen
    away by some chirurgeon, or his servant, to make ane anatomicale
    dissection on; which was criminal to take at their owne hand, since
    the magistrats would not have refused it; and I hear the chirurgeons
    affirme, the towne of Edinburgh is obliged to give them a malefactor's
    body once a year for that effect, and its usual in Paris, Leyden, and
    other places to give them; also some of them that dyes in hospitals."

The obligation mentioned in this quotation as lying on the city of
Edinburgh, was made under the charter granted by the Town Council to the
Surgeons in 1505. This grant of one body in the year would, however, be of
little value, and the inquiring spirit that was abroad gradually came to
feel that the privilege was little better than none at all. In the last
decade of the seventeenth century strenuous efforts were being made to
establish a school of anatomy in the city. Alexander Monteith, one of the
most eminent physicians of the time, made the following proposal to the
Town Council:--"We seek the liberty of opening the bodies of poor persons
who die in Paul's Workhouse, and have none to bury them; and also agree to
wait on these poor for nothing, and bury them at our own charge, which now
the town does. I do propose if this be granted to make better improvements
in anatomy in a short time than have been made by Leyden in thirty years."
Monteith had studied at Leyden. The Edinburgh Faculty were alarmed at the
proposal, because they felt that, if it were approved, a privilege which
they had hitherto enjoyed as a corporation would be given in a much more
extended form to one of their number; and they accordingly put forward an
application in which they sought "the bodies of foundlings who dye betwixt
the tyme that they are weaned and their being put to schools and trades;
also the dead bodies of such as are dead-born, which are exposed; also,
suicides, a violent death, and have none to own them; likewise the bodies
of such as are put to death by sentence of the magistrates." Both
applications were granted, under condition, however, that the dissections
were only to be made during the winter, and that the intestines were to be
buried within forty-eight hours after the body was obtained, and the rest
within ten days. Such restrictions were unworthy the enlightened policy
the authorities were pursuing; and through the very act by which they fed
the spirit of inquiry they created an increased appetite for anatomical
research, which quickly went beyond foolish conditions, and ultimately led
many to adopt the practice of body-snatching. Even yet the supply of
bodies was unequal to the demand, and the doctors' apprentices resorted to
robbing Greyfriars Churchyard, then the chief place of burial in the city.
Their work was done very stealthily, for no one except the most hardy
would in that age venture near a churchyard after the "gloaming." The
matter at last became known, and the College of Surgeons, on the 20th May,
1711, drew up a minute protesting against the practice, saying that "of
late there has been a violation of sepulchres in the Greyfriars'
Churchyard by some who most unchristianly has been stealing, or at least
attempting to carry away, the bodies of the dead out of their graves."
This discovery caused a terrible sensation in the city, and it spread
throughout Scotland. A broadside on the event was printed and hawked about
the country. As it marks an important step in the progress of the
movement, the quotation of such a lengthy document will be excused:--

_"An Account of the most horrid and unchristian actions of the Gravemakers
in Edinburgh, their raising and selling of the Dead, abhorred by Turks and
Heathens, found out in this present year 1711, in the Month of May._

  Dear Friends and Christians, what shall I say,
  Behold, the dawning of the latter day
  Into this place most bright casts forth its rays--
  The like was never seen by mortal eyes.
  Methink I hear the latter trumpet sound,
  When emptie graves into this place is found,
  Of young and old, which is most strange to me,
  What kind of resurrection this may be.
  I thought God had reserved this power alone
  Unto himsell, till he erect'd his throne
  Into the clouds, with his attendance by,
  That he might judge the world in equity.
  But now I see the contrar in our land,
  Since men do raise the dead at their own hand;
  And for to please their curiosities
  They them dissect and make anatomies.
  Such monsters of mankind was never known,
  As in this place is daily to be shown;
  Who, for to gain some worldly vanities,
  Are guilty of such immoralities.
  The Turks and Pagans would amazed stand,
  To see such crimes committed in a land,
  As among Christians is to be found,
  Especially in Edinburgh doth abound.
  There is a rank of persons in this place
  That strive to run with speed a wicked race:
  They trample rudely on God's holy law,
  And of his judgment they stand not in aw;
  For those that are laid in their graves at rest,
  This wicked crew they do their dust molest.
  Dead corps out of their graves they steal at night,
  Because such actions do abhore the light.
  The heathen nations, for ought I read,
  Was never found for to molest the dead,
  That were their kindred, and among them born;
  But we to nations all may be a scorn:
  In that such crimes is perpetrated here,
  As both the living and the dead do deer.
  These monsters of mankind, who made the graves,
  To the chirurgeons became hyred slaves;
  They rais'd the dead again out of the dust,
  And sold to them, to satisfy their lust.
  As I'm inform'd, the chirurgions did give
  Fourty shillings for each one they receive:
  And they their flesh and bones assunder part,
  Which wounds their living friends unto the heart;
  To think that any of their kindred born
  Unto the nations, should become a scorn;
  For they their bones to other nations send--
  As I'm informed, this is their very end.
  How may now all the nations us deride,
  And call us poor, since that we sell our dead,
  Some coyn to get, the living to maintain;
  The like in any nation ne're was seen.
  The godly sowe their dust on such cold ground
  As do our kirks and chappels compass round,
  That they may get their dust in such a field,
  So well refin'd, that it to them may yield
  A crop most plentiful at the last day,
  When they from dust must haste and come away.
  But now their dust they take out of the ground,
  So that nothing but empty graves is found.
  I'm very sorry that such things should be
  Practis'd by folk professing piety;
  And the religion should be wounded so
  By any who under a name do go.
  But still I see profession is no grace,
  As does appear into the present case;
  But more especially at the last day,
  When all the world shall be put in a fray,
  When stars shall fall out of the firmament,
  And sun and moon out of their orbs be rent,
  And all this earth into a flame shall burn,
  And eliments like liquid mettals run,
  And all mankind before God's throne shall come,
  That He may justice do unto each one--
  Then shall the separation be made
  Between them that are good and that are bad:
  The good receiv'd to everlasting glore,
  The bad cast down to hell for evermore.
  All who to wrong the saints do still desire,
  Dead or alive, shall have hell for their hyre,
  Unless with speed they do repent of sin,
  And do another course of life begin.
  But I shall say no more upon this head,
  Hoping henceforth they will not raise the dead,
  But suffer them to rest into their beds,
  And won their bread by following other trades."

[Illustration: WILLIAM BURKE. (From a Sketch taken in Court)]

Neither such a production as this, nor the mild protest from the College
of Surgeons, was likely to put a stop to a practice which was being found
useful on the one side and profitable on the other. Dr. Alexander Monro,
"primus," the great anatomist, became Demonstrator of Anatomy in the
University of Edinburgh, and his fame brought around him a large number of
students. These seem to have been making depredations on the churchyards
in the city and neighbourhood, and the College of Surgeons again took
action, this time by ordering, on the 24th January, 1721, the insertion of
a clause in the indenture of apprentices binding them not to engage in the
violation of graves. Four years later, however--in April, 1725--the
practice had grown to such an extent as to cause popular commotion. The
people rose in angry protest against the violation of the sepulchres of
their dead, and before the authorities could quell the disturbance the
windows of Dr. Monro's anatomical establishment were destroyed, while the
inmates stood in imminent danger of their lives.

Notwithstanding the extreme views the people of Scotland held against the
resurrectionists, as the body-snatchers were named, their horrible trade
continued to prosper, and it received many recruits. The surgeons, even,
gradually dropped into the business; perhaps not themselves engaging in it
personally, but at least sanctioning and approving of it by the purchase
of the bodies offered them. But besides these, a class of men became
resurrectionists as a matter of trade, and no churchyard in the country
was safe from their depredations. The law was comparatively powerless, or
took refuge under the pretext of the necessity for subjects being
procured, but it took no steps to produce a remedy. The people,
therefore, took matters into their own hands, and were not slow in
punishing any one suspected of body-snatching, as the following story from
the _Scots' Magazine_ for 1742 will show. On the 9th of March of that year
the body of a man, Alexander Baxter by name, which had been interred in
the West Kirkyard of Edinburgh, was found in a house adjoining the shop of
a surgeon named Martin Eccles, in that city. The popular indignation had
been raised by the suspicion, amounting almost to certainty, that the
churchyards were being desecrated, and it needed very little to cause a
tumult. The Portsburgh drum was seized, and beat through the Cowgate. The
populace demolished the contents of Eccles' shop, smashed the windows of
the houses of other surgeons, and it was with the greatest difficulty that
the authorities were able to quell the riot. Eccles and some of his
apprentices were brought before the court charged with the offence of
being accessory to the lifting of bodies, but the charge was abandoned for
want of proof. Later, on the 18th of the same month, the house of a
gardener named Peter Richardson, in Inveresk, was burned by the people on
the suspicion that he had some hand in pilfering the village churchyard of
its dead; and on the 26th, a chairmaster and carrier were banished the
city of Edinburgh for being in possession of a street-chair containing a
body, and the chair itself was burned by the public executioner under the
order of the magistrates. In the July following, under the sentence of the
High Court of Justiciary, John Samuel, a gardener in Grangegateside, was
publicly whipped through Edinburgh for having been detected at the
Potterrow-port, in the April preceding, selling the corpse of a child
which had been buried in Pentland Kirkyard a week before. He was also
banished from Scotland for seven years.

In Glasgow, about the same period, a riot of a serious nature occurred. On
the 6th of March, 1749, according to the _Newcastle Magazine_, a
disturbance arose in the city on a suspicion in the minds of the citizens
that the students in the College had been raising bodies from one of the
city graveyards. The windows of the University buildings in the High
Street were broken, a large number of people sustained severe injury, and
had not the appearance of the military intimidated the mob, the tumult
might have assumed much more serious proportions.

But it is curious to notice, in view of the main subject of this work--the
history of Burke and Hare--that the crimes of which these men were guilty
had a prototype in one committed in Edinburgh between seventy and eighty
years before they entered upon their murdering career. In 1752, two women,
Helen Torrence and Jean Waldie, were executed for the murder of a boy of
eight or nine years of age. They would appear to have been nurses, and
they promised to some doctors' apprentices that they would supply them
with a subject, proposing to do so by the abstraction of a body from a
coffin, when they were sitting at the death-watch, for it was then the
custom--and still is, in some parts of the country--never to leave a
corpse in a room alone. They were either unsuccessful in accomplishing
this, or were anxious speedily to redeem their promise and obtain their
reward, for they took even more reprehensible means to obtain a body. They
met the boy and his mother in the street, and invited the woman into a
neighbouring house to drink with them. She consented, and while she was
sipping her liquor one of them went out to look for the boy. He was
discovered leaning over a window, and the woman carried him into her own
house, where she suffocated him among the bed-clothes. The mother
afterwards searched for her son, but could not find him. Meantime,
Torrence and Waldie took the corpse to the surgeon's rooms, where they
were offered two shillings for it, the one who had carried it receiving
sixpence additional. They demurred at the lowness of the price, but the
students would only increase it by tenpence, which was given them for a
"dram." The facts of the case at length came to light, and the women
suffered on the scaffold for their barbarous crime.




CHAPTER II.

    _Tales of the Resurrectionists--The Students at Work._


What has been related in the preceding chapter are some of the early
escapades of the resurrectionists. Throughout the latter part of the
eighteenth century, these worthies, to call them by a mild name, were the
scourge of Scotland, and notwithstanding the utmost vigilance of the
people graves were ransacked of their contents and bodies sold to the
doctors. But it was in the first three decades of the present century that
the horrible trade was in its most flourishing condition. Many tales of
the adventures of resurrectionists are told--some of them serious as the
subject warrants, others of them amusing in spite of the subject. In this
chapter there has been gathered together a number of anecdotes which will
illustrate the part the students themselves took in the movement.

Perhaps the Edinburgh district is richer in the tales of the
resurrectionists than any other in Scotland. This was only to be expected,
for the reputation of the Edinburgh medical school had gone over the
world, bringing to it students from all parts. The desire for fame caused
a professional rivalry among the teachers, which was taken up by their
respective pupils, who were not slow to vie with each other in carrying to
the furthest extent the desire to obtain human bodies for dissection. In
this they were assisted by the "professional" body-snatchers, and by the
beadles and grave-diggers of the churchyards in the vicinity of Edinburgh.
Many excursions of this kind were made. Was a body needed? Then several of
them joined together, searched out a large bag for the conveyance of the
body, and a spade, and their equipment was complete. They had no fear of
the watchers who might be set at the churchyard they intended visiting.
They trusted to their mother-wit to carry them through any difficulty. At
the very worst they could only drop their spoil, and show a clean pair of
heels. But here are some of the tales. It would be useless to make any
effort to put them in a chronological order. They are stories that have
found their way to the public through a variety of sources, without
dates, but it is sufficient to know that the events occurred during the
present century.

A middle-aged man named Henderson, residing in Leven, Fifeshire, died of
fever, and was interred in a neighbouring churchyard. Two young men
attending the University of Edinburgh heard of the death, and about a week
after the funeral they successfully raised the body from what had been
fondly supposed by the relatives of the deceased, to be its last
resting-place. While the men were carrying it away, one of them was
overtaken by sickness, rendering it necessary that they should seek refuge
in an inn at the outskirts of the town. Into this place they carried their
ghastly burden, carefully put up in a sack. Curiously enough, the public
house formerly belonged to the very man whose corpse they had stolen, and
it was then being kept by the widow, for the support of herself and her
daughter. The visitors were ushered into a room, in which was a closed-in
bed, with wooden door, such as may yet be seen in country houses, and the
drink they ordered was taken to them there. No sooner were they fairly
begun to discuss the liquor, than the town's officers roused the landlady,
and asked if some thieves who had broken into a neighbouring house had
taken refuge on her premises. The men, for some unexplained reason, had by
this time taken the body out of the sack, and when they heard the noise
made by the constables they threw it inside the bed, and themselves made a
hasty retreat by the window. The officers went in chase, but the
resurrectionists were too nimble for them and made good their escape. A
search was afterwards made in the room occupied by the men, but only the
empty bag was found. The widow, however, after the tumult was over, went
to the same room to retire for the night, when to her great horror, she
found her dead husband lying in the bed which she herself proposed to
enter, clad in the grave-clothes she had made with her own hands.

Another story of a somewhat similar adventure is told of Liston, the
eminent surgeon, but at this time a student. He had been informed by a
country practitioner in one of the villages on the Firth of Forth of the
death of a man by a disease whose ravages on his frame should afford some
important information to searchers after medical truth. Accordingly,
Liston, with one of his companions, dressed themselves as sailors, and set
out on board a small boat for the village. There they were joined by the
doctor's apprentice, who was to act as guide. They quickly lifted the
body, and placed it in the sack they had brought with them for that
purpose. Liston hoisted the ghastly burden on his shoulder, and carried it
some distance in the direction of the shore, where their boat was lying.
They considered it inadvisable to return to Edinburgh that night,
assuming, probably, that if they managed their prize home in the course of
the following day their adventure would be more likely to have a
satisfactory termination. Accordingly, they placed the bag and its
contents behind a thick hedge, where they proposed it should remain until
next morning, when they would convey it to the boat. This done, they
proceeded to look after their creature comforts, and made their way to a
roadside inn. Here they soon made themselves at home. Sitting cosily by
the kitchen fire, they gave an order for a supply of good liquor. Under
its warming influence they forgot the shocking work in which they had had
so recently been engaged, and they amused themselves by flirting with the
servant girl, a pretty country damsel. Shortly after midnight, when the
companions were proposing to retire to rest, they were alarmed by a
drunken shout from the outside, "Ship, ahoy!" The girl explained that the
noise came from her sailor brother, Bill, who, she feared, had been
drinking. When the door was opened Bill staggered in under the burden of
the sack Liston and his comrades had put behind the hedge, and heaving it
on the floor he exclaimed--"There, if it ain't something good, rot them
chaps there who stole it." He said he got the "hulk" behind a hedge when
he was lying there trying to wear about upon another tack, and remarking,
"Let's see what's the cargo," he proceeded to cut the bag open. The sight
of the contents made the girl fly from the house screaming, and she was
quickly followed by her brother. The two young men, who had witnessed all
under the terror of discovery, seeing a way of escape, took a hasty
resolution. There was no safety for them if they remained in the inn, and
the turn matters had taken showed them that they must make off as quickly
as possible with their booty. Liston again put the dead man on his
shoulders and carried him to the boat, leaving the tavern without paying
the reckoning. They reached Edinburgh without further adventure, and no
doubt they would find some satisfaction in dissecting a subject which was
not only interesting in itself but which had also given them so much
trouble.

This was not, however, the only exploit of the kind in which Liston was
engaged. On another occasion he made an excursion in his boat to Rosyth,
near Limekilns, on the Fifeshire shore. The church-yard here, on account
of its remoteness from human habitation, and its situation on the side of
the Firth, had become a favourite haunt for the resurrectionists. The
reason for this expedition was that Liston had seen in a newspaper an
account of the drowning and funeral of a sailor belonging to Limekilns.
The newspaper also informed its readers, what was the most affecting part
of the story, that the young man had been engaged to be married to a girl
residing in the district, and that she had become insane through the
violence of her grief. This sad calamity had no effect on the young
student. He saw in the announcement, melancholy as it was, only the way to
obtain a fresh subject, and he took measures to carry the project that had
taken possession of his mind into execution. He soon got together a band
of kindred spirits, to whom he explained his intentions. The party in the
boat arrived at the scene of their intended operations at nightfall, and
for a few hours they kept in hiding, until it would be more convenient to
begin. As they were about to land they noticed a young woman sitting on a
tombstone in the churchyard. Of course they knew nothing of her: but her
heart-rending sobs indicated that she was lamenting the death of some
loved one whose body had been consigned to its kindred earth. This scene
delayed their advance, but it was without effect in turning them from
their purpose. At last the woman went away, and the students made towards
the place where she had been sitting. They found she had strewn the grave
with flowers--"Rosemary, that's for remembrance; pansies, that's for
thoughts." Setting to work they quickly raised the body underneath, and
speedily carried it to their boat. The party, one of them wearing in his
coat a flower he had picked from the grave, then pushed off; but before
they were well away from the scene they again observed the woman running
backward and forward in the churchyard with her arms waving, apparently
acting under the most intense excitement. Her agonizing cries quickened
the use of the oars, and hurriedly they left the heart-rending scene
behind them.

Rosyth, it has been said, was a favourite haunt of the resurrectionists,
but gradually the people of Limekilns awoke to the knowledge that their
Golgotha was being desecrated. A party of students from Edinburgh once
made a descent upon the place and narrowly escaped detection. They heard
of the burial of a woman who had died in child-bed, and they rowed over
the Firth to raise her body. When they got to the grave-yard the weather
was wild and stormy; as Burns puts it:--

  "The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
  The rattling showers rose in the blast ...
  That night, a child might understand
  The Deil had business on his hand."

After twenty minutes' work the students had "the tall beauty," as they had
named her, again above the ground, and carried her to the dyke, upon which
they laid her until they had climbed over themselves. No sooner had they
done this than the plaintive howl of a dog was heard. This incident
introduced something approaching a panic among them, and they sought
comfort in the contents of their pocket flasks. But their terror was
increased by the appearance of a lighted lantern moving about among the
tombs. They made for their boat, taking care, however, to carry the corpse
with them. The dead woman's long golden hair had become entangled among
the stones, and the rough manner in which they dragged the body away left
some of the locks, with a portion of the scalp, on the side of the dyke.
They immediately put off, and afterwards saw the lantern stop at the point
of the dyke where the body had lain. It was currently reported that the
bearer of the lantern was the woman's husband, and that he recognised the
hair entangled on the wall.

The depredators were not, however, always successful in carrying off their
spoil. Three students attending the class of Monro, _tertius_, hired a
gig, and paid a visit to a churchyard to the south of Edinburgh, somewhere
about the vicinity either of Gilmerton or Liberton. When they had arrived
at the place on which they intended to operate, two of them climbed the
boundary wall, leaving the others in charge of the conveyance. They soon
brought to the surface the recently-buried body of a woman, the wife of a
well-to-do farmer in the neighbourhood. Unfortunately for themselves,
these young men were new to the business, and they had omitted to take
with them a very necessary instrument of the resurrectionist--a sack. They
saw their mistake when it could not be remedied, and they made up their
minds to carry the body in the dead-clothes. One of the students had it
hoisted on his back, but as he was going along his grasp upon the shroud
began to give way, and the feet of the corpse slipped down until they were
touching the ground. As the carrier staggered under his burden, the feet
of the dead woman came against the ground every now and then, impeding his
progress, and causing such a peculiar movement that the youth thought the
woman was leaping behind him. The idea struck him that she was alive, and
with an oath he flung the body from him on the road, and made for the gig.
His companions, as frightened as himself, rushed after him, and the three
worthies drove furiously back to the city. Early next morning the farmer
was walking along the Edinburgh road, and came upon a white-robed figure
stretched out on the footpath. He found it was the body of his wife, clad
in her dead-clothes, with eyes wide open and glazed. His first thought was
that she had come back to life, and he tried to restore her, though he
knew she had been entombed for three days. The task was futile, and he was
only restored to reason by the appearance of the Penicuik carrier, who at
once divined the cause of the body being where it was found. The woman was
buried privately the next night, and an effort was made to hush up the
story.

But while the students of the metropolis were active in the
body-snatching work, those of Glasgow were following hard behind them.
About the year 1813, Mr. Granville Sharp Pattison, a clever anatomist
belonging to the western city, drew around him a band of students who
committed many a depredation in the graveyards in and near Glasgow. They
had rooms in College Street, in the vicinity of the old University, and
there they conducted in secret the dissection of the bodies they were
fortunate enough to get into their possession. They kept up a system of
espionage over the doctors in the city, learning all the details of any
peculiar cases they might be attending; and in the event of death there
was little scruple about raising a body from which they thought they were
likely to gain information. When any expedition was on foot, those who had
been chosen to take part in it were careful to show themselves during the
evening in some of the most frequented taverns, in order to throw off
suspicion, and then they set about their unhallowed work. These men, of
course, wrought in secret, but the suspicion gradually grew on the
community that the graves of their friends were being violated. At last
the suspicion deepened into a certainty, greater vigilance was observed by
the city watch in the hope of laying hands upon the offenders, and many
people took the precaution of erecting elaborate iron cages over the
graves to give greater security against their desecration.

However, an event occurred in Glasgow which caused an extraordinary
sensation. A vessel arrived at the Broomielaw with a consignment of what
was supposed to be cotton or linen rags. The cargo, done up neatly in
bags, was addressed to a huckster in Jamaica Street, but he refused to
take delivery, as between £50 and £60 were charged for freight. He said no
rags could afford such freightage, and he sent the packages, without
examination, back to the Broomielaw. There they lay in a shed for some
time, until the dreadful stench proceeding from them caused the city
officers to open them. To the horror of the searchers, there were found in
them the putrid bodies of men, women, and children. The authorities
ordered the remains to be buried in Anderston Churchyard, and this was
done. The explanation of the matter was, that owing to the scarcity of
subjects for the anatomy classes of Edinburgh and Glasgow, the bodies had
been sent from Ireland by some students there; and the price of each
corpse varied from ten to twenty guineas each. As ill-luck would have it,
the Jamaica Street huckster did not receive the note advising him of the
valuable nature of the cargo consigned to him until it was too late,
"otherwise," says old Peter Mackenzie, who tells the story, "there can be
little doubt he would have paid the freight money demanded, and pocketed a
goodly commission for the traffic entrusted to his care!"

Although this discovery still further alarmed the community, and showed
fully the dreadful nature of the conspiracy which those connected with the
medical faculty seemed to have entered into against the peace of the
country, all the efforts of watchers and others were unable to foil the
ingenuity of the students and their accomplices. Notwithstanding the use
of trap-guns placed in the churchyards, bodies were stolen, and the trade
flourished. There is, however, one instance recorded in which a student
was killed by stumbling over one of these guns. He and two companions were
in search of a body in the Blackfriars Churchyard, Glasgow. When he
dropped dead, his fellow-students were horrified, but the fear of
discovery forced them to adopt an extraordinary method of taking away the
body of their unfortunate friend. They carried it to the outside of the
churchyard, and placed it on its feet against the wall; then they each
tied a leg to one of theirs, and taking the corpse by the arms, they
passed slowly along the street towards their lodgings, shouting and
singing as if they were three roysterers returning from a carouse. Once
safely home, the dead man was put to bed, and next morning the story was
circulated that during the night the poor fellow had committed suicide.
The fatal adventure was thus kept quiet, and it was not until many years
afterwards that the true version of the night's proceedings was made
known.

Two other Glasgow students, having heard of an interesting case at the
Mearns, a few miles to the south of the city, determined to obtain
possession of the body, in order to find out what it was that had baffled
the skill of two such eminent practitioners as Drs. Cleghorn and Balmanno.
Knowing that their expedition might be spoiled by the numerous watchers,
they took the most ample precautions against discovery. They purchased a
suit of old clothing in the Saltmarket, and with it they drove out to the
Mearns. The body they desired was easily raised, and was carefully dressed
in the suit they had provided. Then they placed it between them in the
gig, and returned gaily towards the city. The keeper of the Gorbals
toll-bar, through which they had to pass, was a suspicious old man, and
they thought they might have some difficulty with him. When they came to
the bar they halted promptly, and while one was producing the toll-money
the other was attending with the utmost solicitude to what he called his
"sick friend," who was, of course, none other than the dead man. The
tollman, noticing his efforts, looked at the "sick" friend, and remarked
sympathetically, "O! puir auld bodie, he looks unco ill in the face; drive
cannily hame, lads, drive cannily." Once over the bridge, the students
lost no time in conveying to their den the prize they had so ingeniously
secured. This device, it would seem, was practised with success in other
places, for it is said that in Dundee two men conveyed a body, dressed in
the clothes of the living, arm in arm, along the streets, and afterwards
sent it on to its destination, presumably Edinburgh.




CHAPTER III.

    _Tales of the Resurrectionists--What the Doctors did._


A record of the share which the doctors themselves took in the
resurrectionist work has not been well preserved. Personally they do not
seem to have done much, leaving the active operations in the hands of the
students and body-snatchers. There was a suspicion, however, that they
were not above lending a helping hand in a case of necessity, when they
hoped to obtain a special prize. At least they connived at the practice,
and undoubtedly benefited by it. It has been more than hinted, that in
many outlying places, far from the University centres, a good deal of
business of this kind was done by medical men who had with them
apprentices whom they had engaged to teach the art and science of
medicine, but who found it impossible to do so unless they had, by some
means or other, the requisite anatomical subjects. In these country places
the churchyards were watched by the villagers in turn, there being a
voluntary assessment on the inhabitants for peats to make the fires by
which the guardians of the dead sat and smoked their pipes and sipped
their whisky during the long dark nights. In a village in the north of
Scotland it is a tradition that a medical man set out with his students
one night to lift a body which they considered would be of value to them.
The watchers, however, surprised them, and the doctor was mortally wounded
by a shot fired by one of the defenders. His companions fled, carrying the
injured man with them, and a few days afterwards it was announced that he
had died by his own hand.

Others, again, laid the churchyards of Ireland under contribution, as a
story related by Leighton amply testifies. A young Irish doctor, known
under the name of the "Captain," resided in Surgeon's Square, Edinburgh,
and many a barrel containing the bodies of his compatriots arrived by boat
at Leith addressed to him, and he disposed of them to his friends. He was
in the habit of telling how, when at home, he relieved his want of a
"subject" in a rather clever way. He had been attending a young man who
ultimately died and was honestly interred. It struck him that the body was
precisely what he wanted, and he drove off to the churchyard for it. On
the way back he met the lad's mother, who asked him if it were "all right
wid the grave ov poor Pat?" The "Captain" assured her it was, and drove
her home in his gig, which also contained her son's corpse. "I dhrove,"
said he, "the good lady home agin without breaking a bone of hir body, and
Pat never said a word." Once he addressed the body of a woman, lying on
one of the Edinburgh dissecting tables,--"Ah, Misthress O'Neil! did I
spare the whisky on you, which you loved so well,--and didn't you lave me
a purty little sum to keep the resurrectionists away from you,--and didn't
I take care of you myself? and by J--s you are there, and don't thank me
for coming over to see you."

A somewhat amusing conflict took place between the students of Drs. Cullen
and Monro for the possession of the body of Sandy M'Nab, a lame street
singer, well known in Edinburgh. He died in the Infirmary, and Cullen and
several others placed the body in a box, in order to raise it by a rope to
their rooms above. Some of the students under Monro, impelled by a similar
motive, were searching for the body, and they came upon it in the box.
They shifted it to the other side of the yard, intending to lift it over
the wall, but they were observed and attacked by their rivals. A great
fight followed, until at last the attacking party had to retire, leaving
victory--which meant possession of Sandy's body--with the original
body-snatchers.

The doings of the students of Glasgow has already been mentioned, and the
influence which Dr. Pattison had in making body-lifting popular among them
has at least been indicated. Matters in that city were at last brought to
a crisis, and the doings of this gentleman and his colleagues came to
light. The Ramshorn and Cathedral churchyards were being robbed of their
silent inhabitants almost nightly, and the greatest excitement prevailed
in consequence throughout the city. Two deaths from what were considered
peculiar causes occurred in Glasgow about the beginning of December, 1813.
On the afternoon of the 13th of that month both the bodies were interred,
one in the Ramshorn and the other in the Cathedral churchyard. The
students accordingly made preparations for raising both of them. The
expedition to the Cathedral was highly successful, for in addition to the
corpse they went specially for, the young anatomists put another in their
sacks, and made a safe journey to their rooms. In the Ramshorn yard,
however, the work had been gone about rather noisily, and the attention of
a policeman stationed in the vicinity having been attracted, he raised the
alarm. The students escaped, but they were seen to disappear in the
neighbourhood of the College. The search was stopped for the night, but
next day the news spread throughout the whole community. Intense alarm
prevailed, and the Chief Constable, James Mitchell, was besieged with
inquiries. Many persons visited the graves of their friends to see if all
were right. The brother, or some other relative, of the woman--Mrs.
M'Alister by name--who had been lifted from the Ramshorn, quickly found
that her body had been stolen. No sooner was this discovery made than a
large crowd rushed to the College, and gave vent to their feelings by
breaking the windows of the house occupied by Dr. James Jeffrey, then
professor of anatomy in the University. The police had to be called to
suppress the tumult. At last the magistrates, forced to action by the
strength of public opinion, issued a search-warrant empowering the
officers of the law to enter, by force, if necessary, every suspected
place, in order to find the body of Mrs. M'Alister, or of any other
person. The officers were accompanied by Mr. James Alexander, surgeon
dentist, who had attended the lady to the day of her death, and also by
two of her most intimate acquaintances. In the course of their search they
visited the rooms of Dr. Pattison, in College Street, where they found the
doctor and several of his assistants. They were shown over the apartments
with all apparent freedom, but they discovered nothing. They had left the
house when Mr. Alexander thought they should have examined a tub,
seemingly filled with water, which stood in the middle of the floor of one
of the rooms. They returned accordingly, and the water was emptied out. At
the bottom of the tub were found a jawbone with several teeth attached,
some fingers, and other parts of a human body. The dentist identified the
teeth as those he had himself fitted into Mrs. M'Alister's mouth, and one
of the relatives picked out a finger which he said was the very finger on
which Mrs. M'Alister wore her wedding ring. Pattison and his companions
were immediately taken into custody. They were removed to jail amid the
execrations of the mob, who were with difficulty restrained from executing
summary vengeance upon them. This done, the officers dug up the flooring
of the rooms, and underneath they found the remains of several bodies,
among them portions of what was believed to be the corpse of Mrs.
M'Alister. The parts were carefully sealed up in glass receptacles for
preservation as productions against the accused at their trial. On Monday,
6th June, 1814, Dr. Granville Sharp Pattison, Andrew Russell, his
lecturer on surgery, and Messrs. Robert Munro and John M'Lean, students,
were arraigned before Lord Justice Boyle, and Lords Hermand, Meadowbank,
Gillies, and Pitmilly, in the High Court of Justiciary, Edinburgh, charged
under an indictment which set forth, particularly, that the grave of Mrs.
M'Alister, in the Ramshorn churchyard, Glasgow, "had been ruthlessly or
feloniously violated by the prisoners, and her body taken to their
dissecting rooms, where it was found and identified." The prisoners were
defended by two eminent men--John Clerk and Henry Cockburn. The evidence
of the prosecution was clearly against the accused, but the counsel of the
defence brought forward proof which as clearly showed that some mistake
had been made with the productions. They proved to the satisfaction of the
law at least, that the body, or portions of the body, produced in court,
and which were libelled in the indictment, were not portions of the body
of Mrs. M'Alister. This lady had been married and had borne children; the
productions were portions of the body of a woman who had never borne
children. The result was an acquittal. So strong, however, did public
feeling run, that Pattison had to emigrate to America, where he attained
to an eminence deserving his abilities.

This put an end for a time to the resurrectionist fever in Glasgow, but it
was shrewdly suspected that other cases occurred. They must have been few,
for the strictest watch was preserved over the graveyards. There was,
however, another case which should be mentioned, and occurring, as it did,
at a time when the whole of Scotland was struck with terror at the
wholesale pillage of churchyards, and the frequent mysterious
disappearances of the living, it caused a terrible sensation in Glasgow.
In the month of August, 1828, a poor woman in that city was delivered of a
child, and on the same evening, some female neighbours observed, through a
hole in the partition wall of the apartment in which she resided, that her
medical attendant made a parcel of the newly-born infant, and placed it
below his coat. When he left the house, they raised the "hue and cry"
after him, calling out, "Stop thief," and telling all they met that the
man had a dead child in his possession. An immense crowd soon gathered,
the man was attacked, and the body taken from him; and only the opportune
arrival of the police saved him from being torn to pieces by the mob. The
officers took him and the body to the station-house, the people hooting
and howling around them. An examination of the body of the infant was made
by several practitioners in the city, at the instance of the authorities,
and they certified that it had been still-born. The explanation was, that
the young man was a student finishing his course, and that the mother had
agreed with him that if he attended her during her illness, he should have
the body of the dead child for the purpose of using it as he thought
proper.

The result of this revolting work in the West of Scotland was not
altogether evil, for, as was said by Dr. Richard Miller, for forty years
lecturer on Materia Medica in the University of Glasgow, "these
experiments in the Anatomy School of Glasgow, lighted up the torch of
science in this quarter of the world, and saved the lives of many
invaluable beings."




CHAPTER IV.

    _Tales of the Resurrectionists--The Professional Body-Snatchers--A
    Dundee Resurrectionist Ballad--A Strange Experiment in Glasgow._


The two preceding chapters have been devoted to stories circulated about
doctors and medical students who engaged in resurrectionist exploits, but
there are many other tales, quite as interesting, told of a very different
class of men. Those who entered into this horrible work for the purpose of
carrying out their anatomical investigations, can be excused in part; but
the men of whom we now speak entered into it with motives not dictated by,
and therefore had not the excuse of, a desire for scientific progress, but
rather were founded on mercenary greed. Not a few of them were sextons;
many of them were drawn from the scum of the population, who, rather than
earn an honest livelihood, were ready to engage in any desperate
enterprise which would give them a large sum of money. The work of these
men, if all stories are true, at times touched the feelings of the
anatomists themselves. It is stated that a Professor of the University of
Glasgow, going into the dissecting room one morning to view a subject
which had been laid out, was horrified to find it was the body of his son,
who had been recently interred. A somewhat similar tale is recorded of a
student at the University of Edinburgh. He saw on the dissecting table
what he believed to be the body of his mother. Half distracted he posted
home to Dumfries, and, in company with his father, made an investigation
of the grave where his mother had been buried. It was then found he had
been mistaken, for they found the body lying silently in its last
resting-place.

In connection with the Medical School of Edinburgh were several worthies
who have been made immortal by the graphic pen of Leighton. Here is how
the author of the _Court of Cacus_ photographs them:--"There was one
called Merrylees, or more often Merry-Andrew, a great favourite with the
students. Of gigantic height, he was thin and gaunt, even to
ridiculousness, with a long pale face, and the jaws of an ogre. His shabby
clothes, no doubt made for some tall person of proportionate girth, hung
upon his sharp joints, more as if they had been placed there to dry than
to clothe and keep warm." The manners of this man were quite of a piece
with his outward appearance. His gait was springy, and his face underwent
contortions of the least pleasant kind. The people knew his peculiar ways,
and many of them seized every opportunity of tormenting him, generally
much to their own intense satisfaction and amusement. Another attendant,
and one of Merry-Andrew's colleagues, was a worthy whose proper name was
practically unknown, but who went by the _sobriquet_ of "Spune." With an
exterior suggestive of a broken-down parson, his mental qualities were of
the feeblest order, or, being vigorous, they found no fitting expression.
The "Spune" always kept his own counsel, performing his duties in such a
staid and dignified manner that Leighton feels compelled to say "that you
would have said he bore all the honours of the science to the advancement
of which he contributed so much." These two men were slightly touched by
scientific aspirations, though it must be admitted that these were not by
any means the motives that constrained them to follow their unholy
employment. The pecuniary results weighed much more than any scientific
considerations with the "Moudewart," properly called Mowatt, who was
another of the group. He had been a plasterer, but he found that to pursue
his trade he had to work hard for little, and he took to the business of a
resurrectionist simply because he could make more money a great deal
easier--a course of conduct perhaps legitimate enough in itself, but one
which it would be difficult to justify when the nature of the change is
taken into account. However, these three men were the great supports of
the anatomical investigators in Surgeon's Square, Edinburgh. They were
assisted by others of less note, important enough in their own way, but
undeserving the same particular notice.

These men are believed to have made a great number of purchases in the
lower parts of Edinburgh, for not a few drunken, shiftless creatures were
willing to sell the bodies of their deceased relatives for a small sum;
often an arrangement had been come to before the final separation of soul
and body. Indeed, it is to be feared that this was by no means uncommon in
all the centres of population. A grimly amusing story is told by Leighton,
illustrative of this, and at the same time of the trickishness and love of
mischief supposed to be characteristic of the medical student. This is how
he tells it:--"One night a student who saw him [Merrylees] standing at a
close-end, and suspected that his friend was watching his prey, whispered
in his ear, 'She's dead,' and, aided by the darkness, escaped. In a moment
after, 'Merry Andrew' shot down the wynd, and, opening the door, pushed
his lugubrious face into a house. 'It's a' owre I hear,' said he, in a
loud whisper. 'And when will we come for the body?' 'Whist, ye mongrel,'
replied the old harridan, who acted as nurse; 'she's as lively as a
cricket.'" The unfortunate invalid was terrified, but was unable to do
anything to help herself. Merry Andrew slipped out, and went in search of
the student who had played such a scurvy trick upon him, but was, of
course, unsuccessful. To resume Leighton's narrative:--"The old invalid,
no doubt hastened by what she had witnessed, died on the following night;
and on that, after the night succeeding, when he had reason to expect that
she would be conveniently placed in the white fir receptacle that has a
shape so peculiarly its own, and not deemed by him so artistic as that of
a bag or a box, Merrylees, accompanied by the 'Spune,' entered the dead
room with the sackful of bark. To their astonishment, and what Merrylees
even called disgusting to an honourable mind, the old wretch had scruples.
'A light has come doun upon me frae heaven,' she said, 'an' I canna.'
'Light frae heaven!' said Merrylees indignantly; 'will that shew the
doctors how to cut a cancer out o' ye, ye auld fule? But we'll sune put
out that light,' he whispered to his companion; 'awa' and bring in a
half-mutchkin.' 'Ay,' replied the 'Spune,' as he got hold of a bottle, 'we
are only obeying the will o' God. "Man's infirmities shall verily be cured
by the light o' his wisdom." I forget the text.' And the 'Spune,' proud of
his Biblical learning, went upon his mission. He was back in a few
minutes; for where in Scotland is whisky not easily got? Then Merrylees
(as he used to tell the story to some of the students, to which we cannot
be expected to be strictly true as regards every act or word), filling out
a glass, handed it to the wavering witch. 'Tak ye that,' he said, 'and it
will drive the deevil out o' ye'; and finding that she easily complied, he
filled out another, which went in the same direction with no less relish.
'And noo,' said he, as he saw her scruples melting in the liquid fire, and
took out the pound-note, which he held between her face and the candle,
'look through it, ye auld deevil, and ye'll see some o' the real light o'
heaven that will mak your cat's een reel.' 'But that's only ane,' said the
now wavering merchant, 'and ye ken ye promised three.' 'And here they
are,' replied he, as he held before her the money to the amount of which
she had only had an experience in her dreams, and which reduced her
staggering reason to a vestige. 'Weel,' she at length said, 'ye may tak
her.' And all things thus bade fair for the completion of the barter, when
the men, and scarcely less the woman, were startled by a knock at the
door, which having been opened, to the dismay of the purchasers there
entered a person, dressed in a loose great-coat, with a broad bonnet on
his head, and a thick cravat round his throat, so broad as to conceal a
part of his face. 'Mrs. Wilson is dead?' said the stranger, as he
approached the bed. 'Ay,' replied the woman, from whom even the whisky
could not keep off an ague of fear. 'I am her nephew,' continued the
stranger, 'and I am come to pay the last duties of affection to one who
was kind to me when I was a boy. Can I see her?' 'Ay,' said the woman;
'she's no screwed doun yet.'" "Merry-Andrew" and the "Spune" slipped out
of the house, followed by the stranger, who pretended to give them chase.
The stranger, it came out afterwards, was a student who thought fit to
play a practical joke on the two worthies. The dead woman was decently
buried, but the nurse quietly put the three pounds in her pocket.

In the course of some transactions in Blackfriars' Wynd, Merrylees had--so
they thought--cheated his two companions to the extent of ten shillings,
and this was an offence never to be forgotten or forgiven. A sister of
Merrylees, residing in Penicuik, happened to die, and it occurred to his
unfeeling heart that he might make a few pounds by raising her body,
immediately after the interment. He said nothing, but the "Spune" noticing
from his appearance that he had some important project on foot, made
inquiries which made him, as he said, "suspect that Merrylees' sister was
dead at last." The "Spune" told the "Moudewart" so, and they agreed to
lift the body themselves, as by doing this they would not only profit to
the extent of several pounds, but would also be revenged upon Merry-Andrew
for his unfair behaviour towards them. A donkey and cart were procured,
and the two companions set out that night for Penicuik, with all the
necessary utensils. Between twelve and one o'clock they were at work in
the kirkyard. They had hardly begun when they were alarmed by a noise near
at hand, but, after listening a moment, they thought they were mistaken,
and resumed. At last they got the body above the ground. Then they heard a
shout, and behind a tombstone they saw a white-robed figure with extended
arms. They fled in terror, and started for Edinburgh in all haste. The
apparition was none other than Merrylees, who, having met the owner of the
donkey and cart, and been told that his two colleagues were away with them
to Penicuik, suspected their design, and had thus frustrated it. Remarking
that "the 'Spune' is without its porridge this time, and shall not man
live on the fruit of the earth," Merrylees shouldered the body of his
sister and set out for the city. Before long he came near his foiled
enemies, and raising another shout he forced them to leave their cart
behind, as they found their legs would carry them faster home than the
quadruped they had borrowed. This was the crowning part of Merry-Andrew's
expedition, for he put his burden in the cart, and managed at last to
convey it to Surgeons' Square.

The professional body-snatchers were, however, sometimes employed by other
than doctors--by persons who made use of them for purposes which had not
even the excuse of a desire for the advancement of anatomical science. The
story is told of two young men from the north, named George Duncan and
Henry Ferguson, fellow-lodgers in the Potterow of Edinburgh, who were
rivals for the affections of a Miss Wilson, residing in the vicinity of
Bruntsfield Links. Ferguson was preferred, and Duncan hated him because of
that. At last disease carried the successful suitor away, and his body was
interred in Buccleuch burying-ground. Duncan's hatred went even further
than death itself, for he employed a well-known snatcher, who rejoiced in
the cognomen of "Screw," on account of his cleverness at raising bodies,
and they went together to the cemetery for the purpose of conveying the
corpse of Ferguson to the rooms occupied by Dr. Monro. When they arrived
there they found Miss Wilson beside the grave, overwhelmed with grief at
the loss of her lover. At last she went away, and soon the body was within
the precincts of the college.

In the Dundee district, also, the resurrectionists were able to do a
considerable amount of business. There, as elsewhere, the people in the
country parts were in a high state of excitement over the frequent
depredations made in their churchyards, and it was shrewdly suspected that
this was done for the purpose of supplying the Edinburgh doctors with
"subjects." Watches were set, but the superstition of the guardians of
the dead, often aided by the whisky they partook of to keep away the cold
and raise their spirits among their "eerie" surroundings, made their
vigils too frequently of little avail. The wily resurrectionists were too
sharp for them, for it was almost a matter of certainty that the body of
any one who died of a peculiar disease would disappear within a few days
after it had been consigned to the grave. In the village of Errol, in the
Carse of Gowrie, such depredations were not unfrequent. About the time
that Burke and Hare were operating with so much effect among the waifs of
Edinburgh, an incident of a somewhat amusing kind occurred at this place.
The parish churchyard was then without a boundary wall, and as it lay in
the middle of the village it was customary for the inhabitants to make a
"short cut" across it, when passing from one part of the place to another.
On one occasion a village worthy had been attending a convivial gathering,
and on his way home, at "the witching time of night," he thought he would
take the pathway through the churchyard. As he approached it he saw what
appeared to be a black horse feeding in the "isle," a low part of the
yard. To his horror some one jumped on the animal's back, and made towards
him. He took to his heels, and ran as fast as he could, never stopping
until he had gained a safe hiding in a farm on the side of the Tay, at a
point about two miles to the south-east of the village. When the story
obtained currency, the belief was commonly expressed that the horse
belonged to a doctor who was in search of an interesting "subject" that
had been recently buried.

The churchyard of Dundee, then popularly known as the "Howff," was laid
under heavy contribution to the cause of science, and the most notorious
of the local resurrectionists was Geordie Mill, one of the grave-diggers.
He was at last caught in his nefarious work, and his memory has been
celebrated in a song long popular in the district. This production has now
nearly dropped out of memory, but as it is a curious commentary on the
transactions of the time, it is worthy of preservation. The following
fragments of it are from the notes of Dr. Robert Robertson, Errol, and Mr.
James Paterson, Glasgow, two natives of the Carse of Gowrie:--

  "Here goes Geordie Mill, wi' his round-mou'd spade,
  He's aye wishing for the mair folk dead,
  For the sake o' his donal', and his bit short-bread,
          To carry the spakes in the mornin'.

  "A porter cam' to Geordie's door,
  A hairy trunk on his back he bore;
  And in the trunk there was a line,
  And in the line was sovereigns nine,
  A' for a fat and sonsie quean,
          Wi' the coach on Wednesday mornin'.

  "Then east the toun Geordie goes,
  To ca' on Robbie Begg and Co.;
  The doctor's line to Robbie shows,
  Wha wished frae them a double dose,
          Wi' the coach on Wednesday mornin'.

  "Geordie's wife says, 'Sirs, tak' tent,
  For a warning to me's been sent,
  That tells me that you will repent
          Your conduct on some mornin'.'

  "Quo' Robbie, 'Wife, now hush your fears,
  We ha'e the key, deil ane can steer's,
  We've been weel paid this dozen o' years,
          Think o' auchteen pound in a mornin'.'

  "Then they ca'd on Tam and Jock,
  The lads wha used the spade and poke,
  And wi' Glenlivet their throats did soak,
          To keep them richt in the mornin'."

The worthies were, according to the ballad, discovered when lifting the
second body, and it concludes with the line,--

  "And that was a deil o' a mornin'."

It was popularly believed that these men were in the habit of supplying
Dr. Knox with bodies taken from the churchyard of Dundee, and there was
great indignation against them when the revelations consequent on the
apprehension of Burke and Hare were made known.

Before proceeding to deal with the events that led up to the Burke and
Hare trial, there is an incident of peculiar interest which deserves to
be recorded, but which cannot be properly put under any of the classes
into which we have divided these tales of the resurrectionists. In a sense
it does not belong to the resurrectionist movement, but as it relates
indirectly to it, it may be given. At the Glasgow Circuit Court in
October, 1819, a collier of the name of Matthew Clydesdale was condemned
to death for murder, and the judge, in passing sentence, as was the
custom, ordered that after the execution the body should be given to Dr.
James Jeffrey, the lecturer on anatomy in the university, "to be publicly
dissected and anatomised." The execution took place on the 4th of November
following, and the body of the murderer was taken to the college
dissecting theatre, where a large number of students and many of the
general public were gathered to witness an experiment it was proposed to
make upon it. The intention was that a newly-invented galvanic battery
should be tried with the body, and the greatest interest had accordingly
been excited. The corpse of the murderer was placed in a sitting posture
in a chair, and the handles of the instrument put into the hands. Hardly
had the battery been set working than the auditory observed the chest of
the dead man heave, and he rose to his feet. Some of them swooned for
fear, others cheered at what was deemed a triumph of science, but the
Professor, alarmed at the aspect of affairs, put his lancet in the throat
of the murderer, and he dropped back into his seat. For a long time the
community discussed the question whether or not the man was really dead
when the battery was applied. Most probably he was not, for in these days
death on the scaffold was slow--there was no "long drop" to break the
spinal cord,--it was simply a case of strangulation.




CHAPTER V.

    _The Early Life of Burke and M'Dougal--Their Meeting with Hare and his
    Wife--Some Notes Concerning the Latter._


Thus far we have traced the genesis, and the ultimate development, of the
resurrectionist movement, and it will now be necessary to relate with some
detail the connection of Burke and Hare and their female associates with
the vile traffic, showing how they, by adding to the brutality inherent in
it, ultimately encompassed their own ruin, and unconsciously freed medical
science from restrictions tending to stiffle inquiry and prevent progress.
About these people comparatively little is known, and certain it is that
had it not been for the timidity of the press of the period there would
have been abundance of material more or less reliable. James Maclean, a
hawker, belonging to Ireland, who was well acquainted with all the
parties, furnished a few particulars concerning them to the publishers of
what may be called the official account of the trial, issued in 1829, but
what he was able to give was very meagre. Maclean's notes, however, have
been supplemented, and, apparently, in some instances corrected, by the
subsequent investigations of Alexander Leighton.

The most notorious of these great offenders against the laws of God and
man was William Burke. He was the son of Neil Burke, a labourer, and was
born in the early part of the year 1792, in the parish of Orrey, about two
miles from the town of Strabane, County Tyrone, Ireland. Receiving a fair
education, he, though of Catholic parentage, first went as servant to a
Presbyterian minister, but becoming tired of that kind of employment, he
tried in succession the trades of a baker and a weaver. Maclean, however,
makes no mention of these two attempts, and says Burke's "original trade
was that of a shoemaker or cobbler." None of these trades suited his
taste, and ultimately he enlisted in the Donegal militia in the capacity
either of fifer or drummer--probably the former, as he was known in after
life as an excellent player on the flute. During this time he was the
personal servant of one of the officers of the regiment; and he married a
young woman belonging to Ballina. When the regiment was disbanded he went
to live with his wife and family, and he was engaged as the servant of a
country gentleman. Here an event occurred which may be regarded as the
turning point of what had hitherto been a life of respectability. Burke
was anxious to obtain the subtenancy of a piece of ground from his
father-in-law, but they quarrelled over the matter. How this dispute came
about is unknown, but it was of sufficient severity to cause Burke to
leave his wife and family and emigrate to Scotland, and sufficient to
prevent him from returning again to his native land. He arrived in this
country about the year 1817 or 1818, when the Union Canal, between
Edinburgh and the Forth and Clyde Canal, near Camelon, was in the course
of construction. Making his way eastwards, Burke obtained employment as a
labourer on this important undertaking, and while so engaged he resided in
the little hill village of Maddiston, a mile or two above Polmont. It was
here that he met Helen Dougal or M'Dougal, the partner of his guilt, and
his fellow-prisoner at the great trial. This woman was born in the
neighbouring village of Redding. The record of her career up to her
meeting with Burke is not altogether good. In early life she made the
acquaintance of a sawyer of the name of M'Dougal, to whom she had a child
during his wife's life-time. When M'Dougal became a widower the young
woman went to live with him, and though they had never gone through a
regular marriage ceremony, cohabitation was sufficient to constitute them
man and wife, and she bore M'Dougal's name. After a time the couple left
Maddiston for Leith, where M'Dougal worked at his trade. Here he was
struck down by typhus fever, and his illness terminated in death in
Queensferry House. His female companion and her two children returned to
her old place of abode, a loose and dissolute woman, even more so than
when she went away. At the time of the trial, in 1828, it was reported
that she had had two husbands, one of whom was then alive, but that is
uncertain. This, however, is an outline of her life up till the advent of
Burke in Maddiston, when she was living there with her two children, a
boy and a girl. Burke and she threw in their lot together, and lived as
husband and wife. This irregular life came to the knowledge of the priest
of the district, who advised Burke to leave M'Dougal and return to his
lawful wife and to his family in Ireland; but he refused to do so, and as
a consequence was excommunicated. The early religious training of Burke
made him feel uncomfortable under the displeasure of the church, but he
would not, nevertheless, carry out the dictates of his priest or of his
own conscience. He continued to live with M'Dougal, not a very happy life,
certainly, both of them being somewhat given to drink, but they appeared
to have taken a liking for each other which kept them together through
every difficulty. For some reason or other, probably because employment in
the neighbourhood of Maddiston had become scarce, Burke and his companion
removed to Edinburgh, and took up their quarters in what was known as "The
Beggar's Hotel," in Portsburgh, owned by an Edinburgh worthy of the lower
class, Mickey Culzean by name. Here Burke reverted to the trade of
shoemaker or cobbler, and whether he was bred to it or not is a small
matter, for he seems to have been able to make use of it, when in need, in
the way of gaining a livelihood. He was in the habit of buying old boots
and shoes, and repairing them; after which M'Dougal hawked them among the
poorer classes in the city, and in this way they were able to make from
fifteen to twenty shillings a week.

Burke and M'Dougal, however, were not long resident in the "Beggar's
Hotel," when it was burned to the ground, and all their goods were
destroyed. Among their possessions so lost were the books belonging to the
Burke, and these were--Ambrose's _Looking Unto Jesus_, Boston's _Fourfold
State_, Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_, and Booth's _Reign of Grace_. It
has been said that this little library of theological works belonged to
Burke, but, it may be suggested, that they were not of the type to be
owned by an excommunicated Roman Catholic; they rather appear, judging
from their character, to have belonged to M'Dougal, for they are all of
the kind affected in most Scottish homes of the period. It is worth
remembering, however, that Burke was a man of a naturally religious turn
of mind, though not bound up in any particular form of faith, and that in
all his after actions, brutal and godless though they were, the inward
warning voice never left him at peace, except when his senses were steeped
in drink.

Culzean, after this disaster, hired new premises in Brown's Close, off the
Grassmarket, and Burke and M'Dougal moved there with him. Here religious
matters attracted Burke's attention, and for a time his actions to a
certain extent were modified by them. He attended services in an adjoining
house, and even went the length of an endeavour to reform his landlord,
who was an inveterate swearer. This appearance of better things did not,
however, continue long, and the old course of life was renewed. It would
be difficult to say what would have been the course of Burke's life had
M'Dougal and he never met; in all probability it would have been less
guilty, and would have had a happier result. Had their paths been
separate, they might never have been heard of, and a series of crimes
disgraceful to humanity might, possibly, never have been committed. But as
it happened, it is to be feared that the influence of the one upon the
other was for evil. Maclean described Burke as a peaceable and steady
worker when free from liquor; and even when intoxicated he was rather
jocose and quizzical, and by no means of a quarrelsome disposition.
M'Dougal, on the other hand, was of a dull, morose temper, sober or
otherwise. Quarrels between them were of frequent occurrence. One point of
dispute between them, and which gave rise to at least one severe
disturbance, was Burke's relations with a young woman, a near friend of
M'Dougal, who became jealous of her. The three lived in the one room, and
one occasion the two women fell out so seriously that they sought to
settle their differences by force. The man did not interfere until he saw
that the younger woman was being worsted. Then he turned on M'Dougal and
beat her most brutally, until, indeed, it was thought she was beyond
recovery.

Notwithstanding their apparent incompatibility, the couple kept well
together, and when trade in Edinburgh grew dull they removed to Peebles,
where Burke wrought on the roads. By this time his habits had not
improved; his whole moral character, never very robust, though not without
a susceptibility to religious impressions, was on the decline; and
gradually he became the associate of men and women whose experience of
wickedness was greater than anything to which he had yet sunk. In the
autumn of 1827, Burke and M'Dougal wrought at the harvesting near
Penicuik, and returning to Edinburgh, they went to lodge with William and
Mrs. Hare, the companions and participators in the crimes that afterwards
made them amenable to the laws of the country. Burke met Mrs. Hare, with
whom he had previously been acquainted, and over a glass of liquor he
mentioned to her that he intended going to the west country to seek for
employment. She urged that he and M'Dougal should take up their abode in
her house in Tanner's Close, Portsburgh, where he would have every
facility for carrying on his trade of a cobbler. To this he consented, and
he again set up business in a cellar attached to the house, in which Hare,
who was a hawker, kept his donkey. Thus were these two men brought into
contact, and from this accidental meeting arose that close and intimate
connection which enabled them to originate and carry out their diabolical
plans against their fellow-creatures.

This William Hare, whose name afterwards came to be so indissolubly
connected with that of Burke, was about the same age, and was also a
native of Ireland. Brought up without any education or proper moral
training, he rapidly slipped into a vagabondising kind of life. His temper
was brutal and ferocious, and when he was in liquor he was perfectly
unbearable. Before leaving Ireland he was employed in farm work, but
better prospects across the Channel made him come to Scotland, where he
became a labourer, like his companion in later life, in the construction
of the Union Canal, though there is no evidence that they met each other
until the year 1827, in Edinburgh. Hare afterwards worked as a "lumper"
with a Mr. Dawson, who had a wharf at Port-Hopetoun, the Edinburgh
terminus of the canal. While so engaged he became acquainted with a man of
the name of James Log, or Logue, who has been described as a decent,
hard-working man. Before this time Log had held a contract, on the canal
near Winchburgh, at which his wife, a strong-minded, able-bodied woman,
laboured along with the men in her husband's employment, wheeling a barrow
as well as the best of them. After this Hare turned a hawker, at first
with a horse and cart, but latterly with a hand-barrow. In the interval,
Log and his wife, Mary Laird, had opened a lodging-house at the back of
the West Port Well, whence they removed to Tanner's Close, and with them
Hare, on his change of employment, took up his abode. A quarrel with his
landlord, however, made him seek other quarters; but when Log died in
1826, he returned, and, as Maclean puts it, "made advances to the widow,"
and she consenting, the couple were regularly married. Mrs. Log, or Hare,
as she had now become, had had one child to her previous husband. Her
character, while before not beyond reproach, had been further blackened by
her notorious misconduct with a young lodger in the house. This man left
her, and Hare stepped in to fill his shoes. The lodging-house, into
possession of which Hare had entered on his marriage with the widow of its
previous landlord, contained seven beds; and the earnings from his new
property gave him the means of drinking without the necessity of working.
He took full advantage of his position, became more and more dissolute,
and went about bullying and fighting with all and sundry. His wife was not
exempt from his brutality, but then she was as ready for drinking and
quarrelling as he was himself. With these people Burke and M'Dougal went
to reside, after their return from Penicuik.

Two stories are related by Maclean, who knew all the parties well, which
serve to illustrate the characters of Burke and Hare. In the autumn of
1827, Maclean, Hare, Burke, and some others, while on their way from
Carnwath, in Lanarkshire, where they had been at the shearing, went for
refreshment into a public-house a little to the west of Balerno, a few
miles from Edinburgh. The liquor was served, and the party clubbed
together to pay the reckoning. The money was placed on the table, and Hare
coolly picked it up and put it in his pocket. Burke, knowing the temper of
the man, and desiring to avoid a disturbance, paid for the whole of the
liquor consumed out of his own pocket. Maclean, however, was more
outspoken, and on leaving the house told Hare that it was a _scaly_
trick for him to lift the money with the intention of affronting the
company. Hare knocked the feet from under Maclean, and kicked him severely
on the face with his iron-shod _caulker_ boots, laying his upper lip open.
Mrs. Hare, again, was equally brutal. Once, when returning from his work
at the canal, Hare found his wife very tipsy. He remonstrated with her,
and then lay down on his bed. She lifted a bucket of water and emptied the
contents over him. A desperate struggle followed, and, Maclean adds:--"As
usual with her she had the last word and the last blow."

[Illustration: HELEN MCDOUGAL. (From a Sketch taken in Court.)]

Before concluding this chapter it may be of interest to give the
description of the personal appearance of Burke and his wife, as furnished
by the _Caledonian Mercury_ of Thursday, the 25th December, 1828. It
refers to their appearance at the trial, but it may be taken as generally
relating to their looks at the time they entered upon their course of
crime:--"The male prisoner [Burke], as his name indicates, is a native of
Ireland. He is a man rather below the middle size, and stoutly made, and
of a determined, though not peculiarly sinister expression of countenance.
The contour of his face, as well as the features, is decidedly Milesian.
It is round, with high cheek bones, grey eyes, a good deal sunk in the
head, a short snubbish nose, and a round chin, but altogether of a small
cast. His hair and whiskers, which are of a light sandy colour, comported
well with the make of the head and complexion, which is nearly of the same
hue. He was dressed in a shabby blue surtout, buttoned close to the
throat, and had, upon the whole, what is called in this country a _wauf_
rather than a ferocious appearance, though there is a hardness about the
features, mixed with an expression in the grey twinkling eyes, far from
inviting. The female prisoner [Helen M'Dougal], is fully of the middle
size, but thin and spare made, though evidently of large bone. Her
features are long, and the upper half of her face is out of proportion to
the lower. She was miserably dressed in a small grey-coloured velvet
bonnet, very much the worse of the wear, a printed cotton shawl and cotton
gown. She stoops considerably in her gait, and has nothing peculiar in her
appearance, except the ordinary look of extreme poverty and misery common
to unfortunate females of the same degraded class."




CHAPTER VI.

    _Death of Donald the Pensioner--Hare's Debt--Negotiations with the
    Doctors--A Bargain Struck--Sale of Donald's Body._


The beginning of the connection of the persons whose career, up till 1827,
we have endeavoured to describe in the preceding chapter, with the
resurrectionist movement, may be said to have been to a certain extent
accidental.

In Hare's house in Tanner's Close there resided for some time an old
pensioner named Donald. About Christmas, 1827, he died, owing his landlord
about £4, but as a set off against this his quarter's pension was about
due, though, of course, it was more likely this would go to some relative
who might be unwilling to pay the debt to Hare. The funeral arrangements
were made, and everything was in readiness for consigning the remains of
the old veteran to their kindred dust, when it occurred to Hare that by
selling the body to the doctors he might be able to save himself from
making a bad debt through the inconvenient death of his lodger before the
pension was due. Burke, in his confession, stated that Hare made the
proposition to him, promising a share of the proceeds. After some
hesitation Burke agreed to the scheme; the coffin, which had been "screwed
down," was opened, and tanners' bark substituted for the body, which was
concealed in the bed. Thereafter the coffin and its contents were
carefully buried. In the evening the two men visited Surgeon's Square,
Hare remaining near at hand, while Burke went towards the door of Dr.
Knox's class-rooms. He was noticed by one of the students; and the
following strange conversation, founded on the record of it by Leighton,
took place between them:--

"Were you looking for any one?" the student said, as he peered into the
dour-looking face of the stranger, where perhaps there had never even once
been seen a blush.

"Umph! Are you Dr. Knox?"

"No; but I am one of his students," was the reply of the young man, who
was now nearly pretty well satisfied as to the intention of the stranger
whom he had accosted.

"And sure," observed the latter, "I'm not far wrong thin, afther all."

"And I may suit your purpose as well, perhaps."

"Perhaps," answered the strange man; "perhaps you may, sir."

"Well," said our friend, the young student, "don't be at all afraid to
speak out. Tell me your business, although I have myself an idea as to
what it may be. Have you got '_The Thing_?'"

"Doun't know, sir, what you mean."

"Ah! not an old hand at the trade, I perceive. You were never here before,
perhaps?"

"No," said the stranger.

"And don't know what to say?"

"No," said the stranger. And the bashful man again turned his gloomy
downcast optics to the ground, and appeared also as if he didn't very well
know or to be able to make up his mind as to what he should do with those
hands of his, which were not made for kid gloves--perhaps for skin of
another kind rather.

And shouldn't this hardened and callous-hearted student have been sorry
for a man in such confusion? But he wasn't; nay, he evidently had no
sympathy whatever with his refinement.

"Why, man, don't you speak out?" he said somewhat impatiently.

"There's somebody coming through the Square there," was the reply, as the
man looked furtively to a side.

"Come in here, then," said the student, as he pulled the man into a large
room where there were already three other young men, who also acted as
assistants of Dr. Knox. And there now they were, in the midst of a great
number of coarse tables, with one in the middle, whereon were
deposited--each having its portion--masses or lumps of some matter which
could not be seen by reason of all of them being covered with pieces of
cloth--once white, but now dirty gray, as if they had been soiled with
clammy hands for weeks or months....

"Sure, and I'm among the dead," said the man, ... "and I have something ov
that kind to----"

"Sell," added an assistant sharply, as, in his scientific ardour, he
anticipated the merchant.

"Yes."...

"And what do you give for _wun_?" he answered, as he sidled up to the ear
of the young anatomist who had been speaking to him.

"Sometimes as high as £10."...

"And wouldn't you give a pound more for a fresh one?" said he, with that
intoxication of hope which sometimes makes a beggar play with a new-born
fortune.

"Sometimes more and sometimes less," replied the other; "but 'the thing'
must always be seen."

"And by my sowl it is a good thing, and worth the money any how."

"Where is it?"

"At home."

"Then if you will bring it here about ten it will be examined, and you
will get your money; and since you are a beginner, I may tell you, you had
better bring it in a box."

"And have we not a tea-chest all ready, which howlds it nate, and will not
my friend help me to bring it?"

"Well, mind the hour, and be upon your guard that no one sees you."

The young students who had this conversation with Burke were two men who
afterwards became famous in their profession--Sir William Ferguson,
F.R.S., the author of a _System of Practical Surgery_; and Thos. Wharton
Jones, one of the most eminent physiologists of the country. So that the
training they obtained in these troublous times has proved highly
beneficial to medical science, and through it to humanity.

But to continue the story of the disposal of old Donald's body. Having
come to this agreement with the students, Burke joined his companion, and
went home. They put the body into a sack, and carried it to Surgeons'
Square. When they arrived there they were in doubt as to what they should
do with it. They laid it down at the door of a cellar, and then went to
the room, where they saw the students again. By their instructions they
carried the corpse into the room, took it out of the sack, and placed it
on a dissecting table. A shirt which was on the body they removed at the
request of the students, and Dr. Knox, having examined it, proposed they
should get £7 10s. The money was paid by Jones, Hare receiving £4 5s., and
Burke £3 5s., the paymaster saying he would be glad to see them again when
they had any other body to dispose of. This is Burke's account of the
transaction, as made in his confession on the 3rd January, 1829, and it
substantially agrees with the fuller account given by Leighton.

This was the first transaction these two men had with the doctors, and it
is curious to notice how an incident of so little moment in itself should
be to them the first step in a long and terrible course of crime--long in
the sense that, considering its nature, they should have for such a length
of time kept out of the reach of the law, or, indeed, of any suspicion of
being anything worse than pitiful creatures of resurrectionists, who were
willing to rob graves of their mouldering contents for a few paltry
pounds. That step, however, was enough.




CHAPTER VII.

    _New Prospects--Description of Hare's House--The Murder of Abigail
    Simpson, the Old Woman from Gilmerton--The Two Sick Men._


The success of their first transaction with the doctors developed new
feelings in the hearts of Burke and Hare, and their two female companions.
Their minds, unconsciously, had been undergoing a degrading process, and
the action they had taken with regard to the old pensioners body opened up
the way to them into a more complete state of moral turpitude. They
thought they saw in this new traffic, if they could by any means obtain
possession of the remains of their fellow-creatures, an easier method of
attaining a comfortable livelihood than any they had yet tried, even
though it should involve the committal of murder; for they seemed fatally
blind to the consequences which it was certain such a course as they
contemplated would in all probability bring to them. Their argument, it
may be assumed, was that if they got bodies to sell, no matter how, they
would be able to throw off suspicion; and instead of doing what others
then did, go to the churchyards and plunder them of their ghastly
contents, they took for their motto the significant question Burke put to
the student when he was negotiating for the sale of Donald's
body--"Wouldn't you give a pound more for a fresh wun?" It was perhaps the
case that they did not make up any definite plan of operations for the
future; but it is beyond doubt that the outline of the plan they
ultimately adopted was suggested by the conversation in Knox's rooms,
while the details, in respect of the individual members, may have been
worked out as occasion presented--each act leading on to the next until
the last foul crime was committed.

Before beginning the horrid record, it will be well to give a description
of the scene of the enactment of most of the crimes--Log's lodging-house,
in Tanner's Close:--

"The entry from the street," says Leighton, "begins with a descent of a
few steps, and is dark from the superincumbent land. On proceeding
downwards, you came--for the house, which was razed for shame, is no
longer to be seen--to a smallish self-contained dwelling of one flat, and
consisting of three apartments. One passing down the close might, with an
observant eye, have seen into the front room; but this disadvantage was
compensated by the house being disjoined from other dwellings, and a
ticket, 'Beds to let,' as an invitation to vagrants, so many of whom were
destined never to come out alive, distinguished it still more. The outer
apartment was large, occupied all round by these structures called beds,
composed of knocked-up fir stumps, and covered with a few gray sheets and
brown blankets, among which the squalid wanderer sought rest, and the
profligate snored out his debauch under the weight of nightmare. Another
room opening from this was also comparatively large, and furnished much in
the same manner. In place of any concealment being practised, so far
impossible, indeed, in the case of a public lodging-house, the door stood
generally open, and, as we have said, the windows were overlooked by the
passengers up and down; but as the spider's net is spread open while his
small keep is a secret hole, so here there was a small apartment, or
rather closet, the window of which looked upon a pig-stye and a dead-wall,
and into which, as we know, were introduced those unhappy beings destined
to death. The very character of the house, the continued scene of roused
passions, saved it from that observation which is directed towards
temporary tumults, so that no surprise could have been excited by cries of
suffering issuing from such a place, even if they could have been heard
from the interior den; and that was still more impossible, from the
extraordinary mode of extinguishing life adopted by the wary and yet
unwary colleagues. In this inner apartment Burke used to work when he did
work, which, always seldom, soon came to be rare, and eventually
relinquished for other wages."

In this place Donald the pensioner died, and here it was that the most
terrible series of modern tragedies was committed. The plan having been
agreed upon by the two confederates--it is doubtful if the two women had
anything to do with its formation--Hare began by prowling about the
streets to see if he could fall in with any person who would make a likely
subject upon whom they could practice. For a time he was unsuccessful, but
at length an opportunity arrived. This was, according to Burke's
confession of the 3rd January, 1829, early in the spring of 1828, and,
according to the one published in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, on the
11th February. Leighton, however, says it was one afternoon in December
1827, though he gives no other reason for differing from Burke, though in
this instance the criminal does not speak generally, but with absolute
definiteness. Whichever month it was, the fact is certain that one
afternoon Hare met an old woman the worse of drink in the Grassmarket.
This was Abigail Simpson, belonging to Gilmerton, a village on the
outskirts of Edinburgh, who had come into the city to obtain the pension
granted her by a gentleman in the New Town--Sir John Hope, it has been
suggested--who gave her one-and-sixpence a week, and a can of kitchen-fee.
Her call had been made, and some of the money she had apparently spent in
drink, for she was under the influence of it when she met Hare. He thought
she looked a fitting subject. She was old and weakly, and the little
strength of mind and body left her by her potations could surely be
overcome very easily if she were once in a suitable place for the
commission of his shocking design. Hare spoke to her, professing that he
had seen her before; and she, garrulous and doted, readily entered into
conversation with him. Speedily they became fast friends, and he easily
persuaded her to accompany him to his house, where they would have a
"dram" together in honour of their happy meeting. Once in the house, Mrs.
Simpson was treated with overflowing kindness. She was introduced to Burke
as an old friend, and the whisky was placed before her. She and the others
partook of the liquor, though it is probable that her entertainers were
more circumspect than she was in her libations. Highly pleased with her
reception she told all about herself and her affairs, and of how she had a
fine young daughter at home, who was both good and beautiful. Hare said he
was a bachelor, and he spoke to the old woman of marrying her daughter, so
that they would have all the money among them. When the supply of drink
was finished, Mrs. Hare bought the can of kitchen-fee from Mrs. Simpson
for one-and-sixpence, and this money was also expended in the purchase of
more whisky for the use of the company. The fun became fast and furious.
The old woman crooned some of the songs of her youth, and Burke, who, as
it has already been seen, was himself something of a musician, contributed
his share to the harmony of the evening. It was proposed that Mrs. Simpson
should not go home that night, and to this she readily assented, for, as
the _Courant_ confession of Burke puts it, "she was so drunk she could not
go home." This was their chance, but somehow or other it was not taken
advantage of--perhaps it was because they were not, "old hands at the
trade," and they lacked sufficient courage at the time to carry out their
evil intentions against the old woman; just as likely they were too much
intoxicated themselves to commit the crime; possibly they were joined by
other lodgers, before whom they could not act. Be that as it may, the poor
victim lay the last night of her life in a state of thorough intoxication.
When morning came, she was sick and vomiting, and cried to be taken home
to her daughter. Her entertainers expressed the utmost sympathy for her
condition, and in their brutal "kindness" they gave her some porter and
whisky, which quickly made her again helplessly drunk. The time had now
arrived. The house was quiet, and the courage of the two men was
sufficient for the deed they contemplated. Hare placed his hand over her
mouth and nose to stop her breathing, and Burke laid himself across her
body in order to prevent her making any disturbance. Resistance there was
really none. The woman was beyond resistance, and any noise she might have
been able to make was stiffled by the method adopted to compass her death.
In a few minutes she was dead, and the men lifted the body out of the bed,
undressed it, and bundled it up in a chest. Hare took away the clothing,
among which was a drab mantle, and a white-grounded cotton shawl with blue
spots, with the intention of putting it in the canal. One of the men
afterwards informed Dr. Knox's students that they had another subject to
give them, and it was agreed that a porter from Surgeon's Square should
meet them at the back of the Castle in the evening. Burke and Hare carried
the chest, with its ghastly contents, to the meeting place, and thence the
porter assisted them with it to the rooms. "Dr. Knox," says Burke, "came
in when they were there; the body was cold and stiff. Dr. Knox approved of
its being so fresh, but did not ask any questions." The price paid the
murderers for the corpse of old Abigail Simpson, of Gilmerton, was ten
pounds.

The work of wholesale murder was now fairly begun, and the conspirators
had gained confidence by the success of their first effort. There were no
qualms of conscience--if there were they were speedily drowned in
drink--strong enough to stop them in the course upon which they had so
rapidly entered. The fear of discovery had passed away when they saw how
easily and quietly they could work, and the desire for more victims
became--shall we charitably say?--a mania.

The next unfortunate who fell into their foul clutches was a miller known
to Burke simply as "Joseph." The man was related by marriage to one of the
partners of the Carron Iron Company, then the principal ironfounding firm
in Scotland, and at one time had himself been in possession of a decent
competency. He had, however, lost his money, and was so reduced that he
had to reside in Hare's house in Tanner's Close. Joseph, while lodging
there, became very ill, and the report went forth that the malady by which
he was attacked was an infectious fever. Hare and his wife were alarmed
lest the rumour should damage the reputation of their house, and keep
lodgers away. It was accordingly agreed that Joseph should be put out of
the way as quickly as possible, and that by the remedy they had applied so
successfully in the case of Mrs. Simpson. Burke laid a small pillow over
the sick man's mouth, and Hare lay across the body to keep down his arms
and legs. Death ensued as a matter of course, and the body was sold in
Surgeon's Square for ten pounds. It does certainly seem strange that such
a set of circumstances should lead up to the murder of the miller, and
having in view the line of conduct these two men had now adopted, it is
more than probable that the report of Joseph lying ill of fever was
circulated by them to avert suspicion at his disappearance, and render his
death from apparently natural causes more probable.

Another case very similar to this one, but in all likelihood distinct from
it, is mentioned in one of the confessions of Burke, which, though not to
be depended upon absolutely, must be assumed to be accurate in their main
features. In the _Courant_ confession the condemned man mentions the
murder of an Englishman as having followed that of Mrs. Simpson; though in
the document prepared by the Sheriff-Clerk the case of Joseph the miller
is given in its place. The victim in this other instance was a native of
Cheshire, also a lodger in Hare's house, who was ill with jaundice at the
time the tragedy with Abigail Simpson was being enacted. He was a very
tall man, about forty years of age, and found a livelihood by selling
"spunks," or matches, on the streets of Edinburgh. His death was caused
by the efficient plan now adopted by Burke and Hare, who obtained the
customary ten pounds from Dr. Knox for the body, and no questions asked.

As indicative, however, of the untrustworthiness of these confessions, it
is interesting to notice at this point that while in the document
published in the _Courant_, and attested as correct by Burke's own
signature, the murder of the Englishman is placed in point of time after
that of Simpson; yet, in the official confession, emitted fully a
fortnight earlier, the commission of the crime is stated to have occurred
in May, and as the fourth on the terrible list. It is nevertheless to be
feared that although there may be some doubt as to the exact dates when
some of the murders were committed, Burke did not make full confession of
the various acts of wanton sacrifice of human life in which he had been
engaged, perhaps, unfortunately, because they were so numerous, and were
done in such a short space of time, that his memory could not carry every
individual case and its proper details.




CHAPTER VIII.

    _Qualms of Conscience--The Murder of Mary Paterson and Escape of Janet
    Brown--Preservation of the Fallen Beauty._


It is remarkable that at so early a period in their career of crime Burke
and Hare should have shown so much boldness as they exhibited in the
murder of Mary Paterson, a young woman unfortunately too well known on the
streets of Edinburgh; and it is equally remarkable how, considering the
whole circumstances, they were able to carry out the crime and dispose of
the body without detection.

There is little reason to doubt that Burke was in the first instance a man
of finer nature than Hare, though their guilt in the end was at least
equal. Hare, it seems, could play his part in the slaughter of a
fellow-mortal without any qualms of conscience, and he slept as quietly
the night after he had provided a "subject" for the doctors, as if his
soul were unstained with guilt. Burke, however, was a man of a different
temperament, and though reckless he could not altogether banish the moral
teachings of his church from his mind. "Thou shalt do no murder," rung in
his ears, but under the benumbing influences of drink the command was
forgotten and broken, and then followed the fearful looking for judgment.
He could not sleep without a bottle of whisky by his bed-side, and he had
always on the table a two-penny candle, burning all the night. When he
wakened, sometimes in fright, he would take a draught at the bottle, often
to the extent of half of its contents at a time, and that induced sleep,
or, rather, stupor.

In one of these "waukrife" fits, Burke, early on the morning of Friday,
the 9th April, 1828, left the house, and made towards a public house in
the neighbourhood of the Canongate, kept by a man named Swanston. While he
sat drinking rum and bitters with the landlord, two young women, of
apparently doubtful character, entered the house, and ordered a gill of
whisky, which they immediately set about to consume. These were Mary
Paterson or Mitchell and Janet Brown, both residing with a Mrs.
Worthington in Leith Street. They had been apprehended the previous
evening for some offence against the law, probably for being drunk and
quarrelsome, and lodged in the Canongate Police Station. Between four and
five o'clock in the morning they were liberated, and went to a house in
the vicinity, where they had formerly lodged, occupied by a Mrs. Laurie,
who endeavoured to persuade them to remain with her. She was unsuccessful,
and they left for Swanston's public house, where they met with Burke.

The women and Burke, it is said, were strangers to each other, but he,
whose conscience had been again quieted by the liquor he had imbibed,
thought he saw in them two fine subjects for the doctors. In his most
winning manner he went up and spoke to them, asked them to have a drink
with him, and ordered a round of rum and bitters. They were not at all
averse to the treat, so they sat down and consumed three gills at the
expense of their smooth-spoken entertainer. At last Burke had ingratiated
himself so much with the girls that he proposed they should accompany him
to his lodgings, near by, and partake of breakfast with him. His story
was that he was a pensioner, and to Brown, who had some objection to going
with him, he said he could keep her comfortably for life if she and her
companion, who was quite willing, would go with him. He talked them round,
until they agreed to accompany him. Purchasing two bottles of whisky he
gave one to each of them, and the trio then set off for Constantine
Burke's house in Gibb's Close, off the Canongate. This Constantine Burke,
his brother, was a married man, with several of a family, and was a
scavenger in the employment of the Edinburgh Police establishment. It was
never known whether he and his wife had any complicity in the murders, but
it was shrewdly suspected at the time that they were at least aware of
them, especially of the one that was committed in their house.

When Burke and his two companions arrived at the house they found that the
brother and his wife were newly out of bed, but had not as yet got time to
kindle the fire. The house, on that account, looked rather gloomy for the
reception of guests, and Burke upbraided his sister-in-law--or landlady as
he wished her to appear--for her carelessness. The fire was, however,
speedily lighted, and a cheerful glow was shed through the apartment,
which even then was nothing very fine. The entrance to it was up a narrow
wooden trap-stair, and along a dark passage. The door was only fastened by
a latch. The place itself was but meagrely furnished, the most prominent
articles it contained being a truckle bed, and another with tattered
patch-work curtains; while on the walls were nailed, by way of adornment,
some tawdry prints. The fire, however, improved its appearance somewhat,
and Mrs. Constantine Burke and her brother-in-law set about the
preparation of breakfast. Soon there was on the table a plentiful supply
of food, consisting of tea, bread and butter, eggs, and
haddocks,--altogether a feast which could not have been anticipated by the
look of the apartment itself or of its accustomed occupants. The company
sat down, and the conversation became general and altogether friendly, so
that, what with the drink they had imbibed, and the warmth of their
reception, the girls began to feel quite happy. Constantine Burke left to
attend to his daily employment; and when the breakfast dishes were cleared
off the table the two bottles of whisky were produced, and the debauch,
begun at so early an hour, was renewed. Burke and Mary Paterson drank
recklessly, the former to keep up his courage for the murder he
contemplated, and the latter simply because she liked the liquor; but
Brown was more temperate, though she did not altogether abstain. Mary at
length succumbed to the potency of the whisky, and she lay back asleep in
her chair. Burke now saw that at least one of his proposed victims was
safe, and his suggestion to Brown that they should go out and have a walk
was agreed to quite readily. It is difficult at first sight to surmise
what can have been his object in making this movement, but it may find an
explanation in the fact that soon the couple were seated in a public house
with pies and porter before them. The mixture of drinks made Brown more
stupid, and after a while she accompanied the man back to the house in
Gibb's Close, in a very drunken condition, but still retaining some little
knowledge of what she was doing. Again the whisky was produced. While they
sat drinking, Helen M'Dougal, who had entered the house while they were
out, and who had hidden herself behind the bed-curtains, broke in upon
their conversation. The sister-in-law whispered to Brown that this was
Burke's wife, and M'Dougal fiercely attacked the girls, accusing them of
attempting to corrupt her husband. Brown explained that neither she nor
her own helpless companion knew Burke was married. M'Dougal having heard
this explanation apologised to Brown and pressed her to resume her seat,
and she then turned with the fury of a tigress upon her husband, breaking
the dishes on the table. Burke threw a glass which, striking her on the
forehead, caused an ugly gash which bled profusely. Mrs. Constantine Burke
rushed out of the house, and went, it has been assumed, for Hare, and soon
afterwards Burke succeeded in turning his M'Dougal out, locking the door
after her. Mary Paterson slept through all the hubbub, while Brown stood
aside in terror. Burke endeavoured to induce the latter to sit down again,
and she, though willing enough, was put in so much fear by the noise made
by M'Dougal in the passage leading to the house that she felt the sooner
she was at home it would be the better for herself. Finding he could not
persuade her to stay, Burke conducted her past his paramour, and then
returned to the house, where Mary Paterson still lay unconscious. Hare
arrived soon afterwards; the two men combined to try their fatal skill on
the intoxicated girl; and in a few minutes her soul had fled from her poor
frail body. The women were conveniently outside, and when they came in the
corpse was lying on the bed covered up. They asked no questions, for they
probably knew as well as if they had witnessed it, what had been going on.
Having completed their work the men left the house.

In the meantime, Janet Brown had made her way as best she could to the
house of Mrs. Laurie, which she and Paterson had visited immediately
before meeting with Burke. She told, as coherently as possible, the story
of what had happened to herself and her companion during the day, and Mrs.
Laurie, judging that the company in which they had been was somewhat
rough, sent her servant along with Janet to bring Mary away. Muddled with
the drink she had taken, the girl found the greatest difficulty in
returning to the house she had so recently left. At last she applied for
information to Swanston, the publican, who informed her that Burke was a
married man, and that she would probably find him in his brother's house
in Gibb's Close. Thither she went, and after mistaking the door she
succeeded in getting the place she wanted. Mrs. Hare was sitting inside,
and whenever she saw Brown she jumped towards her as if to strike her, but
thinking better of it, she held back. The girl asked where Mary Paterson
had gone, and they replied that she was out with Burke. The unlikeliness
of the story did not seem to suggest itself to her, though if she had been
in any other than a semi-intoxicated condition she would have remembered
that when she left the house Mary was totally incapable of walking on
account of the drink she had taken. On the invitation of Hare and his wife
and M'Dougal, she again, for the third time, sat down at the table to
partake of more whisky. Mrs. Laurie's servant, seeing the state of
matters, left Brown and returned to her mistress.

Hare now calculated on a second victim, and he plied Brown with more
liquor, while M'Dougal, to keep up the appearance, poured forth invective
against her husband for going away with Paterson, who, poor girl, lay dead
on the bed beside them. While this was going on, and the girl was fast
becoming a fit subject for the murdering arts of Hare, the servant had
informed Mrs. Laurie of how matters looked in Gibb's Close, and she,
rather alarmed, sent the girl back to bring Janet Brown away. In this she
succeeded, and Hare, considering his object frustrated, left the house
shortly after her. Later in the afternoon Brown, partially sobered,
returned again--how like the moth careering recklessly round the candle
that works its destruction!--and again inquired for Mary. The answer she
received this time was that Burke and her friend had never returned. Brown
went out to search for her, and with the aid of Mrs. Worthington, with
whom she resided, she found that Mary Paterson had not gone with Burke.
They called again at Constantine Burke's house for an explanation, and the
inmates there, seeing that their former story had been proven untrue, said
the girl had gone away with a packman to Glasgow. This was not at all
satisfactory, but what could they do? If they had called in the police and
searched the house they would speedily have unravelled the mystery, but
they were, unfortunately for themselves, of a class whose relationship
with the authorities was not of the most pleasant description, and who,
therefore, sought to have as little to do with them as possible.

About four hours after Mary Paterson's death her murderers had her body in
Dr. Knox's dissecting room, and had received eight pounds for their
forenoon's work. This expedition, in itself, was rather foolhardy, for
while the corpse was cold it was not very rigid, and presented the
appearance of recent death; and it was all the more so on account of the
fact that Burke and Hare were supposed to be resurrectionists of the old
type, who robbed graves of their contents. Ferguson, the student already
mentioned, and one of his companions, thought they knew the girl, and one
of them said she was as like a girl he had seen in the Canongate only a
few hours before as one pea was to another. But more than that, the girl's
hair was in curl papers, so that all the external appearances were that
the body was fresh, and had not been buried. They asked Burke where he
had obtained the body, and his reply was that he had purchased it from an
old woman residing at the back of the Canongate. One of the students gave
him a pair of scissors, and he cut off her fine flowing tresses, and these
he would probably sell to a hairdresser to be made up for the use of some
proud dame.

But this was not all. Mary Paterson, in life, was an exceedingly
good-looking girl,--indeed, her fine personal appearance had to a certain
extent contributed to her ruin. Her handsome figure and well-shaped limbs
so attracted the attention of Dr. Knox, that he preserved the body for
three months in spirits, and invited a painter, whose name is suppressed
in Burke's confession, to his rooms to see it. Her friends, however, knew
nothing of this, and they searched everywhere, but without success. For
some months Janet Brown asked Constantine Burke, every time she saw him,
if he had ever heard anything of Mary Paterson since she went away with
the tramp to Glasgow, but he replied to her only with a growl, and there
the matter rested for eight months, until the great conspiracy against
human life was brought to light. And surely Mary Paterson, notwithstanding
all her faults, was worthy of a better fate. Beautiful and well educated,
she had lost in youth the guiding care of a mother. Her beauty was a snare
to her, and her perverse will, though accompanied but not modified by a
kind heart, greatly tended to accomplish her downfall.




CHAPTER IX.

    _Unknown Victims--The Two Old Women--Effy the Cinder Raker--"A Good
    Character with the Police"--Burke and Hare Separate--The Murder of
    Mrs. Hostler._


In view of what has already been said as to the serious discrepancies in
the confessions given to the world by Burke, and considering also that
many of the persons murdered, even according to these confessions, were
never sought after by their friends, if they had any, the impossibility of
taking the crimes in their chronological order will be at once evident.
We therefore propose, in the present chapter, to bring together as many
details as can be gathered respecting these unknown victims, reserving, in
the meantime, an account of those more prominent instances which came
within public ken either through the medium of the trial, or by subsequent
inquiry.

One forenoon Mrs. Hare, in the course of her peregrinations, found herself
in the company of an old woman whom she persuaded to go with her to her
house. There the whisky was, as usual, produced, and a mid-day carouse
indulged in by the two women; but Mrs. Hare, it may be presumed, would
drink very sparingly. At this time Hare was at work unloading the canal
boats at Port-Hopetoun, and Burke was busy mending shoes in his cellar.
That this was so may be taken as indicating that in point of time this was
one of the earliest adventures of the terrible quartette, for latterly,
when they were in receipt of a large and, as they made it, a steady income
from the doctors, the men threw aside all honest work, and devoted
themselves to their murderous employment. However, at this period, they
were sometimes engaged in the creditable affairs of life. When Hare came
home for dinner his wife had her unknown acquaintance in bed, in a
helplessly drunken state, although she had had some trouble before she got
that length. Three times had Mrs. Hare put the old woman to bed, but she
would not sleep, and every time she plied her with more drink until at
length she attained her purpose. Hare, seeing the woman in this condition,
carefully placed a part of the bed-tick over her mouth and nose, and went
out to resume his work. When he returned in the evening the woman was
dead, having been suffocated by the bedding he had placed over her. Burke,
if his own statement is to be credited, had nothing to do with this cool
and deliberate murder, but if not an accessory to the fact he was
certainly one after it, for he assisted Hare to undress the body, place it
in a tea-chest, and convey it that night to Dr. Knox's rooms, where they
received and divided the usual fee. The name of this woman was not known,
even to Burke, and all that he could tell of her was the manner of her
death, and that she had some time previously lodged in Hare's house for
one night.

As a set-off against the crime just mentioned, there is one in which Burke
acknowledged that he alone was engaged. This was the murder of an old
woman in May, 1828. She came into the house as a lodger, and of her own
accord she took drink until she became insensible. Hare was not in the
house at the time, and Burke, by the usual method of suffocation, produced
her death. No time was lost in conveying the body to Surgeon's Square.

In the murder of an old cinder woman, however, both the men were engaged.
During the course of her work of searching for small articles of
inconsiderable value among the contents of ashpits and cinder heaps, and
about the coach-houses, this woman, familiarly known as Effy, came across
small pieces of leather which she was in the habit of selling to Burke,
who used them for mending the shoes entrusted him for repair. One day he
took her into Hare's stable, which he used as a workshop, and gave her
drink, possibly on the pretence of finishing some business transaction
between them; it may have been in part payment of scraps of leather he had
received from her, for a murder never seems to have been committed except
when the funds were at a low ebb, and at the rate at which the
confederates were carousing and indulging in finery, that was very
frequent. Hare joined his companion in the work of making the woman
incapable, and she was soon so overcome by the liquor she had consumed,
that she lay down to sleep on a quantity of straw in the corner. Their
time for action had again arrived, and they carefully placed a cloth over
her so as to stop her breathing. "She was then," proceeds the confession,
"carried to Dr. Knox's, Surgeon Square, and sold for £10." This is always
the end of the matter, and for a few paltry pounds these persons were
willing to take the life of a fellow creature.

But in spite of all his loose way of living, and, as we have seen,
somewhat drunken habits, Burke had a good character with the police, and
on one occasion made them the means of furnishing him with a victim. A
"good character with the police" in the locality in which he lived would
be of some consideration. It was then inhabited, and still is, by the
lowest classes of the community, and the criminal element would be
prominent. Burke, so far as is known, had always been able to keep clear
of the minions of the law, and in this respect his character would seem to
them to be of a better type than those who engaged in a less shocking, if
more open, form of crime. They would look upon him as a poor workman, a
little foolish, perhaps, but still, as the place went, comparatively
respectable; yet, as they found out latterly, he was the most wicked
criminal in the city, with, perhaps, the exception of his accomplice Hare.
It seems strange that he should have been able to manage the police in
such a way as to make them serve his vile purposes, but it must be
remembered that he was a man possessed of considerable assurance and not a
little of that winning tongue proverbially belonging to his race. However,
this was the way the incident came about.

Early one morning, when probably on the outlook for some poor unfortunate
whom he could drug with whisky and put to death, he came across Andrew
Williamson, a policeman, assisted by his neighbour, dragging a drunken
woman to the watch-house in the West Port. They had found her seated on a
stair, but thought she would be safer and more comfortable in a police
cell. And so she would have been if they had carried out their intention.
Burke saw in her a victim who had herself half done the work he
contemplated, so he went to the constables, and said:--"Let the woman go
to her lodgings." The men were willing to do so, but they did not know
where she lived. Burke proffered his services to take her home, and they,
presuming he knew something about her, gladly gave him the charge of their
loathsome burden. The murderer did not look upon her in that light--she
was to him a valuable prize, loathsome though she might be as a drunken,
debauched woman. He took her to Hare's house. There is hardly any need to
say what was done with her. That she fell into Burke's hands in such a
condition indicates her end. That night she was murdered by Burke and Hare
in "the same way as they did the others," and for her body they received
ten pounds from Dr. Knox.

But the last of these, what may be called, isolated cases, took place in
the house of John Broggan, whither Burke and his wife removed in
Midsummer, 1828. Why this change of residence took place has never been
satisfactorily explained. Some have supposed that the parties quarrelled,
and there is undoubted evidence of a dispute between Burke and Hare about
the time of the removal, but, certainly, if the separation of residence
was due to such an event, they do not seem to have kept up the ill-feeling
long, for they were soon together at work at their shocking trade. Others,
again, have thought it more probable that the change was due to a desire
to extend the business in which they were now engaged, or to avert any
suspicions that may have been raised by the frequent disappearance of
people seen to enter Log's Lodging House. Either of these suppositions is
feasible, but, as will be shown later on, a dispute as to the division of
the money received from Dr. Knox in payment for a body was the primary
cause of the separation; though, after the difference between them was
settled, the change may have been found very convenient. Broggan's house
was situated only a short distance from the abode of the Hares, and into
it Burke and M'Dougal first went in the capacity of lodgers, but it was
afterwards rented by them.

In the month of September, or, perhaps, October, after this removal had
taken place, a widow woman of the name of Hostler, was washing for some
days in Broggan's house. This woman's husband, a street porter, had died
but a short time previously, and she was forced to seek for employment at
washing and dressing, and, during the harvesting season, in the fields.
The Broggans had engaged her to wash their clothes, and after a full day's
work she went back the day after to finish up. When this was done Burke
pressed her to take a drop whisky along with him. They soon were in a
happy state, and the sound of merriment was heard by the neighbours, who,
however, paid little attention to the matter, very possibly because Mrs.
Broggan had but a little before been confined, and their idea was that the
"blythmeat" and the "dram" incident to such an occasion, were going round.
Burke, in his second confession, said Broggan and his wife were not in the
house at the time, but the fact already mentioned rather tells against the
latter's absence. Whoever were present seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Mrs. Hostler drank heartily, and as the liquor warmed her blood and
raised her spirits, she sang her favourite song, "Home, Sweet Home."
Burke, notwithstanding all the black sin on his soul, and the evil purpose
in his mind, sang too, and the mirth to the outsiders seemed real and
legitimate. But the drink she had imbibed made the woman sleepy, and at
last she was forced to lie down on the bed. Hare by this time had joined
his accomplice, and they speedily smothered the poor woman. She did not
die without a severe struggle. In her hand at the time of death she had
ninepence-halfpenny, and it was with the greatest difficulty that the
murderers were able to open the tightly-grasped hand to take away the
money. The body was packed into a box, and placed in a coal-house in the
passage until an opportunity occurred for taking it to Surgeon's Square.
That evening the corpse of Mrs. Hostler lay in Dr. Knox's rooms, and Burke
and Hare were richer by eight pounds, though they had to answer for
another murder.




CHAPTER X.

    _Old Mary Haldane--The End of her Debauch--Peggy Haldane in Search of
    her Mother--Mother and Daughter United in Death._


But returning to the cases about which more is known than those spoken of
in the last chapter, or which possessed features that have given them a
greater hold on the public mind, the first to call for notice are the
murders of an old woman named Haldane, and her daughter Margaret, which
took place before Burke changed his residence.

Old Mary Haldane, it seems, was called "Mistress" merely out of courtesy,
for she had no claim to the title. A woman of some considerable personal
charms in her youth, she had given way to the deceiver, and at last found
herself on the streets, a drunken, worthless vagrant. She had three
daughters, one of whom married a tinsmith named Clark, carrying on
business in the High Street of Edinburgh; the second, at the time of her
mother's death, was serving a term of fourteen years' transportation for
some offence; while the third was simply following the unfortunate example
of one who should have sheltered her from evil influences. Old Mary was
well-known to Burke and Hare and their wives, having at one time been a
denizen of Log's lodging-house. According to Burke's own admission this
was how the murder was committed:--"She was a lodger of Hare's. She went
into Hare's stable; the door was left open, and she being drunk, and
falling asleep among some straw, Hare and Burke murdered her the same way
as they did the others, and kept the body all night in the stable, and
took her to Dr. Knox's next day. She had but one tooth in her mouth, and
that was a very large one in front." This account, however, hardly agrees
with what was brought out by subsequent inquiries. Burke, it would appear,
had long thought of her as a proper subject for his murdering craft, and
one day, when he felt that something further would have to be done to
renew their exhausted exchequer, he went out to look for Mary. She had
left Hare's lodgings, and was then away on a drunken debauch. His search
was unfruitful at the time, but two days later he saw her standing at the
close leading to the house in which she then resided. She was then in the
condition of the man who said he was "sober and sorry for it," for she
readily agreed to accept the dram Burke offered her if she went along with
him. Mary was well-known in the district, and the _gamins_ regarded her as
a butt for their little practical jokes and coarse fun. They ran after her
as she passed along the Grassmarket towards the West Port, all the more so
as she was in the company of a well-dressed man, because Burke's personal
appearance and habit had been improved by the large sums of money he was
every now and then receiving from Dr. Knox for his ghastly merchandise.
Many persons noticed the strangely assorted couple, and although they
wondered a little at the time to see them going along the street in so
friendly a manner, they soon forgot all about it, until the disclosures of
the trial brought the incident back to their recollections. As Burke and
Mrs. Haldane were on their way along, they met Hare walking in the
opposite direction. Hare, if he were not previously aware of his
colleague's object, now quickly divined it, and stood to speak with them.
Mary agreed to accompany her old landlord to his house in Tanner's Close;
and Burke, having chased away the children who were tormenting the poor
woman, left them to transact some other business. He was not, however,
long behind them in arriving at Hare's house, where the two
women--M'Dougal and Mrs. Hare--had provided whisky for the good of the
company. The bottle was passed round, and Mrs. Haldane partook greedily of
its contents, so greedily, indeed, that in a marvellously short time she
was helplessly intoxicated. Then followed the usual process of "burking,"
and Mary Haldane, unfortunate in life, was equally unfortunate in her
death. Of course the women had retired from the apartment before the last
scene was enacted. Probably they did not care to see the end, for it was
inconvenient if they should be called upon as witnesses, though they must
have known what was being done, as they certainly contributed largely to
bring about the commission of the deed. This was but a part of the method,
and in this, as in other respects, it was carefully carried out. What Dr.
Knox or his assistants gave them for Mary Haldane's body is not known, but
it has been suspected that, providing a regular and good supply, the
conspirators were now receiving twelve or fourteen pounds for every
"subject" they took to Surgeon's Square.

But this was not the end of the Haldane tragedy--there was yet another
victim from that already unfortunate family. Mention has been made of the
daughter Margaret, who was only too closely following in the footsteps of
her wayward mother. Notwithstanding the terrible career of these two
unfortunates, there seems to have been as strong a bond of affection
between them as should always exist between a daughter and a mother.
Margaret, or Peggy, Haldane soon missed her mother, and after the lapse of
a day or two set out to look for her. It was nothing new for the old woman
to be away for a short time, but on this occasion the absence was more
prolonged than usual. She went about asking every one she knew if they had
seen Mary Haldane, and her "begrutten face" and tawdry finery drew
sympathy from many to whom that feeling was an almost total stranger. Many
gave her what help they could to trace her missing mother, but for a time
they were without a clue, until David Rymer, a grocer in Portsburgh,
mentioned to a neighbour that he had seen Mary Haldane in the company of
Hare on the way to his house. The girl felt that her search was now at an
end, and so it was, for she would soon be beside her lost parent. At
Hare's house she called in the full expectation of finding her mother,
perhaps it might be in the midst of a debauch, but that was nothing out of
the way, and surely she would get her home with her. On entering the house
Peggy met Mrs. Hare and Helen M'Dougal, who, to her surprise, denied that
Mary Haldane had recently been with them, and who, in the fear of
discovery, endeavoured to strengthen their repudiation by abusing the old
woman and her daughter. Hare, in an adjoining apartment, heard what was
going on, and set to work to deceive the girl in a much more astute
manner. Blank denial could only send her back to those who had helped her
to trace her mother to his house, suspicion might be raised, and inquiry,
he saw, could only result in complete discovery. He therefore came out of
his den, and, silencing the clamorous tongues of his two female
associates, he assured Peggy that he could give her the explanation of her
mother's disappearance. In his heart he knew no one could throw more light
than he on the matter, but it was his purpose rather to darken than
illuminate the inquiring mind of the poor searcher. He invited her into
the adjoining room to taste the inevitable "dram"--drink and die. She was
not averse to a drop of whisky, and she sat down at the table where her
mother but a few days before had indulged in her last debauch, aye, and
where many before had done the same. Burke had noticed Peggy enter the
house, and he followed soon after her. It was wonderful how readily these
two men closed round their victims. He sat down at the table with Hare and
the girl, and the former began his explanation. He admitted, of course,
that he had seen old Mary, for there was a policy in that, but he added
that she left him to go on a visit to some friends she had at Mid-Calder,
a few miles to the west of Edinburgh. It must have appeared a little
strange to Peggy that her mother should have gone visiting among her
family friends without letting her daughter know of her intention, but
then Mary's ways were somewhat erratic; and the hope that a walk to
Mid-Calder would discover her mother, combined with the benumbing effects
of the whisky she was drinking, quieted her anxieties. The potation
wrought speedily, and the young woman passed from the talkative and merry
state of drunkenness to the dull and stupid, until, at last, she was ready
for the sacrifice. She was so drunk, says Burke, that he did not think she
was sensible of her death, as she made no resistance whatever.

Burke's confession regarding Peggy Haldane's murder has been proven by
inquiry to be inaccurate in some details; but there is no reason to doubt
his account of the manner of it. He says it was committed in Broggan's
house. That was not the case, for the crime occurred in Log's lodging
house, of which Hare was then the landlord. He said, "Hare had no hand in
it," and that "this was the only murder that Burke committed by himself,
but what Hare was connected with;" but this statement is contradicted by
another of Burke's own confessions; and, further, we have seen that if
Hare took no active part in the murder itself, he was at least accessory
to it. However, as to the manner there need be little doubt:--"She was
laid with her face downwards, and he (Burke) pressed her down, and she was
soon suffocated." What a dreadful death! Yet no more dreadful than that
met by all the victims of the soul-hardened conspirators. The body was put
into a tea chest, and taken to the rooms of Dr. Knox. Mary and Peggy
Haldane were again under the same roof: they were again together, but in
Death! Burke acknowledged that he received eight pounds for this victim,
but, as he said, he did not always keep mind of what he got for a subject,
though he had no doubt Dr. Knox's books would show. These books, however,
never saw the light of day.




CHAPTER XI.

    _A Narrow Escape--The Old Irishwoman and her Grandson--Their
    Murder--Hare's Horse rising in Judgment._


Still the wholesale slaughter of weak human beings went on. The murderers
never sought a strong, able man upon whom to try their fatal skill; they
always chose the old and the silly in body or in mind, those who could be
plied with drink.

Burke, one day in June, 1828, was wandering about the streets of Edinburgh
looking for another "subject." In the High Street he came across a frail
old man whose physical condition bespoke him an easy victim, and whose
bleared eyes and drink-sodden face showed he would quickly respond to the
fatal bribe of a glass or two of whisky. The two men were just becoming
fast friends, and were about to adjourn to the den in Log's lodging house,
when an old woman, leading a blind boy of about twelve years of age, came
up to them. She asked if they could direct her to certain friends for whom
she was seeking. Burke then discovered her to be an Irishwoman, who had
walked all the way from Glasgow, sleeping at nights by the roadside or in
farm-yards, and whose simple question showed that she was entirely strange
to Edinburgh. This was a better opportunity, he thought, and he parted
with the old man to make friends with the newcomers. He soon found out
from the woman's own statement who she was, and for whom she was in
search; and on the strength of a common nativity he undertook to befriend
her, professing that he knew where her friends resided and that he would
take her to them. The boy, it seemed, was her grandson, and he was deaf
and dumb; Burke even thought he was weak in his mind. So he took them to
Hare's house at the West Port, feeling certain that he had obtained a
prize, if not two of them. He knew that being strangers there would be
less chance of an inquiry after them, should they disappear, than if they
had been denizens of Edinburgh, though experience had shown him that even
the best-known figures in the district could drop out of sight without any
serious search being made for them. Again the bottle was set on the table,
and the old Irish woman was invited to take a drop until her friends
should come in, for it was told her that they resided there. It is the
old, sickening story. The whisky operated quickly on the wearied brain,
the woman lay down on the bed, and at the dead hour of the night she was
murdered by the human ghouls. How truly can Poe's lines be applied to
them:--

  "They are neither man nor woman--
  They are neither brute nor human--
          They are Ghouls."

The dreadful work completed, they stripped the body, and laid it on the
bed, covering it with the bed-tick and bed-clothes. All this time,
unconscious of the tragedy going on in the little room, the poor boy was
in the one adjoining in the charge of the women, who were, in their
peculiar way, looking to his comfort. He was becoming anxious at his
grandmother's prolonged absence from him, even though she was in the same
house, and he gave such expression to his anxiety as his dumbness would
permit. The men wondered what they should do with him. It would be
imprudent, they thought, to slay him also and take his body with that of
his grandmother to Surgeon's Square. Yet what could they do with him? They
might wander him in the city, and there would be little fear that he would
be able to tell how or where his grandmother had disappeared, for he was
deaf and dumb and "weak in his mind." On this point, however, they could
not agree, and they parted, Hare to get something to put the body into,
and Burke to consider the whole bearings of the important matter under
discussion. Burke, in his second confession, says, "They took the boy in
their arms, and carried him to the room, and murdered him in the same
manner, and laid him alongside of his grandmother." Leighton, however,
obtained some further information, and in the light of it the tragedy
becomes even more horrible:--"The night passed," he says, "the boy having,
by some means, been made to understand that his protectress was in bed
unwell; but the mutterings of the mute might have indicated that he had
fears which, perhaps, he could not comprehend. The morning found the
resolution of the prior night unshaken; and in that same back-room where
the grandmother lay, Burke took the boy on his knee, and, as he expressed
it, broke his back. No wonder that he described this scene as the one that
lay most heavily upon his heart, and said that he was haunted by the
recollection of the piteous expression of the wistful eyes, as the victim
looked in his face."

The bodies of the old Irishwoman and her poor grandson lay side by side on
the bed for an hour, until their murderers could get something into which
they could be packed. The tea-chest so often used had gone astray, or been
used up, so it was no longer available, but they obtained an old
herring-barrel, which "was perfectly dry; there was no brine in it." Into
this receptacle the two bodies were crushed, and it was carried into
Hare's stable, where it remained until the next day. This cargo for the
doctors required much more careful handling than any that had yet taken to
Surgeon's Square, and Hare's horse and cart--which he had used in his
hawking journeys throughout the country--were pressed into the service.
But an extraordinary occurrence took place, nearly ending in discovery.
The barrel was carefully put into the cart, and the old hack owned by Hare
started for Dr. Knox's rooms with its loathsome burden. At the
Meal-Market, however, it took a "dour" fit, and move it would not. A large
crowd had gathered round the stubborn animal, and assisted the drivers to
lash and beat it, but all to no effect. Burke thought the horse had risen
up in judgment upon them, and he trembled for exposure--conscious guilt
made a coward of him. Fortunately for them no one made any inquiry as to
the contents of the barrel, for attention was directed mainly to the
horse, and the murderers were safe. They engaged a porter with a
"hurley-barrow," and the barrel was transferred to his care. The man had
less scruples than the horse, and dragged his vehicle after him to
Surgeon's Square. Hare accompanied him, and Burke went on in advance,
fearful lest some other awkwardness should occur, and the stubbornness of
the horse had made him doubtful if they would manage safely through the
transaction. Arrived at Dr. Knox's rooms, Burke lifted the barrel and
carried it inside. Another drawback took place in the unpacking of the
bodies. They had been put into the barrel when they were in a
comparatively pliable state, but now they were cold and stiff, having been
doubled up in it for nearly a whole day. The students gave a helping-hand
in the work, and when it was accomplished and the bodies laid out, sixteen
pounds were paid down to Burke and Hare. But was it not strange that no
questions should have been asked? or that no suspicions of foul play
should have been raised? The horse, it turned out, was fairly used up.
Hare had it shot in a neighbouring tan-yard, and it was then found that
the poor animal had two large dried-up sores on his back, which had been
stuffed with cotton, and covered over with a piece of another horse's
skin. No wonder, then, that the brute refused to go further.




CHAPTER XII.

    _Jealousy--An Undeveloped Plot--Hare Cheats Burke, and they
    Separate--The Foul Work Continued--Murder of Ann M'Dougal._


While all this was going on, these four persons, bound together, as they
were, by the joint commission of terrible crimes, had their little
disagreements among themselves. The women were jealous of each other, and
there is every reason to believe that each man was suspicious that his
neighbour, in the case of discovery, would turn informer, as the result
afterwards proved. To those around them they all appeared to be in a most
prosperous condition. The women dressed themselves in a style that was
considered highly superior in the locality in which they lived; the men
also were better clad than members of the same class usually were; and
their mode of living--the extent of their drinking, too--showed that
somehow or other they had plenty of money in their possession. These
things attracted the attention of the neighbours, but if they had any
suspicion that matters were not altogether right, they did not give
expression to it. Under all this outward appearance of comfort and
well-doing there was a canker. The women, as already said, were jealous,
the men were suspicious, and these feelings joined to produce the plan for
another tragedy in their own little circle, which was prevented either by
the intervention of an accident, or by the fact that Burke had still a
little kindliness left in his blood-stained heart. Hare and his wife could
not trust Helen M'Dougal to keep their secret, because, as Burke himself
expressed it, "she was a Scotch woman." It is difficult to reconcile this
statement with another made by Burke, that the women did not know what was
going on when the murders were being committed. Besides, as we have seen,
the women helped towards assisting the poor victims into a state in which
they could be easily operated upon, and though they may not have been
active participants in the taking away of life, or witnesses of the last
struggle between the men and the creatures whom they so quickly ushered
into eternity, there can be no reasonable doubt that they were aware of
the dreadful adventure in which they were all to a greater or less extent
engaged. Had the women been ignorant of all this there would have been no
need--it would, indeed, have been impossible--for the one to urge that the
other should be put out of the way, on the principle that "dead men and
women tell no tales." However, notwithstanding these minor discrepancies
in Burke's confessions, we have his own definite statement that Mrs. Hare
urged him to murder Helen M'Dougal. The plan suggested was that he should
go with her to the country for a few weeks, and that he should write to
Hare telling him that his wife was dead and buried. No more of the plan is
given, but it is to be presumed that the murder would actually take place
in the little back room which had been the scene of so many tragedies--the
little human shambles in Hare's house--and that the body should be sold
like the rest to Dr. Knox and his fellows. This plan, as has been
indicated, was not carried out. Burke says he would not agree to it. That
may have been, but it is rather strange that about this time Helen
M'Dougal and he should go to Maddiston, near Falkirk, to visit some of her
friends there.

The time at which this visit to Maddiston was made was when the villagers
made a procession round a stone in that neighbourhood--Burke thought it
was the anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn. This would fix the date
as the 24th of June, 1828. They were away for some time, but whether
through scruples of conscience, on the part of Burke, or because no
fitting opportunity of putting her out of the way occurred, Helen M'Dougal
returned to Edinburgh with him. Arrived there they found a very different
state of matters than had existed when they went away. Before, Hare and
his wife were sadly in want of money, some of their goods having been laid
in pawn; but now they were in the possession of plenty of money, and were
spending it freely. There must be some reason for this change, and a
suspicion was raised in Burke's mind that Hare had taken advantage of his
absence to do a little business on his own account, without making him any
allowance from the proceeds. The agreement among them, according to Burke,
was that if ten pounds were obtained for a body, six went to Hare, and
four to Burke, the latter having to pay Mrs. Hare one pound of his share,
for the use of the house, if the murder took place there. This arrangement
was in itself scarcely equitable to Burke, assuming it to be correct, and
it was therefore all the harder on him when he found that his colleague
was attempting to rob him of his due. He consequently taxed Hare with
endeavouring to cheat him, but this was indignantly denied. Not satisfied,
however, Burke paid a visit to Dr. Knox's rooms, and was there informed
that during his absence Hare had brought a subject and had been paid for
it. Returning to the house he upbraided his partner, charging him with
unfairness and breach of honour. Hare still denied the accusation, and
from high words they got to blows. They fought long and fiercely, so that
the neighbours, attracted by the noise, gathered round the door to witness
what was going on; but neither of the combatants allowed a word to escape
them as to the cause of the quarrel between them. At last they were
exhausted--possibly Hare was worsted, for Burke, without mentioning the
fight, stated in his _Courant_ confession that "Hare then confessed what
he had done." He does not say whether or not he received any portion of
the proceeds from the sale of the body of the victim murdered during his
absence.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF BURKE'S HOUSE. (For Explanatory Key See Page
XII.)

SIGNATURE. Wm. Burke]

It was probably owing to this quarrel that Burke and Helen M'Dougal
removed from Hare's house in Tanner's Close to that of John Broggan, whose
wife was a cousin of Burke. This house was not far from their old
lodgings, being but two closes eastward in Portsburgh. Grindlay's Close
was between it and Tanner's Close, and it was entered from a back court to
which admission could be gained from the street either by an unnamed
passage, or by Weaver's Close, still further east. Leighton was able to
gain a detailed description of this place, and it is well worth
quoting:--"In a land to the eastward of that occupied by Hare, in Tanner's
Close, you reached it after descending a common stair and turning to the
right, where a dark passage conducted to several rooms, at the end and at
right angles with which passage there was an entrance leading solely to
Burke's room, and which could be closed by a door so as to make it
altogether secluded from the main entry. The room was a very small place,
more like a cellar than the dwelling of a human being. A crazy chair stood
by the fire-place, old shoes and implements of shoemaking lay scattered on
the floor; a cupboard against the wall held a few plates and bowls, and
two beds, coarse wooden frames, without posts or curtains, were filled
with old straw and rugs." It was in this house that Mrs. Hostler, as
already described, was murdered, and it was in this house that the last of
the long series of tragedies was to be enacted. The criminals were
gradually approaching their doom, but they had become reckless and bold.
They had been so successful in the past, that they hoped to be equally so
in the future, forgetful that the mills of God grind slow, but sure.

We have seen that while Burke, according to his own declaration, had
murdered Peggy Haldane in this house off Weaver's Close, unaided by his
old accomplice (though both these details are doubtful), yet they were
united in the suffocation of Mrs. Hostler. They really could not work
separately--they were so bound together by the crimes they had committed
that an ordinary quarrel, though it should have at first made them live in
different houses, could hardly disjoin their interests. This could only
have been done by one of them informing on the other. But they were again
united in their horrid labours.

In the course of the autumn there arrived in Edinburgh to visit Helen
M'Dougal a cousin of her former husband. This was a young married woman
named Ann M'Dougal, who probably came from the district around Falkirk.
There is no doubt she would be received in the most friendly manner, which
she would heartily reciprocate, for it is more than probable that her
visit was consequent upon an invitation given her by Helen M'Dougal and
Burke when they were in Stirlingshire during the summer. But may not that
invitation, given in all apparent kindness, have been simply a snare to
draw the poor woman from her home so that she might be a more convenient,
victim in Edinburgh? may Burke not have given it so that he might make Ann
M'Dougal a sacrifice instead of his paramour, as had been suggested to him
by Mrs. Hare? But whether this was a premeditated plan, or whether the
young woman came to Edinburgh on a genuine invitation or of her own
accord, is quite immaterial. It is at least certain that once she was in
the house of her relatives her fate, so far as they were concerned, was
sealed. After she had been coming and going for a few days, Hare and Burke
plied her with whisky until she was in an incapably drunken condition, and
had to be put to bed. Burke then told Hare that he would have the most to
do to her, as he did not like to begin first on her, she being a distant
relative. What an amount of feeling this displays! It would have been
interesting to have known how Burke argued with himself in coming to this
decision. However, relative or not, he was not at all averse to allow Hare
to kill her when she was supposed to be under his protection, and what was
more, he was willing to help Hare once a beginning had been made; he was
even anxious to share the price her body would bring at the
dissecting-rooms. Hare then set about his portion of the work. He held the
woman's mouth and nose to stop the breathing, and Burke threw himself
across the body, holding down her arms and legs. Of course life could not
long continue under these conditions, and Ann M'Dougal lay murdered in the
house of a friend, and by the heart and hand of a friend--"a distant
friend," as Burke put it to his accomplice. The murder was committed in
the afternoon. It is surely a remarkable thing that if Helen M'Dougal knew
nothing of the work in which her reputed husband and Hare were engaged,
she should have allowed her relative to be murdered; or that if this was
the first she learned of it, she should have been so ready to let the
matter rest. But of course she was cognisant of it all along. Burke was at
no regular employment, and yet the money was to hand in larger quantities
than they could ever have expected from the cobbling of shoes.

The two men next set about making arrangements for the transfer of the
body to Surgeon's Square. They saw Paterson, Dr. Knox's porter, who gave
them a fine trunk to put it in. When this was done Broggan, who had been
out at his work, came home, and made inquiries about the trunk standing on
the floor-head, for he knew that neither he nor his lodgers possessed an
article like it. Burke then gave him two or three drams, "as there was
always plenty of whisky going at these times," to keep him quiet. He went
out again, Burke and Hare carried the trunk and its contents to Surgeon's
Square, receiving ten pounds for it. On their return they each gave
Broggan thirty shillings, and he left Edinburgh a few days afterwards for
Glasgow, it was thought. This money payment brings out the duplicity of
Hare in a remarkable manner, and shows that the cunning by which he
afterwards saved himself from the scaffold was no new development.
Broggan, it would seem, had practically discovered that there was
something wrong. The murderers saw that it would be necessary to give him
"hush-money," and to endeavour to get him to leave the city. But Hare was
cautioner for Broggan's rent, which amounted to three pounds, so that if
the man left the city there was every probability that the payment of the
rent would fall on him. He therefore proposed to Burke that they should
each give thirty shillings to enable Broggan to pay the rent, and to this
Burke readily agreed, as he was glad to see the man out of the way.
Broggan, however, spoiled this plot by going away with the money, and, as
Burke said in his second confession, "the rent is not paid yet." But Burke
was victimised all the same, as he was afterwards at the trial, by his
more astute colleague who should have accompanied him to the gallows.

The relatives of Ann M'Dougal made inquiries about her, but they could
find no trace; though it is recorded that on seeking her at the house of
Burke's brother, in the Canongate, Helen M'Dougal, under the influence of
drink, no doubt, told them they need not trouble themselves about her, as
she was murdered and sold long before. They did not seem to have taken
much notice of the remark, or if they did they must have concluded that
the disappearance of Ann was due to the workings of the band of
resurrectionists, to whose existence the people of Edinburgh were
gradually being awakened by the numerous and frequent disappearances. But
suspicion had not yet alighted on Burke and his associates.




CHAPTER XIII.

    _James Wilson, "Daft Jamie"--Some Anecdotes concerning him--Daft Jamie
    and Boby Awl._


Perhaps none of the murders committed by Burke and Hare caused so much
popular regret as that of James Wilson, known as "Daft Jamie." He was one
of those wandering naturals known to everybody, and being a lad who, while
deficient in intellect, was kind at heart, he was a universal favourite,
only the very small and the very impudent boys troubling him. Here is a
quotation from a small publication issued shortly after the mystery of his
death was cleared up, which gives us some knowledge of his manners:--"He
was a quiet, harmless being, and gave no person the smallest offence
whatever; he was such a simpleton that he would not fight to defend
himself, though he were ever so ill-used, even by the smallest boy. Little
boys, about the age of five and six, have frequently been observed by the
citizens of Edinburgh going before him holding up their fists, squaring,
and saying they would fight him; Jamie would have stood up like a knotless
thread, and said, with tears in his eyes, that he would not fight, for it
was only bad boys who fought; the boys would then give him a blow, and
Jamie would have run off, saying, 'That wiz nae sair, man, ye canna catch
me.' Then about a thousan' gets (young brats of children), hardly out o'
the egg-shell, would have taken flight after him, bauling out, 'Jamie,
Jamie, Daft Jamie.' Sometimes he would have stopped and turned round to
them, banging his brow, squinting his eyes, shooting out his lips (which
was a sign of his being angry), saying, 'What way dae ye ca' me daft?' 'Ye
_ir_,' the little gets would have bauled out. 'I'm no, though,' said
Jamie, 'as sure's death; devil tak me, I'm no daft at a'.' 'Ye _ir_, ye
_ir_', the gets would have bauled out. He then would have held up his
large fist, which was like a Dorby's (mason's) mell, saying, 'If ye say
I'm daft, I'll knock ye doun.' He would then have whirled round on his
heel and ran off again, acting the race-horse."

Such was Daft Jamie Wilson. He was born on the 27th November, 1809, in
Edinburgh. His father died when he was about twelve years of age; and his
mother being a hawker, he was left, during her absence, pretty much to his
own devices. He generally wandered about the streets, getting a meal here
and a few pence there, eking out a livelihood by the good-will of the
people, who as a rule were very kind to him. Many stories are told of him,
and a few are well worth repeating.

One afternoon in the summer of 1820, Jamie set off with a number of boys
in search of birds' nests. He stayed so long that his mother became
alarmed, and went out to look for him. During her absence Jamie arrived at
the house, ravenous with hunger, and he was so impatient that he could not
wait until his mother returned, so he broke open the door. Once in, he
sought every corner of the house for food. In a moveable wooden cupboard
he found a loaf, and when reaching up to lay hold of it he overbalanced
himself, bringing cupboard and its contents to the floor. The dishes were
all broken, and a great amount of damage was done. When the mother came in
and saw what Jamie had been about, she was so angry that she attacked him
with a long leather strap, and gave him such a beating that he left the
house, and would not reside in it afterwards. He preferred to sleep on
stairs, or behind walls, except when some one offered him accommodation
for the night.

Jamie, like other people, had his likes and dislikes. He was very fond of
some of the students attending the University, and to them he would talk
readily, even offering them a pinch out of his "sneeshing mill." This
article was a curiosity, and along with it he carried a brass snuff-spoon
in which were seven holes, the middle hole being Sunday, and the others
round it the days of the week. He was of a statistical turn of mind, and
could tell how many lamps there were in the city, how many days in the
year, and such like. Many little conundrums he considered his own
particular property, and he was highly offended if any one anticipated him
in their answer. He liked best when they replied, "I gie it up," and left
him to supply the solution himself. What a pleasure it gave Daft Jamie to
be asked--"In what month of the year do the ladies talk least?" for he
could say--"The month o' February, because there wiz least days in it."
When he was asked--"Why is a jailer like a musician?" he replied, "Because
he maun tak' care o' his key;" and the question, "What is the cleanest
meat a dirty cook can make ready?" gave him the opportunity of saying, "A
hen's egg is cleanest, for she canna get her fingers in't, t' tak' a slake
o't."

"I can tell ye a' a guess," Jamie would have said to a crowd of idlers who
might have gathered round him, "I can tell ye a' a guess, that nae body
kens, nor nae body can guess't." "What is't, Jamie?" would be the eager
question, and highly pleased, the poor fellow would repeat, what most of
his audience had often heard before:--

  "Tho' I black an' dirty am,
    An black, as black can be;
  There's many a lady that will come,
    An' by the haun tak me."

"Now," he would continue, "no nane o' ye guess canna that." "Ah no,
Jamie," some one would reply, "we canna guess that fickly ane, wha learned
ye a' thae fickly guesses?" "It wiz my half step-mither," he usually
answered, "for she's a canty body, for she's aye as canty as a kitten when
we're a' sittin' beside her round the fire-side, she tells us heaps o'
funny stories, but I dinna mind them a'." "Ah! I ken your guess, Jamie,"
some tantalising bystander would remark, "its a tea kettle." Jamie was
fairly discomfited, and he would run away crying, "Becuz ye ken, becuz
somebody telt ye."

Half-witted and all as he was, Jamie was wonderfully ready at repartee. A
gentleman once said to him--"Jamie, I hear you have got siller in the
bank; why do ye keep it there?" "Because I'm keepin it," replied Jamie,
"till I be an aul' man; for maybe I'll hae sair legs, and no can gang
about t' get ony thing frae my nineteen friends." Another person asked
him, "Why do the ladies in general not carry Bibles to church?" "Because,"
said Jamie, "they are ashamed o' themsel's, for they canna fin' out the
text." "That is very true," said an old schoolmaster, "for I observed twa
governesses sitting in a front seat in a church that I was in last
Sabbath, and the text was in Ecclesiastes, and neither of them could find
it out." Jamie was in the habit of frequenting the house of an old lady in
George Street, Edinburgh, where the flunkey and the cook were very good to
him. The man often shaved him, and on one occasion, when the flunkey was
about to lather his customer he remarked:--"I dinna think I'll shave ye
ony mair, Jamie, unless ye gie Peggy a kiss." "But maybe mem wad be
angry," said Jamie. "No, no," said the flunkey, "she'll no be angry, for
hoo can she ken? She'll no see." Laughingly, Jamie turned round to Peggy,
and made to kiss her, but she stopped him and said, "A twell a wat no,
Jamie, ye'll no kiss me wi' that lang beard, it wid jag a' my lips." With
this repulse Jamie resumed his seat, and when the shaving process was
finished he looked at himself in the glass. Peggy now claimed her kiss,
but Jamie clapped his hands over his mouth, and replied, "Ye're no a bonny
lass, ye're no bonny eneuch for me, and since ye was proud, I'll be saucy,
I'm a dandy now." "Weel, then," said Peggy, "let me see how the dandies
walk," and Jamie walked through the kitchen with as proud a gait as that
of a Highland pipe-major. On another occasion, when Jamie was a little
touched with the whisky he had imbibed, he met a woman whose eye had been
blackened in some brawl. "Oh! fy, fy, Jamie, it is a great shame to see
you, or ony such as you, tak' drink," was her greeting. "A weel," answered
Jamie, "what I hae in me, you, nor nane like ye, can tak' out; an' what
way hae ye got that blue eye? Hae ye faun on the tub, nae, when ye was
washin'?" The woman explained that she got it by coming against "the sneck
of the door last night." "Ou aye," said Jamie, "ye ken ye maun tell the
best story ye can, but I ken ye hae been fou when ye got it, an' by yer
impudent tongue t' yer gudeman, he had ta'en ye through the heckle pins; I
saw ye yesterday whare ye sid nae ha'e been." This was enough for his
reprover, and she left him.

An instance of Jamie's carefulness has already been given in the reply he
gave to the gentleman who asked him why he put his "siller" in the bank,
but two others bearing on the same point have also been preserved. He was
on very friendly terms with the porters on Adam's Square stance, and one
of them asked him why he did not wear an article of dress which had been
given him by one of his friends. "It was owre guid for me to wear,"
replied Jamie, "for when I hae guid claes the fouk dinna gie me onything."
Once a gentleman accosted him in George Street with the remark, "Come
along with me, Jamie, and I will give you an old coat." "I thank ye, I
thank ye," said Jamie, "but I've got plenty o' auld yins at hame." The
gentleman passed on, but he was not far away when Jamie ran up to him and
said, "Is it a guid ane?" The reply was favourable, and Jamie accompanied
his friend to his house, where he was given a coat, a hat, and a pair of
shoes. Jamie never wore a hat or shoes, and although the day was very cold
and dirty, he could not be persuaded to don the articles given him by the
gentleman, and he explained that he did not want to wear them in "sic hard
times."

Like many of his poor brethren in misfortune, Jamie was a regular attender
at church, and he was never known to be absent from a sermon in Mr.
Aikman's chapel. He was very fond of the singing, and lilted away in his
own peculiar fashion. An attempt was made to induce him to go to the
Gaelic Chapel, next door to Mr. Aikman's, but he said he "wad gang to nae
body's kirk but his ain." He had a preference for Sundays, as on that day
he was in the habit of visiting a kind friend who gave him "meat and
kail." Jamie's fondness for singing, such as it was, supplied a coachman
in Hunter's Square with an opportunity of playing a practical joke on him.
The man asked him to sing King David's anthem, and he would give him his
coach and horses, and make him provost. Jamie said the people would hear
him, but the facetious Jehu said he would shut him in the coach. Having
been snugly ensconced in the vehicle, Jamie began the singing, and roared
so loudly that the whole neighbourhood was alarmed. Among those attracted
to the spot was Robert Kirkwood, another halfwit, a great friend of Jamie,
familiarly known as Boby Awl. Boby saw his companion through the window of
the coach, and cried out, "Eh! it's Daft Jamie, I ken him, I see him."
Jamie came out, and shook hands with Boby, who asked, "Did ye get a ride,
Jamie?" "Ay," said Jamie, "but no far." The coachman then induced the pair
to dance on the street, but the crowd became so great that a policeman had
to put a stop to the performance.

Jamie and Boby were fast friends, and no one could get them to fight,
though frequent attempts were made to do so. They seemed to have a
fellow-feeling for each other, and each of them firmly believed that his
companion, and not himself, was "daft." In the Grassmarket, on one
occasion, they joined together to purchase a dram. On their meeting, Jamie
accosted his friend with, "It's a cauld day, Boby." "Aye is't, Jamie," was
the reply; "wadna we be the better of a dram? Hae ye ony siller, man?--I
hae tippence." "An' I hae fourpence," said Jamie. "That'll get a hale
mutchkin," answered Boby; and the pair adjourned to a public-house, where
their liquor was served over the counter. Boby, on the pretence that Jamie
should go to the door to witness a dog-fight that he said was going on
when they came in, got his companion out of the way, and drank up the
whole of the whisky himself. When Jamie came back he said he saw no
dog-fight, but when he noticed the empty measure he said to Boby, "What's
cum o' the whisky?--ha'e ye drunk it a', ye daft beast, and left me nane?"
"Ou aye," said the delinquent; "ye see I was dry, and couldna wait." When
Jamie was afterwards asked why he did not revenge himself on Boby for this
piece of treachery, he answered, "Ou, what could ye say to puir Boby? He's
daft, ye ken." Once, and only once, did these two lads come to blows, and
it was then through the mischievous workings of an Edinburgh cadie, or
errand-boy. They were together in the slaughter-house, when Wag Fell, the
cadie, gave Boby a putrified sheep's head. He then induced him to turn his
attention to something else, and slipped the head to Jamie, with the
remark that he was to run away home and boil it. Jamie started on his
mission, but he was not far gone when Boby, who had been told by Fell that
Jamie had stolen his sheep's head, made up to him, crying, "Daft Jamie,
gie's my heid." They both claimed it, and in the struggle Boby struck
Jamie so violently on the nose that it bled profusely. Jamie, however, did
not retaliate, though he retained possession of his "heid."

It is a strange fact that these two lads both met with a violent end. Boby
Awl was killed by the kick of a donkey, and his body was disposed of in
Dr. Monro's dissecting-room. The circumstances of Jamie's death, as being
connected more directly with the narrative of this book, had better be
told in another chapter.




CHAPTER XIV.

    _Daft Jamie Trapped into Hares House--The Murder--The Body Recognised
    on the Dissecting Table--Popular Feeling._


The murder of so well-known a character as James Wilson, by Burke and
Hare, can only be regarded, from their point of view, as an act of the
most egregious folly, and, like that of Mary Paterson, it courted
discovery. So long as they confined their attention to tramps and others
who were strangers in the city, or to persons regarding whom there was no
probability of much inquiry being made, they were comparatively safe; but
now they were treading on absolutely dangerous ground. It may have been,
as Burke asserted in his confession, that so far as he could remember he
had never seen Daft Jamie before he met him in Hare's house. But that is
in no wise probable. During his residence of many years in Edinburgh he
must frequently have come across the poor half-witted lad, who was known
by sight to almost every resident of the city, especially as the
Grassmarket was a favourite haunt of both of them. But though Burke might
plead ignorance, some of his accomplices could not, for it was owing to
their very acquaintance with Jamie that he fell into their hands. That
they should have made such a supreme error is something more than
remarkable.

On a day late in September, or early in October, 1828, Daft Jamie was
wandering about the Grassmarket, asking all he knew if they had seen his
mother. What set him upon this tack it would be difficult to say. His
mother, perhaps, had been away from home, and the poor lad had taken a
sudden longing to see her; or perhaps it was simply one of those strange
vagaries that poor mortals like Jamie occasionally take. During his search
he was met by Mrs. Hare, who asked him what he was about. "My mother," he
replied, "hae ye seen her ony gait?" Mrs. Hare was ready with her answer,
for she had quickly formed a plan. Yes, she had seen his mother, and if
Jamie went with her he would find her in her house in Tanner's Close.
Jamie, in all innocence--and what could he suspect?--followed the woman to
Log's lodgings, where Hare was himself sitting idle. Of course the visitor
was welcomed in the most kindly fashion, asked to sit down until his
mother should appear, and to keep him from wearying he was invited to
partake of the contents of the whisky bottle. Jamie was chary about this,
for although he was fond of an occasional dram he had a great fear of
"gettin' fou." At last he was induced to taste, and he sat down on the
edge of the bed with a cup containing some liquor in his hand. In the
meantime, Mrs. Hare went down to Mr. Rymer's shop near at hand, to
purchase some provisions. She there found Burke standing at the counter
talking to the shopkeeper, and, taking advantage of the opportunity, she
asked her old lodger to treat her to a dram. This he did, and while she
was drinking it off she pressed his foot. Burke understood the signal--as
he said himself, "he knew immediately what he was wanted for, and he went
after her." When he arrived at the house, Mrs. Hare told him he had come
too late, for the drink was all done, but that defect was soon remedied by
another supply being brought in. Jamie was again offered more whisky, and
was prevailed upon to take it. Then they managed to get him into the
little room where so many tragedies had been enacted. The drink began to
take Jamie's weakly brain, and he lay down on the bed in a half-dazed
state. Hare crept beside him, and the two men watched his every movement
to see when it would be safe for them to attempt to carry out their
diabolical design. Mrs. Hare, meanwhile, had been acting with her usual
caution. She knew it was not for her to stay in the house when "business"
was being transacted, so she went out, carefully locking the door behind
her, and placing the key in an opening below the door. The two men were
eagerly watching their victim in the back-room, but they felt that this
case would not be as easy as most of the others in which they had been
engaged. Jamie was young and physically strong, and he had not taken
enough of their liquor to render him absolutely helpless, even in the
hands of two robust, desperate men. Burke at last was tired of waiting,
and he furiously threw himself on the prostrate body of the sleeping lad.
Jamie was no sooner touched than the natural instinct of self-preservation
made him endeavour to defend himself. He closed with his assailant, and
after a furious effort threw him off. He was now standing on the floor
ready for another onslaught. Burke's blood was up, and he renewed the
attack, but Jamie was likely to be more than a match for him. Hare, in the
meantime, was standing aside, idly watching the contest, and it was only
when Burke threatened to "put a knife in him" that he roused himself and
threw his strength in the scale against the man who was fighting for his
life. Jamie had nearly overcome Burke when Hare entered the lists and
tripped him up. The poor lad fell heavily on the floor, and before he had
time to recover himself the two men were upon him--Hare, as usual, holding
his mouth and nose, and Burke lying over his body keeping down his legs
and arms. Still Jamie struggled, but to no advantage. His murderers had
him too securely beneath them, and gradually his strength waned, until at
last the tragedy was completed. Burke and Hare, when they saw the end
coming, watched him anxiously, for even yet they were afraid their prey
might escape them. But they had done their work too thoroughly. They had
not, however, come off unhurt. It was reported at the time of the trial
that during the struggle Jamie bit Burke so severely on the leg that, if
the laws of the country had not promised to hang him by the neck, he would
likely have died from the cancered wounds received in the conflict. This
was found not to be the case, but there is no doubt that the two murderers
received several painful bruises from the dying man.

When it was certain that Daft Jamie was dead, Hare searched his pockets,
and found in them the snuff-box and spoon that were about as well known as
the simpleton himself. To Burke he gave the spoon, retaining the box
himself. A box was libelled among the productions at the trial, but Burke
in his confession says that the one in the possession of the authorities
was not Daft Jamie's, which had been thrown away, but was his own. Before
it was taken to Surgeon's Square the body was stripped of its clothing,
and here another fatal blunder was made. In all the other murders the
clothes of the victims were destroyed to prevent detection, but in this
case Burke gave Daft Jamie's clothes to his brother Constantine's
children, who were then going about almost naked, and it is said that a
baker who had given the murdered lad the pair of trousers he wore at the
time of his death, recognised them on one of Burke's nephews. When
stripped, the body was put into Hare's chest, and in the course of the
afternoon it was conveyed to Dr. Knox's rooms, when the sum of ten pounds
was obtained for it. No questions seem to have been asked as to how Burke
and Hare became possessed of the body of Daft Jamie, though there can be
little doubt that the students recognised it. The public then wondered at
the matter, and it may be wondered at still. In a popular work, published
at the time, there was this very pertinent sentence:--"Certainly, those
scientific individuals who attend the class in which he was dissected,
must be very hardened men, when they saw Jamie lying on the
dissecting-table for anatomy; for they could not but know, when they saw
him, that he had been murdered; and not only that, the report of his being
amissing went through the whole town on the following day; there could not
be any one of them but must know him by sight." That some of them did know
him by sight is certain, for shortly after he was missed the statement was
commonly circulated that one of Dr. Knox's students had affirmed that he
saw Jamie on the dissecting-table. Mrs. Wilson and her friends went here
and there looking for the poor lad, but no trace could they find of him,
and there seemed to be a tendency to treat the statement of the body
having been seen on a table in the rooms in Surgeon's Square as a mere
idle rumour, arising out of the uneasiness and suspicion which the quiet
and unknown operations of Burke and Hare were causing among the
inhabitants of the country in general and Edinburgh in particular. A sense
of insecurity had gone abroad, and it was not dispelled until the final
clearing up in the trial of Burke and Helen M'Dougal.

The mysterious fate of Daft Jamie, as we have said, took a most remarkable
hold on the public mind. It was the talk all over the country, and when
the mystery was solved the murder of the poor natural bulked larger than
all the other crimes put together. The hawkers and pedlars, and patterers
of the time carried about with them all over the country coarsely-printed
chap books containing accounts of the crimes of the greatest murderers of
the age, or biographies of Daft Jamie, to which in some cases were added
the efforts of sympathising poetasters. The poetry as a rule was
execrable, but the feeling displayed in them was but a reflex of the
public mind. One aspiring genius spoke of

  "The ruffian dogs--the hellish pair--
  The villain Burke--the meagre Hare,"--

while another composed the following acrostic:--

  "Join with me, friends, whilst I bewail
  A while the subject of this tale;
  Many a mind has often been
  Engaged with Jamie's awkward mien;
  Such pranks will ne'er again be seen.

  We may bewail, but 'tis in vain,
  It will not bring him back again:
  Lost he is now--this thought imparts
  Sad comfort to our wounded hearts;
  Oh! may such crimes nowhere remain,
  Nor ever more our nation stain."




CHAPTER XV.

    _The End Approaches--Proposed Extension of Business--Mrs. Docherty
    claimed as Burke's Relative--The Lodgers Dismissed--The Murder of Mrs.
    Docherty._


But the end was near. This wholesale slaughter of human beings in the
metropolis of a civilised country was almost finished. The only marvel was
that it had lasted so long.

The work had been conducted with so much impunity, however, that the prime
movers in this dreadful conspiracy against human life had made
arrangements for the extension of their operations. They found a ready
market for their goods, and when they took a body to Surgeon's Square they
were always encouraged to bring more. Their efforts in the cause of
science were thus appreciated by the scientists themselves, and it matters
little whether these scientists were aware of the diabolical means their
favourite merchants used to obtain possession of the bodies they brought
for their use. To rob a churchyard of its ghastly contents was as much a
crime, though it was certainly not so serious, against the laws of the
country and the public sense of morality, as the murder of a
fellow-creature for his mortal remains. And then Burke and Hare found
their work comparatively easy, and very remunerative, though perhaps a
little risky. It was much easier than the cobbling of boots and shoes, or
travelling about the country as a pedlar. They enjoyed themselves looking
for victims, and the process of getting one into a fit state for
"disposal" was quite suited to their tastes. When it came to the
point--when the person to whom so much attention was paid was stupid and
helpless--there was, as a rule, little to be done. Burke described the
method very simply in his _Courant_ confession:--"When they kept the mouth
and the nose shut a very few minutes, they [the victims] could make no
resistance, but would convulse and make a rumbling noise in their bellies
for some time; after they ceased crying and making resistance, they [the
murderers] left them to die by themselves; but their bodies would often
move afterwards, and for some time they would have long breathings before
life went away." And every one can re-echo the sentiment of the remark by
Burke, made almost in presence of that death he had so often invoked on
others:--"It was God's providence that put a stop to their murdering
career, or he did not know how far they might have gone with it, even to
attack people on the streets." All these circumstances, then, added to the
freedom from suspicion which Burke and Hare hitherto enjoyed, render it
not at all surprising that these desperate men should have laid their
plans for an extension of their business. Burke and another man, with whom
they had arranged, were to go to Glasgow or Ireland, and "try the same
there," forwarding the subjects to Hare in Edinburgh, who was to dispose
of them to Dr. Knox. The "other man" was popularly believed to be David
Paterson, Dr. Knox's porter, and he was openly charged in the public
prints of the time with being in complicity with Burke and Hare, although
he strenuously denied it. But more of that at the proper time. The
contract with Dr. Knox, also, was highly satisfactory. They were to
receive ten pounds in winter and eight pounds in summer for as many
subjects as they could supply. This scheme, however, was not carried into
effect, for the end came suddenly.

The last of the West Port tragedies was the murder of Mary Campbell or
Docherty, an old Irishwoman who had come to Edinburgh to look for her son.
On the morning of the 31st October--the Friday of the Sacrament
week--Burke was in Rymer's grocery store near his own close-mouth, talking
to the shop-boy while he sipped a tumbler of liquor. As he was doing this
an old woman entered the shop, and asked for assistance. Burke, ever on
the outlook, saw the poor beggar was in every way suitable for his
purpose--she was an old and frail stranger who would never be missed
because she was not known, and her very frailty would make her a sure and
easy victim. He soon got into conversation with her, asked her name, and
what part of Ireland she came from. She answered him readily, and he,
having thus got the cue, said she must be some relation of his mother,
whose name was also Docherty, and out of what appeared to be pure
friendliness--out of a feeling of patriotism or kinship--he invited her
to his house to partake of breakfast with him. The poor woman was thus
offered what she most needed, and delighted to find she had met a friend,
she accompanied him to the house once occupied by Broggan, but which,
since that person had left the city, had been tenanted by Burke and Helen
M'Dougal. Mrs. Docherty was made welcome by M'Dougal, who seemed to
understand everything. Burke set the breakfast, but the stranger would not
touch it until noon, as it was Friday. Leaving Helen M'Dougal to look to
the comfort of their guest, Burke went in search of Hare, whom he found in
Rymer's public house. They had a gill of whisky together, and Burke then
told his colleague that he had at home "a good shot to take to the
doctors." Hare, of course, was ready to participate in the work, and went
with his colleague. By the time they arrived at the house they found that
M'Dougal and the old woman had, after their breakfast, set about cleaning
up the room, and had everything as neat and tidy as the ill-furnished,
tumble-down structure could well be. Burke again visited Rymer's for some
provisions, and preparations were made for a night's junketting, to be
followed by the usual tragedy.

But there was a serious difficulty in the way, and that must be got rid of
before anything further was done. At that time there were lodging with
Burke an old soldier named James Gray and his wife. The man was a native
of the Grassmarket, who, after an attempt to learn his trade as a
jeweller, had enlisted in the Elgin Fencibles, transferring afterwards to
the 72nd Regiment, and who had returned with his wife to Edinburgh after
an absence of about seventeen years. He met Burke in the High Street about
a fortnight before the affair with Mrs. Docherty, and had lodged with him
for nearly a week. The difficulty, therefore, was to get this couple out
of the house without creating suspicion, for they could not be trusted.
Burke explained to them that he had discovered the old woman was a
relation of his mother, and certainly the animated conversation carried on
in Irish by him and the woman seemed to confirm the statement that some
relationship, however distant, existed between them. Of course it would
not do for Mrs. Docherty to seek accommodation anywhere else than in her
relation's house, and it would be a matter of obligement if Mr. and Mrs.
Gray would find quarters in some other place for a night or two. Gray and
his wife readily acquiesced in the suggestion, and Burke went out to look
after lodgings for them. These were easily obtained in Hare's house, and
the unwelcome couple, towards evening, left for their new abode. Thus far
the arrangements had worked admirably, and now that the way was clear the
tragedy could begin at once.

In the evening Mrs. Hare joined the company, and the fun began. The whisky
circulated rapidly, Burke indulged his musical tastes by singing his
favourite songs, and the old woman crooned over some of the Irish ballads
she had learned in her youth. Dancing, too, was engaged in; and once or
twice visits were paid to the house of a neighbour, where the revelry was
continued, and where Docherty hurt her foot when endeavouring to emulate
the sprightliness of her more youthful companions. As the night wore on
they kept more to their own house. The neighbours, between ten and eleven
o'clock, heard a great disturbance proceeding from Burke's dwelling, and
some of them, though used to the sounds of drunken riot from that quarter,
had the curiosity to look through the keyhole of the door to see what was
going on. One of them, a woman, saw--or thought she saw--Helen M'Dougal
holding a bottle to the mouth of Docherty, pouring the whisky down her
throat. After a while the disturbance ceased, but not for long. About
eleven o'clock Hare quarrelled with Burke, and the dispute could only be
settled by an appeal to blows. Whether this was a real quarrel or not it
would be difficult to say, for, though Burke himself declared "it was a
real scuffle," it has been pointed out as a suspicious circumstance that
this "quarrel" is in a sense the counterpart of the one that took place
between Burke and M'Dougal immediately before the murder of Mary Paterson.
While the two men were fighting, Mrs. Docherty, tipsy though she was,
tried to interfere. She rose from the stool on which she had been sitting
by the fireside, and asked Burke to sit down, as she did not wish to see
him abused. The fight, however, still continued, and Hare, whether by
design or not, knocked the old woman over a stool. She fell heavily, and,
owing to the amount of drink she had taken, was unable to rise. Whenever
this had been done the fighting ceased, Mrs. Hare and Helen M'Dougal
slipped out of the house, and Burke and Hare set to work on the prostrate,
helpless woman. It was after the old method, but a fatal mistake was made.
One of them grasped her violently by the throat, leaving the mark of the
undue pressure. Soon the woman was dead. Burke undressed the body, doubled
it up, and laid it among a quantity of straw beside the bed. The women
then returned to the room, and Burke went to see Paterson, Dr. Knox's
porter, brought him to the house, and, pointing to the place where the
body lay, told him that there was a subject which would be ready for him
in the morning. When Paterson left, the four human fiends resumed their
debauch, and for the last time together they spent a riotous night. The
murder was committed between eleven and twelve o'clock on Hallowe'en
night; and they brought in the month of November with heavy drinking.
About midnight they were joined in their cups by a young fellow named
Broggan, a son of the man to whom the house had once belonged, and who, as
we have seen, was bought off when the first murder--that of M'Dougal's
cousin, was committed in it. At last, when the morning was far advanced,
they were all overcome by sleep, and the party lay down to rest, with the
body of the murdered woman beside them.




CHAPTER XVI.

    _An Ill Excuse--Strange Behaviour--Discovery--The Threat--Unavailing
    Arguments--The Last Bargain._


About nine o'clock on the morning of Saturday, the 1st of November, Burke
went round at Hare's house to see about his lodgers, who had been forced
to change their quarters for the night. He was anxious to know how they
had rested, and having offered Gray a "dram of spirits," he invited the
family along to his own home to have breakfast. This they were not loath
to do, as there was no prospect of them readily obtaining their food in
their temporary lodgings. When they entered Burke's house they found there
Mrs. Law and Mrs. Connoway, two neighbours, Broggan, and Helen M'Dougal.
They naturally missed the woman for whom they had been shifted, and Mrs.
Gray asked M'Dougal where the "little old woman" had gone. The reply was
that Mrs. Docherty had grown very impudent to Burke, perhaps through
having taken too much liquor, and they had found it necessary to put her
out. Breakfast was served without further ado, and then Mrs. Gray set
about the dressing of her child. Burke was behaving in a very curious
manner, for he had the whisky bottle in his hand, and was throwing some of
the contents under the bed, on the bed, and up to the roof of the
apartment, at times put a little on his breast, and occasionally took a
sip internally. His explanation of this remarkable proceeding was that he
wished the bottle "toom," that he might again have it filled. Mrs. Gray,
it would seem, was taking a smoke, and had a pipe in her mouth when she
was looking for her child's stocking. In the course of her search she went
to the corner of the room where the body of Docherty was lying covered
with straw, but Burke called to her to keep out of there; and when she
made to go beneath the bed to get some potatoes he asked her what she was
doing there with a lighted pipe. He offered to look after them himself,
but Mrs. Gray dispensed with his help, and collected the potatoes without
having disturbed anything. All these circumstances created a suspicion in
the woman's mind that something was wrong; but later in the day that
surmise was strengthened by Burke, when about to go out, telling Broggan
to sit on a chair which was near the straw, until he returned. Broggan
either did not know of the mystery underneath the straw, or did not care,
for Burke was not long away until he went out also. M'Dougal left the
house too, and Mrs. Gray had then an opportunity of clearing up the
suspicions she had formed. The straw in the corner had appeared to be the
great object of attention, and she went direct there. She lifted the
straw, and the first thing she caught hold of was the arm of a dead woman.
Gray himself went over, and there they saw the naked body of the old
Irishwoman who had been brought into the house by Burke the day before.
The man lifted the head by the hair, and saw there was blood about the
mouth and the ears. The horrified couple hastily threw the straw over the
corpse, and collected what property they had in the house in order to
leave it immediately. Gray went out first, leaving his wife to complete
their packing arrangements. On the stair he met Helen M'Dougal, and asked
her what that was she had in the house. The woman made a feeble pretence
at ignorance, but when Gray said to her, "I suppose you know very well
what it is," she dropped on her knees, and implored him not to say
anything of what she had seen, and offered him five or six shillings to
put him over till Monday. She urged that the woman's death had been caused
by her having taken an overdose of drink--alcoholic poisoning is now the
respectable name for it--and tried to make the man believe that the
incident was such as might occur in anybody's house. Finding this line of
explanation thrown away upon him, she tried another which she seemed to
think more powerful. In her intense anxiety for concealment, she told him
there never would be a week after that but what he might be worth ten
pounds. It seemed to suggest itself to her that Gray, by such promises,
might be induced to join their murdering gang. He, however, replied that
his conscience would not allow him to remain silent. Just as M'Dougal left
Gray to enter the house, Mrs. Gray came out, and the two women met. Mrs.
Gray turned back, and asked M'Dougal about the body among the straw; but
the reply was similar to that given to Gray himself. The unfortunate
creature offered the same inducements, but all to no effect, as Mrs. Gray
exclaimed with unction--"God forbid that I should be worth money with dead
people!" M'Dougal, seeing the end was near, cried out, "My God, I cannot
help it!" to which Mrs. Gray replied, "You surely can help it, or you
would not stay in the house." The husband and wife then left the place
together, followed by M'Dougal, and when in the street they were met by
Mrs. Hare, who asked them what they were making a noise about, and told
them to go into the house and settle their disputes there. The two women
invited Gray and his wife into a neighbouring public house, and there,
over a round of liquor, they plied them with arguments and entreaties to
keep silence as to what they had seen, and the benefit would be ultimately
theirs. But all to no purpose. Gray was obdurate, and his wife supported
him in his intention to inform the authorities of what they had reason to
believe was a foul murder. Finding they were simply wasting their time,
Mrs. Hare and M'Dougal, in a state of great anxiety, hurriedly left the
place, as if to prepare for flight; and Gray made his way to the police
office to lodge the information.

In the meantime, Burke and Hare were busy making arrangements for the
removal of the body to Dr. Knox's premises. They applied at the rooms in
Surgeon's Square for a box in which to put it for safe conveyance, but
they could not be supplied with one; and later on, between five and six
o'clock in the evening, Burke purchased an empty tea-chest in Rymer's
shop. He had engaged John M'Culloch, a street porter, to call at the house
for a box, and before this man arrived the two colleagues had wrapped the
body of Docherty in a sheet, placed it in the box among some straw, and
roped down the lid. Whether they knew of the discovery by Gray, and his
subsequent threat, is uncertain: that they did not is probable from the
manner in which they went about the work of removing the corpse. When
everything was ready, M'Culloch was called in, and told to carry it to the
place to which they would take him. As the porter was raising the box on
to his back he saw some long hair hanging out of a crevice in the lid,
and, having probably been in the service of resurrectionists before, he
endeavoured to press it inside. This done, he went on his way with his
burden, the two men who employed him walking by his side. Mrs. Hare and
Helen M'Dougal, apparently beside themselves with excitement, had been
near all the time, and followed some distance behind. It was now well on
in the evening, and after the box and its contents were placed in the
cellar at Surgeon's Square, Burke, Hare, and M'Culloch, accompanied by
Paterson, "the keeper of Knox's museum," and still followed by the women,
walked to Newington, where Paterson received from the doctor five pounds
in part payment for the body. In a public-house in the vicinity the
division was made. Knox's man handed M'Culloch five shillings for his
services as porter, and Burke and Hare each received two pounds seven
shillings and sixpence; but on Monday, it was understood, when the doctor
would have had time to examine the body, they were to receive other five
pounds, making ten pounds in all.

The end had now come; the murdering career of these terrible beings was
closed. They seemed to feel that it could last no longer; their whole
manner of working on that Saturday indicated impending discovery, and
helped towards it.




CHAPTER XVII.

    _The Arrest of Burke and M'Dougal--Discovery of the Body--Hare and his
    Wife Apprehended--Public Intimation of the Tragedy--Burke and M'Dougal
    give their Version of the Transaction._


Gray, according to his threat, went to the Police Office to give
information of what he had seen. When he arrived there no one was present
who could act upon his statement. After waiting some time he saw
Sergeant-Major John Fisher, who entered the place about seven o'clock, and
to this officer he described all he had witnessed and what he suspected.
Fisher inclined to the opinion that his informant wished rather to do his
old landlord an ill-turn than to benefit the public, but, notwithstanding,
he, along with a constable named Finlay, accompanied Gray to Burke's house
in the West Port. What took place there can best be told in Fisher's own
words:--"I asked Burke what had become of his lodgers, and he replied that
there was one of them--pointing to Gray--and that he had turned him and
his wife out for bad conduct. I then asked what had become of the little
woman who had been there the day before, and he said she left the house
about seven o'clock that morning. He said William Hare saw her go away,
and added, in an insolent tone, that any number more saw her away. I then
looked round to see if there were any marks in the bed, and I saw marks
of blood on a number of things there. I asked Mrs. Burke [Helen M'Dougal]
how they came there, and she replied that a woman had lain in there about
a fortnight before, and the bed had not been washed since. As for the old
woman, she added that she knew her very well, they all lived in the
Pleasance, and that she had seen her that very night in the Vennel, when
she had apologised for her bad conduct on that previous night. I asked her
then, what time the woman had left the house, and she said, seven o'clock
at night. When I found them to vary, I thought the best way was to take
them to the Police Office." Fisher, while he considered it his duty to
apprehend Burke and M'Dougal, in view of the contradiction as to the time
when the woman left the house, and also of the fact that the bed-clothes
were spattered with blood, seems still to have had the idea that the whole
matter had arisen out of personal spite between Gray and Burke, and that
the former wished to injure the latter. However, he took the wisest and
the safest course by apprehending the two persons he found in the house.
Later in the evening, the officer, accompanied by his superintendent and
Dr. Black, the police surgeon, again visited Burke's den in Portsburgh,
and made a thorough search through it. They saw a quantity of blood among
the straw under the bed, and on the bed they found a striped bed-gown
which had apparently belonged to the murdered woman.

This was all very well for one night, and certainly the case had, to the
official mind, assumed a more serious aspect than one having only a
foundation on mere personal ill-will. Next morning, Sabbath, the 2nd
November, Fisher went to the premises of Dr. Knox in Surgeon's Square, and
having obtained the key of the cellar from Paterson he entered, and found
there a box containing the body of a woman. Gray was immediately sent for,
and he at once recognised the corpse as that of the old woman he had seen
in Burke's house. The authorities then thought it was time they had Hare
and his wife in custody, and they were immediately arrested. This was done
about eight o'clock on the Sunday morning. They were then both in bed.
When Mrs. Hare was informed that Captain Stewart wished to speak to her
husband about the body that had been found in Burke's house, she
laughingly said that the captain and police had surely very little to do
now to look after a drunken spree like this. Hare answered her that he was
at Burke's house the day before, and had had a dram or two with him, and
possibly the police might be inclined to attach blame to them; but as he
had no fear of anything Captain Stewart could do to him, they had better
rise and see what he had to say. This conversation between Hare and his
wife seemed to be intended to "blind" the police, who were within hearing,
but it did not save them from apprehension. They were taken to the Police
Office, and lodged in separate cells.

The news of the tragedy and the apprehensions was quickly mooted abroad,
and the public mind was agitated by the rumours that were afloat. But
little satisfaction was gained from the following brief and guarded
paragraph which appeared in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_ of Monday, 3rd
November, two days after the murder:--

    "EXTRAORDINARY OCCURRENCE.--An old woman of the name of Campbell, from
    Ireland, came to Edinburgh some days ago, in search of a son, whom she
    found, and she afterwards went out of town in search of work. She took
    up her lodging on Friday in the house of a man named Burt or Burke, in
    the West Port. It appears that there had been a merry-making in
    Burke's that night; at least the noise of music and dancing was heard,
    and it is believed the glass circulated pretty freely among the party.
    The old woman, it is said, with reluctance joined in the mirth, and
    also partook of the liquor; and was to sleep on straw alongside of
    Burke's bed. During the night shrieks were heard; but the neighbours
    paid no attention, as such sounds were not unusual in the house. In
    the morning, however, a female, on going into Burke's, observed the
    old woman lying as if dead, some of the straw being above her. She did
    not say anything, or raise any alarm; but, in the evening,
    circumstances transpired which led to the belief that all was not
    right, for by this time the body had been removed out of the house,
    and it was suspected it had been sold to a public lecturer.
    Information was conveyed to the police, and the whole parties were
    taken into custody. After a search, the body was found yesterday
    morning in the lecture-room of a respectable practitioner, who, the
    instant he was informed of the circumstances, not only gave it up, but
    offered every information in his power. The body is now in the Police
    Office, and will be examined by medical gentlemen in the course of
    this day. There were some very strong and singular circumstances
    connected with the case, which have given rise to the suspicions."

This information, though substantially correct, was too meagre to satisfy
the public craving, and the most extraordinary rumours were afloat as to
the discoveries that had been made by the police. Meanwhile, the
authorities were busy making inquiries into the case, and in the first
instance they had Docherty's body examined by Drs. Black and Christison,
and Mr. Newbigging. The result of these examinations conclusively pointed
to the fact that the woman must have suffered a violent death by
suffocation, and the case for the Crown was strengthened by this
testimony. On the 3rd of November, the day of the first public
announcement of the "extraordinary occurrence," Burke and M'Dougal emitted
declarations before Sheriff Tait. Burke's account of the affair was that
on the morning of the previous Friday he rose about seven o'clock, and
immediately began his work by mending a pair of shoes. Gray and his wife
were up before him, and M'Dougal rose about nine o'clock. After he had
gone out for a few minutes for tobacco, all the four of them breakfasted
together about ten o'clock. Burke resumed his employment, Gray left the
house, and the women began to wash and dress, and tidy up the apartment.
In the evening he told Gray that he and his wife must look out for other
lodgings, as he could not afford to support them longer, they having not
even paid for the provisions they used. He recommended them to Hare's
house, and accompanied them there. About six o'clock he was standing at
the mouth of the entry leading to his dwelling, when a man whom he never
saw before, and whose name he did not know, came up and asked if he could
get a pair of shoes mended. This man was dressed in a greatcoat, the cape
of which was turned up about his face. Burke offered to perform the work,
and the stranger went with him into the house. While he was busy mending
the shoes the man walked about, remarked on the quietness of the place,
and said he had a box which he wished could be left there for a short
time. Burke consented to give it accommodation, and the stranger went out,
returning shortly with a box, which he placed upon the floor near the foot
of the bed. Burke was then sitting with his back to the bed. He heard his
customer unroping the box, and then make a sound as if he were covering
something with straw. The shoes were soon mended, Burke received a
sixpence for his work, and the stranger went away. Burke immediately rose
to see what was in the box, but finding it was empty he looked among the
straw beneath the bed, where he saw a corpse, though whether it was that
of a man or a woman he could not say. The man called later on, and Burke
remonstrated with him for bringing such an article into his house. The
stranger promised to take the body away in a little, but this he did not
do until six o'clock on the following (Saturday) evening. This was Burke's
account of what transpired on the Friday, the day when the murder was
actually committed. In itself it was a stupidly told story, and one having
not a single feature of truth in it to give it the slightest support from
outside testimony. But his record of the Saturday was even more
blundering. He admitted that about ten o'clock on the Saturday, while he
was in Rymer's shop, an old woman came in to beg. He discovered by her
dialect that she came from Ireland, and after questioning her he found
that she belonged to Inesomen, in the north of Ireland, and that her name
was Docherty. As his mother bore the same name, and came from the same
place, he concluded that the woman might perhaps be a distant relation,
and he invited her to breakfast. After sitting by the fireside smoking
till about three o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Docherty went out, saying
she would go to the New Town to beg some provisions for herself. When he
was alone in the house about six o'clock, the man who visited him the
previous evening, and who, on special inquiry by the sheriff, he now
declared to be William Hare, came for the purpose of removing the body.
Hare was accompanied by John M'Culloch, a street porter. These two carried
the body away in the box, as they said, to dispose of it to any person in
Surgeon's Square who would take it. After the body was delivered,
Paterson, Dr. Knox's curator, paid "the man" some pounds, and gave two
pounds ten shillings to Burke "for the trouble he had in keeping the
body." The woman Docherty never returned to the house, and he did not know
what had become of her. Some of the neighbours had told him, when he
returned after being paid the storage money, that a policeman had been
searching his house for a body, and he, having gone out to look for the
policeman, met Fisher and Finlay in the passage. As for the body found in
Dr. Knox's rooms, and which he had seen the day before, he thought it was
the one which was below his bed, but it had no likeness to Mary Docherty,
who was not so tall. Then the blood on the pillow-slip he accounted for by
saying that it was occasioned by his having struck M'Dougal on the nose
with it, as Mr. and Mrs. Gray could testify. Such an inconsistent story
was of itself enough to condemn Burke, to say nothing of the
identification of the man he had never seen before, and whose name he did
not know, as William Hare.

Helen M'Dougal, in her declaration, emitted on the same day, was equally
wide of the truth, though she did not make such a stupid mistake as to mix
up the transactions of Friday and Saturday. According to her, Mary
Docherty entered their house about ten o'clock on the Friday morning, just
as they were about to begin their breakfast, and asked to be allowed to
light her pipe at the fire. This privilege was accorded her, after which
she was asked to take some breakfast along with them. In the course of a
conversation, Burke arrived at the conclusion that the old woman was a
relative of his mother, and on the strength of this he went out for whisky
and gave them a glass all round, "it being the custom of Irish people to
observe Hallowe'en in that manner." About two o'clock Docherty left to go
to St. Mary's Wynd to inquire for her son, and she never returned. The
rest of the day and night was spent in drinking with Hare and his wife,
and Mr. and Mrs. Gray. On the Saturday evening she quarrelled with Mrs.
Gray about having stolen her gown, and the Grays had apparently vented
their spleen by raising a story and bringing the police down upon them.
For her part she knew nothing about a body being in the house, and
certainly the body shown her in the Police Office was not that of the old
woman, as Docherty had dark hair, and the body of the dead woman had gray
hair. Such, in brief, was her account of the events of the two days, and
the only point on which her declaration could be said to agree with that
of Burke was as to the cause of the bloodstains on the bedclothes.




CHAPTER XVIII.

    _Public Excitement at the West Port Murder--The Newspapers--Doubts as
    to the Disappearance of Daft Jamie and Mary Paterson--The
    Resurrectionists still at Work._


Of course the public knew nothing of what the authorities were doing or
had discovered, the examination of the prisoners before the sheriff being,
as is still the custom in Scotland, strictly private. The newspapers, as
we have seen, did little to satisfy the natural curiosity of the people,
but that was due probably to the fact that the police, finding themselves
on the eve of making a great discovery, chose rather to keep silent, and
deny the press information, than run the risk of having their movements
made known to parties whom it might be better should not be aware of them.
The _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, of 6th November, had, however, a very
circumstantial account of the murder of Mrs. Docherty, but it was hid away
among items of little importance. It was as follows:--

    "EXTRAORDINARY OCCURRENCE.--FURTHER PARTICULARS.--We have used every
    endeavour to collect the facts connected with this singular story. The
    medical gentlemen who examined the body have not reported, so far as
    we have heard, that death was occasioned by violence. There are
    several contusions on the body, particularly one on the upper lip,
    which was swollen and cut, a severe one on the back, one on the
    scapula, and one or two on the limbs; none of these, however, are of a
    nature sufficient to cause immediate death. The parties in custody,
    two men and two women (their wives), and a young lad, give a very
    contradictory account of the manner in which the old woman lost her
    life. One of the men, not Burke, states that it was the lad who struck
    her in the passage, and killed her. Burke, however, acknowledges being
    a party to the disposing of the corpse. The lad's account of the story
    is different from that of the others. He says he was in Burke's house
    about seven o'clock on Friday evening, when the old woman was
    represented to him as a fortune-teller, who for threepence would give
    him some glimpse into futurity, and with this sum she was to pay for
    her lodgings; but not having the money, his fortune was not told, and
    he went away. The parties at this time were seemingly sober. He went
    to the house about two o'clock on Saturday morning, when he found
    Burke, his wife, and two other persons, in the house, seemingly the
    worse of liquor. He sent for sixpence worth of whisky, which was
    drunk; and soon after the whole party fell asleep. The old woman was
    not present, but the lad thought nothing of that, believing she had
    left the house. At a later hour in the morning a neighbour came in,
    who had been in the house on the previous evening, and asked, what had
    become of the fortune-teller? To this Burke's wife replied, that the
    old woman had been behaving improperly, and she (Mrs. Burke) had
    kicked her down stairs. Another neighbour saw the old woman joining in
    the mirth, as late as eleven o'clock on the Friday night. The above
    are the outlines of the statements that have reached us; we must,
    however, admit that, from the secret manner in which the
    investigations are conducted, it is impossible to obtain accurate
    information. A great number of rumours have gone abroad of individuals
    having of late disappeared in an unaccountable manner, but one of
    them, however, a sort of half-witted lad, called 'Daft Jamie,' was
    seen on Monday, not far from Lasswade, with a basket, selling
    small-wares."

This notice makes one or two interesting discoveries, notably what
professes to be the drift of Hare's declaration, and that of the young
man, Broggan, who had also been arrested on a charge of complicity in the
murder. Another point is the manner in which Mrs. Docherty was presented
to Broggan, and some of the neighbours. But if the newspapers did not
devote much space to the "extraordinary occurrence," it was a topic which
moved the very heart of the people, and was on everybody's tongue. The
journals were too busy discussing the siege of Silistria, the proceedings
of politicians in London, or the state of Ireland; but the inhabitants of
Edinburgh, and, indeed, of broad Scotland, thought and talked of little
else but Burke and Hare and the resurrectionists. Before the time fixed
for the trial the newspapers discovered they had made a mistake, and at
last gave some degree of satisfaction to their readers by supplying a full
report of the case. It is somewhat amusing, however, to find the _Glasgow
Courier_ of 27th December, with this apologetic notice:--"In the absence
of any political news of importance we have devoted a considerable portion
of our paper of to-day in giving a full report of the trial, before the
High Court of Justiciary, of Burke and his wife for murder."

The public were strongly of opinion that to the machinations of Burke and
Hare could be traced the disappearance of Daft Jamie and Mary Paterson,
the latter especially, as she had been seen in Burke's company. The
authorities, also, pursued their inquiries in the same direction. On the
10th of November the two men and their wives were committed by the Sheriff
to stand their trial for the murder of Docherty, but Broggan was
liberated, his innocence being apparent. The doubt as to the disappearance
of Daft Jamie was deepened by a statement in an Edinburgh newspaper that
he had been seen in the Grassmarket after the apprehension of the accused
parties. This was repeated by several other prints, and the public mind
remained in suspense, though there was a suspicion, amounting almost to a
certainty, that Jamie had been the victim of foul play. At last the
_Observer_ and the _Weekly Chronicle_, who had been the most strenuous
advocates of the safety of the lad, were forced to admit that he was
amissing. Possibly the rumour that he had been identified in the
dissecting-room by some of the students had something to do with the
change. The _Observer_ announced that it had been "credibly informed that
this poor pauper," Daft Jamie, had really disappeared in a mysterious
manner, and that circumstances of a suspicious nature had transpired. The
_Chronicle_ was more elaborate in its explanation, stating that there were
two Daft Jamies, but that there was no doubt one of them had been made
away with.

While all this was going on there were other events connected with the
resurrectionist movement coming to the front. One of these was a terrible
contest which took place in a churchyard near Dublin. A woman of the name
of Ryan died, and was decently interred. Her relatives were afraid that
her remains would not be allowed to lie in the grave, as the
body-snatchers were then busy with the Irish burying-places. They
therefore joined to keep a watch for a time over her tomb. One night,
between eight and nine o'clock, two of the men were left sentry at the
grave, while the others went into a cabin in the vicinity, erected for the
use of watchers. These latter were not long seated when a knock was heard
at the door, and when it was opened they saw nearly a dozen armed men, who
declared their mission to be body-lifting, but who, with all courtesy,
stated that if the watchers would kindly point out where the body in which
they were specially interested lay, it would be passed over. The watchers,
however, intimated that, they would resist the uplifting of any body. A
desperate contest then took place, but the resurrectionists were at last
driven off. About two o'clock in the morning they returned, but again they
were defeated, it was thought, with loss of life, for more than one of
them was seen to fall.

It would be difficult to say whether it was this incident, or the general
plundering of Scotch churchyards, that led the _Edinburgh Weekly
Chronicle_ at this time to devote a leader to the question of the
importation of corpses for anatomical purposes to Scotland from Ireland.
This journal very soberly discussed the resurrectionist system, "its
advantages and the indispensability of it in the present state of the
law." The writer seriously objected to the "noodles of functionaries on
the banks of the Clyde," interfering with subjects when they were _in
transitu_, and pointed out that "for every Irish subject they seize they
insure the rifling of some Scotch grave." Very fine sentiment--the
resurrectionist system was good enough in Ireland, but immediately it
touched Scotland it was evil.

Two cases--one of them not without a touch of grim humour--came to light
in Edinburgh at this time, and furnished material for additional
commentary on the West Port tragedy. A resurrectionist, wishing to raise
the wind, waited on an Edinburgh lecturer, and stated that he had a
"subject" to dispose of, but he required two pounds ten shillings to meet
some immediate demands. The money was given him, and in a short time a box
was sent to the lecturer's rooms. To the infinite surprise of the
gentleman and his assistants, the trunk was found to be filled with
rubbish. Such tricks, it was said, were often played on anatomists; but
for all that, four individuals were apprehended in connection with this
fraud, and were sentenced by the police magistrate each to imprisonment
for two months. The other case illustrates the extraordinary boldness of
the resurrectionists, even at a time when the popular feeling was strong
against the miscreants apprehended for the murder of Docherty. A mulatto
of the name of Masareen, who kept a public house in the Grassmarket, died
on the autumn of 1828, and a month or so later his wife became unwell and
was taken to the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, where she died in the end of
November. On the day of her death her body was claimed by two men who
represented themselves as her relatives. It was given them, and they took
it away ostensibly for interment. Next morning her real relations
appeared, and the greatest consternation was caused by the discovery that
the Infirmary authorities had been duped by some very clever rogues. A
search was made, and after some trouble the body was found in a dissecting
room. It was taken back to the Infirmary, and was decently buried on the
1st of December.

In the newspapers at this time, also, there were stories about events
occurring outside the city, which helped to increase the general
excitement. In the _Courant_ for Monday, the 13th November, there was a
report of a case tried before the Middlesex Sessions on the Thursday
previous. Three men were then charged with having on the 13th of September
unlawfully broken open a vault in the church of Hendon, in which were some
dead bodies, and with having severed the head from one of them. The object
was rather strange. One of the prisoners was a surgeon, and the body which
had been mutilated was that of his mother. There was in his family a
hereditary disease, the causes and nature of which he wished to
investigate, in order to prevent its attacks on himself, and he was under
the impression that if he could obtain his mother's head for dissection,
he would be able to find out the information he desired. All the prisoners
were found guilty, and were severely punished. Another incident of a more
amusing kind was recorded at this time in the _Stirling Advertiser_. At
Doune Fair several special constables were on duty, and had the village
school-room assigned to them as a watch-house. While they were sitting
quietly talking to one another, a big burly Irishman, heavily laden with
whisky, fell in through the open door-way, and lay prone on the floor. He
was a most undesirable visitor, and it was evident that to attempt to
remove him by force might have rather serious results. Still he could not
be allowed to remain. One of the constables was a bit of a wag, and he
whispered to his companions that the man on the floor would make an
excellent subject for the doctors. They quickly entered into the spirit of
the jest, and the conversation turned on the question of how the
prospective subject was to be "despatched." Some recommended suffocation,
others stabbing. Meanwhile, the Irishman, who was not so tipsy as he
seemed, had overheard the discussion, carried on in a stage whisper, and
began to feel exceedingly uncomfortable. As the conspirators gradually
came to an agreement as to the method to be adopted, the intruder, who had
been carefully pulling himself together, suddenly jumped up, and went out
of the place, faster, if anything, than he entered, amid shouts of
laughter from the constables.

Under all the exciting circumstances of the time, it is not surprising
that the people should break out into riot at a very small matter. Between
nine and ten o'clock of the forenoon of Thursday the 11th of December, a
gig, occupied by two men of notoriously bad character, was driven at a
furious pace along the North Bridge of Edinburgh. Some one suggested that
the vehicle contained a corpse, and the story speedily gathered an immense
crowd. An attempt was made to seize the men, and the tumult became so
great that when the city watch interfered two of them and an old woman
were seriously injured. It was found, however, that the rumour as to the
contents of the gig was totally unfounded.




CHAPTER XIX.

    _Burke and M'Dougal amend their Account of the Murder--The Prosecution
    in a Difficulty--Hare turns King's Evidence--The Indictment, against
    Burke and M'Dougal._


While these events were transpiring outside, the authorities were
labouring anxiously in the preparation of the case against the accused
parties. This was no easy matter. It was beset with technical difficulties
which it was not likely the public, in its then excited and unreasoning
state, would take into its consideration, and the Crown officials sought,
if possible, to avoid any miscarriage of justice.

On the 10th of November Burke was again examined in private before Sheriff
Tait, and emitted a second declaration. His statement of a week before
having been read over to him, he declared it to be incorrect in several
particulars. He then proceeded to point out that the events he had
previously described as having taken place on the Saturday really took
place on the Friday. As to what occurred in the evening he was, however, a
little more truthful, even at the expense of absolutely contradicting
himself. In the evening they had some dram-drinking, "because it was
Hallowe'en," and pretty late in the night he and Hare differed, and rose
to fight. When they were separated by M'Dougal and Mrs. Hare they sat down
by the fire together to have another dram, and then they missed Mary
Docherty. They asked the two women what had become of her, but they did
not know. Burke and Hare searched for her through the house. They looked
among the straw of the shake-down bed on the floor, at the bottom of the
standing bed, thinking she might have crept there during the struggle, and
then they found her among the straw, lying against the wall, partly on her
back and partly on her side. Her face was turned up, and there was
something of the nature of vomiting, but not bloody, coming from her
mouth. After waiting for a few minutes they concluded, though the body was
warm, that the woman was dead. M'Dougal and Hare's wife immediately left
the house without saying anything, and Burke supposed they did this
"because they did not wish to see the dead body." After a while the men
stripped the corpse, and laid it among the straw, and it was then proposed
that it should be sold to the surgeons. The rest of the declaration was
taken up with an account of what actually took place on the Saturday, for
Burke, having furnished an account of how the woman met her death, seemed
to think that he was free after that to tell the truth as to the
subsequent events. He denied having caused Docherty's death, and gave it
as his opinion that she had been suffocated by laying herself down among
the straw in a state of intoxication. "No violence," he continued, "was
done to the woman when she was in life, but a good deal of force was
necessary to get the body into the chest, as it was stiff; and in
particular, they had to bend the head forward, and to one side, which may
have hurt the neck a little; but he thinks that no force was used, such as
could have hurt any part of the back at all." The one redeeming feature
of the declaration is that Burke stated "that a young man named John
Broggan had no concern in the matter; that Broggan came into the house on
Saturday forenoon, as he thinks, while the body was in the house, but did
not know of its being there."

On the same day--the 10th of November--Helen M'Dougal was subjected to a
further examination by the Sheriff. She adhered to her former declaration,
and in answer to a question she stated that between three and four o'clock
on Friday afternoon the old woman insisted on having salt to wash herself
with, and became otherwise very troublesome, calling for tea different
times. At last M'Dougal told her she would not be tormented with her any
longer, and thrust her out at the door by the shoulders, and she never saw
her afterwards.

These were the declarations, and although they were sufficiently
contradictory in themselves, and were in many respects directly opposed to
the stories told in the ones made on the 3rd November, the Lord Advocate
was still in a difficulty. There was, of course, the evidence of the Grays
and of the neighbours, but it was entirely circumstantial, and might fail
to convict. Hare, ever wily and cunning, as we have seen, at last saw how
matters stood, and responded to an offer to turn King's evidence, on the
condition of being given an assurance that his wife and himself would be
safe from any prosecution. This was a way out of the difficulty which the
Lord Advocate, after consideration, was glad to accept, as the only one
possible; and the _Evening Courant_ of the 29th November was able to
announce to the public that one of the parties implicated in the West Port
murder had given such information as would lead to the apprehension of
three or four other individuals. This, of course, was scarcely correct;
but the _Observer_ put it right by stating that Hare had agreed to turn
King's evidence. In its issue of the 6th December the _Courant_ stated
that Burke and M'Dougal--"his wife" she is called--had been committed for
trial for the murder of Mrs. Campbell or Docherty, Daft Jamie, and Mary
Paterson. "The manner in which the murders were committed," says this
enterprising journal, "has been described to us, and some statements have
also been communicated as to other individuals supposed to have shared a
similar fate; but as the whole will probably be laid before the public in
the course of the trials that will take place, we decline, for the
present, to publish further particulars."

On the 8th of December--two days later--a citation was served on Burke and
M'Dougal, "charging them to appear before the High Court of Justiciary, to
be held at Edinburgh, on Wednesday, the 24th of December, at ten o'clock
forenoon, to underlie the law for the crime of murder." As the form and
matter of the indictment are interesting in themselves, and as they gave
rise to a long and important discussion at the trial, it is proper that it
should be quoted:--

    "WILLIAM BURKE and HELEN M'DOUGAL, both present prisoners in the
    tolbooth of Edinburgh, you are both and each of you indicted and
    accused at the instance of Sir William Rae of St. Catherine's,
    Baronet, his Majesty's Advocate for his Majesty's interest: that
    _albeit_ by the laws of this and of every other well-governed realm,
    MURDER is a crime of an heinous nature, and severely punishable, _yet
    true it is and of verity_ that you the said William Burke and Helen
    M'Dougal are both and each, or one or other of you, guilty of the said
    crime, actors or actor, or art and part: _In so far as_, on one or
    other of the days between the 7th and the 16th days of April, 1828, or
    on one or other of the days of that month, or of March immediately
    preceding, or of May immediately following, within the house in Gibb's
    Close, Canongate, Edinburgh, then and now or lately in the occupation
    of Constantine Burke, then and now or lately scavenger in the
    employment of the Edinburgh Police Establishment, you the said William
    Burke did wickedly and feloniously place or lay your body or person,
    or part thereof, over or upon the breast, or person, and face of Mary
    Paterson or Mitchell, then, or recently before that time, or formerly,
    residing with Isabella Burnet or Worthington, then and now or lately
    residing in Leith Street, in or near Edinburgh, when she, the said
    Mary Paterson or Mitchell was lying in the said house in a state of
    intoxication, and did, by the pressure thereof, and by covering her
    mouth and nose with your body or person, and forcibly compressing her
    throat with your hands, and forcibly keeping her down, notwithstanding
    her resistance, or in some other way to the prosecutor unknown,
    preventing her from breathing, suffocate or strangle her; and the said
    Mary Paterson or Mitchell was thus by the said means, or part thereof,
    or by some other means or violence, the particulars of which are to
    the prosecutor unknown, wickedly bereaved of life, and murdered by you
    the said William Burke; and this you did with the wicked aforethought
    intent of disposing of, or selling the body of the said Mary Paterson
    or Mitchell, when so murdered, to a physician or surgeon, or some
    person in the employment of a physician or surgeon, as a subject for
    dissection, or with some other wicked and felonious intent or purpose
    to the prosecutor unknown. (2.) FURTHER, on one or other of the days
    between the 5th and 26th days of October 1828, or on one or other of
    the days of that month, or of September immediately preceding, or of
    November immediately following, within the house situated in Tanner's
    Close, Portsburgh, or Wester Portsburgh, in or near Edinburgh, then or
    now or lately in the occupation of William Haire or Hare, then or now
    or lately labourer, you the said William Burke did wickedly and
    feloniously attack and assault James Wilson, commonly called or known
    by the name of Daft Jamie, then or lately residing in the house of
    James Downie, then and now or lately residing in Stevenlaw's Close,
    High Street, Edinburgh, and did leap or throw yourself upon him, when
    the said James Wilson was lying in the said house, and he having
    sprung up you did struggle with him and did bring him to the ground,
    and you did place or lay your body or person or part thereof, over or
    upon the person or body and face of the said James Wilson, and did, by
    the pressure thereof, and by covering his mouth and nose with your
    person or body, and forcibly keeping him down, and compressing his
    mouth, nose, and throat, notwithstanding every resistance on his part,
    and thereby, or in some other manner to the prosecutor unknown,
    preventing him from breathing, suffocate or strangle him; and the said
    James Wilson was thus, by the said means, or part thereof, or by some
    other means or violence, the particulars of which are to the
    prosecutor unknown, wickedly bereaved of life and murdered by you the
    said William Burke; and this you did with the wicked aforethought
    intent--[the intent specified in the same language as under the first
    minor charge]. (3.) FURTHER, on Friday the 31st day of October, 1828,
    or on one or other of the days of that month, or of September
    immediately preceding, or of November immediately following, within
    the house then or lately occupied by you the said William Burke,
    situated in that street of Portsburgh or Wester Portsburgh, in or near
    Edinburgh, which runs from the Grassmarket of Edinburgh to Main Point,
    in or near Edinburgh, and on the north side of the said street, and
    having an access thereto by a trance or passage entering from the
    street last above libelled, and having also an entrance from a court
    or back court on the north thereof, the name of which is to the
    prosecutor unknown, you the said William Burke and Helen M'Dougal did,
    both and each, or one or other of you, wickedly and feloniously place
    or lay your bodies or persons, or part thereof, or the body or person,
    or part thereof, of one or other of you, over or upon the person or
    body and face of Madgy or Margery, or Mary M'Gonegal or Duffie, or
    Campbell, or Docherty, then or lately residing in the house of
    Roderick Stewart or Steuart, then and now or lately labourer, and then
    and now or lately residing in the Pleasance, in or near Edinburgh,
    when she the said Madgy or Margery, or Mary M'Gonegal or Duffie, or
    Campbell, or Docherty, was lying on the ground, and did, by the
    pressure thereof, and by covering her mouth and the rest of her face
    with your bodies or persons, or the body or person of one or other of
    you, and by grasping her by the throat, and keeping her mouth and
    nostrils shut with your hands, and thereby, in some other way to the
    prosecutor unknown, preventing her from breathing, suffocate or
    strangle her; and the said Madgy or Margery, or Mary M'Gonegal or
    Duffie, or Campbell, or Docherty, was thus by the said means, or part
    thereof, or by some other means or violence, the particulars of which
    are to the prosecutor unknown, wickedly bereaved of life, and murdered
    by you the said William Burke and you the said Helen M'Dougal, or one
    or other of you, and this you both and each, or one or other of you,
    did with the wicked aforethought intent--[the intent specified in the
    same language as under the first and second minor charges]. And you
    the said William Burke, having been taken before George Tait, Esq.,
    sheriff-substitute of the shire of Edinburgh, you did, in his
    presence, emit and subscribe five several declarations, of the dates
    respectively following, viz.:--the 3rd, 10th, 19th, and 29th days of
    November, and 4th day of December, 1828; and you the said Helen
    M'Dougal having been taken before the said sheriff-substitute, you
    did, in his presence, at Edinburgh, emit two several declarations, one
    upon the 3rd, and another, upon the 10th days of November, 1828; which
    declarations were each of them respectively subscribed in your
    presence by the said sheriff-substitute, you having declared you could
    not write: which declarations having to be used in evidence against
    each of you by whom the same were respectively emitted; as also the
    skirt of a gown, as also a petticoat, as also a snuff-box, and a
    snuff-spoon; a black coat, a black waistcoat, a pair of moleskin
    trowsers, and a cotton handkerchief or neckcloth, to all of which
    sealed labels are now attached, being to be used in evidence against
    you the said William Burke; as also a coarse linen sheet, a coarse
    pillow-case, a dark printed cotton gown, a red striped bed-gown, to
    which a sealed label is now attached; as also a wooden box; as also a
    plan entitled 'Plan of Houses in Wester Portsburgh and places
    adjacent,' and bearing to be dated 'Edinburgh, 20th November 1828,'
    and to be signed by James Braidwood, 22, Society; being all to be used
    in evidence against both and each of you the said William Burke and
    Helen M'Dougal, at your trial, will, for that purpose, be in due time
    lodged in the hands of the Clerk of the High Court of Justiciary,
    before which you are to be tried, that you may have an opportunity of
    seeing the same; _all which_, or part thereof, being found proven by
    the verdict of an assize, or admitted by the respective judicial
    confessions of the said William Burke and Helen M'Dougal, before the
    Lord Justice-General, Lord Justice-Clerk, and Lords Commissioners of
    Justiciary--you, the said William Burke and Helen M'Dougal _ought_ to
    be punished with the pains of law, to deter others from committing the
    like crimes in all time coming."

The list of witnesses attached to this very formidable document showed the
names of fifty-five persons; and there was, also, a list of forty-five
persons called for the jury from the city of Edinburgh, town of Leith, and
counties of Edinburgh, Linlithgow and Haddington.




CHAPTER XX.

    _Public Anticipation of the Trial--Appearance of Burke and M'Dougal in
    the Dock--Opening of the Court--The Debate on the Relevancy of the
    Indictment._


As the day fixed for the trial drew near, the public excitement became
more and more intense. The feeling against the culprits was very strong,
and while the statement that Hare and his wife were to be accepted as
informers was received with a notion of displeasure, it was thought that
the revelations they would make would fully compensate for the loss to
justice by their escape from punishment. This displeasure was not as yet
very definite, for the people were unaware of the real facts of the case,
and had only a very hazy and general idea of what was likely to be brought
out in court. The public feeling, however, ran so high that the
authorities deemed it necessary to take every precaution to prevent a
disturbance, and on the evening before the trial the High Constables of
Edinburgh were ordered to muster; the police were reinforced by upwards of
three hundred men; and the infantry in the Castle and the cavalry at
Piershill were held in readiness for any emergency. The trial and its
possible outcome was all the talk, and the revelations about to be made
were eagerly anticipated.

Early on the morning of Wednesday the 24th December, Burke and M'Dougal
were conveyed from the Calton Hill Jail, where they had been confined, and
were placed in the cells beneath the High Court of Justiciary in
Parliament Square until the time for the hearing of the case should come.
The inhabitants of the city were also early afoot, and crowded to the
square anxious to gain admittance to the court-room. "No trial," said the
_Edinburgh Evening Courant_ of the following day, "that has taken place
for a number of years past has excited such an unusual and intense
interest; all the doors and passages to the court were accordingly
besieged at an early hour, even before daylight; and it was with the
utmost difficulty, and by the utmost exertions of a large body of police,
that admission could be procured for those who were connected with the
proceedings. At nine o'clock the court-room was completely filled by
members of the faculty and by the jury. Lord Macdonald and another noble
lord were seated on the bench." At twenty minutes to ten o'clock the
prisoners were placed in the dock, and this is the description of them
given by the _Courant_:--"Burke is of a short and rather stout figure, and
was dressed in a shabby blue surtout. There is nothing in his physiognomy,
except perhaps the dark lowering of the brow, to indicate any peculiar
harshness or cruelty of disposition. His features appeared to be firm and
determined; yet in his haggard and wandering eye, there was at times a
deep expression of trouble, as he unconsciously surveyed the preparations
which were going forward. The female prisoner appeared to be more
disturbed; every now and then her breast heaved with a deep-drawn sigh,
and her looks were desponding. She was dressed in a dark gown, checked
apron, cotton shawl, and a much worn brown silk bonnet." The audience
eagerly scanned the features of the prisoners, and watched their every
movement, during the half-hour that elapsed between their being placed in
the dock and the judges ascending the bench. At ten minutes past ten
o'clock their lordships took their seats. These were--the Right Hon. David
Boyle, Lord Justice-Clerk; and Lords Pitmelly, Meadowbank, and MacKenzie.
The Crown was represented by Sir William Rae, Bart., Lord Advocate; and
Messrs. Archibald Alison, Robert Dundas, and Alexander Wood,
Advocates-depute; with Mr. James Tytler, W.S., agent; while the counsel
for Burke were the Dean of Faculty, and Messrs. Patrick Robertson, Duncan
M'Neill, and David Milne; and for M'Dougal, Messrs. Henry Cockburn, Mark
Napier, Hugh Bruce, and George Paton, with Mr. James Beveridge, W.S., one
of the agents for the poor. There were thus the best men of the Scottish
bar engaged in the trial. The defence, of course, had been undertaken
gratuitously by these eminent counsel, but the sequel showed that it
suffered nothing at their hands on that account.

The court was fenced in the usual form, and the Lord Justice-Clerk, as the
presiding judge, called upon the prisoners to pay attention to the
indictment to be read against them. Mr. Robertson, however, interposed by
stating that there was an objection to the relevancy of the libel, and he
submitted it was proper to make such an objection at this stage of the
proceedings. The Lord Justice-Clerk did not see that this was the proper
time, but Mr. Cockburn urged that the reading of the document would
prejudice the prisoners in respect of certain particulars which he was
certain the court would ultimately find were no legal part of the libel.
On Lord Meadowbank hinting that an objection at that stage was interfering
with the discretion of the court, Mr. Robertson intimated he would not
press the matter further, and the indictment was accordingly read.

When this was done, the following special defences were submitted to the
court:--For Burke--"The pannel pleads that he is not bound to plead to, or
to be tried upon, a libel which not only charges him with three
unconnected murders, committed each at a different time, and at a
different place, but also combines his trial with that of another pannel,
who is not even alleged to have had any concern with two of the offences
with which he is accused. Such an accumulation of offences and pannels is
contrary to the general and better practice of the court; it is
inconsistent with the right principle; and, indeed, so far as the pannel
can discover, is altogether unprecedented; it is totally unnecessary for
the ends of public justice, and greatly distracts and prejudices the
accused in their defence. It is therefore submitted, that the libel is
completely vitiated by this accumulation, and cannot be maintained as
containing a proper criminal charge. On the merits of the case, the pannel
has only to state, that he is not guilty, and that he rests his defence on
a denial of the facts set forth in the libel." For M'Dougal the defence
was--"If it shall be decided that the prisoner is obliged to answer to
this indictment at all, her answer to it is, that she is not guilty, and
that the Prosecutor cannot prove the facts on which his charge rests. But
she humbly submits that she is not bound to plead to it. She is accused of
one murder committed in October 1828, in a house in Portsburgh, and of no
other offence. Yet she is placed in an indictment along with a different
person, who is accused of other two murders, each of them committed at a
different time, and at a different place,--it not being alleged that she
had any connection with either of these crimes. This accumulation of
pannels and of offences is not necessary for public justice, and exposes
the accused to intolerable prejudice, and is not warranted, so far as can
be ascertained, even by a single precedent."

Mr. Robertson then went into a long and learned argument in support of
these defences. He submitted that both prisoners were prejudiced by being
charged together in the same indictment, for they were both put off their
guard as to the evidence and productions to be brought against them, and
he further pointed out that in respect of the choice of a jury the accused
were deprived of advantages given them by the law. If the charges had been
separated they would have been able to make a more complete defence, and
they would have had twenty challenges at the calling of the jury; but as
it was, by the accumulation of pannels and offences, their defence was
hampered and their number of challenges limited. He quoted in his favour
both Scotch and English authorities--apologising, however, for bringing
forward the latter--and in concluding said--"When your lordships look,
then, at this case, in all the aspects I have set before you--when you see
that there are accumulated and combined charges against different
prisoners--when you see the atrocious nature of these charges, the number
of the witnesses, the declarations, and the number of the articles
libelled--and when you see the humane and salutary principles of our law,
and the practice of this court,--your lordships will not be inclined to
form a precedent, which, in the _first_ place, would be injurious to the
law of the country; and, in the _next_ place, would be injurious to the
unhappy persons now brought to this bar."

This speech caused a feeling of admiration in the court, for the advocate
had put forward his arguments in a most able manner; but there was also
something akin to dismay in the minds of many present lest the culprits
should escape because of any flaw in the indictment.

The Lord Advocate had a difficult task before him, but he confidently rose
up to reply to the arguments adduced from the other side of the bar, and
attacked them in a most spirited manner. He thought he could completely
defend his method of bringing the prisoners to trial, and show that it was
not only sanctioned by the law of the country, but also by numerous
precedents, even by those quoted by his learned friend. But his object in
placing the female prisoner in this indictment was that she might derive
benefit rather than prejudice. Had he tried the man first, and afterwards
the woman, adducing against her the same, or nearly the same, evidence
brought against Burke, she would have had good reason to complain of
prejudice. However, since the objection had been raised he would not then
proceed against her, but would do so ten days hence. "But if she should
suffer prejudice," said he, "from the evidence in Burke's trial going
abroad, let it be remembered it is not my fault. She and her counsel must
look to that--it is their proceeding, not mine." Turning to the objections
in Burke's case, he said:--"As to the second objection, whether or not I
am entitled now to go to proof on the three charges here exhibited, or
shall proceed _seriatim_, I am aware that this is matter of discretion
with the court. In so far, however, as depends upon me, I declare that I
will not consent to this being dealt with in the last of these modes. No
motive will induce me, for one moment, to listen to any attempt to smother
this case; to tie me down to try one single charge, instead of all the
three. If I had confined myself to one of those charges; if I had served
the prisoner with three indictments, and put the pannel to the hardship of
appearing three times at that bar, I would have done one of the severest
acts that the annals of this court can show. I am told that the mind of
the public is excited; if so, are they not entitled to know, from the
first to the last of this case; and is it not my duty to go through the
whole of these charges? I would be condemned by the country if I did not,
and what to me is worse, I should deserve it." His lordship then went over
the authorities cited by Mr. Robertson, and contended that they all bore
against the arguments brought forward by the counsel for the defence.

Replying for the defence, the Dean of Faculty very learnedly examined the
authorities quoted, with the object of showing that the action of the
public prosecutor, in framing the libel as he had done, was illegal, and
without precedent.

The pleadings finished, Lord Pitmilly delivered the leading judgment. He
reviewed the arguments urged from both sides of the bar, and signified his
approval of the course the Lord Advocate intimated he would take with
M'Dougal. As for Burke, he had stated through his counsel that he would
suffer prejudice by going to trial on an indictment which charged him with
three acts of murder, unconnected with each other, and his lordship
therefore thought the prisoner should be tried for each of the acts
separately. Lords Meadowbank and Mackenzie, and the Lord Justice Clerk,
concurred in the opinion given expression to by Lord Pitmilly, and
supported it by elaborate reasonings.

The Lord Advocate, thus tied down, intimated that he would proceed with
the third charge libelled--the murder of Docherty--and that he would also
proceed against M'Dougal as well as Burke, for she could suffer no
prejudice in being brought to trial for this single act, on which she was
charged as act and part guilty along with Burke. This decision rather
surprised the Dean of Faculty, who thought the diet against the woman had
been deserted _pro loco et tempore_, but the prosecutor claimed to proceed
as he had indicated. Their lordships then pronounced an interlocutor of
relevancy:--"Find the indictment relevant to infer the pains of law; but
are of opinion, that in the circumstances of this case, and in consequence
of the motion of the pannel's counsel, the charges ought to be separately
proceeded in: and that the Lord Advocate is entitled to select which
charge shall be first brought to trial, and His Majesty's Advocate having
thereupon stated that he means to proceed at present with the third charge
in the indictment against both pannels--therefore remit the pannels with
that charge, as found relevant, to the knowledge of an assize, and allow
the pannels, and each of them, a proof in exculpation and alleviation,"
&c.

The prisoners were then asked to plead to the indictment as amended, and
they both offered the plea of "Not Guilty." A jury was empanelled--fifteen
men, as required by the law of Scotland. The preliminary objections were
thus got over, and the trial could be proceeded with; but the result of
the discussion was that the public were deprived of the satisfaction of
knowing in an authoritative manner the mystery connected with the deaths
of Mary Paterson and Daft Jamie.




CHAPTER XXI.

    _The Trial of Burke and M'Dougal--Circumstantial Evidence--Hare's
    Account of the Murder of Docherty--What he Declined to Answer--Mrs.
    Hare and her Child._


The first witness called for the Crown was James Braidwood, a builder, and
master of the Edinburgh fire brigade, who attested the correctness of the
plan of the houses in Wester Portsburgh prepared for use in the trial, and
which has been reproduced in this volume. He was followed by Mary Stewart,
in whose house, in the Pleasance, Mrs. Docherty's son resided, and in
which that unfortunate woman had slept the night before the murder. She
remembered the circumstances well. The old woman was in good health when
she last saw her in life, but she had no difficulty in recognising the
body in the Police Office on the Sunday following. Further, she identified
the clothing found in Burke's house, and produced in court, as having
belonged to the deceased. Charles M'Lachlan, a lodger, corroborated this
testimony. The shop-boy of Rymer, the grocer in the West Port, in whose
premises Burke met Docherty, described what took place between them on the
memorable Friday morning, and also mentioned the purchase by Burke on the
Saturday of a tea-chest similar to the one in which the body had been
conveyed to Knox's rooms. But the relationship between the prisoners and
Docherty was brought out by a neighbour, Mrs. Connoway, who related that
she had seen the old woman in their house during the day, and that it had
been explained to her by M'Dougal that the stranger was a friend of
Burke. Later in the evening the old woman was in her house, when they were
joined by Hare and his wife and the two prisoners. A dram was going round,
and they began to be merry, until at last some of them took to dancing. In
the course of this Docherty hurt her feet. The company afterwards returned
to Burke's house, and Mrs. Connoway went to bed, but heard no noise or
disturbance during the night. Next day she went in to see M'Dougal, and,
missing the stranger, she asked what had become of her, when she was told
that "Burke and her had been _ower_ friendly together, and she [M'Dougal]
had turned her out of doors: that she had kicked her out of the house."
The evidence of Mrs. Law, another neighbour, was similar in effect, with
the addition that in the course of the night she had heard the noise of
"shuffling or fighting" proceed from the house of the prisoners. More to
the point, however, was the testimony of Hugh Alston, a grocer, residing
in the same property. Between eleven and twelve o'clock on the night of
Friday, the 31st October, while going along the passage that led from his
house to the street, he heard a noise proceeding from Burke's house. The
sound was as if two men were quarrelling, but what most attracted his
attention was a woman's voice calling "murder." He went towards the door
and listened, and he heard the two men making a great noise as if
wrangling or quarreling. This continued for a few minutes, and then he
heard something give a cry--a sound which seemed to proceed from a person
or animal being strangled. After this remarkable sound had ceased he again
heard a female voice cry "murder," and there was a knocking on the floor
of the house. As he was afraid of fire, Alston went to look for a
policeman. Not finding one he returned to his old stance, but the noise by
this time had ceased. When he heard next night of the body having been
found in the house the whole incident of the previous evening came back to
him.

Interesting as all this evidence was, the testimony of David Paterson,
"keeper of the museum belonging to Dr. Knox," as bearing on what was
termed "the complicity of the doctors," attracted more attention. This
witness gave an account of how, about midnight, Burke called on him and
took him to his house in Portsburgh, to point out that he had a subject
for him. He identified Burke, M'Dougal, and Hare and his wife as being in
the house while he was there, and he further stated that he had seen them
the night after, when he paid the two men an instalment of the price of
the body. He was examined at some length as to the appearance of the body
when he gave it up to the police, and said the marks and the look of the
face indicated that death had been caused by suffocation or strangulation,
while the general appearance showed that the corpse had never been
interred. He knew Burke and Hare, and had often had dealings with them for
bodies. There were, he knew, people in the town who sold bodies that had
never been interred; and he had known gentlemen who had attended poor
patients, and who, on their death, gave a note of their place of abode,
and this in turn was handed to men such as he supposed Burke and Hare to
be, to get the bodies. This was startling information to the bulk of the
people of Scotland, but, as has been shown in some of the early chapters
of this work, it was nothing new to a certain class of the population of
Edinburgh and other towns. The succeeding witnesses were Broggan, Mr. and
Mrs. Gray, and Fisher the detective, but as their evidence has been
embodied in the account of the murder itself, it need not be repeated
here.

[Illustration: PLAN OF HOUSES IN WESTER PORTSBURGH.

PREPARED FOR USE AT THE TRIAL OF BURKE & MCDOUGAL. For Explanatory Key See
Page XII.]

William Hare was next brought forward, and his appearance caused quite a
sensation in court. It was known that on his evidence and that of his wife
the case for the Crown principally rested, and "expectation stood on
tiptoe" to hear the account he would give of the foul transaction in which
he was a prominent actor. His position as an informer was peculiar, and
Lord Meadowbank cautioned him "that whatever share you may have had in the
transaction, if you now speak the truth, you can never afterwards be
questioned in a court of justice," but if he should prevaricate he might
be assured that the result would be condign punishment. The Lord Justice
Clerk further informed him that he was called as a witness regarding the
death of Docherty, and in reply to this he asked--"T' ould woman, sir?" He
was then put on oath, being sworn on a New Testament having on it a
representation of the cross, a mode only adopted in Scotland when the
witness belongs to the Roman Catholic Church. In answer to the Lord
Advocate he said he had known Burke for about a year. On the 31st October
he had a gill with Burke, and the latter then told him that in his house
there was an old woman whom he had taken off the street, and who would be
a good _shot_ to take to the doctors. From this word _shot_ he understood
that Burke intended murdering her. His evidence of the events up to the
time of the quarrel about eleven o'clock was quite consistent with all
that has already been related, but his account of the actual murder is
worthy of reproduction. Having described the fight, during which the woman
tumbled over the stool, he said, in answer to the Lord Advocate:--

He [Burke] stood on the floor;--he then got stride-legs on the top of the
woman on the floor, and she cried out a little, and he kept in her breath.

Did he lay himself down upon her? Yes; he pressed down her head with his
breast.

She gave a kind of a cry, did she? Yes.

Did she give that more than once? She moaned a little after the first cry.

How did he apply his hand towards her? He put one hand under the nose, and
the other under her chin, under her mouth.

He stopped her breath, do you mean? Yes.

Did he continue this for any length of time? I could not exactly say the
time; ten or fifteen minutes.

Did he say anything to you when this was going on? No, he said nothing.

Did he then come off her? Yes; he got up off her.

Did she appear dead then? Yes; she appeared dead _a wee_.

Did she appear to be quite dead? She was not moving; I could not say
whether she was dead or not.

What did he do then? He put his hand across her mouth.

Did he keep it there for any length of time? He kept it two or three
minutes.

What were you doing all this time? I was sitting on the chair.

What did he do with the body? He stripped off the clothes. He took it and
threw it at the foot of the bed, doubled her up, and threw a sheet over
her; he tied her head to her feet.

While this was going on, Hare continued, the two women had run into the
passage, and they did not return until all was over. He then detailed the
proceedings of the Saturday, as already described.

Hare's cross-examination, however, gave rise to an animated discussion.
Mr. Cockburn, senior counsel for M'Dougal, asked him--"Have you been
connected in supplying the doctors with subjects upon other occasions than
those you have not spoken to yet?" The answer was--"No,--than what I have
mentioned"; but the Lord Advocate objected to this line of examination.
Mr. Cockburn appealed to the bench, and the witness was withdrawn while
the question was being discussed. He insisted he was within his right in
putting such a question, though the witness might answer it or not as he
chose, but it would be for the jury to judge of the credit due to his
evidence after it was seen how he treated the question. The Lord Advocate,
on the other hand, contended that the caution given the witness when he
entered the box precluded examination on any subject other than what was
involved in the case they were trying. Authorities were again cited by
both sides, and after considerable discussion, the judges pronounced an
interlocutor declaring that the question might be put, but that the
witness must be warned by the court that he was not bound to answer any
question that might criminate himself.

Hare was recalled, and Mr. Cockburn resumed his cross-examination.

"Were you," said the counsel, "ever concerned in carrying any other body
to any surgeon?"

"I never was concerned about any but the one that I have mentioned,"
replied Hare.

"Now, were you concerned in furnishing that one?" asked Mr. Cockburn.

"No," responded the witness, "but I saw them doing it."

"It is now my duty," interposed the Lord Justice Clerk, addressing Hare,
"to state to you, in reference to a question in writing, to be put to you,
that you are not bound to make any answer to it so as to criminate
yourself. If you do answer it, and if you criminate yourself, you are not
under the protection of the court. If you have been concerned in raising
dead bodies, it is illegal; and you are not bound to answer that
question."

"Now, Hare," said Mr. Cockburn, after he had repeated the judge's warning,
"you told me a little ago that you had been concerned in furnishing one
subject to the doctors, and you had seen them doing it--how often have you
seen them doing it?"

The witness thought a moment, and then declined to answer the question.

"Was this of the old woman the first murder that you had been concerned
in? Do you choose to answer or not?"

"Not to answer," replied Hare, after a minute's consideration.

"Was there murder committed in your house in the last October?" persisted
Mr. Cockburn.

"Not to answer that," was all the reply Hare would give.

The rest of the cross-examination was confined chiefly to the murder of
Docherty, but Hare's original evidence was in no way shaken by it, and he
was removed from court still in custody.

If Hare's appearance created interest in court, that of his wife caused
quite as much. She was ushered into the witness-box carrying her infant
child in her arms. The poor creature was suffering from whooping-cough,
and every now and then its "kinks" interrupted the examination, sometimes
very opportunely, when the questions put required a little consideration
on the part of the witness. Mrs. Hare's evidence contained only one point
calling for special notice. That was when, after relating how she ran out
of the house when she saw Burke get upon Docherty, and returned to the
house and did not see the woman, she was asked--"Seeing nothing of her,
what did you suppose?" Her answer was--"I had a supposition that she had
been murdered. _I have seen such tricks before._" This hint was not
followed up. But the remarkable fact about her whole testimony was that it
corroborated, with exception of one or two points, that of her husband.
There can be no doubt that they had conned their story together before
they were apprehended--for it was not likely they would have an
opportunity of making it up while they were in custody. Be that as it may,
their evidence was wonderfully alike.

The evidence of the police surgeon and of the medical men who made an
examination of the body, was next taken up, and it all tended to show that
death had been caused by suffocation or strangulation, the result of
violence and not of intoxication. The reading of the prisoners'
declarations concluded the case for the prosecution, and no evidence was
brought forward for the defence.




CHAPTER XXII.

    _The Trial--Speeches of Counsel--Mr. Cockburn's Opinion of Hare--The
    Verdict of the Jury._


Without any delay, on the reading of the declarations, the Lord Advocate
at once commenced his address to the jury, and the public feeling is fully
reflected in the following remarks made by him at the outset:--"This is
one of the most extraordinary and novel subjects of trial that has ever
been brought before this or any other court, and has created in the public
mind the greatest anxiety and alarm. I am not surprised at this
excitement, because the offences charged are of so atrocious a
description, that human nature shudders and revolts at it; and the belief
that such crimes as are here charged have been committed among us, even in
a single instance, is calculated to produce terror and dismay. This
excitement naturally arises from the detestation of the assassins' deeds,
and from veneration of the ashes of the dead. But I am bound to say, that
whatever may have occasioned this general excitement, or raised it to the
degree which exists, it has not originated in any improper disclosures, on
the part of those official persons, who have been entrusted with the
investigations connected with these crimes; for there never was a case in
which the public officers to whom such inquiries are confided, displayed
greater secrecy, circumspection, and ability. It is my duty to endeavour
to remove that alarm which prevails out of doors, and to afford all the
protection which the law can give to the community against the
perpetration of such crimes, by bringing the parties implicated to trial;
and I trust it will tend to tranquilize the public mind, when I declare I
am determined to do so. I cannot allow any collateral considerations,
connected with the promotion of science, to influence me in this course;
and I am fully determined that everything in my power shall be done to
bring to light and punishment those deeds of darkness which have so deeply
affected the public mind." Having reviewed the evidence in the case, his
lordship turned to the question of the admissibility and reliability of
the testimony given by Hare. He pointed out that it would have been
impossible to make out a case against the accused without the assistance
of some of the individuals connected with the crimes; and argued that an
acquittal, after a trial on the evidence brought before the magisterial
inquiry, would probably have sent the accused parties back to their former
practices, whatever they were, with increased encouragement and
confidence. The public would have remained entirely ignorant of the extent
to which such crimes had been carried by these persons; whether these four
individuals comprehended the whole gang, or if there were others connected
with them, or whether similar gangs did not exist in other places. Such a
state of ignorance appeared to him altogether inconsistent with the
security of the public; and he considered a knowledge of these matters
indispensible, and as being of infinitely more public importance than any
punishment which could be inflicted on the offenders. He did not think
that such information was too dearly purchased by admitting some of these
individuals to give evidence, and he was persuaded the country, when this
matter came to be calmly considered, would support him in the propriety of
the choice he had made. He admitted that by availing himself of such
information he necessarily excluded the possibility of bringing these
witnesses to trial for any offence in which they had so acknowledged a
participation. This, in the then state of excited feeling, might be
regarded as unjust, but on that account the exercise of sound judgment was
all the more required of him. The testimony given by these witnesses, his
lordship contended, was thoroughly credible. Hare especially appeared to
speak the truth; but he also pointed out that there was independent
evidence which corroborated in part the statements made by these persons.
He concluded his task by demanding at the hands of the jury, "in name of
the country, a verdict of guilty against both these prisoners at the bar."
The speech for the Crown was listened to with intense interest, and no
wonder, for in addition to the importance of the issues at stake, it was
acknowledged to be one of the best and most eloquent ever delivered by Sir
William Rae.

The speech by the Dean of Faculty was more laboured and less spontaneous
than that of the Lord Advocate. He felt himself beset with difficulties,
especially the prejudice against his client, Burke, which was raised by
the motive alleged in the indictment. "The motive for committing the
offence which is here ascribed to the prisoner," he said, "involves in it
a peculiar practice or employment which may be in itself a crime, though
it is not necessarily criminal; but whether it implies public criminality
or not, it involves in it a purpose which is revolting to the feelings of
the generality of mankind, and calculated, almost above every other thing,
to produce a prejudice in the minds of those who come to consider the case
itself. For need I say that, when it is imputed to the prisoner that his
object was to procure what they are pleased to call subjects for
dissection, the very statement of such an occupation, stamps a degree of
infamy on the individual engaged in it, and you are apt to set it down in
the very commencement of the inquiry, that he is a person capable of any
turpitude, and to imagine that to prove him guilty of any crime, however
enormous, requires less evidence than that which you would consider
indispensible to the conviction of any other person." He implored the jury
to cast any such prejudice aside, and to consider the case solely upon the
merits of the evidence adduced. This he proceeded to analyse, making, as
a matter of course, the most of the discrepancies and inconsistencies, and
he sought to impress upon the jury that the whole of the case for the
prosecution depended on the evidence of _socii criminis_--the alleged
accomplices in the deed charged. He asked them if they could put the
smallest faith in the testimony of Hare and his wife, who had nothing to
restrain them from telling the most deliberate series of falsehoods for
the purpose of fixing the guilt of the murder on the prisoners, and
extricating themselves from the condition in which they stood. Hare, when
asked if he had ever committed other murders, had declined to answer the
question, yet this was the person who gave evidence before them, not with
a paltry money motive, but with the tremendous motive of securing himself
from an ignominious death. Let them change the position of parties, and
suppose that Hare was at the bar, and Burke in the witness-box. He did not
know what case they might get from Burke and M'Dougal, but nothing could
hinder them, as witnesses, from making out as clear a case against Hare
and his wife, totally transposing the facts, and exhibiting the
transaction as altogether the reverse of what Hare said it was. "What,"
exclaimed the learned Dean, "if that ruffian who comes before you,
according to his own account, with his hands steeped in the blood of his
fellow creatures, breathing nothing but death and slaughter; what if that
cold-blooded, acknowledged villain, should have determined to consummate
his villany, by making the prisoners at the bar the last victims to his
selfishness and cruelty? Do you think that he is incapable of it?"

Mr. Henry Cockburn, for M'Dougal, confined himself almost entirely to the
credibility of Hare and his wife. "Hare," he said, "not only acknowledged
his participation in this offence, but he admitted circumstances which
aggravated even the guilt of murder. He confessed that he had sat coolly
within two feet of the body of this wretched old woman while she was
expiring under the slow and brutal suffering to which his associate was
subjecting her. He sat there, according to his own account, about ten
minutes, during which her dying agonies lasted, without raising a hand or
a cry to save her. We who only hear this told, shudder, and yet we are
asked to believe the man who could sit by and see it. Nor was this the
only scene of the kind in which they had been engaged. The woman
acknowledged that she '_had seen other tricks of this kind before_.' The
man was asked about his accession on other occasions, but at every
question he availed himself of his privilege, and virtually confessed _by
declining to answer_." "The prosecutor," continued the learned counsel,
"seemed to think that they gave their evidence in a credible manner, and
that there was nothing in their appearance beyond what was to be expected
in any great criminal, to impair the probability of their story. I
entirely differ from this; and I am perfectly satisfied that so do you. A
couple of such witnesses, in point of mere external manner and appearance,
never did my eyes behold. Hare was a squalid wretch, in whom the habits of
his disgusting trade, want, and profligacy, seem to have been long
operating in order to produce a monster whose will as well as his poverty
will consent to the perpetration of the direst crimes. The Lord Advocate's
back was to the woman, else he would not have professed to have seen
nothing revolting in her appearance. I never saw a face in which the lines
of profligacy were more distinctly marked. Even the miserable child in her
arms, instead of casting one ray of maternal softness into her
countenance, seemed at every attack [of hooping-cough] to fire her with
intense anger and impatience, till at length the infant was plainly used
merely as an instrument of delaying or evading whatever question it was
inconvenient for her to answer." Having dealt with the question of
corroboration, Mr. Cockburn remarked:--"The simple and rational view for a
jury to take is that these indispensible witnesses are deserving of _no_
faith in any case; and that the idea is shocking of believing them, to the
effect of convicting in a case that is capital. The prosecutor talks of
their being sworn! What is perjury to a murderer! The breaking of an oath
to him who has broken into the 'bloody house of life!'" In concluding, he
called for a verdict of not proven:--"Let the public rage as it pleases.
It is the privilege and the glory of juries always to hold the balance the
more steadily, the more that the storm of prejudice is up. The time will
come when these prejudices will die away."

The Lord Justice-Clerk then summed up, carefully going over the evidence
to the jury, and emphasising those points which he thought deserving of
their attention.

The jury retired to consider their verdict at half-past eight o'clock on
the morning of Thursday, 25th December--Christmas day--the trial having
continued from ten o'clock the previous forenoon. Burke seemed to consider
a conviction certain not only in his own case but also in that of
M'Dougal, for he is said to have given her directions how to conduct
herself, and told her to observe how he behaved when sentence was being
pronounced. After an absence of fifty minutes the jury returned to court,
and the chancellor or foreman, Mr. John M'Fie, a Leith merchant, gave,
_viva voce_, the following as the verdict:--

"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 audience applauded the finding of the jury, and the news was quickly
conveyed to the enormous crowd outside in Parliament Square, who cheered
to the echo. Burke remained cool, and turning to his companion he
remarked,--"Nellie, you're out of the scrape." The Lord Justice-Clerk then
thanked the jury for the unwearied pains and attention they had bestowed
on the case, and said it must be satisfactory to them to know that in the
opinion of the court their verdict appeared to be well founded. It was
afterwards reported that the jury had considerable difficulty in coming to
a decision, and that the verdict they gave in was something of the nature
of a compromise. An old legal maxim has it that a wife acts under the
constraint of her husband, and it was believed to be in view of this that
the jury found the charge against M'Dougal not proven.




CHAPTER XXIII.

    _The Last Stage of the Trial--Burke Sentenced to Death--The Scene in
    Court--M'Dougal Discharged--Duration of the Trial._


The last stage of a long trial had now been reached. After the verdict
against Burke there was only one course open to the judges, but still the
attention of the audience was given most earnestly to the proceedings.
Burke seemed callous, for he had felt certain of the doom that was about
to be pronounced upon him. The Lord Advocate moved for the judgment of the
court, and the Lord Justice-Clerk called upon Lord Meadowbank to propose
the sentence.

Having briefly reviewed the facts of the case, as brought out in the
evidence, Lord Meadowbank proceeded:--"Your lordships will, I believe, in
vain search through both the real and the fabulous histories of crime for
anything at all approaching this cold, hypocritical, calculating, and
bloody murder. Be assured, however, that I do not state this either for
exciting prejudices against the individual at the bar, or for harrowing up
the feelings with which, I trust, he is now impressed. But really, when a
system of such a nature is thus developed, and when the actors in this
system are thus exhibited, it appears to me that your lordships are bound,
for the sake of public justice, to express the feelings which you
entertain of one of the most terrific and one of the most monstrous
delineations of human depravity that has ever been brought under your
consideration. Nor can your lordships forget the glowing observations
which were made from the bar in one of the addresses on behalf of the
prisoners, upon the causes, which, it is said, have in some measure led to
the establishment of this atrocious system. These alone, in my humble
opinion, seem to require that your lordships should state roundly that
with such matters, and with matters of science, we, sitting in such
places, and deciding on such questions as that before us, have nothing to
do. It is our duty to administer the law as handed down to us by our
ancestors, and enacted by the legislature. But God forbid that it should
ever be conceived that the claims of speculation, or the claims of
science, should ever give countenance, to such awful atrocities as the
present, or should lead your lordships, or the people of this country, to
contemplate such crimes with apathy or indifference. With respect to the
case before us, your lordships are aware that the only sentence we can
pronounce is the sentence of death. The highest law has said--'Thou shalt
not kill,--thou shalt do no murder;' and in like manner, the law of
Scotland has declared, that the man guilty of deliberate and premeditated
murder shall suffer death. The conscience of the prisoner must have told
him, when he perpetrated this foul and deliberate murder, and alike
violating the law of God, and the law of man, he thereby forfeited his
life to the laws of his country. Now that detection has followed,
therefore, the result cannot be by him unexpected; and I have therefore
only further to suggest to your lordships, that the prisoner be detained
in the tolbooth of Edinburgh, till the 28th day of January next, when he
shall suffer death on a gibbet by the hands of the common executioner, and
his body thereafter given for dissection."

Lord Mackenzie concurred, saying that the punishment proposed by Lord
Meadowbank was the only one that could be pronounced.

The Lord Justice-Clerk then assumed the black cap, and addressing Burke,
who had risen from his seat to receive sentence, said:--"William Burke,
you now stand convicted, by the verdict of a most respectable jury of your
country, of the atrocious murder charged against you in this indictment,
upon evidence which carried conviction to the mind of every man that heard
it, in establishing your guilt in that offence. I agree so completely with
my brother on my right hand, who has so fully and eloquently described the
nature of your offence, that I will not occupy the time of the court in
commenting any further than by saying that one of a blacker description,
more atrocious in point of cool-blooded deliberation and systematic
arrangement, and where the motives were so comparatively base, never was
exhibited in the annals of this or of any other court of justice. I have
no intention of detaining this audience by repeating what has been so
well expressed by my brother; my duty is of a different nature, for if
ever it was clear beyond the possibility of a doubt that the sentence of a
criminal court will be carried into execution in any case, yours is that
one, and you may rest assured that you have now no other duty to perform
on earth but to prepare in the most suitable manner to appear before the
throne of Almighty God to answer for this crime, and for every other you
have been guilty of during your life. The necessity of repressing offences
of this most extraordinary and alarming description, precludes the
possibility of your entertaining the slightest hope that there will be any
alteration upon your sentence. In regard to your case, the only doubt
which the court entertains of your offence, and which the violated laws of
the country entertain respecting it, is whether your body should not be
exhibited in chains, in order to deter others from the like crimes in time
coming. But taking into consideration that the public eye would be
offended by so dismal an exhibition, I am disposed to agree that your
sentence shall be put into execution in the usual way, but unaccompanied
by the statutory attendant of the punishment of the crime of murder--viz.,
that your body should be publicly dissected and anatomised, and I trust
that if it ever is customary to preserve skeletons, yours will be
preserved, in order that posterity may keep in remembrance your atrocious
crimes. I would entreat you to betake yourself immediately to a thorough
repentance, and to humble yourself in the sight of Almighty God. Call
instantly to your aid the ministers of religion of whatever persuasion you
are; avail yourself from this hour forward of their instructions, so that
you may be brought in a suitable manner urgently to implore pardon from an
offended God. I need not allude to any other case than that which has
occupied your attention these many hours. You are conscious in your own
mind whether the other charges which were exhibited against you yesterday
were such as might be established against you or not. I refer to them
merely for the purpose of again recommending you to devote the few days
that you are on the earth, to imploring forgiveness from Almighty God."

The sentence was formally recorded in the books of the court, with the
addition that the place of execution was specified as in the Lawnmarket of
Edinburgh, and the body of the deceased was ordered to be delivered to Dr.
Alexander Monro, Professor of Anatomy in the University of Edinburgh, to
be by him publicly dissected and anatomised.

The Lord Justice-Clerk then turned to Helen M'Dougal and said:--"The jury
have found the libel against you _not proven_; they have not pronounced
you _not guilty_ of the crime of murder charged against you in this
indictment. You know whether you have been in the commission of this
atrocious crime. I leave it to your own conscience to draw the proper
conclusion. I hope and trust that you will betake yourself to a new line
of life, diametrically opposite from that which you have led for a number
of years." An interlocutor of dismissal was pronounced, and M'Dougal was
free from the pains of the law, though she had still to fear the fury of
an unappeased public.

The _Edinburgh Evening Courant_ of Saturday, 27th December, thus described
the appearance of the prisoners when the Lord Justice-Clerk addressed
them:--"The scene was altogether awful and impressive. The prisoner stood
up with unshaken firmness. Not a muscle of his features was discomposed
during the solemn address of the Lord Justice-Clerk consigning him to his
doom. The female prisoner was much agitated, and was drowned in tears
during the whole course of the melancholy procedure."

The trial was thus concluded, the court having sat, with certain intervals
for refreshment, from ten o'clock in the forenoon of Wednesday, the 24th
of January, until nearly ten o'clock next morning. Burke, it has been
seen, was cool and collected, his mind having been made up before the
judicial proceedings began as to how they were likely to end. About four
o'clock on Wednesday afternoon he asked one of the jailors near him when
dinner would be provided, and on being informed that the court would not
adjourn for that meal until about six o'clock, he begged to be given a
biscuit or two, as he was afraid he would lose his appetite before the
dinner hour. M'Dougal, however, was not so calm, and during the whole
course of the trial manifested an amount of anxiety as to her position not
shown by her companion.




CHAPTER XXIV.

    _The Interest in the Trial--Public Feeling as to the Remit--Press
    Opinions--Attack on Dr. Knox's House._


The news of the result of the trial spread rapidly. All the Edinburgh
newspapers gave lengthened reports of the proceedings--putting the
"affairs of State" to a side for once--and in those cases where the usual
publication day of a journal was on the Thursday, the day on which the
trial closed, second editions containing the verdict and sentence were
issued. The _Evening Courant_ was at the pains to obtain statistics of the
circulation of the newspapers. Between the Thursday morning and Saturday
night it was calculated that not fewer than 8000 extra copies were sold,
representing a money value of nearly £240. This was certainly surprising
when the high price charged for the journals is taken into account, and is
a testimony to the intense interest taken in the trial by the people at
large.

The result of the trial was received with mingled feelings. The liveliest
satisfaction was felt at the conviction of Burke; but the dismissal of
M'Dougal, and the probable escape of Hare and his wife through having
become informers, caused a great amount of discontent. The evidence given
by the two principal witnesses showed that they were as much guilty of the
offence as Burke himself, and an impression began to get abroad that Hare
was after all the leading spirit in the conspiracy, and that he had, as
the counsel for the defence had suggested, made Burke his last victim.
This strong dislike, or rather detestation, to Hare did not, however, have
a compensating effect by producing sympathy for Burke--the popular mind
was too deeply convinced of his guilt to think that he other than fully
deserved the doom that had been pronounced upon him. And the peculiar
feature of the matter was this, that while there was no need for the Lord
Advocate proceeding further against Burke in respect of the first and
second charges on the indictment, since he had been condemned on the
third, the great mass of the people pronounced an unmistakable verdict of
guilty against him for the murder of Daft Jamie; and the _Courant_ shortly
after the trial deepened the impression by stating that it was Burke
himself who enticed the poor natural into his den, though there is every
reason to believe that this was a mistake. The disappearance and cruel
fate of that unfortunate lad had perhaps more to do with the "prejudice,"
as it was called at the trial, against the two prisoners and their
accomplices than any other item in the case.

The _Caledonian Mercury_ of Thursday, the 25th December, the day on which
sentence was passed, had the following among other comments on the
proceedings of the previous twenty-four hours:--

"No trial in the memory of any man now living has excited so deep,
universal and (we may also add) appalling an interest as that of William
Burke and his female associate. By the statements which have from time
appeared in the newspapers, public feeling has been worked up to its
highest pitch of excitement, and the case, in so far as the miserable
pannels were concerned, prejudiced by the natural abhorrence which the
account of a new and unparalleled crime is calculated to excite.... At the
same time, it is not so much to the accounts published in the newspapers
which merely embodied and gave greater currency to the statements
circulating in Society, as to the extraordinary, nay, unparalleled
circumstances of the case, that the strong excitement of the public mind
must be ascribed. These are without any precedent in the records of our
criminal practice, and, in fact, amount to the realization of a nursery
tale. The recent deplorable increase of crime has made us familiar with
several new atrocities: poisoning is now, it seems, rendered subsidiary to
the commission of theft: stabbing, and attempts at assassination, are
matters of almost everyday occurrence; and murder has grown so familiar
to us, that it has almost ceased to be viewed with that instinctive and
inexpressible dread which the commission of the greatest crime against the
laws of God and society used to excite. But the present is the first
instance of murder alleged to have been perpetrated with aforethought
purpose and intent of selling the murdered body as a subject of dissection
to anatomists; it is a new species of assassination, or murder for hire;
and as such, no less than from the general horror felt by the people of
this country at the process, from ministering to which the reward was
expected, it was certainly calculated to make a deep impression on the
public mind, and to awaken feelings of strong and appalling interest in
the time of the trial. Of the extent to which this had taken place, it was
easy to judge from what was everywhere observable on Monday and Tuesday.
The approaching trial formed the universal topic of conversation, and all
sorts of speculations and conjectures were afloat as to the circumstances
likely to be disclosed in the course of it, and the various results to
which it would eventually lead. As the day drew near, the interest
deepened; and it was easy to see that the common people shared strongly in
the general excitement. The coming trial they expected to disclose
something which they had often dreamed of or imagined, or heard recounted
around an evening's fire, like a raw-head-and-bloody bones story, but
which they never, in their sober judgment, either feared or believed to be
possible; and they looked forward to it with corresponding but
indescribable emotions. In short, all classes participated more or less in
a common feeling respecting the case of this unhappy man and his
associate; all expected fearful disclosures; none, we are convinced,
wished for anything but justice."

This was the expectation of the public, but it was, unfortunately, not
altogether realised. True, the mystery attending the murder of Mrs.
Docherty had been cleared up, but owing to the legal objections nothing
had been said as to how Mary Paterson and Daft Jamie met their death. This
had operated against a proper disclosure in more ways than one. The
limitation of the indictment confined the informer's evidence, one-sided
though it undoubtedly was, to one crime, and prevented it being given in
the case of the others; and, further, that limitation did away with the
necessity of calling Dr. Knox and the other medical men whose names were
on the list of witnesses, and who were supposed to be mixed up in the
transaction. "Where are the Doctors?" was the question when the trial
closed without any appearance of them; and it was repeated out of court
with threatening emphasis. In the case which went to trial, and on which
Burke was condemned, there was really no need for them. The body had been
recovered and identified; there was no doubt as to the murder; the whole
subject of inquiry was--By whom was it committed? Had the other charges in
the indictment gone to the knowledge of an assize, the evidence of the
doctors and their assistants would have been required, for they, and they
only, could have spoken to the appearance and probable identity of
subjects supplied to them about certain dates, and supposed to be the
bodies of the unfortunate victims of the persons placed at the bar. Then,
they would have been indispensible; as it was, they were not needed, with
the result that public curiosity had only been whetted, not satisfied. And
a circumstance that helped to make this feeling all the more intense was
that the indictment, in so far as it related to the first two charges,
seemed to have been framed on information supplied by Hare; while the fact
that the Lord Advocate made them part of the libel, and intimated the
production of certain articles belonging to the two victims, gave more
than reasonable ground for the assumption that he was convinced he had a
good case, otherwise he would not have sought to lay it before a jury.
This fact, combined with the natural thirst for legal vengeance, gave the
public hope that the officers for the Crown would be able to put Hare and
his wife upon their trial for some crime other than any that were
mentioned in the indictment, but in the same series, and that by this
means the whole plot, with all relating to it, would be laid bare.

All these circumstances caused a strong feeling of discontent among every
class of the community, but especially among the lower orders, who seemed
to think their lives menaced by criminals of the stamp of Burke and Hare.
Much excitement consequently prevailed, but though disturbances were
feared by the authorities, no serious breach of the public peace occurred
until Sunday, 28th December. On that day a band of young men attacked Dr.
Knox's house in Minto Street, and they were only driven off by a strong
force of police after they had broken a great quantity of window-glass.




CHAPTER XXV.

    _Burke's Behaviour in Prison--Liberation of M'Dougal, and the
    Consequent Riot--Visitors at Burke's House in the West Port--Burke's
    Idea of the Obligations of Dr. Knox--His Confessions._


All through the trial Burke had seemed callous and indifferent, but when
he was removed from the court-room to the lock-up he was considerably
agitated. He threw himself on his knees on the floor of his cell and
prayed to God, to whom he had long been a stranger, and to whose mercy the
judge had so earnestly commended him. After this he appeared to be
considerably relieved, and during the rest of the day he was comparatively
cheerful. He spoke a good deal to the policeman who was beside him, and
said he was pleased at the acquittal of M'Dougal. Without any hesitation
he conversed freely about the murder of Docherty, who, he said, was not
murdered by him in the way described by Hare. That individual was himself
the murderer, though, he admitted, he had held the unfortunate woman's
hands to prevent her from struggling. The policeman was a fair type of the
public, as a question he put to Burke amply proved. He told Burke that he
wondered above all things how he could imbrue his hands in the blood of
Daft Jamie. That Burke was in a state of semi-delirium is shown by his
answer--as he hoped to meet with mercy at the throne of grace, his hand
was not concerned in that murder; Hare and his wife were the sole
perpetrators of it, though he had decoyed the poor simpleton into their
house. That his mind was in a strange state he admitted by adding, that
after he was more composed he would make disclosures that would implicate
several others besides Hare and his wife in crimes similar to that for
which he was condemned; and if he could make sure of the hanging of Hare,
he would die happy. How did he feel when pursuing his horrible vocation?
was the next query of the constable. In his waking moments he had no
feeling, for he drank to deaden conscience, but when he slept he had
frightful dreams. He also expressed a wish that one of his counsel should
call on him that he might furnish him with notes of his life and
adventures, as he desired his history to be published, whether for
notoriety or as a warning to others, he did not say. In the course of that
evening he read two chapters of the Bible, and afterwards retired to rest.
His sleep, however, was not peaceful. He awoke in a frantic state every
now and then; but after a short time he became more composed, and fell
asleep again.

At two o'clock on Friday morning he was removed quietly in a coach to the
Calton Hill Prison, and placed in the condemned cell. Here the frenzy
under which he had been labouring since his condemnation took another
turn. He threw aside the semi-religious feeling which seemed to sway his
mind the day before, and turned fiercely to the jailor--for there was
always one beside him, as, before his trial, he had threatened
self-destruction--and said: "This is a d----d cold place you have brought
me till." The thirst for vengeance against Hare was still strong in him.
He sat thinking over their connection, and broke out every now and again
into curses against his one-time associate. Hare, he declared, was more
guilty than he was. "Hare," he said, "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." An
officer said to him, "I think I could never wish to see that man forgiven
who could murder that poor, harmless, good-natured idiot, Daft Jamie."
Burke replied with fierce earnestness:--"My days are numbered. I am soon
to die by the hands of man. I have no more to fear, and can have no
interest in telling a lie, and I declare that I 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 so far, as I assisted to carry
his body to Dr. Knox, and got a share of the money." Later in the day, he
dropped into the frame of mind in which he was after his sentence, and
willingly acknowledged to his jailors that he was guilty, though beyond
that he declined to satisfy their curiosity. As the evening advanced he
asked if he would be allowed to pray. There was, of course, no objection,
and again he petitioned the Almighty for forgiveness, and specially
mentioned Helen M'Dougal, that her heart might be touched and turned from
evil.

This was the night on which M'Dougal was liberated. It was feared that the
infuriated mob that paced the streets of the city after the close of the
trial would tear her to pieces, and she had, as a matter of safety, been
detained in the lock-up. Immediately on her liberation, she returned to
her house in the West Port, and remained there unmolested until the next
night. Then she went out to a shop in the neighbourhood for the purpose of
purchasing some whisky--Burke's prayer had not yet been answered. The
shop-keeper refused to supply her, and on her way home she was noticed by
a number of boys, who, recognising her, raised the cry--"There's
M'Dougal." Speedily a crowd assembled--a rough, tumultous crowd, strongly
under the sway of Judge Lynch. Fortunately for her, the police came to her
rescue, and, again for safety, took her to the watch-house in Wester
Portsburgh. The infuriated mob endeavoured to prevent this, and sought to
tear the woman from the grasp of the officers in order that they might
execute summary justice upon her; but her guardians drew their staves, and
by laying about them in a determined manner, attained their purpose. At
last the watch-house was reached, but still M'Dougal was not safe. The
crowd, which had grown to huge dimensions, attacked the place from every
side, smashed the windows, and seemed so determined to gain admittance and
work their will upon the unfortunate woman, that the officers, judging
themselves unable to make sufficient stand, had her dressed in men's
clothes, and she escaped by a back window unobserved. A show of
resistance was made for a short time to allow M'Dougal to reach a place of
safety, and then it was announced to the mob that she was being detained
in order to give evidence against Hare. This pacified the passions of the
people, for they were willing she should escape in the meantime if there
was any chance of making sure that Hare would be punished, and they
quietly dispersed. M'Dougal, though out of the office, was still under
police protection, and on Sunday, 28th December, she was accompanied
outside the city, on her way to Stirlingshire, with, it was stated,
between ten and twelve pounds in her possession.

Up till the Friday night following the trial, the house occupied by Burke
and M'Dougal, in the West Port, was visited by great crowds of people, who
wished, out of curiosity, to see the place where such foul crimes had been
perpetrated. On that night, however, the person who had the key gave it up
to the landlord, as he wished to escape the imputation cast upon him by
some, that he had been making money by showing it off. On the following
Sunday, also, the street was crowded by well-dressed people, all attracted
to the scene by its evil reputation. Here is the description given by one
of the Edinburgh newspapers of that period, of the houses occupied by
Burke and his accomplice:--"The immediate entrance to it [Burke's house]
is appropriate--namely, through a dark passage, where the women stood
while the murder of the Irish woman was being perpetrated. The dwelling is
one small room, an oblong square, which presents the exact appearance it
had when the culprits were apprehended. There is still the straw at the
foot of the bed, in which the murdered woman was concealed. Altogether, it
has an air of the most squalid poverty and want of arrangement. On the
floor is a quantity of wretched old shoes, of all sizes, meant by Burke,
perhaps, to indicate his being a cobbler; but they are so wretchedly worn,
that we cannot suppose they were left with him to be mended, or that he
designed to improve their appearance, for the purpose of selling them. We
incline to think that they belonged to some of his victims. The dwelling
is most conveniently situate for the murderous trade he pursued--there
being many obscure approaches to it from different directions. Hare's
dwelling, also, has attracted many visitors. Its appearance is equally
deplorable with that of Burke. It is on the ground-floor, consists of two
apartments, and overlooks a gloomy close. Beside it is a sort of stable,
used by Hare as a pig-stye, and secured with a large padlock. In this it
is believed Hare and Burke committed many of their butcheries; and here,
we are inclined to think, Daft Jamie encountered his fate."

But to return to Burke in the condemned cell. As the time passed on, his
mind appeared to be agitated for brief intervals, though in general he
seemed resigned to the fate his crimes so richly deserved. On one occasion
he broke out in a curious manner. He had been sitting quietly, apparently
thinking over his past life, and of the near approach of its end, when he
startled his attendant by saying--

"I think I am entitled, and ought to get that five pounds from Dr. Knox
which is still unpaid on the body of Docherty."

"Why, Dr. Knox lost by the transaction, as the body was taken from him,"
was the reply of the amazed warder.

"That was not my business," said Burke. "I delivered the subject, and he
ought to have kept it."

"But you forget that were the money paid, Hare would have the right to the
half of it," argued the other.

"I have got a tolerable pair of trousers," explained Burke, musingly, "and
since I am to appear before the public, I should like to be respectable. I
have not a coat and waistcoat that I can appear in, and if I got that five
pounds I could buy them."

As the time went on Burke was induced to make a confession of his crimes.
On the 3rd of January, 1829, he dictated a confession before Sheriff Tait,
the Procurator-Fiscal, and the assistant Sheriff-Clerk; and on the 22nd of
the same month he supplemented it by a short statement, made in the
presence of the same parties, with the addition of the Rev. Wm. Reid, a
Roman Catholic priest. Application was made to the Lord Advocate by an
Edinburgh gentleman to obtain admission to Burke's cell to receive a
confession from the criminal, but this was refused; and on an appeal being
made to the Home Secretary the refusal was confirmed. On the 21st of
January, however, the condemned man made another and fuller confession,
but this time unofficial, and this document had such a curious history
that an account of it must be reserved until the proper time. Between his
condemnation and execution Burke was visited by Protestant and Roman
Catholic clergymen, and he received the ministrations of both without
preference.




CHAPTER XXVI.

    _"The Complicity of the Doctors"--Numerous Disappearances--Dr. Knox
    and David Paterson--Paterson Defends Himself--"The Echo of Surgeon's
    Square"--The Scapegoat._


As time went on the excitement among the public increased, and the
newspapers, thoroughly roused to the importance of the West Port murders,
and freed from restraint by the decision of the court, spoke out
fearlessly. "The complicity of the doctors," as it was called, came in for
a large share of attention and severe comment; while rumours as to the
action the authorities intended to take regarding Hare and his wife were
eagerly canvassed. It was stated that Hare, after the trial, made
important disclosures, confessing to having been concerned in no less than
twelve different acts of murder, in some of which he was the principal, in
others an accessory; and that he knew of another, though he was not in any
way a party to the commission of it. Then it was said that Burke had
confessed to having sold some thirty or thirty-five uninterred bodies
during the previous two years, and it was argued that these could only
have been obtained by murder, notably the murder of unfortunate women,
large numbers of whom had mysteriously disappeared in that time, no one
knew how. Natural deaths had become very rare among that class, and for
some time the interment of one of them was a thing almost unknown. This,
it was argued, showed that a gigantic conspiracy to murder, for the
purpose of obtaining subjects for dissection, had been going on in
Edinburgh, and it was suspected that the gang was larger than it really
was. A medical man informed a journalist that in the autumn of 1828 the
body of a woman was offered for sale by some miscreants--"probably of
Burke's gang," was the opinion hazarded--to the assistant of an eminent
teacher of anatomy in Edinburgh. The assistant did not know them, for they
were not regular resurrectionists--he knew _them_ well enough--but as he
required a subject, he told them to bring the body, and if it were
suitable he would purchase it. The body was conveyed to the
dissecting-room the same evening, and on being turned out of the sack the
assistant was startled to see it was that of a woman of the town, with her
clothes and shoes and stockings on. He carefully examined the body, and
found there was an enormous fracture on the back of the head, and a large
portion of the skull driven in, as if by the blow of a hammer. With an
oath he asked them where and how they got the body, and one of them coolly
replied that it was the body of an unfortunate who had been _popped_ in a
brawl in Halkerston's Wynd. The "subject" was refused, and the merchants
had to take it elsewhere.

This and many similar stories naturally gave rise to a demand for a
searching investigation alike in the public interest and in the interests
of the teachers of anatomy themselves. It was advocated that all the
anatomical teachers, and others who used _cadavera_ for their classes,
both in and out of the university, ought to be examined as to the manner
in which they were accustomed to receive their subjects. In particular,
the assistants and students of Dr. Knox during the two previous sessions
ought to undergo an examination as to the quarter whence bodies were
procured, the state in which they were received, and the manner in which
they were dissected. Without such a complete and thorough examination, it
was argued, the public could have no guarantee that every anatomical
teacher in Edinburgh had not a Burke in his pay; for it seemed to be the
impression in the minds of the people "that one gentleman stands in the
same relation to Burke that the murderer of Banquo did to Macbeth."

The _Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle_ was especially outspoken in respect to
Dr. Knox. "With regard to Dr. Knox," this journal said, "too much delicacy
and reserve have been maintained by a part of the press. When the
atrocities in question first transpired, it was stated that Knox conducted
himself with the utmost civility towards the police officers who went to
his house in search of the body, when the fact is, he swore at them from
his window, and threatened to blow their brains out; and it was only upon
their proceeding to force the door of his lecture-room, that it was opened
by one of the keepers." From Knox, the _Chronicle_ passed on to Paterson,
his curator or porter, who, that journal asserted, "actually offered
Docherty for sale to a respectable gentleman in the profession before she
was despatched; he saw her in Burke's house immediately after the spark of
life had been extinguished; and he then again offered her for fifteen
pounds to the same gentleman, who indignantly ordered him out of his
house." The _Caledonian Mercury_ was equally plain, and would give no
countenance to the idea that Knox and his assistants had been imposed upon
by Burke and Hare, and gave all its weight in favour of the "complicity"
idea. It also repeated the story of the supposed negotiations between
Paterson and "the most respectable teacher of anatomy" as to the sale of
Docherty's body for fifteen pounds, with this addition that he stated to
the gentleman in question, on his second visit, "that the body he wished
to dispose of was the body of a woman; and that he had 'a desperate gang'
in his pay, through whom he could procure as many subjects as he wished
for."

Knox remained silent under all these charges, but Paterson could not, and
he wrote a letter on the 15th January to the editor of the _Caledonian
Mercury_. He contended that he had been shamefully wronged by "the many
false and cruel accusations made against him," and stated that he had
"only kept silence by advice of Dr. Knox, as he was, according to promise,
to espouse my cause, and clear my innocence; but which I now find he has
cruelly failed to perform. And I now most solemnly protest, and can prove,
that throughout all the services rendered by me to Dr. Knox, I acted
entirely under his own guidance and direction." He also denied a
statement to the effect that he had absconded, and had been dismissed from
Dr. Knox's service; and he called upon the authorities, if they conceived
him in any way guilty in the transaction, to bring him to a public trial,
and either let him be found guilty or have the benefit of an honourable
acquittal. To this letter the editor of the _Mercury_ appended some
questions, but these will be best explained by a quotation from a letter
from Paterson, dated 17th January, 1829, in reply to them. He
says:--"After the publication of my letter to you in this day's paper, I
observe you have inserted the following queries:--First, whether it be
true or the reverse, that about one o'clock on the morning of 1st November
last, I, in conjunction with another individual whom I well know, offered
the body of a woman for sale to a highly-respectable lecturer on anatomy?
My answer is simply, No. Secondly, whether or not I asked fifteen pounds
for the subject, stating at the same time, that Dr. Knox would give only
twelve?--Answer, No. Thirdly, whether I did not say, that I wished to have
no further dealings with the Doctor, because he had handed us over to his
(the Dr.'s) assistants? My answer is, No. And lastly, whether the body so
offered was or was not the body of the woman Docherty? To this I answer,
that having no body to offer, the transaction could not take place."
Paterson proceeded to explain, however, that about three weeks before the
murder of Docherty a friend of the "most respectable anatomist," referred
to by the _Mercury_, called on him and asked where the individuals lived
that were in the habit of supplying Dr. Knox with subjects. He did not
know, so he could not give any information, but as the sum of fifteen
pounds was offered for a subject he promised that the next time he saw the
resurrectionists he would mention the matter to them, provided, always,
that Dr. Knox was supplied. Paterson again gave a most emphatic denial to
the statement of his dismissal, which the _Mercury_ had reported upon the
authority of Dr. Knox himself, and he enclosed a copy of a letter from
that gentleman, dated the 11th January, asking him to return to his
employment.

Again the _Mercury_ returned to the charge, and said:--"Now this is not a
question of probability but of _fact_; and we again ask him (Paterson),
_whose_ was the corpse he confessedly offered for sale an hour or an hour
and a-half _after_ Burke had, according to his own evidence in the
witness-box, told him he had 'something for the doctor, which would be
ready in the morning.'" Paterson replied to this on the 23rd January, and
complained that he was being made "the scape-goat for a personage in
higher life." As his letter is not only interesting in itself, but also
because there is introduced in it an account of a transaction with Andrew
Merrilees--the Merry Andrew of an early chapter of this work--it is worth
quoting pretty fully.

"I will now give you," says Paterson, "what I trust the public will
consider a _satisfactory_ explanation of the transaction alluded to in
your paper of the 22nd, which will at the same time answer the queries in
the _Caledonian Mercury_ of the 17th. About three weeks before the murder
of Docherty, a Mr. ---- called upon me, who was very intimate (or appeared
to be so) with Dr. ----. During the conversation, in a walk along the
Bridges, the topic turned upon the scarcity of subjects amongst the
lecturers. I was asked how Dr. ---- was supplied; and after informing him
to the best of my knowledge, he, Mr. ----, said he understood that Dr.
---- could not get one, and that he had offered him fifteen pounds if he
could get one for him. My answer was, that I thought there was nothing
more easy, as there were plenty of resurrection men came about Dr. ----'s
rooms, who might procure one for him. He then requested me to accompany
him to Dr. ----'s house, and he would ascertain if Dr. ---- had got one. I
did so. Dr. ---- and Mr. ---- talked for some time on various matters,
when the discourse turned upon the matter in question. I heard Dr.
----offer fifteen pounds for a subject, as he was in great straits. _I
took no part in the conversation, nor made any remark_; but after we had
left Dr. ----, Mr. ---- strongly urged me to allow a subject to go to Dr.
----'s rooms, when any should arrive, without the knowledge of Dr. ----,
for which no doubt _I was to receive a remuneration for my trouble_. Dr.
----about that time had fifteen subjects, and I did resolve to allow one
to Dr. ---- at the first opportunity. Shortly after this time, Burke and
Hare brought a subject, but not having an opportunity of speaking to them
that night, resolved to do so when I next saw them, or any _other_ of the
resurrectionists. A few days after a notorious resurrectionist called at
the rooms and informed me that he was going to the country upon business,
and inquired if the Dr. was in want of goods. I replied that possibly he
might, but that I wanted one for a friend, and would pay him when he
returned. The bargain was struck, and he received earnest and a trunk,
saying he had two customers before me, and it might be eight or ten days
before he could supply me, as the grounds were strictly watched. This
passed over, and on Friday evening, the 31st October, a person brought a
letter addressed to Mr. ----, Surgeon's Square. This turned out to be from
Andrew M----s (or Merry Andrew, as he was styled). The following is a
literal copy:--

    "'OCT. 29.

    "'Doctor am in the east, and has been doin little busnis, an short of
    siller send out abot aught and twenty shilins way the carer the thing
    will bee in abot 4 on Saturday mornin its a shusa, hae the plase open.

    "'AND. M----S.'

Just after I received this letter I went with Mr. ---- to spend the
evening, and returned home about twelve o'clock. I found Burke knocking at
the door of my lodgings.... After my return from Burke's, which was only a
few minutes past twelve o'clock, I went to bed: the letter had escaped my
memory. I slept none: the suspicions I had entertained of Burke and Hare,
and the determination I had come to _to examine the body of the subject
they were to send_, and a retrospective view of their late conduct, passed
before me. The letter now came into my mind; it was between _three and
four o'clock_: I went to Dr. ----; did say I expected a subject from his
friend: _did not say what place_. The Doctor desired it to be sent to his
lecture-rooms, as his assistants were or would be in waiting. He did not
refuse it, as has been alleged. The Doctor did not receive it, however, as
Mr. Andrew M----s thought proper to address it to another quarter--a very
common trick with him, especially if he received part in advance.... I
confess that the circumstance of the subject coming from the east at the
nick of time Docherty was murdered looks rather suspicious. But when I
inform you that I have seen three subjects at the same time of day sent to
the lecture-room from different quarters, your suspicions will cease." For
the third time he denied that he had been dismissed by Dr. Knox, and said
that since his last letter the Doctor had sent for him, expressing the
most friendly intentions towards him.

But a more serious charge than that was made against David Paterson in a
communication from Dr. Knox's principal assistants, also published in the
_Caledonian Mercury_. These gentlemen, after declaring that Paterson was
not "keeper of the museum belonging to Dr. Knox," though he was cited and
gave his evidence at the trial of Burke as such, said:--"With regard to
his connexion with Burke and Hare, he was so far associated with them,
that he was on the eve of entering into an agreement with one of these
miscreants to accompany him to Ireland, that they might (as he said)
procure a greater supply of subjects, and at less price, the people being
poorer there." Whether this was the case or not was never made clear; but
it was certainly stated by Burke in his _Courant_ confessions that such a
project was on foot, though he did not state who the other party was.
Popular belief was that it was Paterson.

Paterson had taken another method of repelling the allegations brought
against him. This was a pamphlet, in the form of a letter to the Lord
Advocate, under the title of "An Echo from Surgeon's Square." The
_Courant_ of Thursday, 22nd January, gave an account of this document, and
taking it all in all, after making allowance for the prejudice the paper
exhibited in common with the great mass of the public against the man, it
is a fair indication of its contents. The statement, it said, had for its
object the vindication of Mr. D. Paterson, the late assistant of Dr. Knox,
and of course threw the blame on others. The pamphlet contained a good
deal of irrelevant matter, and sundry details as to the means of procuring
subjects for the anatomical schools which were not of great interest, and
rather calculated to do injury. It contained, however, "information of
greater importance, if it can be depended on, which we have no doubt will
be eagerly sought after in the present general excitation." The document
stated that D---- P---- was first in the employment of Dr. ---- in the
year 1824 or 1825, for about one year, and, on his return from the army at
the close of 1827, he applied to Dr. ---- for his former situation, and
was engaged in the beginning of February, 1828, as museum keeper; his
salary was very small, but from the fees paid him by the students, he
contrived to make a very comfortable livelihood. He had nothing whatever
to do with the subjects (or bodies) brought to the lecture room; his sole
duty was to keep the museum. At that time he did not know how the doctor
obtained his subjects. Shortly after he saw Burke and Hare (Burke was
called John, and Hare, William), and understood from a conversation that
passed between them and one of the assistants that they had been in the
habit of supplying subjects previous to that time. He threw the blame of
negociating with these two men on one of Dr. Knox's assistants, and said
that once, after he began to be suspicious of the true nature of the
calling of these two men, he asked Burke where he got the body he was then
offering. The man replied sternly--"If I am to be catechised by you where
and how I get subjects, I will inform the doctor of it, and if he allows
you to do so, I will bring no more to him, mind that." In other respects
the "Echo" was very similar to the letter by Paterson already quoted.

But before concluding this part of the subject it will be proper to give
Leighton's opinion of Paterson's position in the dispute. Writing in 1860
on the complicity of the doctors, he gives this calm testimony in
Paterson's favour:--"As for the curator, who is still a respectable
inhabitant of Edinburgh, and upon whom the short-lived blind fury of some
newspapers of the time fell, with much surprise to himself, and much
indignation elsewhere, he was, of all the parties concerned, the most free
from blame; nor did any one but himself come forward and assist the
authorities in the prosecution. Nay, it is understood that, under a
passing reflection that the number of apparently unexhumed bodies brought
by these men required explanation; he mentioned the circumstance to his
principal, and that gentleman silenced him at once by the statement that
they had long known of the practice of sale and purchase, and so the
suspicion passed away." Viewing the whole matter after the lapse of fully
half a century, there seems no reason to doubt that Paterson, though
certain of his acts were, to say the least of it, shady, and morally
reprehensible, if not legally punishable, was made, as he himself said,
"the scape-goat for a personage in higher life."




CHAPTER XXVII.

    _The Legal Position of Hare and his Wife--Gossip about Burke--Mrs.
    Hare and her Child--Constantine Burke--Anatomical Instruction--Mrs.
    Docherty's Antecedents._


But in addition to this outcry against Paterson, the public mind was, as
has already been indicated, agitated by the rumours that no further action
was to be taken against Hare, and that he and his wife were to be
liberated. The _Caledonian Mercury_ was greatly exercised over the
following passage in the charge given to the jury at the trial by the Lord
Justice-Clerk:--"They (the jury) had been told of the Hares being
concerned in the 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 indictment now under trial, and which had not
been sent to the jury." The _Mercury_ argued, and quoted legal
authorities, too, that Hare and his wife were liable to be tried for the
murders of Mary Paterson and Daft Jamie, regarding which they had not
given evidence; and that the protection of the court only extended to any
self-crimination in the case in which they had given evidence. "The public
prosecutor," it was contended, "has discharged all title to molest them in
regard to the murder of Docherty, the only part of the libel against Burke
which went to trial, because they gave evidence and criminated themselves
in regard to the crime; but he has not discharged this title to pursue
them for the murder of Paterson or Daft Jamie; and, accordingly, when Mr.
Cockburn proposed to interrogate Hare in his cross-examination, concerning
his connection with the latter crime, the Court interposed, by telling the
witness that he was entitled to decline answering such a question as
tending to criminate himself, and as beyond the reach of the protection
afforded him for his evidence in the case of Docherty. It was frequently
stated from the bench, that his answering the question put by Mr. Cockburn
would implicate himself in the crime. And how else could he have been
entitled to decline answering it? As a protected _socius_, he was bound to
answer every question that should be asked him within the compass of that
protection; and if it had extended to and included the murder of Jamie,
which was included in the same charge, the obligation to answer would, of
course, have been co-extensive with the protection." The _Edinburgh Weekly
Chronicle_ lamented "the acquittal of the fiend M'Dougal," and said there
had been some very painful suspicions that the investigation of these
murders was not to be further prosecuted. "We happen to know," they said,
"that a certain public functionary (not the Lord Advocate, whose zeal in
forwarding the late trial is beyond all praise) remarked the other day
that _they_ were perfectly sick of the business, and were resolved to stir
no further in it, lest it should bring shame on the city!... In the
present state of the public mind, no Lord Advocate will dare to say, 'Thus
far--(to the death of Burke)--shall the tide of public vengeance flow, and
no farther.'... It is satisfactory to reflect, however, that our law has
wisely restricted the Lord Advocate's prerogative, so that, even were he
disposed, he cannot screen a murderer from justice, if the deceased's
relations incline to prosecute him. The law says that murder shall not go
unavenged, if either the public, represented by the Lord Advocate, or
those who have been deprived by it of a near relative, insist for
punishment. Will not, then, the friends of some of the butchered
individuals, whose blood calls to Heaven for retribution, be roused to
prosecute the butchers? No one can doubt that money would be liberally
provided by the inhabitants to defray all expenses."

The rumours which so alarmed these newspapers, and, it must also be said,
a large portion of the public, had foundation in fact. After Hare and his
wife had given evidence against Burke, they were recommitted to jail under
a warrant of the Sheriff. This was done, probably, to allow the Lord
Advocate time to consider in what relationship he stood towards
them--whether he could try them on the first two charges in the
indictment, or whether he was bound to release them, they having turned
King's evidence. He seems to have come to the conclusion that he must
liberate them, and, accordingly, on the 19th of January, the commitment
was withdrawn. This was a wise decision, notwithstanding all that was said
to the contrary at the time in the public prints and elsewhere. If the
Crown could not gain a conviction against Burke of the murder of Docherty
without the aid of two of his accomplices, it was not at all likely that
it would be able to convict Hare and his wife without similar evidence.
Thus, so far as the public prosecutor was concerned, the two informers
were free; but proceedings of another kind were taken against Hare, who
was detained in prison pending their settlement, though his wife was
liberated on the 19th of January.

Other matters were also attracting the attention of the people, for every
issue of the newspapers gave circulation to gossipy stories about Burke or
his accomplices, or relating to circumstances bearing in some way or other
upon the subject which was causing such universal interest. It was stated,
for instance, that at one time Burke made considerable sums of money among
the unlettered inhabitants of the West Port by writing begging petitions,
and that while working at the construction of the Union Canal he for the
first time engaged in the trade of a resurrectionist. Whatever truth there
may have been in the first part of this statement, there is good reason to
believe that the latter part was founded upon mere idle rumour. It was
also alleged that in the course of the preceding summer Burke made an
attack upon an unfortunate girl in St. Cuthbert's Entry, at the head of
the West Port, evidently with murderous intent. She escaped from his
grasp, and ran to the watch-house, where she gave a particular
description of her assailant to the police, who would certainly have been
able to apprehend him had he not judiciously left the city for a time
until the hue and cry was given up. It is difficult to believe that Burke
would have acted so incautiously--that he should have sought to dispense
with that drugging with whisky which so often did half his work for him.
His friendly relationship with certain members of the police force was
emphasised by a statement that he was in the habit of going home at any
hour of the night or morning, always accompanied by the constable on the
beat, to whom he gave a glass or two of whisky out of a bottle he carried
with him, and it was urged that an inquiry should be made into this breach
of discipline.

Such were the items of gossip about Burke, to which publicity was given by
the newspapers, but a charge of a serious kind was made against Mrs. Hare
in the issue of the _Courant_ published on the 1st January, 1829. It was
stated that Mrs. Hare, after Log's death, and at the beginning of her
relationship with Hare, bore a child, which the people of the
neighbourhood asserted was murdered by her. So confidently was this
allegation put forward that it was added that there would be no difficulty
in obtaining sufficient evidence to establish a case against her for
destroying the life of the infant. A singular fact was mentioned in the
same paper in connection with Hare. His mother and sister from Ireland
arrived in Edinburgh a day or two before, purposing to visit him, and it
was not until they were within two miles of the city that they were
apprised of the fact that he was involved in a series of the most shocking
murders. Another statement was that Hare, in the course of the summer of
1828, had murdered a young woman who was a servant to one of the city
clergymen. This, if true, would point to the identity of the body over the
proceeds from the sale of which Burke quarrelled with his colleague.

Another person who came in for a share of public attention was Constantine
Burke, the brother of the condemned man, in whose house in the Canongate,
it has been seen, Mary Paterson was murdered. After the trial he was
continually in danger of being maltreated by the mob, and at last the
Sheriff gave him a small sum of money to enable him and his family to
leave the city. According to the _Courant_, Constantine had always been a
sober, industrious, poverty-pressed man. He admitted having once taken a
chest to Surgeon's Square, being conducted to the place by his brother and
Hare, although he was not aware of its contents or its destination.
Receiving ten shillings for his trouble, he suspected his employers were
resurrectionists, and he then declared he would do no work for them again.

While all these stories were in circulation, thoughtful persons were
considering the revelations in their most practical bearing. They admitted
the necessity for teachers of anatomy being supplied with a sufficient
number of subjects for dissection, for it was apparent that had the
legitimate supply been adequate, there would have been little temptation
to any one to enter upon a career of crime. Theories were started as to
how the evident defect was to be remedied, letters on all aspects of the
subject were sent to the newspapers, and a wordy battle was fought out.
Amid all this clamour, on the 5th of January, 1829, several of the
anatomical teachers in Edinburgh had an interview with the Lord Advocate;
and on the 7th of the same month the Royal College of Physicians and
Surgeons held a meeting at which they passed resolutions expressing regret
that anatomical instruction, which they conscientiously believed to be an
essential part in the education of medical men, should ever have furnished
a temptation to such unexampled atrocities, and calling upon the
Legislature to remove the restrictions under which such instruction was
then given.

This, however, was only one side of the question, and the resolutions,
right and proper in themselves, only served to inflame the public mind,
for they showed that bodies obtained at least in a surreptitious manner
were being used. Other incidents added to the general excitement. Several
boys, belonging to respectable families, disappeared suddenly, and the
conclusion at once jumped at by their despairing relatives was that they
had been stolen away to supply the dissecting tables of the teachers of
anatomy. No other explanation seemed at all tenable, until the missing
lads were discovered, some days later, in a village some miles from
Edinburgh, whither they had gone to hawk broadside or pamphlet accounts of
the trial of Burke and M'Dougal. Another matter which gave additional
cause for anxiety was an attempt to steal the body of a man from a house
in Edinburgh. Early on the morning of Tuesday, the 20th January, some
passers-by observed a curious-looking package being lowered by means of a
rope from the upper window of the house. On examination, it was found to
be the body of a man named M'Donald, better known locally as "Nosey," on
account of the size of his nasal organ, who had died the day before. The
thieves had broken into the house, where the corpse was lying unattended,
and were in the act of removing it when the discovery was made. They
managed to escape by the back of the house and were never captured.

This desultory chapter may be brought to a close by an interesting item
regarding Mrs. Docherty, the last victim of the West Port murderers, to
which publicity was given by the _Glasgow Herald_ shortly after the
conclusion of the trial. "The poor woman Sally Docherty or Campbell," it
was stated, "was well known amongst the inhabitants of the Old Wynd,
Glasgow, about two years ago, where she kept a lodging-house for indigent
people. She was a thin-faced woman, generally wore a red duffle-cloak, and
had, of course, experienced a great deal of hardships in the station of
life to which she was habituated. At the period alluded to, she had a son,
a shoemaker, and a young man for a husband, of the name of Campbell. The
last time she appeared in the Glasgow police office was as the complainer
against this fellow, who is still living, for demolishing all the
crockery, and pulling down her grate from the fire-place." It was in
search of the son mentioned in this notice that Mrs. Docherty went to
Edinburgh, where she met with a death the violent nature of which was not
inconsistent with the sad life she had lived. But it is a remarkable fact
that while the murder of this poor woman was the crime which led to the
discovery of the dreadful conspiracy in which Burke and Hare were engaged,
and to the execution of the former, the popular mind speedily lost hold of
the fact, and oral tradition in many parts of the country--in the city of
Edinburgh itself--even to this day, has it that Burke suffered the last
penalty of the law on the scaffold for the murder of Daft Jamie.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

    _Burke's Spiritual Condition--The Erection of the Scaffold--The
    Criminals Last Hours--Scene at the Execution--Behaviour of the
    People._


The hour for the closing scene of the Burke and Hare tragedy was now
almost come, and Burke, to all appearance, seemed to regard his
approaching fate with composure. He is even reported to have declared that
had a pardon been offered him he would have refused it; but, if the story
is true, it is more likely that the firm conviction that a pardon would
not be granted had as much to do with the remark as any sentiment of
resignation. It was simply a case of bowing before the inevitable. And so
far as the outward affairs of religion were concerned the condemned man
was very attentive, though it could not be said that he looked forward to
eternity with hope, or, if he did, he kept his feelings very much to
himself. A large section of the people, always inclined for dogmatic
discussion on religious matters, found full scope for their critical
powers in the consideration of Burke's spiritual state. The rank and
unbending Calvinists argued that a new spiritual birth was, under the
circumstances, if possible--and on that point they were doubtful--not at
all probable; while the Armenians, with a wider theology, thought in the
words of the Paraphrase:--

  "As long as life its term extends,
  Hope's blest dominion never ends;
  For while the lamp holds on to burn,
  The greatest sinner may return."

Theologians, however, could discuss as much as they liked, but it was
never certain whether Burke's spiritual state was such as to give reason
for hope.

The execution, it has already been seen, was fixed to take place on
Wednesday, the 28th January, 1829, and to this event the people had looked
forward with a ghastly satisfaction. Indeed, so high did public feeling
run that the authorities deemed it prudent to remove Burke from Calton
Hill Jail to the lock-up in Liberton's Wynd at four o'clock on the morning
of Tuesday, the 27th January, the day before the execution. This was
absolutely necessary, as, had the removal taken place at a time when the
people were about, or were expecting it, the probability was that, instead
of undergoing a judicial execution, Burke would have been torn to pieces
by an infuriated mob. The long confinement in prison had not changed his
appearance much. He was given a black suit in which to appear on the
scaffold, and this afforded him some consolation. Shortly after noon on
the same day, preparations were begun at the place of execution in the
Lawnmarket. Strong poles were fixed in the street, to support the chain by
which the crowd was to be kept back, and on this occasion the space was
considerably larger than usual. The work progressed, witnessed by a large
crowd, which gradually swelled in size, as the excited people came to see
the erection of the structure that was to work legal vengeance on a hated
murderer. As the night went on, and the work approached completion, the
rain fell heavily, but the crowd, notwithstanding, showed no diminution;
and whenever any important part of the erection was finished they raised
an approving cheer. About half-past ten o'clock the frame of the gibbet
was brought to the spot, and its appearance was the signal for a
tremendous shout. It was quickly put in its place, for the men did their
work with a grim satisfaction, and when all was completed, the crowd, as a
contemporary newspaper put it, "evinced their abhorrence of the monster
Burke, and all concerned in the West Port murders, by three tremendous
cheers; and these were heard as far away as Princes Street." This was
about two o'clock in the morning, and, wet and dismal though it was, those
anxious to see Burke suffer for his crimes were beginning to take up their
places. Closes and stairs were quickly packed by intending sight-seers,
who preferred to remain outside all morning than run the risk of being
disappointed by arriving late. By seven o'clock the vicinity of the
scaffold was occupied by one of the densest crowds until that time
witnessed on the streets of Edinburgh--from 20,000 to 25,000 persons were
calculated to be present--many of the best people in the city being among
them. Every window giving a view of the place of execution had been bought
up some days previous, the price paid varying, according to the excellence
of the view, from five to twenty shillings. "The scene at this time," said
the writer already quoted, "was deeply impressive. No person could without
emotion survey such a vast assemblage, so closely wedged together, gazing
on the fatal apparatus, and waiting in anxious and solemn silence the
arrival of the worst of murderers."

Matters, meanwhile, had been going on quietly inside the prison. Burke
had, during the day, been visited by the Rev. Messrs. Reid and Stewart,
two priests of the Roman Catholic Church, and the Rev. Messrs. Porteous
and Marshall, Protestant ministers, and he received their spiritual
consolations calmly, but without much apparent benefit, though he lamented
his connection with the murders to which he had confessed. He slept
soundly the greater part of that night, and rose about five o'clock on the
Wednesday morning. Shortly after wakening he held up his hands, and
remarked, with an earnestness that struck his attendants, "Oh, that the
hour was come which shall separate me from this world!" This was
thoroughly dramatic, but whether it proceeded from a weariness of this
life and a hope for a better, can never be known. An incident even more
dramatic, but similar in character, occurred shortly afterwards. He had
been placed in irons shortly after his condemnation, and he now expressed
a desire to be freed from them. The men proceeded to knock them off, and
the fetters fell with a "clank" on the floor of the cell. "So may all my
earthly chains fall!" exclaimed Burke. These remarks, whatever his
spiritual condition, showed that he was a man, however debased by a
terrible course of wickedness, of considerable education and natural
refinement. About half past six o'clock the two Catholic clergymen who had
been so attentive to him arrived at the lock-up, and for half an hour he
was closeted with Mr. Reid. Then he entered the keepers room, and sat down
for a short time in an arm-chair by the side of the fire, deeply immersed
in thought--that his meditations were saddening was apparent by the heavy
sighs that came now and then from his breast. He was at last fairly in the
presence of death; but the law was more merciful to him than he had been
to his victims--he was given time to prepare for the awful change, but
they were hurled in the midst of their sins, drunken and unrepentant, into
eternity. Bailies Small and Crichton had meantime entered the jail, and
the two priests commenced the last religious exercises. The condemned man
joined in the devotions with apparent fervour, and he seemed much affected
by the exhortation to "confide in the mercy of God." After that he retired
to an adjoining apartment, but on the way he was met by Williams, the
executioner, who accosted him in an unceremonious manner. Burke waved him
away, remarking, "I am not just ready for you yet," but Williams followed
him, and set about the work of pinioning. The criminal submitted to the
operation without a movement, and simply remarked that his handkerchief
was tied behind. When this was done he accepted a glass of wine which was
offered him, and on putting it to his lips he looked around, and gave his
last toast--"Farewell to all my friends!" For a few minutes he talked with
the Protestant ministers, and then the magistrates, dressed in their
official robes, re-entered the room, with their rods in their hands.
Burke, seeing the end had now come, expressed his gratitude to the
magistrates, and especially to Bailie Small, for their kindness to him,
and also to the prison and lock-up officials. The solemn procession then
formed, and marched out of the jail to the scaffold.

[Illustration: WILLIAM HARE. (From a Sketch taken in Court)]

Burke was supported on either side, as he walked up Liberton's Wynd
towards the Lawnmarket, by the Catholic priests, and he leaned on the arm
of Mr. Reid. The two bailies headed the procession, and whenever they made
their appearance the enormous crowd sent up one loud and simultaneous
shout. The condemned man was affected by this outburst of popular feeling,
and, as if afraid the mob might break through the barriers and tear him to
pieces, he made haste to ascend the scaffold. His appearance there was the
signal for another yell of execration from the multitude. Shouts of "Burke
him," "choke him," "No mercy, hangie," came from all sides; but otherwise
the crowd showed no signs of interfering. They wished to see the
hangman do his duty properly--if he did so, they had no particular desire
to take part in the work. Burke looked round somewhat defiantly, and then
quietly kneeled down by the side of one of the priests, and engaged in
devotional exercises for a few minutes; after which the Rev. Mr. Marshall
offered up a short prayer. This solemn ceremony, however, found small
favour with the spectators--they wished to see the culprit, and the
kneeling kept him out of their view, so they cried out to the persons on
the scaffold, "Stand out of the way," "Turn him round;" and though the
magistrates intimated by signs as well as they could the nature of the
ceremony that was going on, the clamour still continued, and there were
frequent shouts of "Hare, Hare, bring out Hare! Hang Knox, he's a _noxious
morsel_!" and others of a similar kind. About ten minutes had now gone,
and the crowd was becoming impatient. After he had completed his
devotions, Burke lifted the silk handkerchief upon which he had been
kneeling, and put it in his pocket. He gave a glance up to the gallows,
and then stepped on the drop with a firm step. The executioner proceeded
to adjust the rope round his neck, and his confessor said to him, "Now say
your creed; and when you come to the words, 'Lord Jesus Christ,' give the
signal, and die with his blessed name on your lips." The shouts from the
crowd still continued, and the people, out of their better reason by the
excitement, cried out, "Burke him; give him no rope;" "Do the same for
Hare;" "Weigh them together;" "Wash the blood from the land;" and "You'll
see Daft Jamie in a minute." Williams then tried to loosen Burke's
neckerchief, but he found some difficulty in doing so, and the condemned
man said, "The knot's behind." These were the only words Burke uttered on
the scaffold. The rope was then adjusted, a white cotton night-cap was put
on his head and pulled over his face, and Burke, with an air of firmness,
began the recitation of the creed. When he came to the holy name he gave
the signal, the bolt was drawn, and the greatest murderer of his
time--except, perhaps, his associate Hare--was swinging on the gallows.
The multitude set up a fearful yell, and every time the body of the dying
man gave a convulsive twitch the crowd cheered to the echo. An eye
witness said--"He struggled a good deal, and put out his legs as if to
catch something with his feet; but some of the undertaker's men, who were
beneath the drop, took him by the feet, and sent him spinning round--a
motion which was continued until he was drawn up above the level of the
scaffold." It was now fully a quarter past eight o'clock, and Burke had
been "separated from this world." The body was allowed to hang until five
minutes to nine o'clock, when the executioner cut it down amid the
gloating yells of the people. They made a rush forward to the scaffold as
if to lay hold of the corpse of the murderer, but they were kept back by
the strong force of policemen who lined the barriers. The assistants at
the scaffold, too, seemed to be affected by the general frenzy, and a
scramble took place among them for portions of the rope, or shavings from
the coffin, or any thing that would serve as a relic of the closing scene
of the West Port murders--the great Burke and Hare tragedies. The body was
conveyed to the lock-up, and the large crowd dispersed, without a single
mishap having occurred, though the people still laboured under intense
excitement, which even an accident might divert in a dangerous direction.




CHAPTER XXIX.

    _Lecture on Burke's Body--Riot among the Students--Excitement in
    Edinburgh--The Public Exhibition--Dissection of the Body of the
    Murderer--Phrenological Developments of Burke and Hare._


It was certainly a strange conclusion to the West Port tragedies that the
man who had been so active a participant in them, and who had assisted in
supplying so many "subjects" for dissection, should himself, after
death--a death also by strangulation--become a "subject" of more than
ordinary interest. Not only was that the case, but the public exhibition
of the body, while it may be regarded as being in a sense an act of
retributive justice, displays a certain amount of barbarity of feeling and
sentiment which it is difficult to believe could have existed in this
country so short a time ago as fifty years. The rapid advance made by all
classes during that period is generally admitted, but it should be borne
in mind, in reference to the events now about to be described, that only a
few years ago public executions were common, and that the change in the
manner caused among certain classes some little irritation. The propriety
of having executions in private is now fully and freely acknowledged, but
having regard to the comparatively recent change we should not look upon
our respected fathers and grandfathers as altogether barbarous.

But passing from the line of thought suggested by the events that followed
Burke's execution, the thread of the narrative may be continued. The body,
as already stated, was conveyed from the scaffold to the lock-up, and
there it remained until the next morning. It was expected it would be
taken to the College during the day, and a large crowd surrounded the
building. The motive of the people may have been simple curiosity, but the
authorities, being afraid the rougher part of the crowd, if they obtained
an opportunity, might seize the body and treat it with scant respect,
deemed it proper to delay the removal until such time as it could be done
with safety. This was done early on Thursday morning, when the excited
populace was asleep. The body was laid out on a table, and several eminent
scientists--among them Mr. Liston, Mr. George Combe, Sir William Hamilton,
and Mr. Joseph, the sculptor--who took a cast for a bust--examined it
before the students began to gather.

Leighton, who seems to have seen the body, says it was "that of a
thick-set muscular man, with a bull-neck, great development about the
upper parts, with immense thighs and calves, so full as to have the
appearance of globular masses. The countenance, as we saw it, was very far
from being placid, as commonly represented, if you could not have
perceived easily that there remained upon it the bitter expression of the
very scorn with which he had looked upon that world which pushed him out
of it, as having in his person defaced the image of his Maker." He
supplements this by a sentence from the notes of another eye-witness:--"He
(Burke) was one of the most symmetrical men I ever saw, finely-developed
muscles, and finely-formed, of the athlete class."

Dr. Munro, in the afternoon of the day the body was removed to the
College, gave a lecture upon it, and for this purpose the upper part of
the head was sawn off, and the brain exposed. The brain was described as
being unusually soft, but it was pointed out that a peculiar softness was
by no means uncommon in criminals who had suffered the last penalty of the
law. While this lecture was going on a large number of students had
assembled in the quadrangle of the College, and clamoured for admission.
Those who were entitled to be present at the class, opening at one o'clock
in the afternoon, were provided with tickets, but owing to the greatness
of the crowd it was with the utmost difficulty that these could be made
available, even with the assistance of the police. At last all the
ticket-holders were admitted, and then the doors were thrown open to as
many of the other students as the room would accommodate. Many, however,
were left outside. The lecture began at the regular hour, but the nature
of the subject caused it to extend over two hours, instead of the usual
time. Meanwhile, the crowd in the quadrangle had grown so unruly that a
strong body of police had to be called to preserve order. Instead of
keeping the youths in awe, this display of force rather exasperated them,
and they made several attempts to overpower the constables. In the course
of the struggle the glass in the windows of the dissecting room was
destroyed. The police had to use their staves, and many of the combatants
on both sides were injured, some of them rather seriously. The Lord
Provost and Bailie Small, the college bailie, put in an appearance,
thinking their presence would have a salutary effect, but they were glad
to retire with whole bones under the abuse that was showered upon them.
The disturbance continued until four o'clock, when Professor Christison
came to the rescue. He intimated that he had arranged for the admission of
the young men in bands of fifty at a time, and had given his own personal
guarantee for their good behaviour. This was an appeal to their honour,
which is always found to be effectual with a crowd of students, however
riotously inclined, and in the present instance the youths cheered the
professor lustily. The tumult ceased, and some of the ringleaders, who had
been apprehended by the police, were liberated on their parole by the
magistrates.

The students were thus pacified, but it was far otherwise with the city
mob. There had been a restlessness throughout Edinburgh all day, and it
was threatened that unless the public were admitted to view the corpse an
attack would be made on the college, and the remains of the murderer taken
out and torn to pieces. The manner in which the students had gained their
end was quite after the mind of the discontents, and in their case it was,
owing to greater numbers, likely to be more quickly successful. The
magistrates were in a quandary, but they came to the conclusion that it
would be better to have a public view, and in this way endeavour to allay
the tumultuous spirit that was abroad. Accordingly, they sent out scouts
among the crowds that thronged the streets to intimate their decision, and
by this means the people were induced to return home.

Those who witnessed the scene at the College of Edinburgh on Friday, the
30th January, 1829, would never readily forget it. The magistrates and the
university authorities had made the most elaborate preparations for
exhibiting the body of Burke. It was placed naked on a black marble table
in the anatomical theatre, and a through passage was arranged for the
accommodation of the visitors. The upper part of the skull, which had been
sawn off for the purposes of the lecturer on the preceding day, was
replaced, and to the uninitiated it was unlikely that what was apparently
a slight scar would be much noticed. "The spectacle," says Leighton, who
saw it, "was sufficiently ghastly to gratify the most epicurean appetite
for horrors. There was as yet no sign of corruption, so that the death
pallor, as it contrasted with the black marble table, showed strongly to
the inquiring and often revolting eye; but the face had become more blue,
and the shaved head, with marks of blood not entirely wiped off, rather
gave effect to the grin into which the features had settled at the moment
of death. However inviting to lovers of this kind of the picturesque the
broad chest that had lain with deadly pressure on so many victims--the
large thighs and round calves, indicating so much power--it was the face,
embodying a petrified scowl, and the wide-staring eyes, so fixed and
spectre-like, to which the attention was chiefly directed." It was to see
this sight that the people crowded the streets of the Old Town of
Edinburgh, and made it appear as if the occasion were one of general
holiday. The doors of the anatomy theatre were thrown open at ten o'clock
in the forenoon, and from that hour until dusk the crowd streamed through
the narrow passage in front of the body at the rate, it was calculated, of
sixty per minute, so that the total number who viewed it in this way was
about twenty-five thousand. The crowd was composed for the most part of
men, though some seven or eight women pressed in among the rest, but they
were roughly handled by the male spectators, and had their clothing torn.
Notwithstanding this extraordinary number there were still many who did
not obtain admittance, and in the hope that the exhibition would be
continued on the Saturday, many returned to the college next day, but to
their great disappointment they were refused admission. This was Burke's
last appearance.

An informant of Leighton gives the following interesting notice of the
subsequent treatment of the body of the murderer:--"After this exhibition
Burke was cut up and put in pickle for the lecture-table. He was cut up in
quarters, or rather portions, and salted, and, with a strange aptness of
poetical justice, put into barrels. At that time an early acquaintance and
school-fellow was assistant to the professor, and with him I frequently
visited the dissecting-room, when calling on him at his apartments in the
College. He is now a physician in the Carse of Gowrie. He shewed me
Burke's remains, and gave me the skin of his _neck_ and of the right arm.
These I had _tanned_--the neck brown, and the arm white. The white was as
pure as white kid, but as thick as white sheepskin; and the brown was like
brown tanned sheepskin. It was curious that the mark of the rope remained
on the leather after being tanned. Of that neck-leather I had a
tobacco-doss made; and on the white leather of the right arm I got
Johnston to print the portraits of Burke and his wife, and Hare, which I
gave to the noted antiquarian and collector of curiosities, Mr. Fraser,
jeweller, and it was in one of his cases for many years, may be still, if
he is alive."

Burke's body was thus destroyed, but the qualities which were denoted by
the developments of his head gave rise to an excited discussion between
phrenologists and their opponents. Combe, the apostle of phrenology, and
Sir William Hamilton, the metaphysician, with their followers, waged a
terrible war of words over the conclusions to be drawn from the
measurements of Burke's head. This is not the place to renew the
discussion, but in view of the importance of the question, an estimate of
the phrenological development of Burke, published at the time, may be
quoted. The account reads thus:--

PHRENOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT OF BURKE.

                      _Measurement._
                                                      INCHES.
  Circumference of the Head,                          22·1
  From the occipital spine to lower Individuality,     7·7
  From the ear to lower Individuality,                 5·
  From ditto to the centre of Philoprogenitiveness,    4·8
  From ditto to Firmness,                              5·4
  From ditto to Benevolence,                           5·7
  From ditto to Veneration,                            5·5
  From ditto to Conscientiousness,                     5·
  From Destructiveness to Destructiveness,             6·125
  From Cautiousness to Cautiousness,                   5·3
  From Ideality to Ideality,                           4·6
  From Acquisitiveness to Acquisitiveness,             5·8
  From Secretiveness to Secretiveness,                 5·7
  From Combativeness to Combativeness,                 5·5

_Development._

"Amativeness, very large. Philoprogenitiveness, full. Concentrativeness,
deficient. Adhesiveness, full. Combativeness, large. Destructiveness, very
large. Constructiveness, moderate. Acquisitiveness, large. Secretiveness,
large. Self-esteem, rather large. Love of approbation, rather large.
Cautiousness, rather large. Benevolence, large. Veneration, large. Hope,
small. Ideality, small. Conscientiousness, rather large. Firmness, large.
Individuality, upper, moderate. Do., lower, full. Form, full. Size, do.
Weight, do. Colour, do. Locality, do. Order, do. Time, deficient. Number,
full. Tune, moderate. Language, full. Comparison, full. Causality, rather
large. Wit, deficient. Imitation, full.

"The above report, it may be necessary to observe, was taken a few hours
after the execution. In consequence of the body having been thrown on its
back, the integuments, not only at the back of the head and neck, but at
the posterial lateral parts of the head, were at the time extremely
congested; for in all cases of death by hanging, the blood remaining
uncoagulated, invariably gravitates to those parts which are in the most
depending position. Hence, there was a distension in this case over many
of the most important organs, which gave, for example, _Amativeness,
Combativeness, Destructiveness, &c._, an appearance of size which never
existed during life, and, on the other hand, made many of the moral and
intellectual organs seem in contrast relatively less than they would
otherwise have appeared. In this state, a cast of the head was taken by
Mr. Joseph; but although for phrenological purposes it may do very well,
yet no measurement, either from the head itself in that condition, or a
cast taken from it, can afford us any fair criterion of the development of
the brain itself. We know that this objection applies to the busts of all
the murderers which adorn the chief pillars of the phrenological system;
and in no case is it more obvious than in the present.

"Our able professor, Dr. Monro, gave a demonstration of the brain to a
crowded audience on Thursday morning [the day before the public exhibition
of the body]; and we have, from the best authority, been given to
understand it presented nothing unusual in its appearance. We have heard
it asserted that the lateral lobes were enormously developed, but having
made enquiry on this subject, we do not find they were more developed than
is usual. As no measurement of the brain itself was taken, all reports on
this subject must be unsatisfactory; nor could the evidence of a
eye-witness in such a matter prove sufficient to be admitted as proof
either in favour of or against phrenology.

"The question which naturally arises is, whether the above developments
correspond with the character of Burke? It is not our intention to enter
into any controversy on this subject; yet we cannot help remarking, that
it may be interpreted, like all developments of a similar kind, either
favourably or unfavourably for phrenology, as the ingenuity or prejudices
of any individual may influence him. We have the moral organs more
developed certainly than they ought to have been; but to this it is
replied, that Burke, under the benign influences of these better
faculties, lived upwards of thirty years, without committing any of those
tremendous atrocities which have so paralyzed the public mind. He is
neither so deficient in benevolence nor conscientiousness as he ought to
have been, phrenologically speaking, and these organs, which modified and
gave respectability to his character for as many as thirty years, all of a
sudden cease to exercise any influence, and acquisitiveness and
destructiveness, arising like two arch fiends on both sides, leave the
state of inactivity in which they had reposed for so long a period, and
gain a most unaccountable control over the physical powers under which
they had for so many years succumbed. But, is the size of the organ of
destructiveness in Burke larger than it is found in the generality of
heads?--and are his organs of benevolence and conscientiousness less
developed than usual?"

While dealing with this question of phrenology, it will be interesting to
give the

PHRENOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT OF HARE,

taken the night before his release from prison:--

_Measurement._

                                                        INCHES.
  From the Occipital Spine to lower Individuality,      7·17-20ths
  From the Ear to lower Individuality,                  4·8
  From ditto to the Occipital Spine,                    4·3
  From ditto to Philoprogenitiveness,                   5·0
  From ditto to Firmness,                               5·7
  From ditto to Benevolence,                            5·4
  From ditto to Causality,                              5·0
  From ditto to Comparison,                             5·4
  Destructiveness to Destructiveness,                   5·19-20ths
  Secretiveness to Secretiveness,                       5·8
  Acquisitiveness to Acquisitiveness,                   5·11-20ths
  Combativeness to Combativeness,                       5·7
  Ear to Conscientiousness,                             4·5
  Ideality to Ideality,                                 5·4

_Development._

The organ of destructiveness is large in Hare, but certainly rather below
than above the average size. The organ of acquisitiveness is also large,
but its true development cannot be ascertained in consequence of the size
of the temporal muscle, under which it lies. Secretiveness is large.
Benevolence is well developed, in proportion to the size of the head.
Conscientiousness is full. Cautiousness is large. Combativeness is large.
Ideality is very large. Causality is large. Wit is full.




CHAPTER XXX.

    _Hare's Position after the Trial--Warrant for his Commitment
    Withdrawn--Daft Jamie's Relatives seek to Prosecute--The Case before
    the Sheriff and the Lords of Justiciary--Burke's Confessions and the
    "Courant"--The Lord Advocate's Reasons for Declining to Proceed
    against Hare--Pleadings for the Parties._


From the conclusion of the trial until some time after the execution of
Burke, the position of Hare was one of great danger, notwithstanding the
protection which his evidence was supposed to have afforded him. After the
conviction of his accomplice he was, it has been seen, recommitted to
prison, and for a time it was believed the Lord Advocate was conducting
investigations in order to see if he could by any means proceed against
the informer. The press and the public clamoured for the indictment of
Hare, for all parties were now convinced that Burke, though undoubtedly
guilty of the crime for which he had been condemned, had in many respects
been but an instrument in the hands of his wily and more vicious
confederate. Some incidents occurred which gave colour to the impression
that a criminal indictment would be laid against Hare. On the 1st of
January, 1829, the _Courant_ informed its readers that towards the end of
December a girl, who had at one time acted as a servant to Hare, had been
apprehended in Glasgow, whither she had fled on being cited as a witness
in Burke's trial, and that her evidence would now probably be used against
Hare. This was Elizabeth Main, who is mentioned in one of Burke's
confessions as Elizabeth M'Guier or Mair.

But in addition to the general public there were two parties who may be
said to have had a kind of personal interest in seeing Hare brought to
justice. These were Burke and Helen M'Dougal. The condemned criminal, it
was stated by the _Courant_, made his first confession before the Sheriff,
more for the purpose of inculpating Hare, than with any idea of giving a
general view of his crimes. So eager was he to see his late colleague
suffer the same punishment as himself, that he offered to give information
of circumstances connected with the murder of a woman by Hare in the
course of the preceding summer. This was the old matter over which the
quarrel occurred. M'Dougal, also, waited on the Sheriff on the 27th and
29th of December for the same purpose. Besides these, if the _Courant_ is
to be trusted, other witnesses were precognosced, notably several persons
who were known to have been in the habit of frequenting Hare's house, but
as the police officials had become even more circumspect than ever, not a
hint as to the drift of their information was allowed to reach the public.

These circumstances show that in addition to considering the legal aspect
involved by Hare's protection as an informer, the Lord Advocate had fully
inquired into the possibility of putting him on his trial for a crime to
which that protection did not apply. His conclusion was that he could do
nothing, and it was definitely ascertained by the 15th of January that
the commitment obtained by the Crown after the trial would be instantly
withdrawn. Every precaution had been taken by the public in view of this
contingency, and a subscription had been made to enable the relatives of
James Wilson (Daft Jamie) to take up the case as private prosecutors.

On the 16th of January, then, a petition was presented to the Sheriff,
charging Hare with the murder of "Daft Jamie," and his lordship granted
permission to take precognitions. When Hare was visited by the agent and
counsel employed by Mrs. Wilson (the mother of the murdered lad), he
refused to answer any questions, and when leaving the room to which he had
been taken to be examined, he remarked, with a sardonic laugh, to a person
standing near, "They want to hang me, I suppose." This was not, however,
sufficient, and Mr. Duncan M'Neill, as counsel for Hare, on the 20th of
January, presented to the Sheriff a petition for liberation and for the
interdict of the precognitions instituted by the private prosecutors. On
the following day the counsel for both parties were heard, and the Sheriff
pronounced a decision, in which he said:--"In respect that there is no
decision, finding that the right of the private party to prosecute is
barred by any guarantee, or promise of indemnity given by the public
prosecutor, refuses the desire of the petition; but in respect of the
novelty of the case, supersedes further proceeding in the precognition
before the Sheriff, at the instance of the respondents [the private
prosecutors], till Friday next, at seven o'clock, in order that William
Hare may have an opportunity of applying to the Court of Justiciary."
There was accordingly presented to the High Court of Justiciary, on behalf
of Hare, a bill of advocation, suspension and liberation. This was an
exceeding long document, setting forth all the circumstances of the case,
in which it was pleaded that the case by Mrs. Wilson against the
petitioner--who had given evidence against Burke on the assurance that if
he made a full disclosure of all he knew relative to the several murders
which formed the subject of inquiry, no criminal proceedings would be
instituted against him for any participation or guiltiness appearing
against him--was incompetent, irregular, oppressive, and illegal, and that
he was entitled to liberation. The review of the court was asked on the
Sheriff's judgment. This petition was presented to the court on the 23rd
January, and it was ordered to be served on the agent for the private
prosecutors, while the parties to the case were ordained to appear before
the court on Monday, 26th January. On this same day, Hare presented
another petition to the Sheriff craving to be released from close
confinement, and to be allowed to communicate with his counsel and agent.
The Sheriff pronounced an interlocutor to that effect.

In accordance with the liberty granted by the Sheriff to the private
prosecutors to take a precognition as to the murder of Daft Jamie, a visit
was, on the 23rd January, paid to Burke in the condemned cell by the
Sheriff-substitute, one of the city magistrates, and Mr. Monro, S.S.C.,
the agent for Mrs. Wilson and her daughter. The criminal spoke out fully
as to the circumstances attending the murder of the unfortunate lad, and
thus far satisfactory progress had been made.

But an incident occurred which diverted public attention to a certain
extent in a different direction. This was an announcement in the _Courant_
of Monday, 26th January, that in the issue of the following Thursday there
would be published a full account of the execution of Burke and of his
conduct during his last moments; together with an important document which
had been in their possession for some time--a full confession or
declaration by Burke, "which declaration was dictated and partly written
by him and was afterwards read by him, and corrected by his own hand, and
his signature affixed to attest its accuracy." This announcement raised
the hopes of the public to a high pitch, for the information that had
reached them before was only to be gained from a trial, the scope of which
was confined solely to one event, and from vague rumours and uncertain
statements. Now, it was expected, the whole conspiracy would be made
patent. But the announcement was somewhat injudicious and premature, as
the case against Hare was pending in the High Court of Justiciary, and it
was plainly evident that until a decision was pronounced in it, any
confession by Burke would have a prejudicial effect upon him. Accordingly,
when the High Court that morning had heard the counsel for parties, Mr.
Duncan M'Neill, on behalf of Hare, called attention to the threatened
contempt of Court by the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, in promising to
publish the confessions of Burke, and he asked that such publication be
interdicted, especially in so far as related to the murder of James
Wilson. The Lords of Justiciary concurred in the propriety of the
application, granted interdict of the publication in the _Courant_ of the
document which would likely prejudice Hare, and "recommend all other
newspapers to abstain in like manner from so doing." This was highly
disappointing to the public. There was, however, no help for it but to
wait, and on the Thursday the _Courant_ was under the necessity of
intimating to its readers:--"We regret to state that owing to an interdict
issued on Monday last by the Court of Justiciary, to which we are bound to
yield the most respectful obedience, we are prevented for the present from
laying before our readers the confessions of Burke. But so soon as it is
removed, we shall lay this document before our readers, as formerly
promised."

When the Bill of Advocation came before the High Court of Justiciary on
Monday, the 20th January, the counsel for the parties were heard at
length, after which an order was made that the bill be intimated to the
Lord Advocate to make such answer to it as he should think necessary; and
also that the counsel for the parties should lodge informations upon the
subject matter of the bill by the following Saturday. The Lord Advocate's
answer was interesting in more ways than one, for in addition to bringing
into prominence the question of whether the private prosecutor was
superseded by the public prosecutor, he detailed the difficulties by which
he had been beset in the preparation of the case against Burke. Having
briefly touched on the question as to whether the court had the power to
require, in this shape, a disclosure of the grounds on which he, as public
prosecutor, had been guided in the exercise of his official discretion, he
pointed out that the four persons arrested for the murder of Mrs.
Docherty, denied all accession to the crime. The evidence he had been able
to gain was, he found, defective, and was not sufficient to ensure a
conviction from a Scottish jury, which was uniformly scrupulous in finding
a verdict of guilty where a capital punishment was to follow. The only
mode by which the information essentially awanting could be procured was
by admitting some of the accused persons as witnesses against the others,
and as he had reason to suspect that at least another case of a similar
description had occurred, he felt it to be his imperative duty not to rest
satisfied until he had probed the matter to the bottom. For the public
interest it was necessary to have it ascertained what crimes of this
revolting description had really been committed, who were concerned in
them, whether all the persons engaged in such transactions had been taken
into custody, or if other gangs remained whose practices might continue to
endanger human life. A conviction of all the four persons might lead to
their punishment, but it could not secure such a disclosure, which was
manifestly of more importance. The question then arose as to what one of
the four should be selected as a witness. M'Dougal positively refused to
give any information, and as the Lord Advocate deemed Burke to be the
principal party, Hare was chosen, and his wife was taken with him, because
he could not bear evidence against her. Hare was, in consequence, brought
before the Sheriff on the 1st of December for examination, and then, by
authority of the Lord Advocate, he was informed by the Procurator-Fiscal
that "if he would disclose the facts relative to the case of Docherty, and
to such other crimes of a similar nature, committed by Burke, of which he
was cognisant, he should not be brought to trial on account of his
accession to any of these crimes." "This assurance," continued the Lord
Advocate in his answer, "had no reference to one case more than another.
It was intended for the purpose of receiving the whole information which
Hare could give, in order that the respondent might put Burke and all
others concerned on trial, for all the charges which might be
substantiated. In giving it the respondent acted under the impression, and
on the understanding, that when offences are to be brought to light, in
the course of a criminal investigation carried on at the public interest,
such assurance altogether excluded trial at the instance of any private
party. In its nature, this assurance was thus of an unqualified
description, and was calculated to lead the party to believe that the
_possibility_ of future trial or punishment was thereby entirely excluded.
The assurance was so meant to be understood." Having briefly alluded to
the circumstances attending the trial, when he was prevented from
examining Hare and his wife as to each of the three murders set forth on
the indictment, his Lordship said it was from the information obtained
from Hare, on the assurance of immunity, that he conceived he was enabled
to secure a conviction. He proceeded:--"The warrant of imprisonment
against Hare and his wife, at the public instance, has since been
withdrawn, in consequence of its having turned out, after the most anxious
inquiry, that no crime could be brought to light in which Hare had been
concerned, excepting those to which the disclosures made by him under the
above assurance related." After he had given the assurance, and obtained
the results he had, the Lord Advocate said he would not make any attempt
to prosecute Hare, indeed, he "should strongly feel such a proceeding,
upon his part, dishonourable in itself, unworthy of his office, and highly
injurious to the administration of justice."

After having given so fully the Lord Advocate's reasons for declining to
proceed against Hare, it will not be necessary to do much more than refer
to the information lodged by Hare himself, especially as it goes over to a
great extent much the same ground. It was maintained that on account of
the promise and compact with the public prosecutor he could not now be
tried in order to punishment for the murder of James Wilson; and on the
question of his position as between public and private prosecutors, it was
stated:--"When an offence is committed, the duty of the public prosecutor
is to proceed in the matter with a view to the interests of the community
in relation to the wrong done, without regard to the effect his
proceedings may have upon the power or right, if such exists, of a private
party to come forward and prosecute for punishment. The interest of the
community, in the matter of punishment, is the paramount interest, and the
only ultimate interest which the law can regard; although different
persons may, under certain circumstances, be permitted by the law to
vindicate that interest. The public prosecutor, as being the person
entrusted with the interest of the community, and as representing the
community, has the primary right to take up the matter; and, having
commenced proceedings for behoof of the community, he cannot be stayed or
hindered, or impeded in his prosecution for punishment, by any right or
any interest which any private party can claim; and he may do, and daily
does, many things which exclude the private party from demanding
punishment.... On the other hand, none of these proceedings on the part of
the public prosecutor, acting for behoof of the community, can exclude or
infringe upon the inherent personal right and interest of the private
party to prosecute for _assythment_ or _satisfaction_. That right belongs
to him as an individual, not as a member of the community at large. He
claims _that_, not to deter others from committing the like crimes, but to
solace _his own_ wrongs. That is not a matter of _punishment_, but of
_satisfaction_."

Some more attention must, however, be paid to the "Information for Janet
Wilson, Senior, and Janet Wilson, Junior, Mother and Sister of the late
James Wilson, generally known by the name of Daft Jamie," the private
prosecutors, prepared by Mr. E. Douglas Sandford, under the direction of
Mr. Francis (afterwards Lord) Jeffrey. After the usual review of the
proceedings up to that time, the private prosecutors set forth their
intention thus:--"The prosecutors are, in the _first_ place, obliged to
support their title in the present prosecution, and to show the
constitutional right which, according to the law of Scotland, they
possess, of bringing the individual to justice, whom they conceive guilty
of the atrocious crime by which they have been injured. But, _2ndly_, the
prosecutors are anxious to contest the doctrine of indemnity upon which
the prisoner has founded, and to show that he is stretching, far beyond
its legal limits, the indulgence granted by the Court of Justiciary to
those who are examined before it as _socii criminis_." As to the right of
the private party to prosecute, this, it was contended, was a fundamental
and constitutional principle in the criminal jurisprudence of
Scotland--not an antiquated right, but one that was recognised by the
latest authorities. Having quoted Burnet and Hume, the private prosecutors
went on to say, that, legally speaking, there were only two situations in
which a prisoner could plead indemnity in bar of trial--previous acquital,
by a jury, of the crime of which he was charged, or remission by the
Crown. But the point which the prosecutors were anxious to establish was
"that whatever may be the nature of the private arrangement between the
public prosecutor and the criminal, and whatever may have been his
inducement to give up the right of calling upon the criminal to answer at
the bar of justice, for the crime of which he is guilty, that arrangement
cannot deprive the private party of his right to insist for the full pains
of the law. If the law contemplated the power of the public prosecutor to
deprive the private party of his right to prosecute by arrangements to
which the latter is no party, it had better declare at once that the
private instance shall be at an end, because it virtually would be so. In
every case where the public prosecutor wished to protect a criminal, and
shield him from the effects of crime, an arrangement, under the pretence
of a precognition and searching for evidence against a third party, might
at once be made; and if the doctrine maintained on the part of the
prisoner be correct, that would prevent all prosecution at the instance of
the individual injured." The assertion of the prosecutors was that their
legal right to investigate the circumstances attending the death of their
near relation, and to indict the accused party if they should find
sufficient ground to do so, could not be interfered with by the
proceedings of the public prosecutor, in circumstances over which they had
no control. In point of form, it was required by the law that the Lord
Advocate should grant his concourse to a prosecution before the High Court
of Justiciary, and he had no right to refuse this concourse, but if he
should so refuse it he could be compelled to grant it, for the reason that
it was not _in arbitrio_ of him to deprive a party of his right. In
support of the contention for the private prosecutors various cases were
cited, particular stress was laid upon the warnings addressed by the Lord
Justice-Clerk and the counsel for Burke and M'Dougal to Hare when he was
in the witness box, that the protection of the Court only extended to the
case under trial, and not to the other two charges in the indictment,
which had been deserted _pro loco et tempore_.

Such, in brief, were the pleadings for the parties, and the decision of
the Court was awaited by all with great interest--by the lawyers because
it would establish an important legal precedent, and by the public because
they hoped, through it, to see Hare put on his trial and convicted of the
murder of Daft Jamie.




CHAPTER XXXI.

    _Hare's Case before the High Court of Justiciary--Speech by Mr.
    Francis Jeffrey--Opinion of the Judges--A Divided Bench--The Decision
    of the Court._


The High Court of Justiciary met to decide on the case, as it now stood,
on the 2nd of February. The importance of the issue to be deliberated upon
is shown by the fact that on the bench were no fewer than six judges--the
Lord Justice-Clerk (Boyle), and Lords Gillies, Pitmilly, Meadowbank,
Mackenzie, and Alloway. Hare was represented by Messrs. Duncan M'Neill and
Hugh Bruce; the private prosecutors by Messrs. Francis Jeffrey, Thomas
Hamilton Miller, and E. Douglas Sandford; and the Crown by the Lord
Advocate, the Solicitor-General (Mr. Hope), and Messrs. Robert Dundas,
Archibald Alison, and Alexander Wood, Advocates-Depute.

At the outset, Mr. Jeffrey obtained the permission of the Court say a few
words on the power of the public prosecutor to enter into a compact with
accomplices whom he might think proper to adduce as witnesses. The
particular questions he wished to raise were--Had the High Court of
Justiciary no power over such a compact? Had the court, he asked, no
judicial discretion over the terms of such an agreement, and did it rest
with the Lord Advocate, and not with the court, to decide on its validity
and effect? If these were to be answered in the affirmative, then the
result simply was that the Lord Advocate was _per vias aut modos_
substantially invested with the royal prerogative of pardon. Mr. M'Neill,
on behalf of Hare, had nothing to add to what was contained in the printed
information for his client.

The first judge to give his opinion on the case before the Court was Lord
Gillies, who, after complimenting the Lord Advocate for having, by his
action in the charge against Burke, saved the country from an "indelible
disgrace," gave it as his opinion that his lordship was entitled to pledge
his responsibility for a pardon or remission. But proceeding to the main
question, whether this Court had powers, by law, to quash the proceedings
taken against Hare by Wilson's relations in consequence of what took place
at his precognition or at the trial of Burke, Lord Gillies, after a long
argument, gave it as his opinion that the Court could not do so, and
should accordingly reject the bill presented on behalf of Hare. He
conceived that, in the general case, the legal right and title of the
private party to prosecute was clear and indisputable. By the Act 1587,
cap. 77, and a prior enactment, 1436, pursuits at the King's instance were
only subsidiary; and even at the present time, after various changes, the
private right of prosecution was, he believed, as sacred and as
indisputable as that of the Lord Advocate. Then, on the question of _socii
criminis_, his lordship said that anciently a _socius_ was, as a general
rule, not admissible, and had no immunity; but by the Act 21 Geo. II., c.
34, an accomplice to theft or cattle-stealing was admitted, and immunity
was granted him if his evidence proved the guilt of the prisoner. In 1770,
in the case of Macdonald and Jameson, the doctrine was laid down, not that
an accomplice giving evidence was discharged of the crime, but merely that
his examination might _go far_ to operate as an acquittal from the crime
as to which he was examined. By a decision in 1794, a _socius_ was
declared safe; first, if he were _examined_ as a witness; and second, if
he _spoke out_. No doubt there had been a great extension of the law, but
taking the only statute that was in existence, they would find that it
only gave impunity to him who had been examined, and not to him who might
have been cited and not examined. It was said Hare was ready and willing
to give evidence on the two charges against Burke that were not remitted
to the jury; but this the court could not know, and, at any rate, an
examination as a witness, which _alone_ by law, even as extended by
practice, gave indemnity, did not take place. As for the relationship
existing, in virtue of the compact, between the Lord Advocate and Hare, it
was one thing for his Lordship to apply for and obtain a pardon from the
Crown, and another thing to have power to give a legal exemption from
trial to a criminal, merely by citing him as a witness.

Lord Pitmilly, however, took another view of the case. He concurred
generally in the historical _résumé_ of the law as given by Lord Gillies,
though he differed in his conclusions. "I feel intensely," said his
Lordship, "for the relatives of Wilson; I sympathise also with the public
desire to bring a great criminal to justice; but I feel more for the
security of the law; and I hold no consideration so important, as that
public faith, pledged by a responsible officer, and sanctioned by the
Court, in pursuance of uniform practice, should be kept inviolate, even
with the greatest criminal."

The history of the law relating to _socii criminis_ was very learnedly
reviewed by Lord Meadowbank, who submitted that it was clearly
established, from a train of practice running through a period of upwards
of two centuries and a half, that _socii criminis_ had been admissible
witnesses in the law of Scotland. Such being his opinion, he should have
presumed at all times, and under all circumstances, the examination of a
witness must have operated _ipse facto_, as an immunity to him from
subsequent prosecution for the crime respecting which he was called upon
to give evidence. In truth, he declared, so irreconcilable to all sound
reason would it be to hold, either that no such immunity was thereby
obtained, or that there was not created an equitable right, as in England,
to a pardon, that he could not imagine how any _socii criminis_ ever could
have been examined. In the present case he considered the promise of the
Lord Advocate barred the private prosecutors from taking action against
Hare for punishment, though it in no way interfered with their right of
prosecution for assythment, and he was clear that this warrant ought to
be discharged, and the complainer ordained to be set at liberty.

Lord Mackenzie went over much the same ground as his judicial brethren,
and in delivering his opinion that Hare ought to be set at liberty, he
said:--"Remembering, as we must do, the dreadful evidence he gave, it is
impossible to contemplate his escape without pain,--a pain always felt, in
some degree, in every case where an accomplice in a great crime is,
however necessarily, taken as evidence for the Crown, but never, I
believe, felt more strongly than the present. I sympathize with that
feeling; but I feel not less strongly that this man, however guilty, must
not die by a perversion of legal procedure,--a perversion which would form
a precedent for the oppression of persons of far other characters, and in
far other situations, and shake the public confidence in the steadiness
and fairness of that administration of criminal justice, on which the
security of the lives of all men is dependent."

Lord Alloway, on the other hand, felt bound to differ from the opinions of
the majority of his brethren, and to concur in that given by Lord Gillies.
He conceived that Hare might have a protection as to the murder of
Campbell or Docherty, he having been a witness against Burke and M'Dougal
in their trial for that murder, but he doubted if that protection extended
to the other two charges, as to Wilson and Paterson, or in any other
crimes for which Burke was never tried. As to the position of the Wilsons,
it was his opinion that a private prosecutor had an undoubted right to
prosecute to the highest doom every offender who had injured him, and for
the punishment of all offences in which he had an individual interest.
This opinion was founded upon the authority of every institutional writer
upon the criminal law of Scotland, upon a variety of statutes, upon the
decisions of the High Court of Justiciary, and upon the practice of the
country; and his lordship thought that these circumstances, without one
single authority to the contrary, would have been sufficient to prevent
the contrary doctrine from being maintained, chiefly upon the ground of
expediency and advantage to the public.

The Lord Justice-Clerk then gave his opinion, throwing his weight with the
majority of the Court. He commended the course taken by the Lord Advocate
in retaining Hare and his wife as evidence, for had not that been done it
was probable no verdict such as was given would have been come to by the
jury. As to Hare's position, it seemed to him that the Lord Advocate had
an undoubted privilege, according to long and established usage, of
selecting from those suspected of such crimes such persons whose evidence
he might deem material to secure the ends of public justice, and to assure
them that, upon giving evidence, he would never bring them to trial for
their concern in the transactions as to which they were examined. It
seemed to his lordship that Hare, having given evidence as he did,
completed his indemnity, and rendered it impossible for the public
prosecutor to turn round, after the conviction of Burke, and indict the
witness for his concern in either of the acts, the trial of which had only
been postponed at the earnest desire of the prisoners. It appeared to be
undoubted law that the public prosecutor having selected the accomplice,
and used his evidence upon the trial, thereby necessarily deprived parties
of the right which, but for his proceeding, they undoubtedly would have
had to prosecute. If this were not the case, then the relatives of
Docherty would also be entitled to prosecute Hare for the share he had in
her murder, but it was conceded by the counsel for the respondents (the
private prosecutors) that the relations of Docherty could not under the
circumstances maintain that right. If Hare were legally exempted from all
prosecution at the instance of the public prosecutor, for any accession he
might have had to the three acts of murder charged in the indictment
against Burke and M'Dougal, there seemed no ground in law for maintaining
that he might still be prosecuted at the instance of the relatives of any
of the three parties alleged to have been murdered.

These opinions, weighty and well considered, on a most important point in
the criminal law of Scotland, having been delivered, the Court finally
pronounced the following judgment:--

"The Lord Justice-Clerk and the Lords Commissioners of Justiciary having
resumed consideration of the bill of advocation, suspension, and
liberation for William Hare, with the Informations given in for both
parties, in obedience to the order of Court of 26th January last, and
Answers given in for his Majesty's Advocate, in compliance with said
order; Pass the bill; advocate the cause; and in respect that the
complainer, William Hare, cannot be criminally tried for the crime charged
in the warrant of commitment, therefore, suspend the said warrant, and
ordain the Magistrates of Edinburgh, and Keepers of their Tolbooth, to set
the said William Hare at liberty; and discharge all farther procedure in
the precognition complained of; and ordain the said precognition, in so
far as it has already been taken, to be delivered up to the Clerk of this
Court, in order to the same being sealed up, to abide the farther orders
of this Court, and discern."

But though Hare was now ordered by the High Court of Justiciary to be
liberated, he was not yet a free man. The relatives of Wilson, acting in a
sense as the representatives of public opinion, and certainly supported by
public contributions, took further steps, which brought about a new phase
of the case against Hare. Immediately after the court had pronounced that
it was incompetent to prosecute Hare criminally, there was presented to
the Sheriff a petition intimating the intention of Mrs. Wilson and her
daughter to prosecute him civilly for the sum of £500 in name of
assythment for the murder of their relative, and praying that, as he was
_in meditatione fugæ_, he should be detained in prison until he found
caution to appear in answer to their averments. The Wilsons then, before
the Sheriff, declared upon oath--"That the said William Hare is justly
addebted, resting and owing to the deponents, the sum of £500 sterling, or
such other sum as shall be modified by the Court of Justiciary, or any
Court competent, as stated in the petition: that the deponents are
credibly informed, and believe in their conscience, that the said William
Hare is _in meditatione fugæ_, and about to leave this kingdom, whereby
the deponents will be defrauded of the means of recovering said sum: that
the grounds of their belief are, that Hare was born in Ireland: that a
short time ago he was imprisoned for examination, preparatory to a trial
upon a charge of murdering James Wilson, of which they have no doubt he
was guilty: that owing to certain circumstances, he has not been brought
to trial for the offence, and there is reason to believe that he will
speedily be liberated from custody; and owing to the prevailing belief of
his guilt, and the popular indignation which has in consequence been
raised against him, it is impossible that he can, with safety to his life,
remain in Scotland, particularly as he has been suspected to be guilty of
other murders; and, therefore, they have no doubt, that as soon as he
shall be liberated from custody, which they believe will be this evening,
he will use utmost and immediate exertions to escape from Scotland to
Ireland."

This form having been gone through, Hare was brought in, and was asked if
he were concerned in killing James Wilson, to which he replied that he
would say nothing about it. He was then questioned as to his intentions
when liberated, but he remained silent all through. Mr. Monro, the agent
for the petitioners, moved the Sheriff to grant a warrant of commitment,
and offered to produce evidence that Hare was _in meditatione fugæ_ should
his lordship desire it. The Sheriff appointed a proof for that same day.
The first witness examined was William Lindsay, a prisoner in the Tolbooth
of Edinburgh, who stated that two or three days before Hare told him that
if he were liberated he would leave this country and go home to Ireland
immediately. John Fisher, the head turnkey in Calton Jail, corroborated.
Hare was then informed by the Sheriff that if he intended to remain in
Scotland, any witnesses he might wish to speak to that fact could now be
examined. The prisoner's tongue was loosened, and he replied that he had
no money, and must go somewhere to get work; that he had no domicile in
this part of the country, and could not remain in Edinburgh; and that as a
matter of fact he did not know whether he would remain in Scotland, or go
to Ireland or England in quest of employment. The Sheriff accordingly
granted a warrant for the detention of Hare until he found caution to
answer to any action that might be brought against him, in any competent
court, for payment of the sum mentioned in the petition.

Hare was thus again thrown back, and it must have seemed to him that if by
turning informer against Burke he had saved his life, he was to be
deprived of enjoying what remained of it as a free man. But the Wilsons
and their friends saw that to prosecute the action for assythment could
lead to no good result. Hare was penniless, and it was therefore hopeless
to seek compensation from him, while if they did so they would be throwing
away money needlessly in the process. The warrant was withdrawn on
Thursday, the 5th of February, and Hare was at last free to go where he
pleased.




CHAPTER XXXII.

    _Popular Feeling against Hare--His Behaviour in Prison--Withdrawal of
    the Warrant--His Liberation and Flight--Recognition--Riot in Dumfries,
    and Narrow Escape of Hare--Over the Border--Ballad Version of the
    Flight._


The warrant _in meditatione fugæ_ by the relatives of James Wilson against
Hare was withdrawn quietly on the afternoon of Thursday, the 5th of
February, and the authorities at once made arrangements for his
liberation. They knew that to place him outside the prison gates and allow
him to shift for himself would only be to endanger his life at the hands
of the excited mob of Edinburgh, who would, under the high feeling then
prevailing, have scrupled little about hanging the detested criminal and
informer from the bar of the nearest lamp-post, or to have thrown him from
the Castle-hill. Hare knew the feeling that was against him, but he
affected to treat it with scorn. Even while the proceedings were being
taken against him, and it was doubtful if he would not be put upon trial,
which would have meant certain conviction, he displayed a levity
altogether unbecoming a man in the critical position in which he stood. He
asked his agent, with a sneer, what was the value of Daft Jamie, and
remarked that the price given by the doctors was surely too much, as if
the poor lad been offered alive to any one he would not have been bought
at any price. His opinion of the proceedings, therefore, was that the
judges were wasting their time and their talent about a thing of no value.
On another occasion Hare and several fellow-prisoners were walking in the
court-yard when some visitors were being shown through the establishment.
One of his companions turned to the strangers, and, pointing with his
finger to the notorious criminal, said, "Here's Hare; look at him!" The
eyes of the party were immediately turned upon the man whose crimes had
made him so infamous, but he, with brutal nonchalance, stared them out of
countenance, and remarked, "Pitch a shilling this way, will ye?"

It was but natural that in the state of public feeling the decision of the
High Court of Justiciary in Hare's petition should cause dissatisfaction
in many quarters; and the fact that two of the judges took a different
view of the law from the majority of their colleagues, only tended to
prolong the controversy. Many were the bitter comments made on the case,
but none was more forcible than the remark that the judges came to decide
on the case drunk with law, and kicked sober justice out of court. Clever
although this statement was, and partially true, it involved a fallacy
which was admitted after the excitement occasioned by the disclosures of
the conspiracy had spent itself.

But notwithstanding this feeling on the part of the public, the law had to
be carried out, and Hare had to be set at liberty. The prison officials
took an outside place for him, under the appropriate name of Mr. Black, on
the coach for England; and shortly after eight o'clock on the night of
Thursday, the 5th of February, Hare left Caltonhill Jail. To prevent
identification he was muffled up in an old camelot cloak; and in his hand
he carried a small bundle of clothes. Accompanying him was John Fisher,
the head turnkey, who was charged to see him safe out of Edinburgh. At
Waterloo Bridge they called a hackney coach, and in it drove to Newington,
where they waited the arrival of the mail. When the coach came up it was
stopped, and Hare took his place on the outside. As the guard called out
to the driver, "All's right," the turnkey shouted out a cordial farewell
to his _quasi_ friend--"Good bye, Mr. Black, and I wish you well home."
Away the coach went, and Hare was free and out of Edinburgh without it
being known to any but the prison officials that he was even at liberty.
What a tumult there would have been had the people suspected that the man
for whose death they clamoured was posting from them! Had they even had an
inkling of what was going on it is problematical if he would have been
allowed to leave the city without marks of their vengeance which he would
have borne to his dying day, possibly he would have been torn to pieces.

However, the plans of the authorities had been carried out with such
secrecy that no one was aware of what was being done, and Hare might have
left the country without recognition, had it not been for his own
imprudence. The night was bitterly cold, and in the frosty air a seat on
the top of a rapidly travelling coach was far from comfortable.
Accordingly, when the mail arrived at Noblehouse, the second stage on the
Edinburgh road, Hare, knowing there were twenty minutes to wait, descended
from his perch, and accompanied the inside passengers into the inn. He
seemed to be alive to the dangers of recognition, for at first he sat near
the door, at the back of the company, with his cloak muffled closely
around him, but some of his fellow-travellers, thinking his backwardness
was due to modesty, said he must be perishing with cold, and invited him
to a seat nearer the fire. Hare felt the truth of the suggestion, and in
taking advantage of the invitation he threw aside his cloak and hat to
warm his hands before the roaring fire. This was an injudicious movement
on the part of the fugitive under any circumstances, but it was especially
so now owing to the fact that Mr. Sandford, the advocate, who had been
employed along with Mr. Jeffrey by Daft Jamie's relatives to conduct the
prosecution against Hare, was a passenger in the coach, and one of the
company in the inn. Sandford at once recognised him, and Hare knew that,
for he saw the advocate shake his head ominously at him.

When the guard blew his horn for the renewal of the journey, Hare was
first at the coach-door, and as the night was so bitterly cold, and there
was a vacant seat inside, he was allowed to occupy it. Mr. Sandford,
however, when he discovered the new arrangement, ordered the guard to
"take that fellow out," and although others of the passengers
remonstrated on the hardship of sending the man to the outside of the
coach in such weather, he insisted upon being obeyed, and accordingly Hare
was transferred to his old seat. The coach again started, and the advocate
judging that his fellow-travellers were entitled to some explanation of
his extraordinary conduct, revealed to them the identity of the person he
had dealt with so harshly, and if their sympathies did not altogether
disappear they at least concluded that the position taken up by Mr.
Sandford was to some extent justifiable.

When the coach arrived in the morning at the King's Arms in Dumfries, the
news spread rapidly that Hare was among its passengers, and by eight
o'clock a crowd of some eight thousand people surrounded the inn, all
eager to obtain a sight of the notorious murderer whose terrible crimes
had caused such a sensation in that, as in other parts of the country. It
was known that he was bound for Portpatrick, and the interval of four
hours between the arrival of the Edinburgh mail and the departure of the
Galloway and Portpatrick coach was one of the most exciting in the history
of Dumfries. Meanwhile Hare was inside the inn drinking ale with a number
of stablemen, giving them such ridiculous toasts as "Bad luck to fortune."
Some of them tried to get a story of his crimes from him, but he declined
to say anything about them, as he declared he had said enough about that
before, and had done his duty in Edinburgh.

It was deemed impossible to drive the mail along the High Street, when the
time of departure arrived, if Hare were in it, with safety to the other
persons connected with it, for the people had laid their plans for the
attack. They intended stopping the coach at the bridge and throwing Hare
into the river, or failing that, they had closed the gates at Cassylands
toll-bar where they proposed to deal with him in another manner. Two
passengers were sent forward a part of the way in a gig, and the coach
left the inn empty. The mob surrounded it, but their fury was only
intensified to find that the West Port murderer was not in it. The coach
was allowed to proceed, and attention was again turned to the inn, towards
which a large number pressed their way. An old woman attempted to strike
at "the villain" with her umbrella, and another, after exhausting herself
with verbal abuse, seized him by the collar of the coat and gave him such
a shaking that he was nearly strangled. An hostler addressed the now
trembling Hare:--"Whaur are ye gaun, man? or whaur can ye gang tae? Hell's
ower guid for ye. The very deevils, for fear o' mischief, widna daur to
let ye in; and as for heaven, that's entirely oot o' the question." As he
crouched in a corner a small boy menaced him, and was backed up by the
crowd, who enjoyed the sight. Hare at last became so thoroughly
exasperated that he told his tormentors to "come on," and give him "fair
play." The tormenting to which he was subject became unbearable, and he
seized his bundle and walked towards the door, determined, as he said, to
let the mob "tak' their will o' him," but in this effort he was checked by
a medical man who happened to be present.

The position of affairs in Dumfries had now become positively alarming,
and Mr. Fraser, the landlord of the King's Arms, saw that while his
obnoxious guest remained in his house it was in danger of being wrecked,
and he was therefore naturally anxious for his removal. In fact the whole
town and neighbourhood were completely convulsed, and it was impossible to
tell what might be the next movement on the part of the excited people.
The burgh magistrates met to deliberate upon some plan for preserving the
peace of the town. After long consideration they agreed upon a plan which
ran every risk of failure, but which was perhaps the only one they could
have adopted.

A chaise and pair drove up to the door of the King's Arms, between two and
three o'clock in the afternoon. A trunk was buckled to it, and a great
fuss was made. While these movements were going on before the people to
attract their attention from what was the really important part of the
magisterial plan, Hare slipped out of a back window, crept along by the
stable-wall to a chaise in readiness to receive him. Once he was in, the
doors were closed, the postilion whipped his horses to the gallop, and
drove rapidly along the street towards the river. The mob having received
a hint of what was going on from a few boys who had been lounging about
the inn stables, made after the chaise with a rush. Volleys of stones
were thrown at it, and some of the missiles went through the windows of
the vehicle, narrowly missing Hare, who cowered at the bottom of it. On
the horses flew, and, taking a turn sharply, the coach was nearly
overturned, but after running a short distance on two wheels it righted.
At the bridge the fugitives were almost intercepted, but the people were
too late. After some furious driving, the jail door was reached, and the
governor, having been informed that he might expect a distinguished guest,
opened the door immediately. Hare sprang out of the chaise, and in past a
strong chain that had been placed behind the prison gate for greater
security against a rush of the mob. "Into this gulf he leapt," said the
_Dumfries Courier_ of the following week, "hop, step, and jump, a thousand
times more happy to get into prison than the majority of criminals are to
get out of it."

The people now saw how they had been deceived, and they were furious with
rage and disappointment. Hare, if he fell into their hands now could not
hope to escape; but, fortunately for him, the high strong walls of the
prison were between him and the excited populace. The mob laid siege to
the jail, blocked up all the door and gateway, and no one could pass out
or in without considerable personal risk. This began at four o'clock in
the afternoon, and for four hours later the angry mob howled and shouted,
and even sought to break down the prison gates with a heavy piece of iron
which they used as a battering-ram. When the street lamps in the vicinity
were lighted at nightfall, they were immediately extinguished by some of
the rioters, many of whom had now come to the conclusion that the best
means they could adopt for forcing a surrender was to burn down the gate
by lighted tar barrels and peats. About eight o'clock in the evening,
however, the magistrates had made arrangements for dispersing the people.
The militia staff and the police force had been found quite insufficient
to quell the disturbance. A hundred special constables were therefore
sworn-in, and were drafted to assist in the preservation of the peace. The
augmented force quickly cleared the streets, and the people, tired and
exhausted with their exciting day's employment, at last reluctantly
retired to their homes. But their efforts were plainly manifest in the
amount of wreckage about the town, and scarcely a window in the prison or
its neighbourhood was intact.

While the tumult was at its height, Hare, fatigued and weary, slipped away
to the bed provided for him, and soon he was fast asleep, for he had had
no rest since leaving Calton Jail in Edinburgh. About one o'clock on
Saturday morning he was wakened by the officials, who told him that, now
the town was quiet, he must depart immediately. Trembling violently, he
put on his clothes, and before leaving asked for his cloak and bundle. But
these had been left at the inn, and were not at hand. The officers said he
must do without them, and thank his stars into the bargain that he had
escaped with whole bones. They also advised him that--as the whole of
Galloway was in arms, and as the mail-coach had been stopped and searched
the day before at Crocketford toll-bar, probably, also, at every other
stage between Dumfries and Portpatrick--he would be better to take a
different road. With this advice he set out on his journey on foot, and by
three o'clock in the morning he was seen by a boy passing Dodbeck. By
daybreak he was probably over the border. On Saturday and Sunday it was
reported that Hare's identity had been discovered at Annan, and that he
had been stoned to death; but this was a mistake, for the driver of the
English mail, on his return journey, saw him seated on the roadside within
half-a-mile of Carlisle shortly after five o'clock on Saturday afternoon.
The fugitive was then seated talking to two stone-breakers, and as the
coach passed he held down his head, but was recognised by the driver and
an outside passenger. On the Sunday morning he was again seen about two
miles beyond Carlisle, having skirted the city, the inhabitants of which
were stated to be prepared to give him as cordial reception as the men of
Dumfries. It is believed that after this Hare turned eastwards towards
Newcastle, but as a matter of fact nothing is authoritatively known of his
subsequent movements.

There is a story which an old resident of the east end of Glasgow, who
died over eighty years of age, in the autumn of last year (1883), used to
tell with great gusto. In his younger days this old gentleman was of a
wandering disposition, and travelled on foot over the greater part of the
island. In the spring of 1829 he passed through Berwick-on-Tweed, and put
up for the night at a lodging-house there. He was told by the landlady
that he could not have a bed for himself, but would require to sleep with
another lodger who was, of course, a stranger to him. On retiring to the
room, M'A----, the Glaswegian, found that his bed-fellow was before him,
and was sound asleep. This, however, was of little consequence, and he was
soon himself in a similar condition. In the middle of the night he was
awakened by his companion grasping him firmly by the throat, and, greatly
alarmed, he flung off his assailant, sprung out of bed, and demanded to
know what such behaviour meant. The stranger replied, in an apologetic
tone, that he must have had the nightmare, for he knew nothing about what
he was doing until he was thrown off. After a little conversation the two
men became quite friendly, and again retired to rest. The night passed
without further incident. In the morning, when he awoke, M'A---- found
that his bed-fellow was gone. He told the landlady at breakfast of the
adventure, and she then informed him that the man with whom he had slept
was none other than the notorious Hare. He shivered with horror, but the
danger was past, and, for more than half a century, M'A---- told how in
his youth he had spent a night with Hare, the accomplice of Burke. If the
identification was correct, it was probably the case that Hare was really
suffering from the nightmare, for it is not at all likely that he would
attempt murder among strangers so soon after his narrow escape in
Edinburgh.

In the preceding pages the story of Hare's departure from Scotland has
been told, very much as given to the world in the columns of the _Dumfries
Courier_; but the ballad-makers had another version which may prove
interesting now, as it did at the time of its publication. Here are a few
verses:--

  "Dark was the mid-night, when Hare fled away,
  Not a star in the sky gave him one cheering ray,
  But still now and then blue lightning did glare,
  And strange shrieks assailed him like shrieks of despair.

  "But still as the fugitive ran down the wild glen,
  Not a place did he fear like the dwellings of men;
  Where a heap lay before him all dismal and bare
  The ghost of Daft Jamie appeared to him there.

  "'I am come,' says the shade, 'from the land of the dead,
  Though there be for poor Jamie no grass-covered bed;
  O'er hills and o'er valleys I'll watch thee for ill,
  I will haunt all thy wanderings, and follow thee still.

  "     .     .     .     .     .     .
        .     .     .     .     .     .
  'I am come to remind you of deeds that are past,
  And tell you that Justice will find you at last.

  "'When night darkens the world, oh, how can you sleep?
  In your dreams do you ne'er see my poor mother weep?
  And long will she weep, and long will she mourn,
  Till her wandering Jamie from the grave can return.

  "'From the grave, did I say? Ah, calm is the bed
  Where sleepless and dreamless lie the bones of the dead;
  Their friends may lament them, and their sorrows may be,
  But no grave grows green in the wide world for me.

  "'Oh, Hare, go and cover your fugitive head,
  In some land you're not known by the living or dead;
  For the living against thee will justly combine,
  And the dead will despise such a body as thine.'"




CHAPTER XXXIII.

    _The Confessions of Burke--The Interdicts against the "Edinburgh
    Evening Courant"--Burke's Note on the "Courant" Confession--Issue of
    the Official Document--Publication of both Confessions._


Passing mention was made in a previous chapter of the confessions of his
crimes made by Burke while he was in prison awaiting the time fixed for
carrying out the final sentence passed upon him by the High Court of
Justiciary, and it was then stated that the curious history of the second,
or _Courant_, confession, must be reserved for the proper time. Part of
that history has already been related, for it has been seen how, when the
_Courant_ announced the Monday before Burke's execution that that document
would be published in its columns on the following Thursday, the High
Court granted interdict prohibiting the publication until the proceedings
against Hare were concluded. The _Courant_ bowed to this decision, but
promised at the same time to lay before its readers the interesting paper
as soon as possible.

This, however, was only the beginning of the difficulty. In its issue of
Thursday, 5th of February, the _Courant_ stated that the interdict granted
by the High Court of Justiciary, on the application of Mr. Duncan M'Neill,
as counsel for Hare, having expired on the Monday previous (the 2nd of
February), the publishers fully intended to have inserted the confession
by Burke in their paper of that day. But, unfortunately, they had been
laid under a new interdict by the Sheriff, at the instance of Mr. J.
Smith, S.S.C. This Mr. Smith was the gentleman who had applied to the Lord
Advocate some weeks before for permission to visit Burke in prison for the
purpose of receiving from him a full confession of his crimes, and who, on
being refused, had unsuccessfully appealed to the Home Secretary. On
Tuesday, 3rd February, this gentleman applied to the Sheriff, craving that
the _Courant_ be interdicted from publishing the confessions of Burke. The
application was founded upon an allegation that the document in the
possession of the editor of the _Courant_ was intended by Burke to be
delivered to Mr. Smith, and had been given by the condemned man to a
fellow-prisoner named Ewart for that purpose. Ewart entrusted it to the
care of Wilson, a turnkey, who had disposed of it to the editor of the
_Courant_. By this means, it was alleged, the intention of Burke was
defeated; and it was further stated that the night before his execution,
in the presence of Bailie Small, Mr. Porteous, and Mr. James Burn, Burke
signed a document authorising Mr. Smith to uplift from the editor of the
_Courant_ the declaration now under discussion. This paper was in these
terms:--"The document or narrative, which I signed for ---- Ewart, was
correct, so far as I had time to examine it; but it was given under the
express stipulation that it should not be published for three months after
my decease. I authorise J. Smith to insist upon the delivery of the paper
above alluded to from the _Courant_, or any other person in whose
possession it may be; and, at the same time, I desire Bailie Small to be
present when the papers are demanded and got up, and that they may be
taken to the Sheriff's office and compared with my declaration made before
the Sheriff, which is the only full statement that can be relied on." The
Sheriff granted interdict, but on the following day a petition was
presented on behalf of the _Courant_ praying for its recall. In support of
this it was stated that Wilson, the turnkey, had disposed of the
confession to the editor of that journal for a fair price, while the
document itself had not come unfairly into his hands. The question of the
right or power of a condemned criminal to bequeath property of any
description was also raised, but was not seriously entered into. The
Sheriff, however, did not see his way to recall the interdict, and said it
was worthy of some attention whether the document given to Ewart was not
to be published until three months after the death of Burke.

But whatever may have been the method adopted by the _Courant_ to obtain
possession of the confession, it is at least certain that the document,
though its publication for a time was laid under interdict, was not
uplifted, and that it was ultimately issued to the public long before the
period stipulated for by Burke. This was probably due to the fact that a
new set of outside circumstances emerged which rendered it imperative that
the private confession should be published if any profit was to be gained
or enterprise shown. The Lord Advocate had given orders for the issue of
the official confession to all the newspapers, and the competitors for the
ownership of the other document were thus forced to come to a mutual
arrangement.

On the 5th of February, the day on which Hare was liberated, the Sheriff
addressed a letter to the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, in the course of
which he said:--"As it is now fully understood that all proceedings of a
criminal nature against William Hare have terminated, it has appeared to
the Lord Advocate that the community have a right to expect a disclosure
of the contents of the confessions made by William Burke after his
conviction. I have, therefore, to place those confessions in your
lordship's hands with the view to their being given to the public, at such
a time, and in such a manner, as you may deem most advisable.... It may be
satisfactory to your lordship to know, that in the information which Hare
gave to the Sheriff on the 1st December last (while he imputed to Burke
the active part in the deeds which the latter now assigns to Hare), Hare
disclosed nearly the same crimes in point of number, of time, and of the
description of persons murdered, which Burke has thus confessed; and in
the few particulars in which they differed, no collateral evidence could
be obtained calculated to show which of them was in the right. Your
lordship will not be displeased to learn, that after a very full and
anxious inquiry, now only about to be concluded, no circumstances have
transpired, calculated to show that any other persons have lent themselves
to such practices in this city, or its vicinity; and that there is no
reason to believe that any other crimes have been committed by Burke and
Hare, excepting those contained in the frightful catalogue to which they
have confessed."

This action on the part of the Lord Advocate was simply a formal way of
making the public aware of the contents of the confession, the Lord
Provost being the official representative of the citizens of Edinburgh.
He, in his turn, sent the document to the newspapers for publication. Of
course, when the people read it they would be initiated into the secrets
of the conspiracy engaged in by Burke and Hare, and the _Courant_ managers
saw that it would forestall their confession, even though it was fuller in
detail. There must have been a hasty consultation with Mr. Smith, for on
Saturday, the 7th February, the two confessions appeared in that journal,
accompanied by the following editorial note:--

"The interdict of the Sheriff on the publication of the confession and
declaration of Burke, which has been for some time in our possession,
having been withdrawn in consequence of a mutual compromise, we now
publish this document, along with a declaration signed before the
Sheriff, and sent by him to the Lord Provost for publication the day after
he had pronounced an interdict against the _Courant_. It will be observed
that the declaration before the Sheriff is dry and meagre in its details.
The declaration which we publish is much fuller, and contains minute and
striking circumstances which were never before laid before the public. The
publication of this declaration and confession has been delayed by various
proceedings; of which, however vexatious, we are not disposed to complain.
The interdict of the Court of Justiciary being deemed essential to the
ends of justice, we yielded an immediate and respectful obedience to this
order. The first interdict by the Sheriff, at the instance of a private
party, was granted as a matter of course; and that interdict, after our
application to have it recalled, was continued by a well meant but
erroneous judgment. However we might be disappointed by the decision, we
did not conceive that we had any right to complain. But we certainly do
complain, that, after the Sheriff had laid the declaration which we
possessed under an interdict, he should, the very next day, have
published, or sent for publication, another declaration. We complain of
this the more, because the very ground on which he decided to continue the
interdict against us was, that our interest would be less injured by delay
than that of the other party by removing the interdict; and yet, in the
face of this decision, he publishes a document which, for ought he knew,
might be identically the same as ours, and by the publication of which our
interest would not merely be injured, but utterly ruined. We certainly
think that this is an extraordinary mode of procedure. A judge in the case
first interdicts the publication of a certain confession or declaration,
telling one of the parties that he cannot suffer much injury by the delay,
and the very next day publishes a declaration by the same person, to the
injury, perhaps to the utter destruction of any interest the party had in
the matter at issue. We really think that the dangers of delay are here
exemplified in a very instructive manner; for if we had known that the
very paper, as we could judge, about which parties were at issue, would be
published the next day by the Sheriff himself, how would this have
strengthened our argument against the continuance of the interdict? Such
are the facts of the case; considering them carefully, they certainly
appear to be somewhat irregular; and the effect was certainly calculated
to prejudice, nay, to ruin our interest, if the paper in the possession of
the Sheriff had not been so meagre and unsatisfactory, compared with the
declaration we publish."

The _Courant_ showed its annoyance at the turn affairs had taken, but
while doing so it made every effort, and that successfully, to outstrip
its contemporaries. Besides publishing the two confessions in full, it
gave a _fac simile_ of the note in Burke's handwriting, appended to the
document in their own possession, over which there had been so much
dispute. There is one thing in favour of the _Courant_, or unofficial,
confession, and that is the paper signed by Burke the night before his
execution. He there testifies as to its accuracy, so far as he had had
time to examine it. At the same time, in view of the many discrepancies
between the two documents themselves, and what was brought out by
subsequent investigation, it must be admitted that in many respects they
are defective as records of the terrible series of crimes in which Burke
and Hare participated.




CHAPTER XXXIV.

    _Burke's Confession before the Sheriff--A Record of the Murders--The
    Method--Complicity of the Women and the Doctors--Murderers but not
    Body-Snatchers._


The official confession of Burke was made in the condemned cell by the
criminal on the 3rd of January, 1829, in the presence of Mr. George Tait,
Sheriff-substitute; Mr. Archibald Scott, Procurator-fiscal; and Mr.
Richard J. Moxey, assistant Sheriff-clerk. The following is a copy of the
document:--

"Compeared William Burke, at present under sentence of death in the jail
of Edinburgh, states that he never saw Hare till the Hallow-fair before
last [November, 1827,] when he and Helen M'Dougal met Hare's wife, with
whom he was previously acquainted, on the street; they had a dram, and he
mentioned he had an intention to go to the west country to endeavour to
get employment as a cobbler; but Hare's wife suggested that they had a
small room in their house which might suit him and M'Dougal, and that he
might follow his trade of a cobbler in Edinburgh; and he went to Hare's
house, and continued to live there, and got employment as a cobbler.

"An old pensioner, named Donald, lived in the house about Christmas, 1827;
he was in bad health, and died a short time before his quarter's pension
was due: that he owed Hare £4; and a day or two after the pensioner's
death, Hare proposed that his body should be sold to the doctors, and that
the declarant should get a share of the price. Declarant said it would be
impossible to do it, because the man would be coming in with the coffin
immediately; but after the body was put in the coffin, and the lid was
nailed down, Hare started the lid with a chisel, and he and declarant took
out the corpse and concealed it in the bed, and put tanner's bark from
behind the house into the coffin, and covered it with a sheet, and nailed
down the lid of the coffin, and the coffin was then carried away for
interment. That Hare did not appear to have been concerned in anything of
the kind before, and seemed to be at a loss how to get the body disposed
of; and he and Hare went in the evening to the yard of the College, and
saw a person like a student there, and the declarant asked him if there
were any of Dr. Monro's men about, because he did not know there was any
other way of disposing of a dead body--nor did Hare. The young man asked
what they wanted with Dr. Monro, and the declarant told him that he had a
subject to dispose of, and the young man referred him to Dr. Knox, No. 10
Surgeon's Square; and they went there, and saw young gentlemen, whom he
now knows to be Jones, Miller, and Ferguson, and told them that they had a
subject to dispose of, but they did not ask how they had obtained it; and
they told the declarant and Hare to come back when it was dark, and that
they themselves would find a porter to carry it. Declarant and Hare went
home and put the body into a sack, and carried it to Surgeon's Square, and
not knowing how to dispose of it, laid it down at the door of the cellar,
and went up to the room, where the three young men saw them, and told them
to bring up the body to the room, which they did; and they took the body
out of the sack, and laid it on the dissecting table: That the shirt was
on the body, but the young man asked no questions as to that; and the
declarant and Hare, at their request, took off the shirt, and got £7 10s.
Dr. Knox came in after the shirt was taken off, and looked at the body,
and proposed they should get £7 10s., and authorized Jones to settle with
them; and he asked no questions as to how the body had been obtained. Hare
got £4 5s. and the declarant got £3 5s. Jones, &c., said that they would
be glad to see them again when they had any other body to dispose of.

"Early last spring, 1828, a woman from Gilmerton came to Hare's house as a
nightly lodger,--Hare keeping seven beds for lodgers: That she was a
stranger, and she and Hare became merry, and drank together; and next
morning she was very ill in consequence of what she had got, and she sent
for some drink, and she and Hare drank together, and she became very sick
and vomited; and at that time she had not risen from bed, and Hare then
said that they would try and smother her in order to dispose of her body
to the doctors: That she was lying on her back in the bed, and quite
insensible from drink, and Hare clapped his hand on her mouth and nose,
and the declarant laid himself across her body, in order to prevent her
making any disturbance--and she never stirred; and they took her out of
bed and undressed her, and put her into a sheet; and they mentioned to Dr.
Knox's young men that they had another subject; and Mr. Miller sent a
porter to meet them in the evening at the back of the Castle; and
declarant and Hare carried the chest till they met the porter, and they
accompanied the porter with the chest to Dr. Knox's class-room, and Dr.
Knox came in when they were there: the body was cold and stiff. Dr. Knox
approved of its being so fresh, but did not ask any questions.

"The next was a man named Joseph, a miller, who had been lying badly in
the house: that he got some drink from declarant and Hare, but was not
tipsy: he was very ill, lying in bed, and could not speak sometimes, and
there was a report that there was fever in the house, which made Hare and
his wife uneasy in case it should keep away lodgers, and they (declarant
and Hare) agreed that they should suffocate him for the same purpose; and
the declarant got a small pillow and laid it across Joseph's mouth, and
Hare lay across the body to keep down the arms and legs; and he was
disposed of in the same manner, to the same persons, and the body was
carried by the porter who carried the last body.

"In May, 1828, as he thinks, an old woman came to the house as a lodger,
and she was the worse of drink, and she got more drink of her own accord,
and she became very drunk, and declarant suffocated her; and Hare was not
in the house at the time; and she was disposed of in the same manner.

"Soon afterwards an Englishman lodged there for some nights, and was ill
of the jaundice: that he was in bed very unwell, and Hare and declarant
got above him and held him down, and by holding his mouth suffocated him,
and disposed of him in the same manner.

"Shortly afterwards an old woman named Haldane (but he knows nothing
further of her), lodged in the house, and she had got some drink at the
time, and got more to intoxicate her, and he and Hare suffocated her, and
disposed of her in the same manner.

"About Midsummer, 1828, a woman with her son or grandson, about twelve
years of age, and who seemed to be weak in his mind, came to the house as
lodgers; the woman got a dram, and when in bed asleep, he and Hare
suffocated her; and the boy was sitting at the fire in the kitchen, and he
and Hare took hold of him, and carried him into the room, and suffocated
him. They were put into a herring barrel the same night, and carried to
Dr. Knox's rooms.

"That, soon afterwards the declarant brought a woman to the house as a
lodger; and after some days she got drunk, and was disposed of in the same
manner: That declarant and Hare generally tried if lodgers would drink,
and if they would drink, they were disposed of in that manner.

"The declarant then went for a few days to the house of Helen M'Dougal's
father, and when he returned, he learned from Hare that he had disposed of
a woman in the declarant's absence, in the same manner, in his own house;
but the declarant does not know the woman's name, or any further
particulars of the case, or whether any other person was present or knew
of it.

"That about this time he went to live in Broggan's house, and a woman
named Margaret Haldane, daughter of the woman Haldane before mentioned,
and whose sister is married to Clark, a tin-smith in the High Street, came
into the house, but the declarant does not remember for what purpose; she
got drink, and was disposed of in the same manner: That Hare was not
present, and neither Broggan nor his son knew the least thing about that
or any other case of the same kind.

"That in April, 1828, he fell in with the girl Paterson and her companion
in Constantine Burke's house, and they had breakfast together, and he sent
for Hare, and he and Hare disposed of her in the same manner; and Mr.
Ferguson and a tall lad, who seemed to have known the woman by sight,
asked where they had got the body; and the declarant said he had purchased
it from an old woman at the back of the Canongate. The body was disposed
of five or six hours after the girl was killed, and it was cold, but not
very stiff, but he does not remember of any remarks being made about the
body being warm.

"One day in September or October, 1828, a washer-woman had been washing in
the house for some time, and he and Hare suffocated her, and disposed of
her in the same manner.

"Soon afterwards, a woman named M'Dougal, who was a distant relation of
Helen M'Dougal's first husband, came to Broggan's house to see M'Dougal;
and after she had been coming and going to the house for a few days, she
got drunk, and was served in the same way by the declarant and Hare.

"That 'Daft Jamie' was then disposed of in the manner mentioned in the
indictment, except that Hare was concerned in it. That Hare was lying
alongside of Jamie in the bed, and Hare suddenly turned on him, and put
his hand on his mouth and nose; and Jamie, who had got drink, but was not
drunk, made a terrible resistance, and he and Hare fell from the bed
together, Hare still keeping hold of Jamie's mouth and nose; and as they
lay on the floor together, declarant lay across Jamie, to prevent him from
resisting, and they held him in that state till he was dead, and he was
disposed of in the same manner; and Hare took a brass snuff-box and a
spoon from Jamie's pocket, and kept the box to himself, and never gave it
to the declarant--but he gave him the spoon.

"And the last was the old woman Docherty, for whose murder he has been
convicted. That she was not put to death in the manner deponed to by Hare
on the trial. That during the scuffle between him and Hare, in the course
of which he was nearly strangled by Hare, Docherty had crept among the
straw, and after the scuffle was over they had some drink, and after that
they both went forward to where the woman was lying sleeping, and Hare
went forward first, and seized her by the mouth and nose, as on former
occasions; and at the same time the declarant lay across her, and she had
no opportunity of making any noise; and before she was dead, one or other
of them, he does not recollect which, took hold of her by the throat. That
while he and Hare were struggling, which was a real scuffle, M'Dougal
opened the door of the apartment, and went into the inner passage and
knocked at the door, and called out police and murder, but soon came back;
and at the same time Hare's wife called out never to mind, because
declarant and Hare would not hurt one another. That whenever he and Hare
rose and went towards the straw where Docherty was lying, M'Dougal and
Hare's wife, who, he thinks, were lying in bed at the time, or, perhaps,
were at the fire, immediately rose and left the house, but did not make
any noise, so far as he heard, and he was surprised at their going out at
that time, because he did not see how they could have any suspicion of
what they (the declarant and Hare) intended doing. That he cannot say
whether he and Hare would have killed Docherty or not, if the women had
remained, because they were so determined to kill the woman, the drink
being in their head;--and he has no knowledge or suspicion of Docherty's
body having been offered to any person besides Dr. Knox; and he does not
suspect that Paterson would offer the body to any other person than Dr.
Knox.

"Declares, that suffocation was not suggested to them by any person as a
mode of killing, but occurred to Hare on the first occasion before
mentioned, and was continued afterwards because it was effectual, and
showed no marks; and when they lay across the body at the same time, that
was not suggested to them by any person, for they never spoke to any
person on such a subject; and it was not done for the purpose of
preventing the person from breathing, but was only done for the purpose of
keeping down the person's arms and thighs, to prevent the person
struggling.

"Declares, that with the exception of the body of Docherty, they never
took the person by the throat, and they never leapt upon them; and
declares that there were no marks of violence on any of the subjects, and
they were sufficiently cold to prevent any suspicion on the part of the
doctors; and, at all events, they might be cold and stiff enough before
the box was opened up, and he and Hare always told some story of their
having purchased the subjects from some relation or other person who had
the means of disposing of them, about different parts of the town, and the
statements which they made were such as to prevent the doctors having any
suspicions; and no suspicions were expressed by Dr. Knox or any of his
assistants, and no questions asked tending to show that they had
suspicion.

"Declares, that M'Dougal and Hare's wife were no way concerned in any of
the murders, and neither of them knew of anything of the kind being
intended even in the case of Docherty; and although these two women may
latterly have had some suspicion in their own minds that the declarant and
Hare were concerned in lifting dead bodies, he does not think they could
have any suspicion that he and Hare were concerned in committing murders.

"Declares, that none of the subjects which they had procured, as before
mentioned, were offered to any other person than Dr. Knox's assistants,
and he and Hare had very little communication with Dr. Knox himself; and
declares, that he has not the smallest suspicion of any other person in
this, or in any other country, except Hare and himself, being concerned in
killing persons and offering their bodies for dissection; and he never
knew or heard of such a thing having been done before."

This declaration was signed by Sheriff Tait and Burke. It is curious to
notice how, in it, the criminal endeavours in almost every instance to
bring out Hare as the chief actor in the horrible events he describes in
such a fragmentary way; but it will be remembered that Burke, several
times between his conviction and execution, said he would be happy if he
were certain Hare would also become a subject for the scaffold. There is
little reason to doubt that, had the opportunity been afforded him, he
would have turned informer himself, and twisted events in such a way as to
have condemned Hare.

About three weeks later, on the 22nd January, Burke was again before the
gentlemen to whom he made his confession on the 3rd of the same month. But
there was an addition to the company in the person of the Rev. Mr. Reid,
the Catholic priest, who had regularly attended him since his
condemnation. This gentleman was requested to be present, as the Sheriff
said in his letter to the Lord Provost, in order to give the confession
"every degree of authenticity." On this occasion, Burke, having expressed
his adherence to his former declaration--

"Declares further, that he does not know the names and descriptions of any
of the persons who were destroyed except as mentioned in his former
declaration. Declares, that he was never concerned in any other act of the
same kind, nor made any attempt or preparation to commit such, and all
reports of a contrary tendency, some of which he has heard, are
groundless. And he does not know of Hare being concerned in any such,
except as mentioned in his former declaration; and he does not know of any
persons being murdered for the purpose of dissection by any other persons
than himself and Hare, and if any persons have disappeared anywhere in
Scotland, England, or Ireland, he knows nothing whatever about it, and
never heard of such a thing till he was apprehended. Declares, that he
never had any instrument in his house except a common table knife, or a
knife used by him in his trade as a shoemaker, or a small pocket knife,
and he never used any of those instruments, or attempted to do so, on any
of the persons who were destroyed. Declares, that neither he nor Hare, so
far as he knows, ever were concerned in supplying any subjects for
dissection except those before mentioned; and, in particular, never did so
by raising dead bodies from the grave. Declares, that they never allowed
Dr. Knox, or any of his assistants, to know exactly where their houses
were, but Paterson, Dr. Knox's porter or door-keeper, knew."




CHAPTER XXXV.

    _The "Courant" Confession of Burke--Details of the Crimes--Burke's
    Account of His Life--The Criminals and Dr. Knox._


In the following pages is the _Courant_ confession of Burke, about which
there was so much difficulty and heartburning. It goes more into detail
than the official document, and it is interesting to know that the words
and sentences in italic were written in by Burke himself. The date on
which it was made will be seen at the end to have been 21st January, 1829,
a week before the execution:--

"Abigail Simpson was murdered on the 12th February, 1828, on the forenoon
of the day. She resided in Gilmerton, near Edinburgh; has a daughter
living there. She used to sell salt and camstone. She was decoyed in by
Hare and his wife on the afternoon of the 11th February, and he gave her
some whisky to drink. She had one shilling and sixpence and a can of
kitchen-fee. Hare's wife gave her one shilling and sixpence for it; she
drank it all with them. She then said she had a daughter. Hare said he was
a single man and would marry her, and get all the money amongst them. They
then proposed to her to stay all night, which she did, as she was so
drunk she could not go home; and in the morning was vomiting. They then
gave her some porter and whisky, and made her so drunk that she fell
asleep on the bed. Hare then laid hold of her mouth and nose, and
prevented her from breathing. Burke held her hands and feet till she was
dead. She made very little resistance, and when it was convenient they
carried her to Dr. Knox's dissecting-rooms in Surgeon Square, and got ten
pounds for her. She had on a drab mantle, a white-grounded cotton shawl
and blue spots on it. Hare took all her clothes and went out with them;
said he was going to put them into the canal. She said she was a pensioner
of Sir John Hay's. (Perhaps this should be Sir John Hope).

"The next was an Englishman, a native of Cheshire, and a lodger of Hare's.
They murdered him in the same manner as the other. He _was_ ill with _the_
jaundice at the same time. He was very tall; had black hair, brown
whiskers, mixed with grey hairs. He used to sell spunks in Edinburgh; was
about forty years of age. Did not know his name. _Sold to Dr. Knox for
£10._

"The next was an old woman who lodged with Hare for one night, but does
not know her name. She was murdered in the same manner as above. _Sold to
Dr. Knox for £10._ The old woman was decoyed into the house by Mrs. Hare
in the forenoon from the street, when Hare was working at the boats at the
canal. She gave her whisky, and put her to bed three times. At last she
was so drunk that she fell asleep; and when Hare came home to his dinner,
he put part of the bed-tick on her mouth and nose, and when he came home
at night she was dead. Burke at this time was mending shoes; and Hare and
Burke took the clothes off her, and put her body into a tea-box. Took her
to Knox's that night.

"The next was Mary Paterson, who was murdered in Burke's brother's house
in the Canongate, in the month of April last, by Burke and Hare, in the
forenoon. She was put into a tea-box, and carried to Dr. Knox's
dissecting-rooms in the afternoon of the same day; and got £8 for her
body. She had twopence-halfpenny, which she held fast in her hand.
Declares that the girl Paterson was only four hours dead till she was in
Knox's dissecting-rooms; but she was not dissected at that time, for she
was three months in whisky before she was dissected. She was warm when
Burke cut the hair off her head; and Knox brought a Mr. ----, a painter,
to look at her, she was so handsome a figure, and well shaped in body and
limbs. One of the students said she was like a girl he had seen in the
Canongate as one pea is like to another. They desired Burke to cut off her
hair; one of the students gave a pair of scissors for that purpose.

"In June last, an old woman and a dumb boy, her grandson, from Glasgow,
came to Hare's, and were both murdered at the _dead_ hour of night, when
the woman was in bed. Burke and Hare murdered her in the same way as they
did the others. They took off the bed-clothes and tick, stripped off her
clothes, and laid her on the bottom of the bed, and then put on the
bed-tick and bed-clothes on the top of her; and they then came and took
_the boy_ in their arms and carried him ben to the room, and murdered him
in the same manner, and _laid_ him alongside of his grandmother. They lay
for the space of an hour; they then put them into a herring barrel. The
barrel was perfectly dry; there was no brine in it. They carried them to
the stable till next day; they put the barrel into Hare's cart, and Hare's
horse was yoked in it; but the horse would not drag the cart one foot past
the Meal-market; and they got a porter with a hurley, and put the barrel
on it. Hare and the porter went, to Surgeon Square with it. Burke went
before them, as he was afraid something would happen, as the horse would
not draw them. When they came to Dr. Knox's dissecting rooms, Burke
carried the barrel in his arms. The students and them had hard work to get
them out, being so stiff and cold. They received £16 for them both. Hare
was taken in by the horse he bought that refused drawing the corpse to
Surgeon Square, and they shot it in the tan-yard. He had two large holes
in his shoulder stuffed with cotton, and covered over with a piece of
another horse's skin to prevent them being discovered.

"Joseph, the miller by trade, and a lodger of Hare's. He had once been
possessed of a good deal of money. He was connected by marriage with some
of the Carron company. Burke and Hare murdered him by pressing a pillow
on his mouth and nose till he was dead. He was then carried to Dr. Knox's
in Surgeon Square. They got £10 for him.

"Burke and Helen M'Dougal were on a visit seeing their friends near
Falkirk. This was the time a procession was made round a stone in that
neighbourhood; thinks it was the anniversary of the battle of Bannockburn.
When he was away, Hare fell in with a woman drunk in the street at the
West Port. He took her into his house and murdered her himself, and sold
her to Dr. Knox's assistants for £8. When Burke went away he knew Hare was
in want of money; his things were all in pawn; but when he came back,
found him have plenty of money. Burke asked him if he had been doing any
business. He said he had been doing nothing. Burke did not believe him,
and went to Dr. Knox, who told him that Hare had brought a subject. Hare
then confessed what he had done.

"A cinder-gatherer; _Burke_ thinks her name was Effy. She was in the habit
of selling small pieces of leather to him (_as he was a cobbler_), she
gathered about the coach-works. He took her into Hare's stable, and gave
her whisky to drink till she was drunk; she then lay down among some straw
and fell asleep. They then laid a cloth over her. Burke and Hare murdered
her as they _did the_ others. She was then carried to Dr. Knox's, Surgeon
Square, and sold for £10.

"Andrew Williamson, a policeman, and his neighbour, were dragging a drunk
woman to the West Port watch-house. They found her sitting on a stair.
Burke said, 'Let the woman go to her lodgings.' They said they did not
know where she lodged. Burke then said he would take her to her lodgings.
They then gave her to his charge. He then took her to Hare's house. Burke
and Hare murdered her that night the same way as they did the others. They
carried her to Dr. Knox's in Surgeon Square, and got £10.

"Burke being asked, did the policemen know him when they gave him this
drunk woman into his charge? He said he had a good character with the
police; or if they had known that there were four murderers living in one
house they would have visited them oftener.

"James Wilson, commonly _called_ Daft Jamie. Hare's _wife_ brought him in
from the street into her house. Burke was at the time getting a dram in
Rymer's shop. He saw her take Jamie off the street, bare-headed and
bare-footed. After she got him into her house, and left him with Hare, she
came to Rymer's shop for a pennyworth of butter, and Burke was standing at
the counter. She asked him for a dram; and in drinking it she stamped him
on the foot. He knew immediately what she wanted him for, and he then went
after her. When in the house she said, you have come too late, for the
drink is all done; and Jamie had the cup in his hand. He had never seen
him before to his knowledge. They then proposed to send for another half
mutchkin, which they did, and urged him to drink; she took a little with
them. They then invited him ben to the little room, and advised him to sit
down upon the bed. Hare's wife then went out, and locked the outer door,
and put the key below the door. There were none in the room but themselves
three. Jamie sat down upon the bed. He then lay down upon the bed, and
Hare lay down at his back, his head raised up and resting upon his left
hand. Burke was sitting at the foreside of the bed. When they had lain
there for some time, Hare threw his body on the top of Jamie, pressed his
hand on his mouth, and held his nose with the other. Hare and him fell off
the bed and struggled. Burke then held his hands and feet. They never
quitted their grip till he was dead. He never got up nor cried any. When
he was dead Hare felt his pockets, and took out a brass snuff-box and a
copper snuff-spoon. He gave the spoon to Burke, and kept the box to
himself. Sometime after, he said he threw away the box in the tan-yard;
and the brass-box that was libelled against Burke in the Sheriff's office
was Burke's own box. It was after breakfast Jamie was enticed in, and he
was murdered by twelve o'clock in the day. Burke declares, that Mrs. Hare
led poor Jamie in as a dumb lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep to the
shearers; and he was always very anxious making inquiries for his mother,
and was told she would be there immediately. He does not think he drank
above one glass of whisky all the time. He was then put into a closet that
Hare kept clothes in; and they carried him to Dr. Knox's, in Surgeon
Square, that afternoon, and got £10 for him. Burke gave Daft Jamie's
clothes to his brother's children; they were almost naked; and when he
untied the bundle they were like to quarrel about them. The clothes of the
other murdered persons were generally destroyed, to prevent detection.

"Ann M'Dougal, a cousin of Helen M'Dougal's former husband. She was a
young woman, and married, and had come on a visit to see them. Hare and
Burke gave her whisky till she was drunk, and when in bed and asleep,
Burke told Hare that he would have most to do with her, as she being a
distant friend, he did not like to begin first on her. Hare murdered her
by stopping her breath, and Burke assisted him the same way as the others.
One of Dr. Knox's assistants, _Paterson_, gave them a fine trunk to put
her into. It was in the afternoon when she was done. It was in John
Broggan's house; and when Broggan came home from his work he saw the
trunk, and made inquiries about it, as he knew they had no trunks there.
Burke then gave him two or three drams, as there was always plenty of
whisky going at these times, to make him quiet. Hare and Burke then gave
him £1 10s. each, as he was back in his rent, for to pay it, and he left
Edinburgh a few days after. They then carried her to Surgeon Square as
soon as Broggan went out of the house, and got £10 for her. Hare was
cautioner for Broggan's rent, being £3, and Hare and Burke gave him that
sum. Broggan went off in a few days, and the rent is not paid yet. They
gave him the money that he might not come against them for the murder of
Ann M'Dougal, that he saw in the trunk, that was murdered in his house.
Hare thought that the rent would fall upon him, and if he could get Burke
to pay the half of it, it would be so much the better; and proposed this
to Burke, and he agreed to it, as they were glad to get him out of the
way. Broggan's wife is a cousin of Burke's. They thought he went to
Glasgow, but are not sure.

"Mrs. Haldane, a stout old woman, who had a daughter transported last
summer from the Calton Jail for fourteen years, and has another daughter
married to ----, in the High Street. She was a lodger of Hare's. She went
into Hare's stable; the door was left open, and she being drunk, and
falling asleep among some straw, Hare and Burke murdered her the same way
as they did the others, and kept the body all night in the stable, and
took her to Dr. Knox's next day. She had but one tooth in her mouth, and
that was a very large one in front.

"A young woman, a daughter of Mrs. Haldane, of the name of Peggy Haldane,
was drunk, and sleeping in Broggan's house, was murdered by Burke himself,
in the forenoon. Hare had no hand in it. She was taken to Dr. Knox's in
the afternoon in a tea-box, and £8 got for her. She was so drunk at the
time that he thinks she was not sensible of her death, as she made no
resistance whatever. She and her mother were both lodgers of Hare's, and
they were both of idle habits, and much given to drinking. This was the
only murder that Burke committed by himself, but what Hare was connected
with. She was laid with her face downwards, and he pressed her down, and
she was soon suffocated.

"There was a Mrs. Hostler washing in John Broggan's, and she came back
next day to finish up the clothes, and when done, Hare and Burke gave her
some whisky to drink, which made her drunk. This was in the daytime. She
then went to bed. Mrs. Broggan was out at the time. Hare and Burke
murdered her in the same way as they did the others, and put her in a box,
and set her in the coal-house in the passage, and carried her off to Dr.
Knox's in the afternoon of the same day, and got £8 for her. Broggan's
wife was out of the house at the time the murder was committed. Mrs.
Hostler had ninepence-halfpenny in her hand, which they could scarcely get
out of it after she was dead, so firmly was it grasped.

"The woman Campbell or Docherty was murdered on the 31st October last, and
she was the last one. Burke declares that Hare perjured himself on his
trial, when giving evidence against him, as the woman Campbell or Docherty
lay down among some straw at the bed-side, and Hare laid hold of her mouth
and nose, and pressed her throat, and Burke assisted him in it, till she
was dead. Hare was not sitting on a chair at the time, as he said in
court. There were seven shillings in the woman's pocket, which were
divided between Hare and Burke.

"That was the whole of them--sixteen in whole; nine were murdered in
Hare's house, and four in John Broggan's; two in Hare's stable, and one in
Burke's brother's house in the Canongate. Burke declares that five of them
were murdered in Hare's room that has the iron bolt in the inside of it.
Burke did not know the days nor the months the different murders were
committed, nor all their names. They were generally in a state of
intoxication at those times, and paid little attention to them; but they
were all from 12th February till 1st November, 1828; but he thinks Dr.
Knox will know by the dates of paying him the money for them. He was never
concerned with any other person but Hare in those matters, and was never a
resurrectionist, and never dealt in dead bodies but what he murdered. He
was urged by Hare's wife to murder Helen M'Dougal, the woman he lived
with. The plan was, that he was to go to the country for a few weeks, and
then write to Hare that she had died and was buried, and he was to tell
this to deceive the neighbours; but he would not agree to it. The reason
was, they could not trust to her, as she was a Scotch woman. Helen
M'Dougal was not present when these murders were committed; she might have
a suspicion of what was doing, but did not see them done. Hare was always
the most anxious about them, and could sleep well at night after
committing a murder; but Burke repented often of the crime, and could not
sleep without a bottle of whisky by his bed-side, and a twopenny candle to
burn all night beside him; when he awoke he would take a draught of the
bottle--sometimes half a bottle at a draught--and that would make him
sleep. They had a great many pointed out for murder, but were disappointed
of them by some means or other; they were always in a drunken state when
they committed those murders, and when they got the money for them while
it lasted. When done, they would pawn their clothes, and would take them
out as soon as they got a subject. When they first began this murdering
system, they always took them to Dr. Knox's after dark; but being so
successful, they went in the day-time, and grew more bold. When they
carried the girl Paterson to Knox's, there were a great many boys in the
High School Yards, who followed Burke and the man that carried her,
crying, 'They are carrying a corpse;' but they got her safe delivered.
They often said to one another that no person could find them out, no one
being present at the murders but themselves two; and that they might as
well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. They made it their business to look
out for persons to decoy into their homes to murder them. Burke declares,
when they kept the mouth and nose shut a very few minutes, they could make
no resistance, but would convulse and make a rumbling noise in their
bellies for some time; after they ceased crying and making resistance,
they left them to die of themselves: but their bodies would often move
afterwards, and for some time they would have long breathings before life
went away. Burke declares that it was God's providence that put a stop to
their murdering career, or he does not know how far they might have gone
with it, even to attack people on the streets, as they were so successful,
and always met with a ready market: that when they delivered a body they
were always told to get more. Hare was always with him when he went with a
subject, and also when he got the money. Burke declares, that Hare and him
had a plan made up, that Burke and a man were to go to Glasgow or Ireland,
and try the same there, and to forward them to Hare, and he was to give
them to Dr. Knox. Hare's wife always got £1 of Burke's share, for the use
of the house, of all that were murdered in their house; for if the price
received was £10, Hare got £6, and Burke got only £4; but Burke did not
give her the £1 for Daft Jamie, for which Hare's wife would not speak to
him for three weeks. They could get nothing done during the harvest time,
and also after harvest, as Hare's house was so full of lodgers. In Hare's
house were eight beds for lodgers; they paid 3d. each; and two, and
sometimes three, slept in a bed; and during harvest they gave up their own
bed when throng. Burke declares they went under the name of resurrection
men in the West Port, where they lived, but not murderers. When they
wanted money, they would say they would go and look for a shot; that was
the name they gave them when they wanted to murder any person. They
entered into a contract with Dr. Knox and his assistants that they were to
get £10 in winter, and £8 in summer, for as many subjects as they could
bring to them.

"Old Donald, a pensioner, who lodged in Hare's house, and died of a
dropsy, was the first subject they sold. After he was put into the coffin
and the lid put on, Hare unscrewed the nails and Burke lifted the body
out. Hare filled the coffin with bark from the tanyard, and put a sheet
over the bark, and it was buried in the West Churchyard. The coffin was
furnished by the parish. Hare and Burke took him to the College first;
they saw a man there, and asked for Dr. Monro, or any of his men; the man
asked what they wanted, or had they a subject; they said they had. He then
ordered them to call at ten o'clock at Dr. Knox's, in Surgeon Square, and
he would take it from them, which they did. They got £7 10s. for him. That
was the only subject they sold that they did not murder; and getting that
high price made them try the murdering for subjects.

"Burke is thirty-six years of age; was born in the parish of Orrey, County
Tyrone; served seven years in the army, most of that time as an officer's
servant in the Donegal Militia; he was married at Ballinha, in the county
of Mayo, when in the army, but left his wife and two children in Ireland.
She would not come to Scotland with him. He has often wrote to her, but
got no answer; he came to Scotland to work at the Union Canal, and wrought
there while it lasted; he resided for about two years in Peebles, and
worked as a labourer. He wrought as weaver for eighteen months, and as a
baker for five months; he learned to mend shoes, as a cobbler, with a man
he lodged with in Leith; and he has lived with Helen M'Dougal for about
ten years, until he and she were confined in the Calton Jail, on the
charge of murdering the woman of the name of Docherty or Campbell, and
both were tried before the High Court of Justiciary in December last.
Helen M'Dougal's charge was found not proven, and Burke found guilty, and
sentenced to suffer death on the 28th January.

[Illustration: FAC-SIMILE OF BURKE'S ADDITION TO THE "COURANT" CONFESSION]

"Declares, that Hare's servant girl could give information respecting the
murders done in Hare's house, if she likes. She came to him at Whitsunday
last, went to harvest, and returned back to him when the harvest was over.
She remained until he was confined along with his wife in the Calton Jail.
She then sold twenty-one of his swine for £3, and absconded. She was
gathering potatoes in a field that day Daft Jamie was murdered; she saw
his clothes in the house when she came home at night. Her name is
Elizabeth M'Guier or Mair. Their wives saw that people came into their
houses at night, and went to bed as lodgers, but did not see them in the
morning, nor did they make any inquiries after them. They certainly knew
what became of them, although Burke and Hare pretended to the contrary.
Hare's wife often helped Burke and Hare to pack the murdered bodies into
the boxes. Helen M'Dougal never did, nor saw them done; Burke never durst
let her know; he used to smuggle and drink, and get better victuals
unknown to her; he told her he bought dead bodies, and sold them to
doctors, and that was the way they got the name of resurrection-men.

"_Burk deaclars that Docter Knox never incoureged him, nither taught or
incoreged him to murder any person, nether any of his asistents, that
worthy gentleman Mr. Fergeson was the only man that ever mentioned any
thing about the bodies, He inquired where we got that yong woman
Paterson._

(_Sined_) "_WILLIAM BURK, prisner._"

"_Condemned Cell, January 21, 1829._"




CHAPTER XXXVI.

    _The Fate of Hare--Mrs. Hare in Glasgow--Rescued from the Mob--Her
    Escape to Ireland, and Subsequent Career--Helen M'Dougal--Burke's Wife
    in Ireland._


In a previous chapter the escape of Hare from Scotland, and the stirring
events that accompanied it, have been minutely described. What became of
him after that is not really known--he dropped out of sight as rapidly as
he had emerged into public ken. Long afterwards it was stated that an old
white-haired blind man, led by a dog, was in the habit of frequenting one
of the busiest corners in London, begging from the passers-by, and this
poor unfortunate was identified as Hare. The statement, however, was made
on no definite authority. Again, some twenty years ago a London newspaper
gave currency to a statement that Hare had died shortly before in Canada,
whither he had found refuge; but whether the fact was as given to the
public was never authoritatively known. If it were the case, he would at
the time of death be a man of between sixty and seventy years of age. But
while he thus escaped from the scene of his crimes to some land where he
was unknown, the memory of his deeds impressed itself strongly on the
minds of the people of Scotland, and there was a tendency to blame him and
his wretched accomplices with offences of which it must be assumed they
were innocent. Thus, in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_ of the 14th of
February, 1829, it was stated that an investigation was then going on in
the city relative to a murder committed some time before in Shields, the
manner being similar to that adopted by the West Port experts. The object
of the inquiry was said to be to ascertain whether Hare or Burke were in
or out of Edinburgh at the time the crime was committed. It was even
rumoured that Hare had been apprehended in Newcastle on a charge of being
concerned in the deed; but this was not the case, and it would seem as if
nothing came of the inquiry in Edinburgh, for no further mention is made
of it.

As for Mrs. Hare, we must go back a little, and trace her liberation and
the adventures through which she had to go before she left the country.
She was detained in custody for some time after the trial, for, of course,
it would have been unwise and unsafe for the authorities to have risked
her life at the mercy of an excited and unreasoning mob. On Monday, the
26th of January, two days before the execution of Burke, she was liberated
from Calton Hill Jail. Unfortunately for her, she was recognised while
crossing the bridges, and an immense crowd gathered round her. The day was
convenient for people showing their ill-feeling in a comparatively mild
way, for the streets were under a thick covering of snow. Once the cry of
recognition was raised, she was pelted by heavy volleys of snowballs, and
only a feeling of sympathy for the child the woman carried in her arms
prevented the mob from proceeding to more extreme measures. The police
interfered, and for safety took Mrs. Hare to the lock-up, where she
remained until the evening. As twilight was coming over the city she
slipped out of the office, and left Edinburgh.

What became of Mrs. Hare and her helpless infant during the next fortnight
is not known, but nothing was heard of her until the _Glasgow Chronicle_
of Tuesday, 10th February, announced that on that day she had been rescued
by the police from the fury of a Glasgow mob. She must have travelled on
foot between the two cities, a weary, miserable pilgrimage, avoiding
discovery, and often sleeping by roadsides and hayricks, with the
inevitable feeling of a misspent, if not a criminal life. The _Chronicle_,
speaking of her, spoke of her as "the celebrated Mrs. Hare," and stated
that the Calton (Glasgow) police had to lodge her in a police cell to save
her and her child from an infuriated populace. Her statement was that she
had been lodging in the Calton for four nights, "with her infant and her
bit duds," and that those with whom she resided were not aware of her
identity. She had managed so well thus far that she had hoped to be able
to leave Glasgow without detection. In order to ensure this she had been
in the habit of keeping the house during the day, and occasionally in the
early morning, or in the twilight, she had ventured to the Broomielaw, to
see when a vessel would be ready to sail for Ireland, whither she hoped to
be taken. Hitherto she had been disappointed. She had gone out that
morning with the same object, and while returning to her lodgings by way
of Clyde Street, she was recognised by a drunken woman, who shouted
out--"Hare's wife; burke her!" and set the example to the large crowd that
rapidly gathered by throwing a large stone at the unfortunate woman. The
people were not slow to set upon Mrs. Hare, and heaped upon her every
indignity they could imagine. She escaped from her persecutors, and fled
into the Calton, but she was pursued there, and was experiencing very
rough treatment when the police rescued her. In the station-house she
seemed to be completely overcome, and occasionally bursting into tears
she bewailed her unhappy situation, which she declared had been brought
about by Hare's profligacy. All she desired, she told her listeners, was
to get across the channel to Ireland, where she hoped to end her days in
some remote spot near her native place, where she would live in retirement
and penitence. As for Hare, she would never live with him again.

Owing to the threatening attitude of the populace, the authorities saw
they must themselves devise means for Mrs. Hare's safe removal to Ireland.
On the afternoon of her rescue an immense crowd surrounded the police
office expecting to see her depart, but it was feared that the spirit of
riot might again break forth with renewed vigour. She was detained in
custody until Thursday, the 12th of February, when she sailed from the
Broomielaw in the steamer _Fingal_, for Belfast, which port was not far
from her native place. Like her husband, in his escape from Dumfries, she
had to leave the country without her bundle of clothing, which had gone
astray when the people attacked her on the streets. While the _Fingal_ lay
at Greenock to take in cargo, Mrs. Hare was under the guardianship of the
local police, and it was to but a few that she was known to have been in
the town until after her departure.

Mrs. Hare thus arrived in Ireland, and all definite traces of her were
lost. Leighton, however, obtained some information which probably relates
to this unfortunate woman. Writing in 1861, the author of _The Court of
Cacus_ says:--"Not long ago, we were told by a lady who was in Paris about
the year 1850, that, having occasion for a nurse, she employed a woman,
apparently between sixty and seventy years of age. She gave her name as
Mrs. Hare, and upon being questioned whether she had been ever in
Scotland, she denied it, stating that she came from Ireland. Yet she often
sung Scotch songs; and what brings out the suspicion that she was the real
Mrs. Hare the more is, that she had a daughter, whose age, over thirty,
agrees perfectly with that of the infant she had in her arms when in
court. In addition to all this, the woman's face was just that of the
picture published at the time."

Helen M'Dougal was no more fortunate in her treatment by the populace.
Mention has already been made of the riot that followed her liberation,
and it has also been stated that she was seen out of Edinburgh by the
police. She returned and offered to supply the Lord Advocate with
information that would hang Hare, and probably among her statements was
the story that was said to have been told by her after Burke's execution.
Burke and Hare were one night drinking heavily, and in the course of a
discussion on their prospects with the doctors, the former asked his
companion--"What will we do when we can get no more bodies?" Hare coolly
replied--"We can never be absolutely at a loss while our two wives remain,
but that will only be when we are hard up." This was overheard by one of
the women, and is another particle of evidence showing they were not so
ignorant of the desperate nature of the enterprise engaged in by the men.
When M'Dougal finally left Edinburgh she went towards the home of her
relatives in Stirlingshire, but they would having nothing to do with her,
and drove her away. She sought an asylum in the neighbourhood of
Carnworth, but she was recognised and roughly treated; and again at
Newbigging she had to run the gauntlet of an infuriated mob. Towards the
end of January, 1829, a woman was severely abused in Lanark under the idea
that she was M'Dougal, and the mistake was only discovered after she had
been severely injured. The unfortunate person turned out to be a woman
recently arrived from Fort-William. About the beginning of February,
M'Dougal passed through Newcastle, on her way south. The police ordered
her out of the town, and escorted her to the Blue Stone, which stood on
the centre of the Tyne Bridge, marking the boundary between the counties
of Northumberland and Durham, and there she was saluted by execrations and
showers of stones from the populace of Gateshead. What became of her after
this is unknown, but long ere now she must have gone to her account.

But perhaps there is no more affecting part of the terrible story of the
West Port murders than is discovered by a letter received by an Edinburgh
gentleman from the Rev. Anthony Corcoran, Roman Catholic curate at
Kilmore, May, near Ballina. This gentleman had written to Ireland
requesting the clergyman to make inquiries regarding Burke's wife. Mr.
Corcoran sent the following reply, dated 26th January, 1829:--"I have
minutely inquired into the conduct of the unfortunate Bourke, and I feel
much pleasure in assuring you that there was not a blot on his character
for the time he lived in Ballina. After the receipt of your letter, I sent
for Margaret Coleman, Bourke's wife, to whom I communicated the sad news
of the awful death that awaited her ill-fated husband. She was prepared
for the shock for some time. She was acquainted with her husband's
criminal intercourse with the notorious M'Dougal. I fear that the
companions of his travels from this country were his companions in blood
in Scotland, and that every religious impression is blotted from their
minds."

By this time the newspapers had ceased to pay much attention to the West
Port tragedies--the Catholic emancipation question beginning to agitate
the country, while Parliamentary reform was being strongly pushed to the
front--but they gave circulation to occasional pieces of gossip. It was
stated that when old Abigail Simpson from Gilmerton was lying intoxicated
in the house in Tanner's Close, Burke and Hare sat carousing by the
fireside. "Do you hear that," remarked Hare to his companion, as he
listened to the woman's heavy breathing, "it would not be difficult to
take her where we took Donald." This was the suggestion for the first
murder.




CHAPTER XXXVII.

    _Dr. Knox's Connection with Burke and Hare--His Egotism--Knox's
    Criticism of Liston and his Assistants--Hanging Knox's Effigy--Popular
    Tumults--Demand that he should be Put on Trial._


As yet Dr. Knox had done nothing to allay the irritation which existed
towards him in the public mind. In the eyes of many he seemed a greater
criminal than even Burke and Hare, and outspoken and unthinking people
went the length of declaring that these misguided men were but instruments
in his hands, obeying his behests, and receiving pay for what their master
knew to be murderous work. This was certainly much too harsh a judgment,
but the doctor was, unfortunately, a man of such peculiar temperament,
that a large section of the people was willing to give credence to any
kind of story, however serious, regarding him. And it must be confessed
that this dislike towards him was shared in by not a few of his
professional brethren, who had suffered from his overweening self-conceit
and pride, and who felt that the exposure of the resurrectionist system,
with which they were all more or less forced, through the scarcity of
subjects, to be connected, could not have happened in relation to a more
suitable man. Even while Knox was alive, spending the last years of his
life in London, Leighton writes of him in terms far from complimentary.
Having referred to the professional, and even personal, jealousy that
existed between the rival teachers of anatomy in Edinburgh, and their
students, Leighton says:--"Unfortunately the characters of the leaders,
with the exception of Monro, were not calculated to temper this zeal with
discretion, or throw a veil of decency over the transactions of low men,
which, however justified, as many said, by the necessities of science,
were hostile to the instincts of nature, and fearfully resented by the
feelings of relatives. Liston was accused, whether justly or not, of
wiling patients from the Infirmary, to set off by his brilliant operations
the imperfections of the regular surgeons of that institution; and great
as he was in his profession, it is certain that he wanted that simplicity
and dignity of character necessary to secure to him respect in proportion
to the admiration due to his powers. But Knox was a man of a far more
complex organisation, if it was indeed possible to analyse him. A despair
to the physiognomist who contemplated his rough irregular countenance,
with a blind eye resembling a grape, he was not less a difficulty to the
psychologist. There seemed to be no principle whereby you could think of
binding him down to a line of duty, and a universal sneer, not limited to
mundane powers, formed that contrast to an imputed self-perfection, not
without the evidence of very great scientific accomplishments." Having
told of an unscrupulous practical joke played by Knox on Prof. Jameson,
Leighton proceeds:--"Even the bitterness of soul towards competitors was
not sufficiently gratified by the pouring forth of the toffana-spirit of
his sarcasm. He behoved to hold the phial with refined fingers, and rub
the liquid into the 'raw' with the soft touch of love. The affected
attenuation of voice and forced _retinu_ of feeling, sometimes
degenerating into a puppy's simper, bore such a contrast to the acerbity
of the matter, that the effect, though often ludicrous, was increased
tenfold."

Here are two samples of Knox's egotism, taken from his lectures to the
students:--"Gentlemen, I may mention that I have already taught the
science of anatomy to about 5,000 medical men, now spread over the surface
of the earth, and some of these have turned out most remarkable for their
knowledge, genius, and originality, for they now occupy some of the most
conspicuous and trying positions in Europe." Again:--"Before commencing
to-day's lecture, I am compelled by the sacred calls of duty to notice an
extraordinary surgical operation which has this morning been performed in
a neighbouring building, by a gentleman [Mr. Liston] who, I believe,
regards himself as the first surgeon in Europe. A country labourer, from
the neighbourhood of Tranent, came to the Infirmary a few days ago with an
aneurism of considerable extent, connected with one of the large arteries
of the neck; and, notwithstanding of its being obvious to the merest tyro
that it was an aneurism, the most distinguished surgeon in Europe, after
an apparently searching examination, pronounced it to be an abscess.
Accordingly, this professional celebrity--who, among other things, plumes
himself upon the wonderful strength of his hands and arms, without
pretension to head, and is an amateur member of the ring,--plunged his
knife into what he thus foolishly imagined to be an abscess; and the
blood, bursting forth from the deep gash in the aneurismal sac, the
patient was dead in a few seconds. This notable member of the profession
is actually an extra-academical lecturer on surgery in this great
metropolis; and on this occasion was assisted by a gentleman similarly
constituted, both intellectually and physically, who had been trained up
under the fostering care of a learned professor [Monro?] in a certain
University, who inherited his anatomatical genius from his ancestors, and
who has recently published a work on the anatomy of the human body, in
which, among other notabilities, no notice is taken of the pericardium.
Tracing the assistant of our distinguished operator further back, I have
discovered that he had been originally apprenticed to a butcher of this
city, but that he had been dismissed from this service for stealing a
sheep's head and trotters from his employer's shambles. It is surely
unnecessary for me to add that a knowledge of anatomy, physiology,
pathology, and surgery, is neither connected with nor dependant upon brute
force, ignorance and presumption; nor has it anything to do with an utter
destitution of honour and common honesty." This extraordinary speech was
listened to with interest and applauded by the great body of the students,
though a few of them by hisses gave expression to their opinion that Dr.
Knox had himself overstepped the bounds of prudence, and had shown "an
utter destitution of honour and common honesty."

It was little wonder, then, that Dr. Knox was so universally detested, and
that the great body of the people, agitated by the disclosures at the
trial of Burke and M'Dougal, should show their dislike to him, in a manner
they might not have adopted had he been a man who had hitherto received
the respect of his fellows. On Thursday, the 12th of February, 1829, the
inhabitants of Edinburgh made an extraordinary demonstration against him.
On that day, a large crowd assembled in the Calton district of the city,
and, having formed in marching order, they proceeded up Leith Street, and
over the Bridges to the Old Town, while in the front was borne what one of
the contemporary newspapers described as "an effigy of a certain doctor
who has been rendered very obnoxious to the public by recent events." "The
figure," the chronicler continued, "was pretty well decked out in a suit
of clothes, and the face and head bore a tolerable resemblance to the
person intended to be represented. On the back was a label bearing the
words--'Knox, the associate of the infamous Hare.'" While the mob was
crossing the South Bridge, a strong resolute policeman attempted,
single-handed, to disperse them, as he saw a riot would inevitably occur
if they were allowed to parade the streets much longer, if that, indeed,
were not the main purpose of the gathering. But his zeal was not tempered
by discretion, otherwise he would not have attempted such a foolhardy
task. The people easily drove him back, and he was in the struggle injured
by the many blows aimed at him. As the crowd passed on towards Newington
it increased in size. When they arrived in the district where Dr. Knox
resided, the effigy was hanged by the neck to the branch of a tree. Fire,
also, was put under it, but that soon went out, and the figure was torn to
pieces amid the huzzas of the assembled thousands. Up to this period the
crowd had behaved in a sort of good-natured fashion, and had resorted to
no actual violence, though at times its playfulness had a dash of
horseplay about it. But now matters assumed a threatening aspect, and a
movement was made towards Dr. Knox's house, which it seemed to be intended
to attack. The city authorities had become alarmed at the appearance of
affairs, and having collected all their forces, the city watchmen, under
Capt. Stewart, the superintendent, and a superior officer in another
department of the municipal service, marched quickly towards Newington to
suppress the tumult, and prevent, if possible, further popular excesses.
The superintendent and another officer, in advance of their force, entered
Knox's house by the rear, and from the front door they made a determined
charge upon the crowd who had assembled there. The people instantly
retreated to the other side of the road, and commenced throwing stones,
from the first volley of which Captain Stewart and his colleague were
severely injured. No further rioting took place at this time, and no
property was destroyed beyond some panes of glass in the windows of Knox's
and the adjoining houses. After a time the crowd--which consisted for the
most part of boys and young lads, among whom eight or ten bakers were the
most active--quietly dispersed, but large groups assembled in various
parts of the city.

Another crowd, also composed mostly of boys, gathered later in the day,
and, armed with sticks, they marched towards the High Street, which they
paraded for some time. Before they could do any mischief a strong body of
police met them opposite the Tron Church, and after a short interval they
dispersed. In the vicinity of the West Port another mob had collected and
marched down the Grassmarket along the Cowgate to the Horse Wynd, breaking
the glass in the windows of the south and west sides of the College.
Several of the ringleaders of another crowd which took up its quarters in
the Cowgate were apprehended by the police.

Edinburgh was now in a fairly riotous state, excited mobs pacing the city
in all directions. The police found themselves little more than able to
cope with the tumultuous spirit that was abroad, for no sooner had a
threatened or active disturbance been quelled in one district than matters
had assumed a serious aspect in another some distance off. They were thus
kept at most fatiguing duty. In spite of all their efforts, they were
unable to prevent another attack on Dr. Knox's house. About seven o'clock
in the evening an immense concourse of people marched to Newington, and,
surrounding the Doctor's residence, they threw stones at it until not a
pane of glass in the windows of it or the one adjoining was whole. An
attempt was also made to force Knox's premises in Surgeon's Square, but a
strong party of police completely repelled the attack. At last, as the
night advanced, the excited populace returned to their homes, and the city
was again quiet. In the course of the day the police had been able to
apprehend some twenty persons who had been conspicuous in the rioting in
the various parts of Edinburgh.

It is an interesting and curious fact that some of the newspapers
supported the people in their riotous proceedings. Speaking of the
disturbances already noted, the _Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle_ said:--"Since
the grand spectacle of the execution of Dr. Knox in effigy was exhibited,
about twenty-three of those concerned in it have been fined in sums of
from five to forty shillings. We understand that all these have been
defrayed out of a stock purse previously collected. Some of the rioters
had large quantities of gunpowder upon them. Another _auto-da-fe_ is
meditated; on which occasion the cavalcade will move in the direction of
Portobello, where, it is supposed, the Doctor burrows at night. As we have
said before, the agitation of public feeling will never subside till the
city be released of this man's presence, or until his innocence be
manifested. In justice to himself, if he is innocent, in justice to the
public, if he is guilty, he ought to be put upon his trial. The police
have a duty to perform, and it gives us pleasure to hear that they
discharged it with promptitude; but the feelings of nature, when outraged
as they have been in an immeasurable degree, will soar superior to all
dignities. It scarcely ever was known that a populace entered upon acts of
irregular justice when there was not extreme official apathy."




CHAPTER XXXVIII.

    _Inquiry into Dr. Knox's Relations with Burke and Hare--Report of
    Investigating Committee._


The violent outbreak of public feeling described in the last chapter
against Dr. Knox seems at last to have moved him to take some means to
clear himself from the imputations cast upon him for his connection with
Burke and Hare, and to attempt to set himself right with the people, who
were likely to proceed to even more extreme measures than any to which
they had yet resorted. Accordingly, it was intimated in the _Courant_ of
Thursday, 12th February, that at the desire of Dr. Knox and his friends,
ten gentlemen, with the Marquis of Queensberry at their head, had agreed
to make a full and fair investigation into all Dr. Knox's dealings with
the West Port criminals, and make a report to the public. In the same
newspaper on Monday, the 23rd of February, it was stated simply that the
noble marquis had withdrawn from the committee of investigation. No reason
for this withdrawal is given.

The committee of investigation certainly took plenty of time to inquire
into the matter they had undertaken, and to prepare their report, for it
was not until Saturday, the 21st of March, 1829, that the result of their
labours was published in the _Courant_. This report, certainly by no means
the least important document in connection with the West Port tragedies in
their relationship to medical science, was as follows:--

"The committee who, at the request of Dr. Knox, undertook to investigate
the truth or falsehood of the rumours in circulation regarding him, have
gone into an extensive examination of evidence, in the course of which
they have courted information from every quarter. They have been readily
furnished with all which they required from Dr. Knox himself; and though
they have failed in some attempts to procure evidence, they have in most
quarters succeeded in obtaining it, and especially from those persons who
have been represented to them as having spoken the most confidently in
support of those rumours; and they have unanimously agreed on the
following report:--

"1. The committee have seen no evidence that Dr. Knox or his assistants
knew that murder was committed in procuring any of the subjects brought to
his rooms, and the committee firmly believe that they did not.

"2. On the question whether any suspicion of murder at any time existed in
Dr. Knox's mind, the committee would observe that there were certainly
several circumstances (already known to the public) regarding some of the
subjects brought by Burke and Hare, which now that the truth has come out,
appear calculated to excite their suspicion, particularly the very early
period after death at which they were brought to the rooms, and the
absence of external marks of disease, together with the opinion previously
expressed by Dr. Knox, in common with most other anatomists, of the
generally abandoned character of persons engaged in this traffic. But on
the other hand, the committee, after most anxious enquiry, have found no
evidence of their actually having excited it in the mind of Dr. Knox or of
any other of the individuals who saw the bodies of these unfortunate
persons prior to the apprehension of Burke.

"These bodies do not appear in any instance to have borne external marks
by which it could have been known, whether they had died by violence, or
suddenly from natural causes, or from disease of short duration; and the
mode of protracted anatomical dissection practised in this and other
similar establishments, is such as would have made it very difficult to
ascertain the cause of death, even if special inquiry had been instituted
with that intention.

"No evidence whatever has come before the committee that any suspicion of
murder was expressed to Dr. Knox by any one either of his assistants, or
of his very numerous class (amounting to upwards of 400 students), or
other persons who were in the practice of frequently visiting his rooms;
and there are several circumstances in his conduct, particularly the
complete publicity with which his establishment was managed, and his
anxiety to lay each subject before the students as soon as possible after
its reception, which seem to the committee to indicate that he had no
suspicion of the atrocious means by which they had been procured.

"It has also been proved to the satisfaction of the committee that no
mutilation or disfigurement of any kind was ever practised with a view to
conceal the features, or abstract unreasonably any part of the body, the
presence of which would have facilitated detection; and it appears clearly
that the subjects brought by Burke and Hare were dissected in the same
protracted manner as those procured from any other quarter.

"3. The committee have thought it proper to inquire further, whether there
was anything faulty or negligent in the regulations under which subjects
were received into Dr. Knox's rooms, which gave or might give a peculiar
facility to the disposal of the bodies obtained by these crimes, and on
this point they think it their duty to state their opinion fully.

"It appears in evidence that Dr. Knox had formed and expressed the opinion
(long prior to any dealing with Burke and Hare) that a considerable supply
of subjects for anatomical purposes might be procured by purchase, and
without any crime, from the relatives or connections of deceased persons
of the lowest ranks of society.

"In forming this opinion, whether mistaken or not, the committee cannot
consider Dr. Knox to have been culpable. They believe that there is
nothing contrary to the law of the land in procuring subjects for
dissection in that way, and they know that the opinion which Dr. Knox had
formed on this point, though never acted on to any extent in this country,
has been avowed by others of the highest character in the profession. But
they think that Dr. Knox acted on this opinion in a very incautious
manner.

"This preconceived opinion seems to have led him to give a ready ear to
the plausible stories of Burke, who appears, from all the evidence before
the committee, to have conducted himself with great address and appearance
of honesty, as well in his connections with Dr. Knox, as in his more
frequent intercourse with his assistants, and always to have represented
himself as engaged in negotiations of that description, and occasionally
to have asked and obtained money in advance to enable him and his
associate to conclude bargains.

"Unfortunately, also, Dr. Knox has been led, apparently in consequence of
the extent and variety of his avocations, to intrust the dealings with
persons supplying subjects, and the reception of the subjects bought, to
his assistants (seven in number) and to his door-keeper indiscriminately.
It appears also that he directed or allowed these dealings to be conducted
on the understanding (common to him, with some other anatomists), that it
would only tend to diminish or divert the supply of subjects to make any
particular inquiry of the persons bringing them.

"In these respects the committee consider the practice which was then
adopted in Dr. Knox's rooms (whatever be the usage in this or other
establishments in regard to subjects obtained in the ordinary way) to have
been very improper in the case of persons bringing bodies which had not
been interred. They think that the notoriously bad character of persons
who generally engage in such traffic, in addition to the novelty and
particular nature of the system, on which these men professed to be
acting, undoubtedly demanded greater vigilance.

"The extent, therefore, to which (judging from the evidence which they
have been able to procure) the committee think Dr. Knox can be blamed, on
account of transactions with Burke and Hare, is, that by this laxity of
the regulations under which bodies were received into his rooms, he
unintentionally gave a degree of facility to the disposal of the victims
of their crimes, which, under better regulation, would not have existed,
and which is doubtless matter of deep and lasting regret, not only to
himself, but to all who have reflected on the importance, and are
therefore interested in the prosecution of the study of anatomy. But while
they point out this circumstance as the only ground of censure which they
can discover in the conduct of Dr. Knox, it is fair to observe that
perhaps the recent disclosures have made it appear reprehensible to many
who would not otherwise have adverted to its possible consequences."

This report was signed by John Robison, chairman; James Russell, Thomas
Allan, W. P. Alison, George Ballingall, George Sinclair, W. Hamilton, John
Robison, for M. P. Brown, Esq.; and John Shaw Stewart. The intention of
the committee evidently was by it to clear Dr. Knox from the aspersions
cast upon him; and this was a result far from satisfactory to a very large
section of the community. The feeling was that Paterson, the "door-keeper"
mentioned in the report, was, as that individual himself put it, being
made the "scape-goat for a personage in higher life." However, the matter
was allowed to rest there.




CHAPTER XXXIX.

    _English Newspapers on the West Port Tragedies--The "Sun," and its
    Idea of the Popular Feeling--Gray and his Wife._


These strange on-goings in Edinburgh, it has been seen, met with the
approval of the greater number of the Scotch newspapers; but many journals
on the Southern side of the Border professed the utmost horror at the
manifestations made by the populace of Edinburgh against the West Port
murderers. Indeed, so much was this the case that the _Times_ was
constrained to speak in this way--"Some of our contemporaries affect to be
shocked at the shouts of disgust and horror against the miscreant _Burke_
which broke from the excited populace of Edinburgh while witnessing the
legal retribution for his crimes. We are more shocked at the sickly and
sickening pretence to fine feeling by these newspapers. The exclamations
of the Scotch were ebullitions of virtuous and honest resentment against
the perpetrator of cruelties unheard of: we honour them for it; they
proved themselves to be unsophisticated men." That, certainly, is a
generous view of the conduct of the crowd at the execution; but perhaps as
generous, and certainly a more thoughtful and fair one, was taken by the
_Sunday Times_:--"The extraordinary sensation created by _Burke's_
atrocities caused a display of feeling on the part of the populace while
the last dreadful ceremonies were in progress, similar to that witnessed
in England when the wretched Jonathan Wild, and when the cruel Brownriggs
suffered at Tyburn. In that awful hour, when the hand of justice is about
to descend on the devoted sinner it were to be wished that no clamorous
shouts of abhorrence or of sympathy, should interrupt the parting prayer
which would fit the crime-stained spirit for the passage; but certainly,
if any excuse can be offered for exulting over the dying agonies of a
victim, it is furnished by the extraordinary guilt of the sufferer in the
present case."

At the time of the trial the London _Sun_ contained some comments on the
few circumstances connected with the tragedies, which had been revealed to
the public by the Scotch newspapers before that great event shed a flood
of light and information upon the actual nature of the occurrence. The
writer of the article was apparently ignorant of the real state of
matters, founding only on the few scattered and not very accurate
paragraphs then published, and not being within hearing of the vague
rumours of impending revelation which circulated in Edinburgh, and from it
gradually over the whole of Scotland. The editor of the _Caledonian
Mercury_, however, took the matter up, and being able to read between the
lines, he penned an admirable article upon the production of his English
contemporary. He thought some specimens of the "ignorance, presumption,
and talent for abuse" in the _Sun_ would amuse his readers, and on the
same principle, and as having a direct bearing on the subject in hand, the
following quotation is made:--

"'The Scotch character (quoth the Luminary) _is amusingly developed_ in
the comments made by the different Edinburgh and Glasgow papers on the
subject of the late West Port murders. _Each journal seems to think its
own honour implicated in the business, and hastens to prove_, first, that
Burke and his wife are both Irish; and, secondly, that the idea of cutting
people's throats for the sake of selling their bodies to anatomists is far
too original for the _inferior_ conceptions of Scotchmen.'

"'The Scotch character is' much more 'amusingly developed' in this
paragraph than in any of the comments made by the Edinburgh or Glasgow
papers; for it bears to be an editorial lucubration, and as such must
proceed from an exported Invernessian, who seems to be ashamed of his
country, very probably because his country had some reason to be ashamed
of him. It is false, however, that any Edinburgh journal ever dreamt 'of
its own honour being implicated in the business,' or 'hastened to _prove_
that Burke and his wife (concubine) are both Irish.' Our contemporaries,
like ourselves, stated such facts as came to their knowledge, without ever
imagining the nonsense which this blockhead thinks proper to ascribe to
them; in fact, they appeared much more anxious to express their horror of
the crime than to 'prove,' as the Solar scribe has it, what country was
entitled to claim the 'honour' of having given birth to the criminals. But
it seems our brethren and ourselves also 'hastened to prove that the idea
of cutting people's throats for the sake of selling their bodies to
anatomists, is far _too original_ for the _inferior conceptions_ of
Scotchmen.' We know of nothing, however, which we should not consider 'too
original for the inferior conceptions' of _one_ Scotsman, whom we need not
name, and whose talent for misrepresentation seems to be nearly on a level
with the shallow petulance and presumption under the cloak of which he
tries to hide his ignorance. This, however, is not the best of it.

"'Further than his name,' continues the Solar gentleman, 'there is nothing
to prove that Burke is an Irishman.'

"Indeed! Why, man, Burke himself has confessed it in his declaration, read
at his trial; and, if the murderer had been silent on the point, his
brogue would as certainly and inevitably have betrayed his country, as
your Invernessian nasal drawl, with a little touch of the genuine Celtic
accent engrafted thereupon, would have betrayed your Northern origin and
your Celtic descent. Burke _is_ Irish, and so is Hare, and so is Hare's
wife; and so is the woman M'Dougal, Burke's concubine, though her name
would indicate that some of her ancestors might have been Highland cousins
to some of your own--a relationship which your 'amiable bashfulness' will
not, we trust, 'prevent you from publicly claiming.'

"He proceeds,--'with respect to the inferior conceptions of Modern
Athenians, what, let us ask, can equal the ingenuity of _Lord_
Lauderdale's famous torture boot?' Nothing, certainly, except it be the
'ingenuity' of such a driveller as this, who fancied that there is
anything at all _ingenious_ in putting a human leg in an iron hoop or
ring, and driving in a wedge between them. A more brutal decree, or one
betraying less of 'ingenuity' was never fallen upon to inflict torture on
a fellow creature. It might even have been invented by the blockhead who
here calumniates his country; it is not below even _his_ 'inferior
conceptions;' we consider the device on a level with _his_ capacity: and,
we believe, it was generally from among his countrymen that persons were
sought for, and found to enact the part of executioners in putting the
heroic martyrs of the Covenant to this species of torture. The following
is his concluding touch:--

"'The West Port murder,' judging from internal evidence, _is decidedly of
Scotch origin_. There is a cool, methodical, business-like air about it, a
scientific tact in the conception, and a practised ease in execution,
_which no Irishman could ever yet attain_! An Irish murder is hasty,
sudden, impetuous,--an English one, phlegmatic, cunning, mercenary,--but
it has been reserved for the Scotch, in this last unequalled atrocity, to
blend the qualities of both English and Irish guilt, _with a scientific
effrontery peculiarly and pre-eminently their own_."

"With an 'effrontery' which is very far indeed from being 'scientific,'
but which is nevertheless 'peculiarly and eminently his own,' it has been
reserved for this blundering renegade to pronounce a series of murders,
devised and perpetrated by Irishmen alone, as 'decidedly of Scotch
origin;' and to talk of the 'internal evidence' of a murder, while he is
in ignorance of every thing concerning it, except the mere fact of its
having been committed; to pander to the prejudices of the very lowest
class of Englishmen by pouring out abuse upon Scotland; and to compromise
the solid interests of his constituents, the highly respectable
proprietors of the _Sun_, by venting libellous scurrilities against the
country which had the misfortune to give him birth, and where that journal
has hitherto been received with a degree of favour to which, not the
talents of its editor certainly, but the activity of its reporters seemed
to entitle it. But let that person look to himself. We know it is always
renegade Scotsmen who are loudest and fiercest in abusing their country.
Dr. John Macculloch is one of that class, and he has accordingly been
served out in some measure proportioned to his deserts. If the editor of
the _Sun_, therefore, has a mind to indulge further in such disgraceful
scurrilities, he had as well accustom himself _paullatim et gradatim_ to
stand a pretty vigorous application of the scourge."

This display of energy on the part of the _Mercury_ was greatly
appreciated by the people, and a letter which was addressed to the editor
on behalf of Gray and his wife gave expression to the popular feeling in
the matter:--"Sir,--You drubbed Maculloch (the libeller of his country)
delightfully; and it is hoped you will keep a good look-out if '_The Sun_'
again shows any more such dirty dark spots as the one you lately held up
to merited abhorrence. It is a general remark that our Scottish papers are
sadly deficient in public spirit."

As for Gray, in whose favour the letter just quoted from was written, he
was given an appointment in the Edinburgh police establishment, in which
he is said to have become an active and intrepid officer. A public
subscription was raised for him, but the amount did not anything like
adequately acknowledge his services to the country. Perhaps Burke himself
gave the best testimony to these services, when he said, to a gentleman
standing near him while he was making his confession before the
Sheriff--"The murders never would have been discovered had Gray not found
the body among the straw." This was supplemented by "Candidus," the writer
of the letter to the _Caledonian Mercury_, who remarked--"Could they (Gray
and his wife) have been bribed not to inform about the dead body, these
murderous _fiends_, Burke and Hare, aided and abetted by their _miscreant_
female companions, would still have been pursuing their dark deeds of
blood." The relationship between Mrs. Gray and Helen M'Dougal, it should
be here stated, was simply that the former was the daughter of the man
M'Dougal with whom the latter took up in Maddiston, and lived with until
his death, when she met Burke.




CHAPTER XL.

    _The Relations of the Doctors and the Body-Snatchers--Need for a
    change in the Law--A Curious Case in London--Introduction and
    withdrawal of the Anatomy Bill._


The revelations following the execution of William Burke, in the
publication of his confessions, and in the paragraphs--more or less
authentic--which appeared in the newspapers from time to time, had the
effect of making the public alive to the dangers by which they were
surrounded under the then state of the law. To all reasonable men who
desired investigation for the benefit of suffering humanity, it was
painfully manifest that the supply of bodies for the anatomical schools of
the country was far too limited if any satisfactory result was to be
expected. And they were face to face with the equally painful fact that
the sacreligious violation of graves, and the even more sacreligious
"breaking into the bloody house of life," as Mr. Cockburn put it, had been
resorted to in order to give the bold anatomists of the time an
opportunity of investigating the science, on which, above all, human
happiness and pleasure on earth were dependent. Many were unwilling to
adopt the views which these facts forced upon them; others with a wise
enthusiasm threw their whole influence in their favour. The surgeons
themselves, seeing that under the existing state of things they were
regarded by many as allied with an unholy class of men, desired such an
alteration of the law as should put them on a more satisfactory footing.
They wished that instead of the purchase of bodies from poor relations
being done in what was almost a surreptitious and hidden manner, it should
be done under legal sanction, and without the semblance of moral
turpitude. This in itself was perfectly reasonable, and had been proven to
be right by the stern logic of facts; but the great mass of the people
were against it. Suggestions that legislation should proceed in this
direction were regarded simply as suggestions for legislation for a
favoured class--the doctors themselves--the fact being ignored that on the
extension of the accurate information of that class depended to a very
material extent the welfare and comfort of the whole nation, without
respect of persons. The public mind, therefore, required to be educated up
to the inauguration of a new state of things, which in the end would be
better for all concerned. But two or three smart lessons, in addition to
the severe one taught by the Edinburgh revelations, were required before
Parliament could be turned in the right direction.

In January, 1829, while Burke was lying in Caltonhill jail, Edinburgh,
under sentence of death, a case which showed the anomalous state of the
law, occurred in London. A man named Huntingdon and his wife were charged
with stealing the clothes of a man who had died suddenly while walking
along Walworth Common. "The investigation of the charge," says a
contemporary chronicler, "exhibited an extraordinary instance of the
manner in which dead bodies are procured for dissection." Mr. Murray, the
assistant overseer of the parish of Newington, stated that on the Monday
preceding the 9th of January, when the case was first heard, the body of a
man who had dropped dead on one of the streets of that parish, was brought
to the workhouse. Two days afterwards, the two prisoners attended at the
committee room of the workhouse, and affecting great sorrow, represented
that they were nearly related to the deceased, and that they desired to
have his body delivered to them, as they wished to have it decently
interred at their own expense. The parish officers, on this
representation, made enquiries respecting Huntingdon and his wife at the
place where they resided, and as nothing to their disadvantage was heard,
it was agreed that the body be delivered to them immediately the public
inquest as to the cause of death was concluded. On the Thursday the
inquest was held, and after it the prisoners again made their appearance
at the workhouse, and renewed their demand for the corpse, which was now
given them. While preparations were being made for its removal, they
became talkative, and informed the parish officers that the deceased was
Mrs. Huntingdon's brother, and that, having come to London from Shoreham,
in Sussex, about four months before, with eighty pounds in his possession,
he had led a life of dissipation, and squandered all in that short period.
This only tended to give a greater air of consistency and truth to the
statements already made by the prisoners, that the officials thought they
were not only doing right in giving up the body, but also that they were
saving the parish the expense of a pauper's funeral. This dream, however,
was soon rudely dispelled. In consequence of a quarrel which occurred
between the prisoners and a female companion, as to the division of the
money which the sale of the corpse had brought, the affair was brought to
light, and Huntingdon and his wife were apprehended. Of course they were
imposters, in no way related to the dead man; and on obtaining possession
of the body they had sold it to the surgeons of St. Bartholomew's
Hospital, receiving eleven guineas for their ware. An officer of the
police searched the lodgings of the prisoners in Southwark, and there
discovered the clothes which had belonged to the deceased, together with
a great variety of implements used by body-snatchers, such as
screw-drivers and wrenching machines for opening the lids of coffins, and
gimlets of all sizes. But not only did they appear to be engaged in
robbing the houses of the dead--house-breaking implements of all kinds
showed that they were at war with the living as well. But the most curious
part of the whole case was that instead of being charged with the theft of
the body, or with a misdemeanour which would cover that offence,
Huntingdon and his wife, under the existing state of the law, could only
be libelled for having stolen the clothes of the deceased, and for having
burglarious instruments in their possession.

A few weeks after this, on the 21st of March, 1829, Mr. Henry Warburton,
the Member for Bridport, obtained the first reading of a bill, intended to
free anatomists from the restrictions under which they pursued their
inquiries. This measure was supported by the Lord Advocate for Scotland,
Sir William Rae, whose experience in the inquiries in the Burke and Hare
trials was a strong recommendation in its favour. On the 7th of April Mr.
Warburton obtained the passage of a motion made by him, under which the
House of Commons appointed a Select Committee to consider and give effect
to the recommendations contained in a report prepared by a Select
Committee on Anatomy appointed in the previous Session. Those
recommendations were in accordance with what he and many anatomists
desired should be made the law of the country. That the details of the
bill, however, were not altogether satisfactory to those who were supposed
to be most interested in it, is evinced by the fact that on the 8th of
May, Mr. B. Cooper, the member for Gloucester, presented a petition from
the Royal College of Surgeons, praying to be heard in opposition to it.
The petitioners, Mr. Cooper stated, were friendly to the principles laid
down in the measure, but they wished to be heard on the details. The
presentation of this petition gave rise to a short discussion, in the
course of which the Edinburgh tragedies were incidentally mentioned. Mr.
Smith, the representative of Norwich, complained of a letter which had
appeared in the public prints, stating that Dr. Knox, of Edinburgh, was
guilty of the most intolerable criminality, and that he was unworthy to
be trusted. If Dr. Knox, he said, did not deserve this, the letter must be
reprobated in the highest degree. The petition was ordered to be laid on
the table of the House; but it is probable that this passing reference in
Parliament may have shown Dr. Knox that the position he then occupied was
unsatisfactory, and have induced him to seek the inquiry into his
relations with Burke and Hare mentioned in a previous chapter.

When Mr. Warburton's Anatomy Bill reached the committee stage on the 15th
of May, the member for Oxford University, Sir R. Inglis, moved that it be
an instruction to the committee that it be empowered to repeal so much of
the Act 9, Geo. IV., Cap. 31, as gave permission to the judges to order
the bodies of murderers, after execution, to be given over for dissection;
but Mr. Warburton strenuously opposed this motion, as he believed the fate
of his bill depended upon its containing no such provision. The view of
the measure taken by the great body of the people was fitly given
expression to by Lord F. Osborne, the member for Cambridgeshire, who, in a
subsequent part of the debate, said he must oppose a measure which gave
over the bodies of the poor and friendless to the surgeons; but the other
side of the question was as aptly put by Mr. Hume, in the remark that the
measure would be beneficial to the poor as well as to the rest of the
community. At the close of the debate, the bill was committed with the
instruction desired by Sir R. Inglis; and on the 19th of March it was read
a third time, and passed by the House of Commons. Lord Malmesbury stood as
sponsor for the measure in the House of Lords, which it reached on the
20th of May. His lordship, in moving that it be printed, admitted that it
was extremely unpopular out of doors, but urged its necessity; and on the
motion of the Earl of Shaftesbury it was read a third time. However, under
the whole circumstances, it was deemed expedient, on the 5th of June, to
withdraw the bill, and in the discussion to which this proposal led, the
Earl of Harewood stated that, with respect to the horrid proceedings at
Edinburgh, it was a disgrace to the country that they had not been
investigated more fully, and that the public had not been informed of the
result of the investigation. All that the public really knew was that
fifteen or sixteen murders had been committed.

The withdrawal of the bill was a great satisfaction to many, both in and
out of Parliament; but the agitation for some such alteration of the law
continued unabated. It required another severe lesson to bring public
opinion into a state ripe for the change.




CHAPTER XLI.

    _"Burking" in London--Apprehension of Bishop, Williams, and May--Their
    Trial, Confession, and Execution--Re-introduction and Passing of the
    Anatomy Act._


This other lesson, to which reference was made at the close of the last
chapter, was given through the medium of a case which occurred in London.
In many features the case was similar to that against the West Port
murderers, with the notable difference that the Englishmen did not go
about their desperate work with quite so much method and cunning as did
their prototypes in Edinburgh. They used a brutal violence which,
fortunately for the community, cut them short almost at the very outset of
their murderous career.

Shortly after noon, on Saturday, the 5th of November, 1831, John Bishop
and James May, both well-known body-snatchers, called on the porter of the
Dissecting Room at King's College, London. May was the spokesman, and he
informed the porter that he had a subject which he would give him for
twelve guineas, and he then proceeded to declare its qualities, much in
the same way as he would have spoken of an ordinary piece of
merchandise--"it was very fresh, and was a male subject of about fourteen
years of age." Mr. Hill, the porter, said he was not particularly
requiring it, but he would see the demonstrator, Mr. Partridge. There was
some haggling about the price. Bishop offered it for ten guineas, but was
ultimately forced to abate the sum by another guinea, promising at last to
send the body for nine. In the course of the afternoon the two men,
accompanied by a colleague of the name of Thomas Williams, returned to the
college, and with them was a street porter, who bore on his head a large
hamper. Taken into a room, the hamper was found to contain the body of a
young lad wrapped up in a sack. Hill saw there were some suspicious marks
about the head, and, besides, it was not in such a form as bodies usually
were when taken from a coffin, the left arm being bent and the fingers
clenched. The porter asked them what the lad had died of, but May, who was
in a drunken state, said that was neither his business or theirs. He then
informed Mr. Partridge of what he had seen and suspected. That gentleman,
without seeing the men, examined the body, and found there were about it
some marks and circumstances of a suspicious nature. There were the
swollen state of the jaw, the bloodshot eyes, the freshness of the body,
and the rigidity of the limbs. There was also a cut over the left temple.
Having made this examination, he sent for the police, and returning to the
men he produced a fifty pound note, telling them he must get that changed
before he could pay them. Bishop saw that Mr. Partridge had some gold in
his purse, and he said to him: "Give me what money you have in your purse,
and I will call for the rest on Monday." May, on his part, offered to go
for the change, but Mr. Partridge declined both proposals, and left the
room on the pretence of seeking the change himself. All this was but a
blind to detain the men until a strong body of police had time to arrive,
when all three were apprehended, and the body taken to the police office.
A subsequent examination of the corpse by three surgeons, one of them
being Mr. Partridge, showed that the lad must have met his death through
violence. The only external mark--that on the temple--was superficial, and
did not injure the bone; but between the scalp and the bone there was a
patch of congealed blood about the size of a crown-piece, which, from its
appearance, must have been caused by a blow given during life. On the
removal of the skin from the back part of the neck, a considerable
quantity--about four ounces--of coagulated blood was found among the
muscles, and this also, in the opinion of the surgeons, must have been
effused when the subject was alive. A portion of the spine having been
removed for the purpose of examining the spinal marrow, a quantity of
coagulated blood was found lying in the canal, and this, it was stated,
from its pressure on the spinal marrow, must have caused death. All these
appearances, and death, would, in the opinion of the surgeons, have
followed a blow from a blunt instrument of any kind. Subsequent inquiries
by the police brought to light the fact that the body had been offered to
the curator of Guy's Hospital and of Grainger's Anatomical Theatre, both
of whom declined to purchase it. They also discovered that May had called
upon a surgeon-dentist in Newington on the morning of the day he was
apprehended, and had offered for sale, at the price of a guinea, twelve
human teeth, which he said had belonged to a boy between fourteen and
fifteen years of age, whose body had never been buried. Some of the flesh
and pieces of the jaw adhered to the teeth, showing that great force had
been used to wrench them out.

On the question of the identity of the body found in the possession of the
three men, the authorities had what was apparently satisfactory evidence
that it was that of Carlo Ferreer, who had arrived from Italy two years
before, and who went about the streets of London with a cage, containing
two white mice, slung from his neck by a string. On the night of Thursday,
the 3rd of November, the boy and Bishop and Williams were all three seen
in the vicinity of the Nova Scotia Gardens, where Bishop resided, but they
were not in company. That same evening one of Bishop's neighbours heard
sounds of a scuffle proceeding from his house in Nova Scotia Gardens, but
paid little attention to it, as he considered it was simply a family
quarrel. A search through this house by the police led to the discovery of
two crooked chisels, a brad-awl, and a file. There appeared to be fresh
marks of blood on the brad-awl. Then in May's house in Dorset Street, New
Kent Road, there were found a vest and a pair of trousers, both marked
with what were evidently fresh stains. Buried in Bishop's garden were
found several articles of men's clothing, all of which were stained with
blood. Another incident that seemed to show that the body was that of the
poor Italian boy was that on the 5th of November Bishop's boys were seen
in the possession of a cage in which were two white mice. When the
productions were taken to Bow Street Police Office, where the accused were
confined, May said, when he saw the brad-awl, "That is the instrument with
which I punched the teeth out;" and the dentist, in his evidence at the
trial, said the teeth had been forced out, and he thought the brad-awl
produced would afford great facility for doing so.

This, in brief, was the case upon which the prosecution rested for the
conviction of the three men. The trial took place at the Old Bailey
Sessions on the 1st of December, and created the most intense interest
among all classes of the community. The court was crowded, and outside an
immense multitude had assembled. After a long trial the jury found the
three prisoners guilty of murder. The verdict was received in court with
silence, but when the result was known outside the people cheered
vociferously, and this they continued so long that the officers were
obliged to close the windows of the court, that the voice of the judge
might be heard in passing sentence of death. Only four days' grace was
given to the unhappy men, for their execution was fixed for the 5th of
December.

The day before their execution, on the 4th of December, Bishop and
Williams made confessions before the under-sheriff. In these documents,
which will be found at length in the appendix, they acknowledged to the
murder of the lad whose body was found, but they stated that he came from
Lincolnshire, and was not the Italian boy to whose identification so many
witnesses had sworn. Subsequent investigation, however, led to the belief
that the condemned men, and not the witnesses, had made the mistake. They
also declared that they had been concerned in the murder of a woman and of
a boy of about eleven years of age. Their method was to get their intended
victims to drink beer or gin, which they had drugged with laudanum, and
then, when they were in a stupified state, to lower them by a rope
attached to the heels, head foremost into a well at the back of the
Bishop's house. This act completed the work, and, it was thought, allowed
the drugged liquor to run out of the mouth. They thus acknowledged to
three distinct acts of murder, but they both declared that May was wholly
ignorant and innocent of all of them. Bishop had been a body-snatcher for
twelve years, and he had during that time obtained and sold over five
hundred bodies.

The evidence against May had all along been deemed defective, and this
full and unequivocal statement that he was unconnected with the murder,
procured a respite for him. When sentenced in court he turned to the jury
and said: "I am a murdered man, gentlemen." The communication of the news
that his life had been saved was itself almost the cause of his death. He
fell to the ground in a fit, and while he was in contortions it took four
of the prison officers to hold him; but he recovered in a quarter of an
hour.

By one o'clock on the morning of Monday, the 5th December, a great crowd
had assembled in front of the scaffold at Newgate, and by daybreak as many
as 30,000 persons were present to witness the last act of the law.
Bishop's appearance on the scaffold gave rise to a scene similar to that
at the execution of Burke at Edinburgh. The people hooted and yelled in a
terrible manner while the executioner put the rope round the murderer's
neck, and fixed it to a chain depending from the beam; and the
demonstration was renewed with vigour when Williams was brought out. When
the drop fell Bishop died instantaneously, but Williams struggled in the
death agonies for several minutes. The crowd then broke through the
barriers, and a scene that baffles description ensued. Forgeting itself in
the excitement of the moment, the mob rushed towards the scaffold, and in
the struggle with the police large numbers were injured. Many were
trampled under foot. By half-past seven o'clock that morning between
twenty and thirty persons were carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, all
seriously maimed. "Thus died," says a broadside published at the time,
"the dreadful Burkers of 1831." The author of the production called "The
Trial, Sentence, Full Confession and Execution of Bishop and Williams, the
Burkers," furnishes a very pertinent comment on the whole transaction.
"The month of November, 1831," he remarks, "will be recorded in the annals
of crime and cruelties as particularly pre-eminent, for it will prove to
posterity that other wretches could be found base enough to follow the
horrid example of Burke and his accomplice Hare, to entice the unprotected
and friendless to the den of Death for sordid gain." In accordance with
the terms of sentence, the bodies of the executed criminals were
"delivered over for dissection and anatomization."

While this terrible example of the dangers to the community under the
existing state of the law as to the study of anatomy was still fresh on
the minds of the people, Mr. Warburton again introduced his bill, slightly
altered in respect of details, into the House of Commons. On the 15th of
December, 1831, he obtained leave to introduce the bill, and it was then
read a first time. He moved the second reading on the 17th of January,
1832, but when the question was put that the bill be read a second time it
was found there were not forty members present, and the House had to
adjourn. However, on the 29th of the same month he was more successful,
and gained the second reading. After it had passed through several stages
in committee, Mr. Warburton, on the 11th of April, moved that it be
re-committed, and stated that he had been waited upon by deputations from
the College of Surgeons in Dublin, and another medical body, who desired
that the provisions of the measure should be extended to Ireland, which he
had not originally intended should be included within its scope. In
committee it was agreed to extend the bill to Ireland. On the 18th of
April, when it was again in committee, an amendment to the effect that the
disposal of the bodies of executed murderers for dissection should be left
to the discretion of the judges was negatived. The bill passed the House
of Commons on the 11th of May, and shortly afterwards received the
approval of the Upper House.




CHAPTER XLII.

    _The Passing of the Anatomy Act--Its Terms and Provisions._


Such were the circumstances that led up to the passing of what was
familiarly known as the Anatomy Act. In view of the long course of
restriction to which it put an end, and of the fact that this measure is
still operative as regards the matter of which it treats, it is proper
that it should be reproduced here. It received the Royal assent on the 1st
of August, 1832, and is technically known as 3 and 4 Geo. IV., c. 75, the
short title being "An Act for regulating Schools of Anatomy." The
following are its terms and provisions:--

"Whereas a knowledge of the causes and nature of sundry diseases which
affect the body, and the best methods of treating and curing such
diseases, and of healing and repairing divers wounds and injuries to which
the human frame is liable, cannot be acquired without the aid of
anatomical examination: And whereas the legal supply of human bodies for
such anatomical examination is insufficient fully to provide the means of
such knowledge: And whereas in order further to supply human bodies for
such purposes, divers great and grievous crimes have been committed, and
lately murder, for the single object of selling for such purposes the
bodies of the persons so murdered: And whereas, therefore, it is highly
expedient to give protection, under certain regulations, to the study and
practice of anatomy, and to prevent, as far as may be, such great and
grievous crimes and murder as aforesaid: Be it therefore enacted by the
King's most excellent Majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the
lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, in this present Parliament
assembled, and by the authority of the same, that it shall be lawful for
his Majesty's principal secretary of state for the time being for the home
department in that part of the United Kingdom called Great Britain, and
for the chief secretary for Ireland in that part of the United Kingdom
called Ireland, immediately on the passing of this Act, or so soon
thereafter as may be required, to grant a license to practise anatomy to
any fellow or member of any college of physicians or surgeons, or to any
graduate or licentiate in medicine, or to any person lawfully qualified to
practise medicine in any part of the United Kingdom, or to any professor
or teacher of anatomy, medicine, or surgery, or to any student attending
any school of anatomy, on application from such party for such purpose,
countersigned by two of his Majesty's justices of the peace acting for the
county, city, borough, or place wherein such party so applying is about to
carry on the practice of anatomy.

"2. And be it enacted, that it shall be lawful for his Majesty's said
principal secretary of state or chief secretary, as the case may be,
immediately on the passing of this Act, or as soon thereafter as may be
necessary, to appoint respectively not fewer than three persons to be
inspectors of places where anatomy is carried on, and at any time after
such first appointment to appoint, if they shall see fit, one or more
other person or persons to be an inspector or inspectors as aforesaid; and
every such inspector shall continue in office for one year, or until he be
removed by the said secretary of state or chief secretary, as the case may
be, or until some other person shall be appointed in his place; and as
often as any inspector appointed as aforesaid shall die, or shall be
removed from his said office, or shall refuse or become unable to act, it
shall be lawful for the said secretary of state or chief secretary, as the
case may be, to appoint another person to be inspector in his room.

"3. And be it enacted, that it shall be lawful for the said secretary of
state or chief secretary, as the case may be, to direct what district of
town or country, or of both, and what places where anatomy is carried on,
situate within such district, every such inspector shall be appointed to
superintend, and in what manner every such inspector shall transact the
duties of his office.

"4. And be it enacted, that every inspector to be appointed by virtue of
this Act shall make a quarterly return to the said secretary of state or
chief secretary, as the case may be, of every deceased person's body that
during the preceding quarter has been removed for anatomical examination
to every separate place in his district where anatomy is carried on
distinguishing the sex, and, as far as is known at the time, the name and
age of each person whose body was so removed as aforesaid.

"5. And be it enacted, that it shall be lawful for every such inspector to
visit and inspect at any time any place within his district, notice of
which place has been given, as is hereinafter directed, that it is
intended there to practise anatomy.

"6. And be it enacted, that it shall be lawful for his Majesty to grant to
every such inspector such an annual salary not exceeding one hundred
pounds for his trouble, and to allow such a sum of money for the expenses
of his office as may appear reasonable, such salaries and allowances to be
charged on the consolidated fund of the United Kingdom, and to be payable
quarterly; and that an annual return of all such salaries and allowances
shall be made to Parliament.

"7. And be it enacted, that it shall be lawful for any executor or other
party having lawful possession of the body of any deceased person, and not
being an undertaker or other party intrusted with the body for the purpose
only of interment, to permit the body of such deceased person to undergo
anatomical examination, unless, to the knowledge of such executor or other
party, such person shall have expressed his desire, either in writing at
any time during his life, or verbally in the presence of two or more
witnesses during the illness whereof he died, that his body after death
might not undergo such examination, or unless the surviving husband or
wife, or any known relation of the deceased person, shall require the body
to be interred without such examination.

"8. And be it enacted, that if any person, either in writing at any time
during his life, or verbally in the presence of two or more witnesses
during the illness whereof he died, shall direct that his body after death
be examined anatomically, or shall nominate any party by this Act
authorized to examine bodies anatomically to make such examination, and
if, before the burial of the body of such person, such direction or
nomination shall be made known to the party having lawful possession of
the dead body, then such last mentioned party shall direct such
examination to be made, and in case of any such nomination as aforesaid,
shall request and permit any party so authorised and nominated as
aforesaid to make such examination, unless the deceased person's surviving
husband or wife, or nearest known relative, or any one or more of such
person's nearest known relatives, being of kin in the same degree, shall
require the body to be interred without such examination.

"9. Provided always, and be it enacted, that in no case shall the body of
any person be removed for anatomical examination from any place where such
person may have died until after forty-eight hours from the time of such
person's decease, nor until twenty-four hours notice, to be reckoned from
the time of such decease, to the inspector of the district, of the
intended removal of the body, or if no such inspector have been appointed,
to some physician, surgeon, or apothecary residing at or near the place of
death, nor unless a certificate stating in what manner such person came by
his death, shall previously to the removal of the body have been signed by
the physician, surgeon, or apothecary who attended such person during the
illness whereof he died, or if no such medical man attended such person
during such illness, then by some physician, surgeon, or apothecary who
shall be called in after the death of such person, to view his body, or
who shall state the manner or cause of death according to the best of his
knowledge and belief, but who shall not be concerned in examining the body
after removal; and that in case of such removal such certificate shall be
delivered, together with the body, to the party receiving the same for
anatomical examination.

"10. And be it enacted, that it shall be lawful for any member or fellow
of any college of physicians or surgeons, or any graduate or licentiate in
medicine, or any person lawfully qualified to practice medicine in any
part of the United Kingdom, or any professor, teacher, or student of
anatomy, medicine, or surgery, having a license from his Majesty's
principal secretary of state or chief secretary as aforesaid, to receive
or possess for anatomical examination, or to examine anatomically, the
body of any person deceased, if permitted or directed so to do by a party
who had at the time of giving such permission or direction lawful
possession of the body, and who had power, in pursuance of the provisions
of this Act, to permit or cause the body to be so examined, and provided
such certificates as aforesaid were delivered by such party together with
the body.

"11. And be it enacted, that every party so receiving a body for
anatomical examination after removal shall demand and receive, together
with the body, a certificate as aforesaid, and shall, within twenty-four
hours next after such removal, transmit to the inspector of the district
such certificate, and also a return stating at what day and hour and from
whom the body was received, the date and place of death, the sex, and (as
far as is known at the time) the christian and surname, age, and last
place of abode of such person, or, if no such inspector have been
appointed, to some physician, surgeon, or apothecary residing at or near
the place to which the body is removed, and shall enter or cause to be
entered the aforesaid particulars relating thereto, and a copy of the
certificate be received therewith, in a book to be kept by him for that
purpose, and shall produce such book whenever required so to do by any
inspector so appointed as aforesaid.

"12. And be it enacted, that it shall not be lawful for any party to carry
on or teach anatomy at any place, or at any place to receive or possess
for anatomical examination, or examine anatomically, any deceased person's
body after removal of the same, unless such party, or the owner or
occupier of such place, or some party by this Act authorised to examine
bodies anatomically, shall, at least one week before the first receipt or
possession of a body for such purpose at such place, have given notice to
the said secretary of state or chief secretary, as the case may be, of the
place where it is intended to practise anatomy.

"13. Provided always, and be it enacted, that every such body so removed
as aforesaid for the purpose of examination shall, before such removal, be
placed in a decent coffin or shell, and be removed therein; and that the
party removing the same, or causing the same to be removed as aforesaid,
shall make provision that such body, after undergoing anatomical
examination, be decently interred in consecrated ground, or in some public
burial-ground in use for persons of that religious persuasion to which the
person whose body was so removed belonged; and that a certificate of the
interment of such body shall be transmitted to the inspector of the
district within six weeks after the day on which such body was received as
aforesaid.

"14. And be it enacted, that no member or fellow of any college of
physicians or surgeons, nor any graduate or licentiate in medicine, nor
any person lawfully qualified to practise medicine in any part of the
United Kingdom, nor any professor, teacher, or student of anatomy,
medicine, or surgery, having a license from his Majesty's principal
secretary of state or chief secretary as aforesaid, shall be liable to any
prosecution, penalty, forfeiture, or punishment for receiving or having in
his possession for anatomical examination, or for examining anatomically,
any dead human body, according to the provision of this Act.

"15. And be it enacted, that nothing in this Act contained shall be
construed to extend to or to prohibit any post-mortem examination of any
human body required or directed to be made by any competent legal
authority.

"16. And whereas an Act was passed in the ninth year of the reign of his
late Majesty, for consolidating and amending the statutes in England
relative to offences against the person, by which latter Act it is
enacted, that the body of every person convicted of murder shall, after
execution, either be dissected or hung in chains, as to the court which
tried the offence shall seem meet, and that the sentence to be pronounced
by the court shall express that the body of the offender shall be
dissected or hung in chains, whichever of the two the court shall order.
Be it enacted, that so much of the said last recited Act as authorises the
court, if it shall see fit, to direct that the body of a person convicted
of murder shall, after execution, be dissected, be and the same is hereby
repealed; and that in every case of conviction of any prisoner for murder
the court before which such prisoner shall have been tried shall direct
such prisoner either to be hung in chains, or to be buried within the
precincts of the prison in which such prisoner shall have been confined
after conviction, as to such court shall seem meet; and that the sentence
to be pronounced by the court shall express that the body of such prisoner
shall be hung in chains, or buried within the precincts of the prison,
whichever of the two the court shall order.

"17. And be it enacted, that if any action or suit shall be commenced or
brought against any person for anything done in pursuance of this Act, the
same shall be commenced within six calendar months next after the cause of
action accrued; and the defendant in every such action or suit may, at his
election, plead the matter specially or the general issue Not Guilty, and
give this Act and the special matter in evidence at any trial to be had
thereupon.

"18. And be it enacted, that any person offending against the provisions
of this Act in England or Ireland shall be deemed and taken to be guilty
of a misdemeanour, and being duly convicted thereof, shall be punished by
imprisonment for a term not exceeding three months, or by a fine not
exceeding fifty pounds, at the discretion of the court before which he
shall be tried; and any person offending against the provisions of this
Act in Scotland shall, upon being duly convicted of such offence, be
punished by imprisonment for a term not exceeding three months, or by a
fine not exceeding fifty pounds, at the discretion of the court before
which he shall be tried.

"19. And in order to remove doubts as to the meaning of certain words in
this Act, be it enacted, that the words 'person and party' shall be
respectively deemed to include any number of persons, or any society,
whether by charter or otherwise; and that the meaning of the aforesaid
words shall not be restricted, although the same may be subsequently
referred to in the singular number and masculine gender only."




CHAPTER XLIII.

    _Conclusion--Review of the Effects Produced by the Resurrectionist
    Movement--The Houses in Portsburgh--The Popular Idea of the Method of
    Burke and Hare--Origin of the Words "Burker" and "Burking."_


Such were the resurrectionist times in Scotland, and such the crimes
committed by Burke and Hare, and their English imitators. Now-a-days it
may seem strange that events like these were possible in a country
professing a civilizing christianity, but no one with a knowledge of the
depths to which humanity can descend will deny that even in our much
boasted time, with all our social advancement, men could be found who
would dare to put their consciences under the burden of such terrible
iniquities, were the other circumstances and necessities still the same.
There was little wonder that the public sense of security was alarmed,
that the heart of the nation was touched, at the shocking disclosures made
at each successive trial, and at the daily actions of men who seemed to be
safe from the law. We have seen how the people of Scotland felt under the
constant robbing of their churchyards; how they were awe-struck at the
mysterious disappearance from among them of some unfortunate, whose
whereabouts was never found out; and how they rose in righteous anger when
the mystery was cleared up in the High Court of Justiciary. The wonder,
indeed, is that considering the reverential regard for the dead which has
always characterised them, that they bore the terrible pillage of their
Golgothas so long; and that when the end came they did not work more
mischief than they did. But the times, hard as they were at the best, and
suffering under such a shocking blemish, were productive of real and
lasting good to the nation, socially, scientifically, and even
spiritually.

For a long time after the execution of Burke and the flight of his
accomplices, the houses in Wester Portsburgh were objects of horror and
detestation; and having acquired a ghastly interest from the horrible
crimes of which they were the scene, were among the best visited places in
Edinburgh, until at last they were knocked down as eyesores to the
community, and as perpetuating a series of crimes which were too deeply
impressed on human memory to be easily forgotten. But the tradition clung
long to the district, and even to this day the locality is pointed out to
the stranger as being notable. The interest taken in these buildings and
their internal arrangement was so great, that paintings of them on canvas
were taken through the country, and shown at village fairs and markets.

But an annoying and reprehensible practice arose out of the actions of
Burke and Hare, which while certainly not so serious, was not without its
dangerous element. This was a habit which many young men dropped into of
attempting to put pieces of sticking-plaster over the mouths of
unsuspicious passengers on the streets. Most commonly this prank was
played upon girls, many of whom were almost out of their wits, and who
would not venture out of the door at nights. This practice obtained not
only in Edinburgh but also in Glasgow and the other large towns in
Scotland, and though examples were made by the miscreants being
apprehended and punished by the police magistrates, it became after a time
such an intolerable nuisance, that the strictest measures had to be taken
for its repression. One case of this kind in Glasgow created an
extraordinary commotion. A servant girl was attacked in the street, and a
sticking-plaster of so strong an adhesive nature was placed over her mouth
that it could not be removed without taking a great portion of the skin of
her face with it. There was little wonder that the _Glasgow Chronicle_, in
a comment on the occurrence, said that the "wretches who can behave thus
at any time, and more especially in the present state of public feeling,
are a disgrace to society." But it is curious to note how this silly
imitation of the method of Burke and Hare came to be regarded as the
actual mode in which these men had performed their manifold murders. The
fact that so many terrible crimes had been committed by them kept a firm
hold on the mind of the people, but, gradually, the method, which had been
made so public through the medium of the newspapers, was forgotten, and
the impression as gradually gained ground that slipping up to their
intended victims on the streets, Burke and his accomplice gave them their
quietus by skilfully placing a piece of sticking-plaster over their
mouths. Of course the preceding narrative, and the confessions of the
condemned criminal, show that it was far otherwise, but the impression,
amounting latterly to an absolute belief, became so fixed that even yet it
still holds sway, though certainly in a less degree now than a generation
ago.

Allusion has already been made to the remarkably strong hold the whole
plot took upon the minds of the Scottish people, and to the fact that it
has exercised an influence on the inner life of the Scottish mind down to
the present. This is generally acknowledged, but perhaps a better idea of
the original character of the impression made by the discoveries of 1829
may be gained when the great events and movements going on all around at
and after the time are taken into consideration. In the year 1829 the
country was agitated not only by stirring news from the Continent, where
armies were marching to and fro, and there was a tendency to a general
European conflagration, but also by the Catholic Emancipation movement,
and parliamentary reform. Every one knows the interest the people of
Scotland took in these matters, and especially in the Reform Bill, and how
many suffered on the scaffold for over boldness in the struggle. These
were events that might have absorbed all the attention the people could
spare from their daily toil for the sustenance of life; but yet the Burke
and Hare tragedies were always to be heard repeated by some fireside, and
the tales of the resurrectionists were rehearsed to willing listeners.
Such great events affected the rights of the people as citizens of the
empire, as freemen in the state; but the violation of churchyards, the
murder of poor human beings for the sale of their bodies, touched the
heart, it related to the home-life of the man, independent of his
citizenship. It was the same with the other great political movements of
the early half of the century. The stories went from mouth to mouth, from
father to son, from nurse to child, and the horrid memory of the foulest
series of murders on the criminal calendar of Scotland was kept fresh,
young minds grew up in fear of a terrible unknown something of which the
preceding generation had had a full realization, a something which happily
was impossible, but which exercised a baneful and dwarfing influence all
the same. The old bogles of superstitious times were thrown aside, the
stern realities of human criminality were used in their stead. Many still
remember their youthful impressions and shudder. It is well that these
influences are losing their power, but it would be unfortunate if the
lessons taught by these awful times were forgotten by the country.

Happily, however, the resurrectionist times were not without their good
elements as well as their bad. Had such events not taken place two things
would have been evident--first, that up to that time anatomical study and
research had made little progress; and second, that the study would have
continued in a state of stagnation under restrictions discreditable to the
country and its rulers. But quite another state of matters existed and do
exist. The scientific ardour which from an early period of its history had
characterised the medical faculty in Scotland, and particularly in
Edinburgh, may be said to have created the necessity for resurrectionists
or body-snatchers, and the fact that the research so needful to the
happiness and comfort of humanity was being conducted under such
unfortunate auspices, and debasing restrictions, gradually awoke the
community to a sense of what they owed to themselves and to those whose
ultimate object was the general good. The churchyards were being robbed of
their silent tenants, the poor were being surreptitiously bribed to part
with the bodies of their dead relatives, and even the streets were being
laid under contribution for their living wanderers. The exigencies of
science had created a necessary evil; the natural and even justifiable
prejudices of the nation, outraged and grieved, were against the seeking
of a remedy. But the evil became so great, its worst and latest
development was so shocking, that some steps had to be taken, even at the
expense of human sentiment, to put matters on a right and proper footing.
Men could not live without doctors who were thoroughly trained and
experienced in all the intricacies and mysteries of the human frame; these
doctors could not gain their experience without "subjects," and
"subjects" they must have by some means or other. Not, certainly, that the
profession approved of murder to obtain their ends, but the result showed
that the men upon whom the profession mainly depended had resorted to that
terrible act to supply their patrons. The only feasible course open,
therefore, was that made lawful by the Anatomy Act of 1832, which put upon
a legal basis the purchase of bodies from relatives under certain wise and
not too irksome conditions. It has been seen that notwithstanding the
unhappy state of matters then existing, and the terrible scourge under
which the country had so long suffered, there was a strong feeling against
the passage of that measure; but on the other hand an interesting
testimony was given in its favour when many of the highest in the land,
amongst them the Duke of Sussex, the youngest son of King George III., and
uncle of Queen Victoria, gave directions that if necessary their bodies
should after death be anatomised. The science of anatomy, therefore, for
the first time in its existence, made rapid progress, the art of healing
and alleviating disease became more perfect, and although there is much
still to be desired, research is unfettered, and the possibility of
discoveries valuable to humanity are increased. It is curious, however,
that in the last few years of these baneful restrictions, extraordinary
results accrued from the researches of anatomists, and, strange though it
may seem, the science was really put upon a scientific basis it had never
occupied before.

But there was still another effect of the resurrectionist movement, and
that was that it had a widening tendency on the religious beliefs of the
people. The old idea is well expressed in the ballad written in 1711, and
quoted in an early chapter in this volume, when the unknown author says:--

  "Methink I hear the latter trumpet sound,
  When emptie graves into this place is found,
  Of young and old, which is most strange to me,
  What kind of resurrection this should be."

The people preferred to think of a resurrection which would in one respect
and to a certain extent be comprehensible to them. They thought they
could understand the dead rising from the grave if their bodies were
placed intact in the sepulchre, but they deemed that a body dissected and
cut into pieces, probably portions buried in different places, was
unlikely to be under the influence of the last call. In this they
distrusted God in the belief of a doctrine which above all required a
distinct act of faith in His almighty power. Their ideas, however, were
widened, and they came to see that if it were possible for the Great
Father of the human race to wake the dead on the judgment day when their
dust lay peacefully beside the village church, it was also possible for
Him to call them to Him though their particles lay far apart.

There is one other point which must not be omitted in a work of this kind.
The transactions in the West Port of Edinburgh, in 1828, gave new words
with a peculiar significance to the English language. A "burker" was
unknown before the crimes of William Burke were made public; "burking" was
an undiscovered art until he discovered it. This in itself is another
testimony to the effect the crimes chronicled in this book had upon the
minds of the men and women of the period. Many other words similarly
derived have had a brief popularity, and dropped into oblivion, to be only
hunted up by the philological antiquary, but these have retained their
significance, and, by their aptitude to many actions in all phases of
life, have attained to a classical position in the language to which their
usefulness, rather than their origin, entitle them.

[Illustration: MRS. HARE AND CHILD (From a Sketch taken in Court)]




APPENDIX




APPENDIX.


THE CASE AGAINST TORRENCE AND WALDIE.

At page twenty-four _ante_ a brief note is given of the case against
Torrence and Waldie for the murder of a boy for the purpose of disposing
of his body to the surgeons. The account there given is founded upon a
brief jotting in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, and, as the case is one
of considerable interest, the following more lengthy record is taken from
the _Scots Magazine_ for 1752:--

"Helen Torrence, residenter, and Jean Waldie, wife of a stabler's servant
in Edinburgh, were tried, at the instance of the King's Advocate, before
the Court of Justiciary, for stealing and murdering John Dallas, a boy of
about eight or nine years of age, son of John Dallas, chairman in
Edinburgh. The indictment bears, that in November last the pannels
frequently promised two or three surgeon-apprentices to procure them a
subject; that they pretended that they were to sit up with a dead child,
and after the coffining, slip something else into the coffin, and secrete
the body; but said afterwards that they were disappointed in this, the
parent refusing to consent; that on the 3rd of December, Janet Johnston,
mother to the deceased, having come to Torrence's house, was desired by
her to sit down; that Waldie, who was then with Torrence, soon left them,
on pretence of being ill with the colic, and went up stairs to her own
house, which was immediately above that of Torrence; that thereafter, on
hearing a knock upon the floor above, Torrence went up stairs to Waldie,
staid a short while with her, then returned to Janet Johnstone, and
invited her to drink a pint of ale in a neighbouring house, which
invitation she accepted of; that after they had drunk one pint of ale,
Torrence offered another; that this second pint being brought in, Torrence
went out of the ale-house; that then both or either of the pannels went to
the house of the above-mentioned John Dallas, chairman, stole away the
poor innocent boy in the absence of its parents, and murdered it; that
Waldie immediately after went and informed the surgeon apprentices that
Torrence and she had now found a subject, desiring them to carry it
instantly away; that on this the apprentices came to Waldie's house, and
found the dead body stretched on a chest; that having asked what they
should give for the subject? would not two shillings be enough? Both
pannels declared they had been at more expense about it than that sum; but
that upon their giving Torrence tenpence to buy a dram, she and Waldie
accepted of the two shillings in part payment; that, at the desire of the
apprentices, Torrence carried the body in her apron to one of their rooms,
for which she received sixpence more; and that when the pannels were
apprehended, some of the facts were confessed by them, by Torrence before
one of the Bailies of Edinburgh, and by Waldie before the Lord Provost;
Waldie in particular, having confessed that Torrence told her, that should
this boy die, he would be a good one for the doctors; that, at Torrence's
desire, she frequently went to see how the boy was; that thereafter,
Torrence having asked her how he was? and she having answered, that he
continued much in the same way, Torrence replied that it would be better
to take him away alive, for he would be dead before he could be brought to
her house; that accordingly, after the boy's mother had seen Waldie
upstairs to her own house, 3rd December, Torrence came and told her that
she and the mother were then drinking a pint of ale, and that it would be
a proper time for Waldie to go for the boy; that Waldie accordingly went,
found the boy looking over a window, took him up in her arms, and carried
him directly to her own house, whither she was immediately followed by
Torrence; that, before Torrence came in, Waldie had given the boy a drink
of ale, but it would scarce go over, and he died six minutes thereafter;
and that Waldie, at Torrence's desire, went for the surgeons, and sold the
dead body to them, as above. On missing their child, the parents made
inquiry for him. In about four days, the body was found in a place of the
town little frequented, but with evident marks of having been in the
surgeons' hands. The parents were thereupon taken up, and likewise the
pannels. The pannels were examined, the parents set at liberty, and the
pannels kept in prison. Their trial came off on the 3rd February. After
debates, the Lords found the libel relevant to infer the pains of law. A
proof was taken on the same day. Among the witnesses were the boy's
parents, and the surgeons' apprentices. Next day the jury returned the
following verdict:--'Found, that the pannels are both guilty, art and
part, of stealing John Dallas, a living child, and son of John Dallas,
chairman in Edinburgh, from his father's house, at the time and in the
manner libelled; and of carrying him to the house of Jean Waldie, one of
the pannels; and soon thereafter, on the evening of the day libelled, of
selling and delivering his body, then dead, to some surgeons and students
of physic.' Counsel were heard on the import of this verdict on the sixth,
when all defences were over-ruled. Both pannels were sentenced to be
hanged in the Grassmarket of Edinburgh, on the 18th March. They were
executed accordingly. Waldie, in her last speech, says, that Torrence
prevailed on her, when much intoxicated, to go and carry the child alive
from its mother's house; that she carried it in her gown-tail to her own
house; that when she arrived at home, she found the child was dead,
having, as she believed, been smothered in her coats in carrying it off;
that it really died in her hands; that she acknowledges her sentence to be
just. Torrence declines saying anything about the crime."

On page 152 of MacLaurin's _Remarkable Cases_, under date February 3,
1752, there is a short account of the pleadings at the trial. The
following is a note of the matter contained there, with the exception of
the finding of the jury, which has already been given:--

_His Majesty's Advocate against Helen Torrence and Jean Waldie._

"They were indicted for stealing and murdering John Dallas, a boy about
eight or nine years of age, son of John Dallas, chairman, in Edinburgh, on
the 3rd December, 1751.

"The counsel for the prisoners represented, that however the actual murder
might be relevant to infer the pains of death, yet the stealing of the
child could only infer an arbitrary punishment. And as to the selling of
the dead body, it was no crime at all.

"_Ans._--Though the stealing the child when alive, when disjoined from the
selling of it when dead, might not go so far; yet, when taken together,
they were undoubtedly relevant to infer a capital punishment.

"The court pronounced the usual interlocutor."


AN INTERVIEW WITH BURKE IN PRISON.

The following appeared in the _Caledonian Mercury_ early in the month of
January, 1829:--

"The information from which the following article is drawn up we have
received from a most respectable quarter, and its perfect correctness in
all respects may be confidently relied on. In truth, it is as nearly as
possible a strict report, rather than the substance, of what passed at an
interview with Burke, in the course of which the unhappy man appears to
have opened his mind without reserve, and to have given a distinct and
explicit answer to every question which was put to him relative to his
connection with the late murders.

"After some conversation of a religious nature, in the course of which
Burke stated that, while in Ireland, his mind was under the influence of
religious impressions, and that he was accustomed to read his Catechism
and Prayer-book, and to attend to his duties. He was asked, 'How comes it
then that you, who, by your own account, were once under the influence of
religious impressions, ever formed the idea of such dreadful atrocities,
of such cold-blooded, systematic murders as you admit you have been
engaged in--how came such a conception to enter your mind?' To this Burke
replied, 'that he did not exactly know; but that becoming addicted to
drink, living in open adultery, and associating continually with the most
abandoned characters, he gradually became hardened and desperate; gave up
attending chapel or any place of religious worship, shunned the face of
the priest, and being constantly familiar with every species of
wickedness, he at length grew indifferent as to what he did, and was ready
to commit any crime.'

"He was then asked how long he had been engaged in this murderous traffic,
to which he answered, 'From Christmas, 1827, till the murder of the woman
Docherty in October last.' 'How many persons have you murdered, or been
concerned in murdering, during the time? Were they 30 in all?' 'Not so
many; not so many, I assure you.' 'How many?' He answered the question,
but the answer was, for a reason perfectly satisfactory, not communicated
to us, and reserved for a different quarter.

"'Had you any accomplices?' 'None but Hare. We always took care when we
were going to commit a murder that no one else should be present; that no
one could swear he saw the deed done. The women might suspect what we were
about, but we always put them out of the way when we were going to do it.
They never saw us commit any of the murders. One of the murders was done
in Broggan's house while he was out, but before he returned the thing was
finished and the body put into a box. Broggan evidently suspected
something, for he appeared much agitated, and entreated us to take away
the box, which we accordingly did. But he was not in any way concerned in
it.'

"'You have already told me that you were engaged in these atrocities from
Christmas, 1827, till the end of October, 1828. Were you associated with
Hare during all that time?' 'Yes, we began with selling to Dr. ---- the
body of a woman who had died a natural death in Hare's house. We got ten
pounds for it. After this we began the murders, and all the rest of the
bodies that we sold to him were murdered.'

"'In what place were these murders generally committed?' 'They were mostly
committed in Hare's house, which was very convenient for the purpose, as
it consisted of a room and kitchen. Daft Jamie was murdered there. The
story told of this murder is incorrect. Hare began the struggle with him,
and they fell and rolled together on the floor; then I went to Hare's
assistance, and we at length finished him, though with much difficulty. I
committed one murder in the country by myself. It was in last harvest. All
the rest were done in conjunction with Hare.'

"'By what means were these fearful atrocities perpetrated?' 'By
suffocation. We made the persons drunk, and then suffocated them by
holding the nostrils and mouth and getting on the body. Sometimes I held
the mouth and nose, while Hare went upon the body; and sometimes Hare held
the mouth and nose, while I placed myself on the body. Hare has perjured
himself by what he said at the trial about the murder of Docherty. He did
not sit by while I did it, as he says. He was on the body assisting me
with all his might, while I held the nostrils and mouth with one hand,
choked her under the throat with the other. We sometimes used a pillow,
but did not in this case.'

"'Now, Burke, answer me this question:--Were you tutored and instructed,
or did you receive hints from any one as to the mode of committing
murder?' 'No, except from Hare. We often spoke about it, and we agreed
that suffocation was the best way. Hare said so, and I agreed with him. We
generally did it by suffocation.'

"'Did you receive any encouragement to commit or persevere in committing
these atrocities?' 'Yes; we were frequently told by Paterson that he would
take as many bodies as we could get for him. When we got one he always
told us to get more. There was commonly another person with him of the
name of ----. They generally pressed us to get more bodies for them.'

"'To whom were the bodies so murdered sold?' 'To Dr. ----. We took the
bodies to his rooms in ---- ----, and then went to his house to receive
the money for them. Sometimes he paid us himself; sometimes we were paid
by his assistants. No questions were ever asked as to the mode in which we
had come by the bodies. We had nothing to do but to leave a body at the
rooms, and go and get money.'

"'Did you ever, upon any occasion, sell a body or bodies to any other
lecturer in this place?' 'Never. We knew no other.'

"'You have been a resurrectionist (as it is called) I understand?' 'No.
Neither Hare nor myself ever got a body from a churchyard. All we sold
were murdered, save the first one, which was that of the woman who died a
natural death in Hare's house. We began with that: our crimes then
commenced. The victims we selected were generally elderly persons; they
could be more easily disposed of than persons in the vigour of health.'

"Such are the disclosures which this wretched man has made, under
circumstances which can scarcely fail to give them weight with the public.
Before a question were put to him concerning the crimes he had been
engaged in, he was solemnly reminded of the duty incumbent upon him,
situated as he is, to banish from his mind every feeling of animosity
towards Hare, on account of the evidence which the latter gave at the
trial; he was told that a dying man, covered with guilt, and without hope
except in the infinite mercy of Almighty God, through our blessed Redeemer
the Lord Jesus Christ, he, who stood so much in need of forgiveness, must
prepare himself to seek it by forgiving from his heart all who had done
him wrong; and he was emphatically adjured to speak the truth, and nothing
but the truth, without any attempt either to palliate his own iniquities,
or to implicate Hare more deeply than the facts warranted. Thus
admonished, and thus warned, he answered the several interrogations in the
terms above stated; declaring at the same time, upon the word of a dying
man, that everything he had said was true, and that he had in no respect
exaggerated or extenuated anything, either from a desire to inculpate
Hare, or to spare anyone else."


THE CONFESSIONS OF BISHOP AND WILLIAMS, THE LONDON "BURKERS."

The following are the confessions of Bishop and Williams, the London
"Burkers," an account of whose case is given in chapter XLI. They were
emitted in presence of the Under-Sheriff on the 4th of December, 1831, the
day before their execution:--

"I, John Bishop, do hereby declare and confess, that the boy supposed to
be the Italian boy was a Lincolnshire boy. I and Williams took him to my
house about half-past ten o'clock on the Thursday night, the 3rd of
November, from the Bell, in Smithfield. He walked home with us. Williams
promised to give him some work. Williams went with him from the Bell to
the Old Bailey watering-house, whilst I went to the Fortune of War.
Williams came from the Old Bailey watering-house to the Fortune of War for
me, leaving the boy standing at the corner of the court by the
watering-house at the Old Bailey. I went directly with Williams to the
boy, and we walked then all three to Nova Scotia Gardens, taking a pint of
stout at a public-house near Holloway Lane, Shoreditch, on our way, of
which we gave the boy a part. We only stayed just to drink it, and walked
on to my house, where we arrived about eleven o'clock. My wife and
children and Mrs. Williams were not gone to bed, so we put him in the
privy, and told him to wait there for us. Williams went in and told them
to go to bed, and I stayed in the garden. Williams came out directly, and
we both walked out of the garden a little way, to give time for the family
getting to bed: we returned in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour,
and listened outside the window to ascertain whether the family were gone
to bed. All was quiet, and we then went to the boy in the privy, and took
him into the house; we lighted a candle, and gave the boy some bread and
cheese, and, after he had eaten, we gave him a cup full of rum, with about
half a small phial of laudanum in it. (I had bought the rum the same
evening at the Three Tuns, in Smithfield, and the laudanum also in small
quantities at different shops). There was no water or other liquid put in
the cup with the rum and laudanum. The boy drank the contents of the cup
directly in two draughts, and afterwards a little beer. In about ten
minutes he fell asleep on the chair on which he sat, and I removed him
from the chair to the floor, and laid him on his side. We then went out
and left him there. We had a quartern of gin and a pint of beer at the
Feathers, near Shoreditch Church, and then went home again, having been
away from the boy about twenty minutes. We found him asleep as we had left
him. We took him directly, asleep and insensible, into the garden, and
tied a cord to his feet to enable us to put him up by, and I then took him
in my arms, and let him slide from them headlong into the well in the
garden, whilst Williams held the cord to prevent the body going altogether
too low in the well. He was nearly wholly in the water in the well, his
feet just above the surface. Williams fastened the other end of the cord
round the paling, to prevent the body getting beyond our reach. The boy
struggled a little with his arms and his legs in the water; the water
bubbled for a minute. We waited till these symptoms were past, and then
went in, and afterwards I think we went out, and walked down Shoreditch to
occupy the time, and in about three-quarters of an hour we returned and
took him out of the well, by pulling him by the cord attached to his feet.
We undressed him in the paved yard, rolled his clothes up, and buried them
where they were found by the witness who produced them. We carried the boy
into the wash-house, laid him on the floor, and covered him over with a
bag. We left him there, and went and had some coffee in Old Street Road,
and then (a little before two on the morning of Friday) went back to my
house. We immediately doubled the body up, and put it into a box, which we
corded so that nobody might open it to see what was in it; and then went
again and had some more coffee in the same place in Old Street Road, where
we stayed a little while, and then went home to bed--both in the same
house, and to our own beds as usual; we slept till about ten o'clock on
Friday morning, when we got up, took breakfast together with the family,
and then went both of us to Smithfield, to the Fortune of War--we had
something to eat and drink there. In about half-an-hour May came in--I
knew May--but had not seen him for about a fortnight before,--he had some
rum with me at the bar, Williams remaining in the tap-room. [The condemned
man then described the movements of himself and Williams, and May during
that day, in course of which they were principally occupied in visiting
public houses, though they called upon two lecturers on anatomy and
offered them the body, but were refused.] At the Fortune of War we drank
something again, and then (about six o'clock) we all three went in the
chariot to Nova Scotia Gardens; we went into the wash-house, where I
uncorded the trunk, and shewed May the body. He asked, "how are the
teeth?" I said I had not looked at them. Williams went and fetched a
brad-awl from the house, and May took it and forced the teeth out; it is
the constant practice to take the teeth out first, because, if the body be
lost, the teeth are saved; after the teeth were taken out, we put the body
in a bag, and took it to the chariot; May and I carried the body, and
Williams got first into the coach, and then assisted in pulling the body
in...." [The rest of this part of the confession is simply a record of
"having something to drink," and visiting lecturers, who refused to
purchase the body. It concludes with an account of the apprehension of the
men at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, with the body in their possession.]

In an addition to this confession of the murder of the boy, Bishop made
this further statement:--

"I declare that this statement is all true, and that it contains all the
facts so far as I can recollect. May knew nothing of the murder, and I do
not believe he suspected that I had got the body except in the usual way,
and after the death of it. I always told him I got it from the ground, and
he never knew to the contrary until I confessed to Mr. Williams [a
clergyman] since the trial. I have known May as a body-snatcher for four
or five years, but I do not believe he ever obtained a body except in the
common course of men in the calling--by stealing from the graves. I also
confess that I and Williams were concerned in the murder of a female--whom
I believe to have been since discovered as Fanny Pigburn--on or about the
9th of October last. I and Williams saw her sitting about eleven or twelve
o'clock at night on the step of a door in Shoreditch, near the church. She
had a child four or five years old on her lap. I asked her why she was
sitting there. She said she had no home to go to, for her landlord had
turned her out into the street. I told her that she might go home with
us, and sit by the fire all night. She said she would go with us, and she
walked with us to my house, in Nova Scotia Gardens, carrying her child
with her. When we got there we found the family abed, and we took the
woman in and lighted a fire, by which we all sat down together. I went out
for beer, and we all took beer and rum (I had brought the rum from
Smithfield in my pocket); the woman and her child laid down on some dirty
linen on the floor, and I and Williams went to bed. About six o'clock next
morning I and Williams told her to go away, and to meet us at the London
Apprentice in Old-Street Road, at one o'clock. This was before our
families were up. She met us again at one o'clock at the London
Apprentice, without her child. We gave her some half-pence and beer, and
desired her to meet us again at ten o'clock at night at the same place.
After this we bought rum and laudanum at different places, and at ten
o'clock we met the woman again at the London Apprentice, she had no child
with her. We drank three pints of beer between us there, and stayed there
about an hour. We would have stayed there longer, but an old man came in
whom the woman said she knew, and she said she did not like him to see her
there with any body; we therefore all went out; it rained hard, and we
took shelter under a door-way in the Hackney Road for about an hour. We
then walked to Nova Scotia Gardens, and Williams and I led her into No. 2,
an empty house adjoining my house. We had no light. Williams stepped into
the garden with the rum and laudanum, which I had handed to him; he there
mixed them together in a half-pint bottle, and came into the house to me
and the woman, and gave her the bottle to drink; she drank the whole at
two or three draughts; there was a quartern of rum, and about half a phial
of laudanum; she sat down the step between two rooms in the house, and
went off to sleep in about ten minutes. She was falling back; I caught her
to save her fall, and she laid back on the floor. Then Williams and I went
to a public-house, got something to drink, and in about half-an-hour came
back to the woman; we took her cloak off, tied a cord to her feet, carried
her to a well in the garden and thrust her into it headlong; she
struggled very little afterwards, and the water bubbled a little at the
top. We fastened the end to the pailings to prevent her going down beyond
our reach, and left her and took a walk to Shoreditch and back, in about
half-an-hour; we left the woman in the well for this length of time, that
the rum and laudanum might run out of the body at the mouth. On our
return, we took her out of the well, cut her clothes off, put them down
the privy of the empty house, carried the body into the wash-house of my
own house, where we doubled it up and put it into a hair-box, which we
corded and left there. We did not go to bed, but went to Shields' [a
street porter] house in Eagle Street, Red Lion Square, and called him up;
this was between four and five o'clock in the morning. We went with
Shields to a public-house near the Sessions-house, Clerkenwell, and had
some gin, and from thence to my house, where we went in and stayed a
little while, to wait the change of the police. I told Shields he was to
carry that trunk to St. Thomas's Hospital. He asked if there was a woman
in the house who could walk alongside of him, so that people might not
take any notice. Williams called his wife up, and asked her to walk with
Shields, and to carry the hat-box which he gave her to carry. There was
nothing in it, but it was tied up as if there were. We then put the box
with the body on Shields' head, and went to the hospital, Shields and Mrs.
Williams walking on one side of the street, and I and Williams on the
other. At St. Thomas's Hospital I saw Mr. South's footman, and sent him up
stairs to Mr. South to ask if he wanted a subject. The footman brought me
word that his master wanted one, but could not give an answer till the
next day, as he had not time to look at it. During this interview,
Shields, Williams, and his wife, were waiting at a public-house. I then
went alone to Mr. Appleton, at Mr. Grainger's [Anatomical Theatre], and
agreed to sell it to him for eight guineas, and afterwards I fetched it
from St. Thomas's Hospital, and took it to Mr. Appleton, who paid me £5
then, and the rest on the following Monday. After receiving the £5, I went
to Shields and Williams and his wife, at the public-house, when I paid
Shields 10s. for his trouble, and we then all went to the Flower Pot in
Bishopsgate, where we had something to drink, and then went home. I never
saw the woman's child after the first time before mentioned. She said she
had left the child with a person she had taken some of her things to,
before her landlord took her goods. The woman murdered did not tell us her
name; she said her age was thirty-five, I think, and that her husband,
before he died, was a cabinetmaker. She was thin, rather tall, and very
much marked with the small-pox. I also confess the murder of a boy who
told us his name was Cunningham. It was a fortnight after the murder of
the woman. I and Williams found him sleeping about eleven or twelve
o'clock at night, on Friday, the 21st of October, as I think, under the
pig-boards in the pig market in Smithfield. Williams woke him, and asked
him to come along with him (Williams), and the boy walked with Williams
and me to my house in Nova Scotia Gardens. We took him into my house, and
gave him some warm beer, sweetened with sugar, with rum and laudanum in
it. He drank two or three cups full, and then fell asleep in a little
chair belonging to one of my children. We laid him on the floor and went
out for a little while, and got something to drink and then returned,
carried the boy to the well, and threw him into it, in the same way as we
served the other boy and the woman. He died instantly in the well, and we
left him there a little while, to give time for the mixture we had given
him to run out of the body. We then took the body from the well, took off
the clothes in the garden, and buried them there. The body we carried into
the wash-house, and put it into the same box, and left it there till the
next evening, when we got a porter to carry it with us to St.
Bartholomew's Hospital, where I sold it to Mr. Smith for eight guineas.
This boy was about ten or eleven years old, said his mother lived in Kent
Street, and that he had not been home for a twelvemonth and better. I
solemnly declare that these were all the murders in which I have been
concerned, or that I know anything of; that I and Williams were alone
concerned in these, and that no other person whatever knew anything about
either of them, and that I do not know whether there are others who
practise the same mode of obtaining bodies for sale. I know nothing of any
Italian boy, and was never concerned in or knew of the murder of such a
boy.... Until the transactions before set forth, I never was concerned in
obtaining a subject by the destruction of the living. I have followed the
course of obtaining a livelihood as a body-snatcher for twelve years, and
have obtained and sold, I think, from 500 to 1000 bodies; but I declare,
before God, that they were all obtained after death, and that, with the
above exceptions, I am ignorant of any murder for that or any other
purpose."

Williams, whose proper name was Thomas Head, confirmed the confession
given above as altogether true.


SONGS AND BALLADS.

_The following songs and ballads were published at the time the news of
the West Port tragedies was agitating the people of Scotland. They are
rude and unpoetical for the most part, but they are fairly representative
of a very extensive class, in which the feelings of the common people are
not unfaithfully mirrored._


RHYMES

_On reading the Trial of William Burke and Helen M'Dougal, for Murder,
24th December, 1828._

AN EXPOSTULATION.

"_Thou can'st not say I did it!!!_"

  Ah!--can'st thou, with cold indifference see
  The hand of execration point to thee?
  Can'st thou, unmov'd, bear a whole nation's cry,
  To cleanse thyself from the polluted sty
  Of Burke, and Hare, and all that fiendish crew,
  Who, for mere gain, their fellow-mortals slew,
  And sold to thee, as thou hast not denied,
  Such bodies as by students were descried
  Ne'er to have been interred, nay, bore, some say,
  Strong marks of life, by violence reft away?
  And thou didst not attempt the truth to find,
  Though oft it must have flash'd across thy mind;
  But with a reckless carelessness, receiv'd
  Whate'er was brought,[1] and any lie believ'd,
  Told by the gang, whose very forms do show
  They would not tell thee aught thou did'st not know,
  Or should'st have known, if true thy Science says,
  That marks of death by _Murder_ any ways
  May well be seen, when the dissecting knife
  Opens all the sure and secret seats of life.[2]
  Art thou a Scotsman ----? then haste to prove
  That patriotic feelings can thy bosom move;
  Haste to wipe out the stain thy country shares,
  While such a stigma fair Edina bears.
  Art thou a son of Science? quickly, then,
  Show she does not make brutes of _lect'ring_ men.
  Art thou a Father? then thy child may plead,
  To cleanse thyself from this unholy deed.
  Art thou a husband? ask thine honest wife,
  If 'twere not better to descend in life,
  Than traffic with the basest, vilest band,
  And thus for ---- soon's the deed is plann'd;
  A ready market keep--and hide away
  An _old tea-box_; that's all which you can say.
  Art thou a Christian? think'st thou this avails
  With Him on high, who, with unerring scales,
  Weighs all the thoughts, and words, and deeds of men,
  And searches through, ev'n the soul's inmost _ken_?
  If this dread argument will not prevail,
  Nought can thy cold obdurate heart assail.
  Yes, time mispent, and surely worse than vain,
  'Tis to attempt to rouse, by my poor strain,
  The proud rich man, hedg'd round by many a friend,
  Whose voice th' applause of hundred youths attend.
  If his own conscience will not wake and cry,
  Assert thine innocence, REPLY, REPLY,
  To all the accusations lately rais'd
  'Gainst thy fair fame, till ev'n ---- has gaz'd,
  And gaz'd in vain to see thee ---- come forth,
  Arm'd with thy ---- thy ---- and thy ----
  * * * * _Cetera desunt._

    [1] _Vide_ the evidence produced on the trial of Burke, &c. It has
    been told as a fact, that this gang carried off to ---- one of their
    slaughtered victims in such a hurry, that the body actually _groaned_
    in the box on the porter's back. No doubt the half-strangled being
    would be dead enough after a night in the ---- cellar.--_Original
    Note._

    [2] The ---- is understood to be profoundly skilled in Anatomy;
    consequently, it is one of the bitterest satires that can be uttered
    against the utility of the Science, to say that he was _ignorant_ that
    the bodies supplied by Burke and his gang had come to their death by
    violence.--_Original Note._


WILLIAM BURKE.

  O Burke, cruel man, how detested thy name is!
  Thy dark deeds of blood are a stain on our times.
  O savage, relentless, forever infamous,
  Long, long will the world remember thy crimes.

  Thrice ten human beings, weep all you who hear it,
  Were caught in his snares and caught in his den,
  The shades of thy victims may elude thy vile spirit,
  O Burke, cruel monster, thou basest of men.

  The weary, the old, and the way-faring stranger,
  Were woo'd by his kindness and led to his door,
  But little knew they that the path led to danger,
  O little knew they that their wanderings were o'er.

  Little knew they that the beams of the morning,
  To wake them to brightness, would shine all in vain,
  And little their friend knew, who watched their returning,
  That they were ne'er more to return back again.

  O gather the bones of the murdered together,
  And give them a grave in some home of the dead,
  That their poor weeping friends with sad hearts may go thither,
  And shed tears of sorrow above their cold bed.

  Ye great men of learning, ye friends of dissection,
  Who travell'd through blood to the temple of gain,
  And bright human life for your hateful inspection,
  O give the poor friends the white bones of the slain.

  But woe to the riches and skill thus obtained,
  Woe to the wretch that would injure the dead,
  And woe to his portion whose fingers are stained
  With the red drops of life that he cruelly shed.

  Tho' Burke has been doom'd to expire on the gallows,
  The vilest that ever dishonoured the tree,
  Yet some may survive him whose hearts are as callous,
  O, who wall be safe if the tigers be free.

  Let none e'er reside in the crime marked dwellings,
  For ever disgraced by Burke and by Hare,
  May the cold damp of horror lie dark in their ceilings,
  And their pale ghastly walls still be dismal and bare.

  Let their guilt and their gloom speak of nothing but terror,
  Some dark deeds of blood to the stranger declare,
  And ages to come ever mark them with horror,
  For the ghosts of the murdered will still gather there.


ELEGAIC LINES WRITTEN ON THE TRAGICAL MURDER OF POOR DAFT JAMIE.

  Attendance give, whilst I relate
  How Poor Daft Jamie met his fate;
  'Twill make your hair stand on your head,
  As I unfold the horrid deed;--

  That hellish monster, William Burke,
  Like Reynard sneaking on the lurk,
  Coy-duck'd his prey into his den,
  And then the woeful work began;--

  "Come, Jamie, drink a glass wi' me,
  And I'll gang wi' ye in a wee,
  To seek yer mither i' the toun--
  Come drink, man, drink, an' sit ye doun."

  "Nae, I'll no' drink wi' ye the nou,
  For if I div 'twill make me fou;"
  "Tush, man, a wee will do ye guid,
  'Twill cheer yer heart, and warm yer bluid."

  At last he took the fatal glass,
  Not dreaming what would come to pass;
  When once he drank, he wanted more--
  Till drunk he fell upon the floor.

  "Now," said th' assassin, "now we may
  Seize on him as our lawful prey."
  "Wait, wait," said Hare, "ye greedy ass;
  He's yet too strong--let's tak' a glass."

  Like some unguarded gem he lies--
  The vulture wants to seize his prize;
  Nor does he dream he's in his power,
  Till it has seized him to devour.

  The ruffian dogs,--the hellish pair,--
  The villain Burke,--the meagre Hare,--
  Impatient were their prize to win,
  So to their smothering pranks begin:--

  Burke cast himself on Jamie's face,
  And clasp'd him in his foul embrace;
  But Jamie waking in surprise,
  Writhed in an agony to rise.

  At last, with nerves unstrung before,
  He threw the monster on the floor;
  And though alarm'd, and weaken'd too,
  He would have soon o'ercome the foe;

  But help was near--for it Burke cried,
  And soon his friend was at his side;
  Hare tripp'd up Jamie's heels, and o'er
  He fell, alas! to rise no more!

  Now both these blood-hounds him engage,
  As hungry tygers fill'd with rage,
  Nor did they handle axe or knife,
  To take away Daft Jamie's life.

  No sooner done, than in a chest
  They cramm'd this lately-welcom'd guest,
  And bore him into Surgeons' Square--
  A subject fresh--a victim rare!

  And soon he's on the table laid,
  Expos'd to the dissecting blade;
  But where his members now may lay
  Is not for me--or you--to say.

  But this I'll say--some thoughts _did_ rise,
  It fill'd the students with surprise,
  That so short time did intervene
  Since Jamie on the streets was seen.

  But though his body is destroy'd,
  His soul can never be decoy'd
  From that celestial state of rest,
  Where he, I trust, is with the bless'd.


MRS. WILSON'S LAMENTATION ON HEARING OF THE CRUEL MURDER OF HER SON.

  Why didst thou wander from my side,
  My joy, my treasure, and my pride?
  Though others little thought of thee,
  Though wert a treasure dear to me.

  I little thought when thee I left,
  So soon of thee to be bereft;
  Or that when after me you sought
  You would by ruffian men be caught.

  Thy playful manners fill'd with joy
  The aged sire and sportive boy;
  Of real joy you had enough,
  When you could give or take a snuff.

  The tricks you play'd with childish art,
  Bound you the closer to my heart;
  Thy kindness to thy mother prov'd
  How dearly she by thee was lov'd.

  What horrid monsters were these men
  Who lur'd thee to their fatal den;
  That den, whose deeds as yet untold,
  Were done for sake of sordid gold.

  But they alone were not to blame;
  For when these dauntless monsters came
  With human creatures scarcely cold,
  The doctors took them, we were told.

  Nor did they leave the doctors door
  Without an order to bring more!
  But Justice stern aloud doth cry--
  "Let all who wink at murder die!"

  And justice shall to me be done,
  On all who murder'd my poor son;--
  I'll make appeal to Britain's King,
  That one and all of them may swing.

  But that will not restore my son,
  Or remedy the mischief done;
  He murder'd is--no peace I have,
  I shall go mourning to my grave.


DAFT JAMIE.

The following is a chap-book version of the ballad quoted at pp. 205-6.

  O! dark was the midnight when Hare fled away,
  Not a star in the sky gave him one cheering ray,
  But still now and then, would the blue lightnings glare,
  And some strange cries assail'd him, like shrieks of despair.

      Over vale, over hill, I will watch thee for ill;
      I will haunt all thy wanderings and follow thee still.

  But, lo! as the savage ran down the wild glen,
  For no place did he fear like the dwellings of men,
  Where the heath lay before him all dismal and bare,
  The ghost of Daft Jamie appeared to him there.

                  Over vale, &c.

  I am come, said the shade, from the land of the dead,
  Though there is for Jamie no grass covered bed,
  Yet I'm come to remind you of deeds that are past,
  And to tell you that justice will find you at last.

                  Over vale, &c.

  O! Hare, thou hast been a dark demon of blood,
  But vengeance shall chase thee o'er field and o'er flood;
  Though you fly away from the dwellings of men,
  The shades of thy victims shall rise in thy den.

                  Over vale, &c.

  When night falls on the world, O! how can you sleep,
  In your dreams do you ne'er see my poor mother weep?
  Sadly she wept; but, O! long shall she mourn,
  E'er poor wandering Jamie from the grave shall return.

                  Over vale, &c.

  From the grave, did I say, and though calm is the bed
  Where slumber is dreamless, the home of the dead,
  Where friends may lament, there sorrow may be,
  Yet no grave rises as green as the world for me.

                  Over vale, &c.

  O! Hare, go to shelter thy fugutive head,
  In some land that is not of the living or dead;
  For the living against thee may justly combine,
  And the dead must despise such a spirit as thine.

                  Over vale, &c.

  O! Hare fly away, but this world cannot be
  The place of abode to a demon like thee,
  There is gall in your heart--poison is in your breath,
  And the glare of your eyes is as fearful as death.

                  Over vale, &c.

  When the blue lightnings flash'd through the glen, and it shone,
  And there rose a wild cry, and there heaved a deep groan,
  As the Ghost of the innocent boy disappear'd,
  But his shrieks down the glen, in the night breeze were heard.

                  Over vale, &c.


THE RESURRECTIONISTS.

In No. XXIX of _The Emmet_, an old Glasgow periodical, published on
Saturday, 18th October, 1823, is the following:--

"_The_ Resurrectionists, _a Tale_ (in Blind Alek verse) _Humbly Inscribed
to the Editor of the 'Glasgow Chronicle.' Printed for John Smith, 25,
Gallowgate._

"ORIGINAL.

"This _elegant_ poem was put into our hands as we were going to press, so
we must be excused for passing it over more slightly than such a
performance _deserves_. In fact we have only room for a single extract. It
opens as follows, in a style which leaves Lewis, and Ratcliffe, and all
our writers on the horrible, far in the rear. John Starke himself, with
his 'Thesaurus of Horror,' never penned anything so deliciously frightful.

  'Twas a cold winter night, and dark _was_ the clouds,
  And the dead men lay quietly still in their shrouds;
  The worms revelled sweetly their eyeholes among,--
  It was a rout night, and there was a great throng:
  Some fed upon brains, others fed upon liver,
  Had we e'er such a feast, all cried out, O! no, never.

"We suspect our readers will think we have given them enough of this
feast; if they pant for more of it, let them turn to the work itself. More
disgusting trash never emanated from the press. Blind Alek is a Milton
compared with the blockhead who would sit down and pen such a mass of
loathesomeness.... Lord preserve us from this imitator of Blind Alek.

  'Some heads replete with strange bombastic stuff,
  Think words when rhym'd poetical enough.'"


THE LAMENT.

"Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed."--GENESIS,
ix. 6.

"Bloody and deceitful men shall not live out half their days."--PSALM, lv.
23.

"Depart from me therefore, ye bloody men."--PSALM, cxxxix. 19.

"Now thou son of man, wilt thou judge, wilt thou judge the bloody
city?"--EZEKIEL, xxii. 2.

"The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the
ground."--GENESIS, iv. 10.

  O woe for bonny Scotland,
      For murder is abroad,
  And we must flee for refuge,
      To an avenging God.
  For we have seen that Law alone,
      Can do us little _gude_,
  As it has let three demons loose,
      To work _mair_ deeds of _blude_.

  Ye bloody fiends, ye hellish fiends,
      Dare ye here yet be seen,
  With the mark of blood upon your brows,
      And murder in your _een_!
  O woe for my _ain_ Scotland,
      For thou art now the land,
  Chosen for such deeds of darkness,
      As man before ne'er plann'd.

  Alas for Mary Paterson,
      Cut off in her young days,
  Wi' a' her sins upon her,
      And in her wicked ways;
  While steep'd in drunk stupidity,
      And overcome by sleep,
  On his devoted victim
      Burke took the dreadful leap.

  And alas for the old woman,
      Entic'd to revelry,
  Under the mask of country kindness,
      By a Judas for his fee;
  That he might sell her body,
      When he had done the deed,
  And with the price of human blood,
      His _loathsome_ carcass feed.

  O'hon for poor _Daft_ Jamie,
      Whom we shall miss away,
  In his own happy _idiocy_,
      _Sae gude-natur'd_ and gay!
  O! who shall cheer the mother
      For the want of her poor boy,
  By's simpleness the more endear'd
      To her--her only joy.

  But our all-gracious Maker
      Will surely soon look down,
  On this detested murder
      With his all-powerful frown!

      *       *       *       *

  In search of his dear mother,
      Burke found him wand'ring then,
  And for to see his parent,
      Was lur'd to Hare's dread den;
  Where he was ply'd with liquor,
      (And all by coaxings prest),
  Till he was quite o'erpow'red,
      And laid him down to rest.

  The two fell fiends they watch'd then,
      Until he soundly slept,
  Then Hare upon his destin'd prey
      With murderous purpose crept.
  And having fastened on him,
      Hare strove his life to take;
  Which recall'd his long lost reason,
      And did his senses wake.

  He shook the butcher from him,
      And seeing no help there,
  He fought with all the frenzy
      Of madness and despair.
  His cowardly assassin,
      Did crouch beneath his blows,
  And called on Burke his comrade
      To give the murderous close.

  They two, conjoin'd together,
      Depriv'd him of his life;
  But not before he left them
      Marks of the desperate strife.
  In his tremendous struggle,
      Though weaken'd much by drink,
  He showed how men do fight for life,
      When on death's dreadful brink.

  His body, it is said, (if true,
      Let those who bought beware)
  Was sold to an Anatomist;
      And some one did declare,
  When it lay on his table
      For the dissecting knife,
  That it was poor _daft_ Jamie,
      Whom he saw strong in life

  But yesterday; and more 'twas strange
      As all knew passing well,
  He was a stout and hearty youth,
      The rest I may not tell;
  But loudly it's been whisper'd,
      That damning marks of strife
  Show'd clear that death by violence
      Had _twin'd_ him of his life.

  'Tis told, that then the body
      Was laid in spirits strong,
  To remove all such suspicions,
      And hide the cruel wrong.
  If so! O righteous Heaven,
      To thee we look for aid;
  Nor will thy kindling anger
      Be longer much delay'd!

  Thou art the _poor's_ avenger,
      The _idiot's_ only guard,
  The _childless_ mother's helper,
      The good man's high reward.
  To Thee then we are looking,
      To appease the cry of blood
  Which runs throughout our city,
      Like a portentous flood!

  AND WE DO HOLD THY PROMISE,
      WE SHALL NOT LOOK IN VAIN;
  FOR WHOSO SHEDDETH MAN'S BLOOD,
      HE SURELY SHALL BE SLAIN!


THE END.






End of Project Gutenberg's The History of Burke and Hare, by George Mac Gregor