[Illustration: WILLIAM BURKE,
  as he appeared at the Bar,
  taken in Court.

  _Published by Thomas Ireland Jun^r. Edinburgh._]




                          WEST PORT MURDERS;

                                 OR AN

              AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT OF THE ATROCIOUS MURDERS

                             COMMITTED BY

                       BURKE AND HIS ASSOCIATES;

                              CONTAINING

         A FULL ACCOUNT OF ALL THE EXTRAORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES
                         CONNECTED WITH THEM.

                                 ALSO,

                         A REPORT OF THE TRIAL

                                  OF

                          BURKE AND M‘DOUGAL.

                                 WITH

               A DESCRIPTION OF THE EXECUTION OF BURKE,

           HIS CONFESSIONS, AND MEMOIRS OF HIS ACCOMPLICES,

                               INCLUDING

                   THE PROCEEDINGS AGAINST HARE, &c.

                  ILLUSTRATED BY PORTRAITS AND VIEWS.


    “O horror! horror! horror! tongue nor heart
    Cannot conceive nor name thee!”
                                          _Macbeth._


                              EDINBURGH:
                 PUBLISHED BY THOMAS IRELAND, JUNIOR,
                       57, SOUTH BRIDGE STREET.
                                 1829.


                              EDINBURGH:
              PRINTED BY A. BALFOUR AND CO. HIGH STREET.




                               CONTENTS.


                                                                  Page

    INTRODUCTION                                                     1

    Narrative of the Officer who apprehended the Murderers, _note_   4

    Trial of Burke and M‘Dougal                                      9

           Indictment                                               12

           List of Witnesses                                        15

           List of Jury                                             36

    _Witnesses Examined_

           James Braidwood                                          36

           Mary Stewart                                             36

           Charles M‘Lauchlan                                       37

           William Noble                                            38

           Anne Black or Connaway                                   39

           Janet Lawrie (or Law)                                    42

           Hugh Alston                                              44

           Elizabeth Paterson                                       45

           David Paterson                                           45

           John Broggan                                             47

           Ann M‘Dougal or Gray                                     47

           James Gray                                               50

           George M‘Culloch                                         51

           John Fisher                                              52

           William Hare (or Haire)                                  53

           Margaret Hare (or Haire)                                 62

           Dr. Black                                                65

           Dr. Christison                                           66

    Declaration of Burke, emitted 3d November                       67

           Do. do. 10th November                                    71

           Do. do. 19th November                                    74

    Declaration of M‘Dougal, 3d November                            75

           Do. do. 10th November                                    78

    Verdict                                                         92

    Sentence                                                        95

    List of Counsel                                                 96

    Remarks                                                         97

    Behaviour of Pannels during Trial                              101

    Popular Excitement                                             105

    Conduct of Burke in Lock-up-house                              108

    Liberation of M‘Dougal                                         110

    Burke’s Conduct in Jail                                        113

    Hare’s Behaviour                                               116

    Burke’s and Hare’s Houses                                      120

    Remarks on their Characters                                    123

    Murder of Mary Paterson                                        124

    Janet Brown’s Statement relative to the Murder of Paterson     125

    Murder of Daft Jamie                                           132

    Curious Rencontre between Daft Jamie and Bobby Auld            133

    Legal Discussions relative to the Trial of Hare and the
        _Socii Criminum_                                           137

    Memoirs of Burke, _with particulars_ of all the Murders
        _communicated by Himself_                                  170

    List of Murders committed by Burke and Hare                    201

    Town Council Proceedings                                       212

    Confessions of Burke from the Caledonian Mercury               216

    Preparations for Burke’s Execution                             221

    Removal to the Lock-up-house                                   223

    Occurrences on the Street previous to the Execution            227

    The Execution                                                  234

    Character of Burke                                             247

    Occurrences after the Execution                                251

    Description of the Body                                        252

    Riot at the College                                            254

    Phrenological Development of Burke                             259

    Observations on the Head of William Burke                      262

    Remarks on do.                                                 267

    Proceedings against Hare                                       272

    Memoirs of Hare                                                306

    Hare’s Reception in Dumfries                                   312

    Hare’s Appearance                                              325

    Letter from the Sheriff to the Right Hon. the Lord Provost     329

    Official Confessions of Burke                                  331

    Confessions of Burke from the Edinburgh Evening Courant        340

    Account of Helen M‘Dougal                                      353

    ---- ---- Mrs. Hare                                            355

    Popular Tumult                                                 361


                            LIST OF PLATES.

    Portrait of Burke, to face title

    Ground Plan of Burke’s House                                    36

    Portrait of Helen M‘Dougal                                      97

    Burke’s House from the Back Court                              120

    View of Burke’s Execution                                      237

    Portrait of Hare                                               272

    Fac-simile of Burke’s Hand-writing                             352

    Portrait of Mrs. Hare                                          355




                        THE WEST PORT MURDERS.


We have heard a great deal of late concerning “the march of intellect”
for which the present age is supposed to be distinguished; and the
phrase has been rung in our ears till it has nauseated us by its
repetition, and become almost a proverbial expression of derision. But
we fear that, with all its pretended illumination, the present age must
be characterized by some deeper and fouler blots than have attached to
any that preceded it; and that if it has brighter spots, it has also
darker shades and more appalling obscurations. It has, in fact, nooks
and corners where every thing that is evil seems to be concentrated and
condensed; dens and holes to which the Genius of Iniquity has fled,
and become envenomed with newer and more malignant inspirations. Thus
the march of crime has far outstripped “the march of intellect,” and
attained a monstrous, a colossal development. The knowledge of good
and evil would seem to have imparted a fearful impulse to the latter
principle; to have quickened, vivified, and expanded it into an awful
and unprecedented magnitude. Hence old crimes have become new by being
attended with unknown and unheard-of concomitants; and atrocities never
dreamt of or imagined before have sprung up amongst us to cover us
with confusion and dismay. No one who reads the following report of
the regular system of murder, which seems to have been organised in
Edinburgh, can doubt that it is almost wholly without example in any
age or country. Murder is no novel crime; it has been done in the olden
time as well as now; but murder perpetrated in such a manner, upon
such a system, with such an object or intent, and accompanied by such
accessory circumstances, was never, we believe, heard of before, and,
taken altogether, utterly transcends and beggars every thing in the
shape of tragedy to be found in poetry or romance. Even Mrs. Radcliffe,
with all her talent for imagining and depicting the horrible, has not
been able to invent or pourtray scenes at all to be compared, in point
of deep tragical interest, with the dreadful realities of the den in
the West Port. To show this, we shall endeavour to exhibit a faint
sketch of the more prominent circumstances attending the murder of the
woman Campbell or Docherty, as proved in evidence at the trial.

In the morning of a certain day in October last (the 31st) Burke
chances to enter the shop of a grocer, called Rymer; and there he sees
a poor beggar woman asking charity. He accosts her, and the brogue
instantly reveals their common country. The poor old woman’s heart
warms to her countryman, and she tells him that her name is Docherty,
and that she has come from Ireland in search of her son. Burke, on
the other hand, improves the acquaintance, by pretending that his
mother’s name was also Docherty, and that he has a wondrous affection
for all who bear the same euphonous and revered name. The old woman
is perfectly charmed with her good fortune in meeting such a friend
in such a countryman, and her heart perfectly overflows with delight.
Burke, again, seeing that he has so far gained his object, follows up
his professions of regard by inviting Mrs. Docherty to go with him to
his house, at the same time offering her an asylum there. The poor
beggar woman accepts the fatal invitation, and accompanies Burke to
that dreadful den, the scene of many previous murders, whence, she
is destined never to return. Here the ineffable ruffian treats her
to her breakfast, and as her gratitude rises, his apparent attention
and kindness increase. This done, however, he goes in search of his
associate and accomplice Hare, whom he informs that he has “got a
_shot_ in the house,” and invites to come over at a certain time and
hour specified “to see it done.” Betwixt eleven and twelve o’clock at
night is fixed upon by these execrable miscreants for destroying the
unhappy victim whom Burke had previously seduced into the den of murder
and death; and then Burke proceeds to make the necessary arrangements
for the commission of the crime. Gray and his wife, lodgers in Burke’s
house, and whom the murderers did not think it proper or safe to
entrust with the secret, are removed for that night alone: another
bed is procured for them, and paid for, or offered to be paid for, by
Burke. By and by the murderers congregate, and females, cognisant of
their past deeds, as well as of the crime which was to be perpetrated,
mingle with them in this horrid meeting. Spirituous liquor is procured
and administered to the intended victim; they all drink mere or less
deeply; sounds of mirth and revelry are heard echoing from this
miniature pandæmonium; and a dance, in which they all, including the
beggar woman, join, completes these infernal orgies. This is kept up
for a considerable while, and is the immediate precursor of a deed
which blurs the eye of day, and throws a deeper and darker shade around
the dusky brow of night.

At length the time for “doing it” arrives. Burke and Hare got up a
sham fight, to produce a noise of brawling and quarrelling, common
enough in their horrid abode; and when this has been continued long
enough as they think, Burke suddenly springs like a hungry tiger on
his victim, whom one of his accomplices had, as if by accident, thrown
down,--flings the whole weight of his body upon her breast,--grapples
her by the throat,--and strangles her outright. Ten minutes or a
quarter of an hour elapse while this murderous operation is going on,
and ere it is completed; during the whole of which time Hare, by his
own confession in the witness-box, sat upon the front of the bed, a
cool spectator of the murder, without raising a cry or stretching
out a hand to help the unhappy wretch thus hurried into eternity by
his associate fiend Burke. As to the women (Helen M‘Dougal, Burke’s
helpmate, and the wife of the miscreant Hare) they seem to have
retreated into a passage closed in by an outer door, “when they saw him
(Burke) on the top of her” (Docherty), and to have remained there while
he was perpetrating the murder; without, however, uttering a single
sound or doing a single act, calculated to interrupt the murderer in
his work of blood, or to procure assistance to the dying victim. These
she-devils were familiar with the work of death; and one of them, the
wife of Hare, confessed it in the witness-box. She had seen, she said,
such “tricks” before.

No language can add to the impression which these facts are calculated
to produce. The succeeding events, however, are not less picturesquely
horrifying. The murder was committed at eleven o’clock, and in an
hour after, or at twelve, Burke fetches Paterson, the assistant or
servant of a teacher of Anatomy in Edinburgh, to whom he was in the
habit of selling the bodies of his victims, to the spot--the murdered
body being by this time stuffed under the bed and covered with straw;
and, pointing to that truly dreadful place, tells him that he has got
a subject for him there, which will be ready for him in the morning.
The demons then appear to have recreated themselves with fresh dozes
of liquor; and about four or five in the morning, the two women
already mentioned, with a fellow of the name of Broggan who had joined
the party, after the deed was done,--laid down in the bed, beneath
which the murdered body of Docherty, not yet cold in death, had been
crammed, and went to sleep, some of them at least, as coolly as if
nothing of the kind had occurred. When daylight returned, the tea-box,
so often mentioned in the course of the trial, was procured, and the
slaughtered body crammed into it, and sent off by the porter M‘Culloch,
to Surgeons’ Square; after which Burke and his accomplice Hare set off
for Newington to obtain the whole or part of the price of the subject
they had procured by murder, and actually got _five pounds_, being
one-half of the price agreed upon.[1]

Such is an imperfect and feeble outline of the facts of this case, in
the course of which was disclosed the horrid and appalling fact, that,
in certain holes and dens, both in the heart and in the outskirts of
this city, murder had been reduced into a system, with the view of
obtaining money for the bodies murdered; and that it was perpetrated in
the manner least likely to leave impressed upon the body any evident
or decisive marks of violence, being invariably committed by means
of suffocation or strangling, during partial or total intoxication.
The public is therefore to consider the present as only one out of
many instances of a similar nature which have occurred. Hare’s wife
admitted that she had witnessed many “tricks” of the same kind; and
Hare himself, when undergoing the searching cross-examination of Mr.
Cockburn--a cross-examination such as was never before exemplified
in any Court of Justice--durst not deny that he had been concerned
in other murders besides that of Docherty;--that a murder had been
committed in his own house in the month of October last;--that he
himself was a murderer, and his hands steeped in blood and slaughter:
we say he durst not deny it, and only took refuge in “declining
to answer” the questions put to him; which the Court of course
apprised him he was entitled to do in regard to questions that went
to criminate himself so deeply, and but for which caution we have
little doubt that he would have confessed not merely accession, but a
principal share in several murders. In fact, this “squalid wretch,”
as Mr. Cockburn so picturesquely called him, from the hue and look
of the carrion-crow in the witness-box, was disposed to be extremely
communicative, and apparently had no idea that any thing he had stated
was at all remarkable or extraordinary. Daft Jamie was murdered in
this miscreant’s house, and he has mentioned some circumstances
connected with the destruction of this poor innocent, calculated to
form a suitable _pendant_ to the description we have already given
of the murder of Docherty. Jamie was enticed into Hare’s house by
Burke, the usual decoy-duck in this traffic of blood (the appearance
of Hare himself being so inexpressibly hideous that it would have
scared even this moping idiot,) and he was plied with liquor for a
considerable time. At first he refused to imbibe a single drop; but
by dint of coaxing and perseverance, they at last induced him to
take a little; and after he once took a little, they found almost
no difficulty in inducing him to take more. At length, however, he
became overpowered, and laying himself down on the floor, fell asleep.
Burke, who was anxiously watching his opportunity, then said to Hare,
“Shall I do it now?” to which Hare replied, “He is too strong for you
yet; you had better let him alone a while.” Both the ruffians seem to
have been afraid of the physical strength which they knew the poor
creature possessed, and of the use he would make of it, if prematurely
roused. Burke, accordingly, waited a little, but getting impatient
to accomplish his object, he suddenly threw himself upon Jamie, and
attempted to strangle him. This roused the poor creature, and, muddled
as he was with liquor and sleep, he threw Burke off and got to his
feet, when a desperate struggle ensued. Jamie fought with the united
frenzy of madness and despair, and Burke was about to be overpowered,
when he called out furiously to Hare to assist him. This Hare did by
tripping up Jamie’s heels; after which both the ruffians got upon him,
and, at length, though not even then without the greatest difficulty,
succeeded in strangling him.

And all this has happened and has been carried on in a Christian
country, and in the Metropolis of Scotland, without a breath of
suspicion having been excited as to the existence of such hellish
atrocities, till Gray lodged information at the Police Office of the
murder of the woman Campbell or Docherty. It was said at the trial,
that the public mind had been excited and inflamed on the subject to
a degree wholly unprecedented; but how is it conceivable or possible
that even the lightest whisper of such infernal deeds--of an organised
system of murder--could find its way to the public, without producing
this excitement, without kindling up every feeling of horror and
indignation which the darkest and most unheard-of atrocities could
possibly rouse in virtuous and untainted minds? This was a natural
result of a great and unparalleled crime, or rather system of crimes;
it was a result which no power or influence could prevent; it was a
result which, even if it had been possible, ought not to have been
prevented. But as this excitement existed--as it had more or less
pervaded every mind--and as it might eventually, if not controlled,
have interfered with and affected the administration of stern justice,
it was right, nay it was necessary, both for the sake of public justice
and also for the satisfaction of the country, that the prisoners should
be ably and powerfully defended. Under this conviction, the head of
the Bar of Scotland, in conjunction with some other of its brightest
ornaments, came forward to offer their gratuitous services on the
occasion; and certainly never was there a defence in any case conducted
with more consummate ability--never perhaps was there a trial in which
higher talent, greater experience, or more splendid and overmastering
eloquence were displayed. And we rejoice that such has been the case.
Conduct like this reflects eternal honour on the Bar; because there
are instances in which it may throw a shield around innocence; while,
in every case, it is calculated to preserve the course of justice pure
and undefiled, as well to give additional satisfaction to the country,
to create additional confidence in the purity of the law, and to beget
a stronger feeling of security in the protection which it affords.
The most atrocious crimes are precisely those which ought to be most
cautiously and fully investigated; where prejudice of all sorts ought
to be most anxiously excluded or counteracted; where every facility in
the power of the Court to give, ought to be afforded to the prisoner,
both in preparing for his defence and on his trial; where the rules of
evidence ought to be most strictly adhered to, in so far as regards
either the admissibility or credibility of testimony; where the accused
should have the fullest benefit of every presumption in his favour;
and where his defence, ought if possible, to be conducted with the
greatest legal ability. Now Burke had all these advantages. The Court,
in the exercise of the discretion with which it is entrusted, adjudged
the trial of the prisoner to proceed upon only one of three separate
acts of murder charged against him in the indictment; while the
splendid array of Counsel, who voluntarily and gratuitously undertook
the conduct of his defence, exerted their whole skill, talents, and
eloquence, in his behalf. And we repeat that we rejoice at this; for,
as was well observed by the Lord Advocate in addressing the Jury for
the Crown upon the evidence which had been led, if the prisoner had
any good defence, it was thus sure to have ample justice done to it;
and if a conviction was obtained, it would be more satisfactory to the
country, and infinitely more important to the purity and efficacy of
the law.

In these circumstances, however, a conviction _has_ been obtained
against the pannel Burke--the prime murderer--the immediate and
direct agent by whom the crime charged was committed--the agent also,
we firmly believe, by whom not _three_ but _thirteen_ persons were
slaughtered, with the intent of excambing their murdered bodies for
gold; this monster, we say, _has_ been convicted, and adjudged to
suffer the highest punishment of the law: and, with a sort of poetical
justice, he who made subjects of others, is to be made a subject
himself, and he now knows that his vile carcass, when the hangman is
done with it, will be subjected to the same process with the bodies of
his murdered victims. The idea of hanging him in chains would have been
out of all keeping with his crime; and hence, though once entertained,
it was most properly and judiciously abandoned. But the conviction
of Burke alone will not satisfy either the law or the country. The
unanimous voice of society in regard to Hare is, _Delendus est_; that
is to say, if there be evidence to convict him, as we should hope there
is. He has been an accessory before or after the fact in nearly all
of these murders; in the case of poor Jamie he was unquestionably a
principal; and his evidence on Wednesday only protects him from being
called to account for the murder of Docherty. We trust, therefore, that
the Lord Advocate, who has so ably and zealously performed his duty to
the country upon this occasion, will bring the “squalid wretch” to
trial, and take every other means in his power to have these atrocities
probed and sifted to the bottom.




              TRIAL OF WILLIAM BURKE AND HELEN M‘DOUGAL.


No trial in the memory of any man living has excited so deep,
universal, and, we may almost add, appalling an interest as that of
WILLIAM BURKE and his female associate, HELEN M‘DOUGAL, which took
place on Wednesday, 24th December, 1828. By the statements which from
time to time appeared in the newspapers, public feeling had been worked
up to the highest pitch of excitement, and the case, in so far as the
miserable pannels were concerned, to a certain extent prejudiced by
the natural abhorrence which the account of a new and unparalleled
crime was calculated to excite. This, however, is an evil inseparable
from the freedom, activity, and enterprise of the press, which is
necessarily compelled to lay hold of the events of the passing hour,
more especially when these are of an extraordinary or unprecedented
kind: but it was more than atoned for by many countervailing advantages
of the greatest moment to the interests of the community; and, besides,
we are satisfied that any prejudice or prepossession thus created,
was anxiously and effectually excluded from the minds of the jury, by
whom this singular case was tried, and that they were swayed by no
consideration except a stern regard to the sanction of their oaths,
the purity of justice, and the import of the evidence laid before
them. At the same time, it was 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 ought to be ascribed. These were without any precedent
in the records of our criminal practice, and, in fact, amounted 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: stabbings, and
attempts at assassination, are matters of almost every day 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 was the first instance of murder
alleged to have been perpetrated with the aforethought purpose and
intent of selling the murdered body as a subject for dissection to
anatomists: it was 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 murderers
expected their reward, it was certainly calculated to make a deep
impression on the public mind, and to awaken feelings of strong and
appalling interest in the issue of the trial.

Of the extent of the impression thus produced, and the feelings thus
awakened, it was easy to judge from what was every where 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, was to disclose something which they had often
dreamed of, or imagined, or heard recounted around an evening’s fire,
like a tale of horror, or a raw-head-and-bloody-bones story, but which
they never, in their sober judgment, either feared or believed to be
possible; and hence, 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 any thing but justice.

As it was morally certain that a vast crowd would be assembled early
on Wednesday, arrangements were made on Tuesday, under the immediate
superintendence of Mr. Sheriff Duff, for the admission of jurymen by
the door which connects the Signet Library with the Outer House, and
also for the accommodation of the individuals connected with the public
press. One half of the Court, the narrow dimensions of which have been
often complained of, and in fact were never more seriously felt, was,
as usual on such occasions, reserved for the members of the Faculty and
the Writers to the Signet in their gowns.

So early as seven o’clock in the morning of Wednesday, a considerable
crowd had assembled in the Parliament Square, and around the doors
of the Court; and numerous applications for admission were made to
the different subordinate functionaries, but in vain. The regulations
previously agreed upon were most rigorously observed; while a large
body of police, which was in attendance, maintained the utmost order,
and kept the avenues to the Court unobstructed. The individuals
connected with the press were conducted to the seats provided for them
a little before eight o’clock; the members of the Faculty and of the
Society of Writers to the Signet were admitted precisely at nine;
and thus, with the jurymen impannelled, and a few individuals who had
obtained the _entrée_ in virtue of orders from the Judges, the
Court became at once crowded in every part.

About twenty minutes before ten o’clock, the prisoners, William Burke
and Helen M‘Dougal, were placed at the bar. The male prisoner, as
his name indicates, is a native of Ireland. He is a man rather below
the middle size, but stoutly made, and of a determined, though not
peculiarly sinister expression of countenance. The contour of his
countenance, as well as his features, are decidedly Milesian. His
face 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, comport well with the make of the head, and with the complexion
which is nearly of the same hue. He was dressed in a shabby blue
surtout, buttoned close to the throat, a striped cotton waistcoat, and
dark-coloured small clothes, and had, upon the whole, what is called in
this country a _waugh_ 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 is fully
of the middle size, but thin and spare made, though evidently of large
bone. Her features are long, and by no means disagreeable,--a pair of
large, full, black eyes, imparting to them even something of interest
and expressiveness; but the upper half of her face is out of proportion
to the lower. She was miserably dressed in a small stone-coloured silk
bonnet, very much the worse for the wear, a printed cotton shawl, and
a cotton gown. She stoops considerably in her gait, and has nothing
peculiar in her appearance, except the ordinary look of extreme penury
and misery, common to unfortunate females of the same degraded class.
Both prisoners, especially Burke, entered the Court without any visible
signs of perturbation, and both seemed to attend very closely to the
proceedings which soon after commenced.

The Court met at precisely a quarter past ten o’clock. The Judges
present were, the Right Honourable the Lord Justice Clerk, and Lords
Pitmilly, Meadowbank, and Mackenzie. Their Lordships having taken their
seats, and the instance having been called,

The Lord Justice Clerk said--William Burke, and Helen M‘Dougal, pay
attention to the indictment that is now to be read against you.

Mr. Patrick Robertson.--I object to the reading of the indictment.
It contains charges which I hope to be able to show your Lordships
are incompetent, and the reading of the whole of the libel must tend
materially to prejudice the prisoners at the bar.

The Lord Justice Clerk.--I am unaccustomed to this mode of procedure.
It depends upon the Court whether the indictment shall be read or not.

Mr. Patrick Robertson.--Certainly, my Lord; but I understand it is not
necessary to read the indictment; and we object to its being done on
the present occasion.

Lord Justice Clerk.--We have found but little advantage to result from
the practice recently introduced of _not_ reading the indictment. It
has rendered constant explanations necessary, and consumes more time
the one way than the other.

Mr. Cockburn.--We object to the indictment being read, because it
is calculated to prejudice the prisoner. Our statement is, that it
contains charges, the reading of which cannot fail to operate against
him, and that these charges make no legal part of the libel.

Lord Meadowbank.--I am against novelties; I am against interfering with
the discretion of the Court.

The indictment was then read as follows:--

   William Burke and Helen M‘Dougal, both present prisoners in
   the tolbooth of Edinburgh, you are indicted and accused at
   the instance of Sir WILLIAM RAE of St. Catharine’s, Bart. 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, actor or actors, or art and part: In so far
   as, on one or other of the days between the 7th and 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 preceding, 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, 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 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
   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 and now or lately
   in the occupation of William Haire or Hare, then and 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 porter, and then
   and now or lately residing in Stevenlaw’s Close, High Street,
   Edinburgh, and did leap and 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 of them, 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 and intent of disposing of or selling the body
   of the said James Wilson, when so murdered, to a physician or
   surgeon, or to 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. (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, on 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 Stuart, 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, or 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‘Donegal,
   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
   thus you, both and each, or one or other of you, did, with the
   wicked aforethought intent of disposing of or selling the body
   of the said Madgy or Margery or Mary M‘Gonegal, or Duffie, or
   Campbell, or Docherty, when so murdered, to a physician or
   surgeon, or to 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: 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, at Edinburgh, emit and subscribe five
   several declarations of the dates respectively following,
   viz.:--The 3d, 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 3d and another upon the 18th 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 being 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 brass 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-stripped
   cotton 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 about 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 you the said William
   Burke and Helen M‘Dougal, before the Lord Justice-General, the
   Lord Justice Clerk, and the 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.

                                                A. WOOD, _A.D._


                          LIST OF WITNESSES.

   1 George Tait, Esquire, sheriff-substitute of the shire of
   Edinburgh.

   2 Archibald Scott, procurator-fiscal of said shire.

   3 Richard John Moxey, now or lately clerk in the sheriff-clerk’s
   office, Edinburgh.

   4 Archibald M‘Lucas, now or lately clerk in the sheriff-clerk’s
   office, Edinburgh.

   5 Janet Brown, now or lately servant to, and residing with,
   Isabella Burnet or Worthington, now or lately residing in Leith
   Street, in or near Edinburgh.

   6 The foresaid Isabella Burnet or Worthington.

   7 Elizabeth Graham or Burke, wife of Constantine Burke, now or
   lately scavenger in the employment of the Edinburgh police, and
   now or lately residing in Gibb’s close, Canongate, Edinburgh.

   8 The foresaid Constantine Burke.

   9 Jean Anderson or Sutherland, wife of George Sutherland, now or
   lately silversmith, and now or lately residing in Middleton’s
   Entry, Potter-row, Edinburgh.

   10 William Haire or Hare, present prisoner in the tolbooth of
   Edinburgh.

   11 Margaret Laird or Haire or Hare, wife of the foresaid William
   Haire or Hare, and present prisoner in the tolbooth of Edinburgh.

   12 Jean M‘Donald or Coghill, wife of Daniel Coghill, now or
   lately shoemaker, and now or lately residing in South St.
   James’s street, in or near Edinburgh.

   13 Margaret M‘Gregor, now or lately servant to, and residing
   with, John Clark, now or lately baker, and now or lately
   residing in Rose street, in or near Edinburgh.

   14 Richard Burke, son of, and now or lately residing with, the
   foresaid Constantine Burke.

   15 William Burke, son of, and now or lately residing with, the
   foresaid Constantine Burke.

   16 Janet Wilson or Downie, wife of James Downie, now or lately
   porter, and now or lately residing in Stevenlaw’s close, High
   street, Edinburgh.

   17 Mary Downie, daughter of, and now or lately residing with,
   the foresaid James Downie.

   18 William Cunningham, now or lately scavenger in the employment
   of the Edinburgh police, and now or lately residing in Fairley’s
   Entry, Cowgate, Edinburgh.

   19 George Barclay, now or lately tobacconist in North College
   street, in or near Edinburgh.

   20 David Dalziell, now or lately copperplate printer, and now or
   lately residing with his father, George Dalziell, now or lately
   painter, and now or lately residing in North Fowlis’ close, High
   street, Edinburgh.

   21 Margaret Newbigging or Dalziell, wife of the foresaid David
   Dalziell.

   22 Joseph M‘Lean, now or lately tinsmith, and now or lately
   residing in Coul’s close, Canongate, Edinburgh.

   23 Andrew Farquharson, now or lately sheriff-officer in
   Edinburgh.

   24 George M‘Farlane, now or lately porter, and now or lately
   residing in Paterson’s court, Lawnmarket, Edinburgh.

   25 John Brogan, now or lately in the employment of John
   Vallence, now or lately carter, and now or lately residing in
   Semple street, near Edinburgh.

   26 Janet Lawrie or Law, wife of Robert Law, now or lately
   currier, and now or lately residing in Portsburgh or Wester
   Portsburgh, in or near Edinburgh.

   27 Ann Black, or Connaway, or Conway, wife of John Connaway or
   Conway, now or lately labourer, and now or lately residing in
   Portsburgh or Wester Portsburgh aforesaid.

   28 The foresaid John Connaway or Conway.

   29 William Noble, now or lately apprentice to David Rymer, now
   or lately grocer and spirit-dealer in Portsburgh or Wester
   Portsburgh aforesaid.

   30 James Gray, now or lately labourer, and now or lately
   residing with Henry M‘Donald, now or lately dealer in coals, and
   now or lately residing in the Grassmarket, Edinburgh.

   31 Ann M‘Dougall or Gray, wife of the foresaid James Gray.

   32 Hugh Alston, now or lately grocer, and now or lately residing
   in Portsburgh or Wester Portsburgh aforesaid.

   33 Elizabeth Paterson, daughter of, and now or lately residing
   with, Isabella Smith or Paterson, now or lately residing in
   Portsburgh or Wester Portsburgh aforesaid.

   34 The foresaid Isabella Smith or Paterson.

   35 John M‘Culloch, now or lately porter, and now or lately
   residing in Alison’s close, Cowgate, Edinburgh.

   36 John Fisher, now or lately one of the criminal officers of
   the Edinburgh police establishment.

   37 John Findlay, now or lately one of the patrole of the
   Edinburgh police establishment.

   38 James Paterson, now or lately lieutenant of the Edinburgh
   police establishment.

   39 James M‘Nicoll, now or lately one of the serjeants of the
   Edinburgh police establishment.

   40 Mary Stewart or Stuart, wife of Roderick Stewart or Stuart,
   now or lately labourer, and now or lately residing in the
   Pleasance, near Edinburgh.

   41 The foresaid Roderick Stewart or Stuart.

   42 Charles M‘Lauchlan, now or lately shoemaker, and now or
   lately residing with the foresaid Roderick Stewart or Stuart.

   43 Elizabeth Main, now or lately servant to the foresaid William
   Haire or Hare.

   44 Robert Knox, M. D. lecturer on Anatomy, now or lately
   residing in Newington place, near Edinburgh.

   45 David Paterson, now or lately keeper of the Museum belonging
   to the foresaid Dr. Robert Knox, and now or lately residing in
   Portsburgh, or Wester Portsburgh aforesaid, with his mother, the
   foresaid Isabella Smith or Paterson.

   46 Thomas Wharton Jones, now or lately surgeon, and now or
   lately residing in West Circus place, in or near Edinburgh, with
   his mother, Margaret Cockburn or Jones.

   47 William Ferguson, now or lately surgeon, and now or lately
   residing in Charles street, in or near Edinburgh, with his
   brother, John Ferguson, now or lately writer.

   48 Alexander Miller, now or lately surgeon, and now or lately
   residing in the lodgings of Elizabeth Anderson or Montgomery,
   now or lately residing in Clerk street, in or near Edinburgh.

   49 Robert Christison, M. D. now or lately Professor of Medical
   Jurisprudence in the University of Edinburgh.

   50 William Pulteny Alison, M. D. now or lately Professor of the
   Theory of Physic in the University of Edinburgh.

   51 William Newbigging, now or lately surgeon, and now or lately
   residing in St. Andrew’s square, Edinburgh.

   52 Alexander Black, now or lately surgeon to the Edinburgh
   police establishment.

   53 James Braidwood, now or lately builder, and master of
   fire-engines on the Edinburgh police establishment.

   54 Alexander M‘Lean, now or lately sheriff-officer in Edinburgh.

   55 James Evans, student of medicine, now or lately residing with
   Mr. James Moir, surgeon, residing in Tiviot-row, in or near
   Edinburgh.

                                                A. WOOD, _A. D._

       *       *       *       *       *

DEAN OF FACULTY.--We have given in separate defences, which may as well
be read now,--beginning with the defences for the male prisoner.

The defences for Burke was then read as follows:

The pannel submits 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 of which
he is accused. Such an accumulation of offences and pannels is contrary
to the general and the better practice of the Court; it is inconsistent
with 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.

The defences for Helen M‘Dougal were next read as follows:

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. PATRICK ROBERTSON then addressed the Court in support of the
defences. In this indictment there were two prisoners named, but these
two prisoners did not appear on the face of it to have any connection
with each other. The major proposition contained a simple charge of
murder, without specifying any aggravation. In the minor proposition,
however, there were three distinct and totally unconnected charges of
murder. The first was against Burke alone, and was charged as having
been committed in April last, in a house in the Canongate. But it was
not stated that he had any accomplices. He was the sole person charged
with that offence. It appeared, indeed, from the description of the
crime, that he was charged “with the wicked, aforethought purpose
and intent, of disposing of and selling the body, when murdered, as
a subject for dissection, or with some other wicked and felonious
purpose and intent to the Prosecutor unknown.” But, while, on the one
hand, there was no aggravation laid in the major proposition; yet
on the other the Prosecutor did not confine himself to one species
of intent, but libelled two--the intent to sell the body to the
surgeons, and some other sort of vague undefined species of intent to
the Prosecutor himself unknown. The second article in the indictment
charged another murder, alleged to have been committed in the month
of October, in a place called Tanner’s Close, in Wester Portsburgh.
In this charge also William Burke is the only person accused of that
offence, and the intent laid is the same as in the former instance.
Then there was a charge of a third murder, committed at a different
place and time, viz. at a house in Portsburgh on the 31st October;
in which charge both William Burke and Helen M‘Dougal were included:
and, after describing the offence, the intent libelled is the same as
in the two former cases. Thus we had three murders charged against
the prisoners; two against Burke alone, and one against Burke in
conjunction with M‘Dougal; all of which were committed at different
times and in different places, without any connection whatever between
them: and these charges were laid without any aggravation. Then five
different declarations by Burke, and two by M‘Dougal, were also
libelled on, together with eight articles to be adduced as evidence
against the former, and six against both; and in addition to all this,
they were served with a list of fifty-five witnesses by whom these
different and totally unconnected charges were to be proved. Now the
question was, whether this charge, involving such an accumulation
of unconnected offences, was consistent with our practice, with the
humane principles of our law, and with that sound and proper discretion
which the Court was not only entitled, but bound to exercise. But
the first and most material point was, whether the prisoners would
suffer prejudice by the mode in which the libel had been framed;
for if that could be made out, it would justify their Lordships in
the exercise of the discretion with which they were entrusted, in
separating the different charges, or in selecting one prisoner, and
postponing another, according to the circumstances of the case. The
question then was, whether the prisoners would suffer prejudice in
going to trial with the libel as it now stood. And, in considering
this, it would be observed that it was not charged that there was any
natural connection between the crimes committed. There was certainly
none in law; and with the exception of the mode of the murder and the
intent, there was not the slightest pretence for saying there was any
connection between them. But the intent was not laid absolutely and
peremptorily. It was conditional: “Either you committed these acts with
the wicked, aforethought purpose and intent of selling the bodies to
the surgeons for dissection, or with some other purpose or intent to
the Prosecutor unknown.” This indeed would compel the Prosecutor to
prove that the murder was committed for the purpose of handing over
the bodies to dissection; but he might also bring in under it a very
different purpose or object, as, for example, that it was done for
the purpose of robbery, or to gratify private revenge. In the major
proposition, however, there was no aggravation; and it was not said
that there had been any conspiracy, that these murders were part of
a system; they were laid as three unconnected offences, committed at
different times and at different places. Now he prayed their Lordships
to keep in mind that murder was not like any of the other offences
which usually occurred in the practice of the Supreme Criminal Court;
it was one which, in every case, when brought home to a pannel, was
visited with the highest punishment of the law; and therefore it
differed from all the offences to which it was sometimes likened, and
required greater caution on the part of those by whom it was to be
tried. As applicable to the case of Burke, however, three murders were
charged; and this charge was calculated in the most serious degree to
prejudice him. Each specific offence, it might be said, would require
to be supported by its own specific evidence; but it was impossible to
find any jury so dispassionate as not to borrow some light from the
one to enable them to decide on the other; it was impossible for the
jury to separate the evidence in one case from that in another; it
was impossible that one murder not proved could be separated from any
light thrown upon it by another not proved; nay, though neither the
one nor the other might be proved, it might still be held, that upon
the whole, from the massing or blending of unconnected acts, enough
was made out to warrant a conviction. And all this was aggravated by
the prejudice arising from the manner in which the alleged murders
were said to have been committed, and in regard to which so strong
a degree of excitement existed in the public mind. Then observe the
oppression in the preparation of the trial; observe the situation in
which the pannels were placed. Three murders were charged, with a
list of fifty-five witnesses; besides seven declarations, five by the
one, and two by the other. One set, it might be said, was against one
prisoner, and the other against the other; but it was impossible so to
separate, or to analyse the evidence as not to admit against the one
evidence which was calculated to affect the other; and by thus mixing
up and massing together the whole into an unnecessary accumulation of
crime, to come to the same conclusion in regard to both. Look to the
case of Helen M‘Dougal, and it will be seen the prejudice must operate
still more strongly against her. She is accused of only one crime, and
it is not said that she had any connection with the others. But this
charge of murder, committed in the latter end of October, is brought
to trial, combined with two others committed, one in April, six months
previously, and the other in the beginning of October. Where is this
to stop? If the Prosecutor is allowed to proceed in this way, may he
not on the same principle combine ten murders against ten prisoners,
accused of ten different offences, committed in as many different
counties? He submitted that there must be some limitation; and the
question was, whether the Court could sustain the present charge by
which one individual, accused of one offence, is mixed up with another,
accused of two, with which she is not alleged to have had any concern.
Imagine this case. At the end of the indictment, eight articles were
specified against Burke, and six more against Burke and M‘Dougal
conjointly. Take the first--the skirt of a gown--and suppose it proved
against Burke alone. It could not be adduced as evidence against Helen
M‘Dougal. But suppose it was traced into her possession, and that
a witness was called to prove that it belonged to Mary Paterson or
Mitchell. This would be conclusive as to M‘Dougal’s connection with
Burke. But it might be said that the Judge would tell the Jury to
strike this out of their notes. That was an easy operation; but could
they strike it out of their minds as easily as out of their notes? Then
in what circumstances would Helen M‘Dougal be placed? An article not
libelled against her would be checkmate to her defence. She would be
taken by surprise,--she would be thrown off her guard; and although the
gown had come fairly and honestly into her possession she could produce
no evidence to instruct the fact. He put this as an illustration. So
far as the female prisoner was concerned it would be fatal.

But was this a legal proceeding? If there be a prejudice existing,
the prisoner is entitled to the fairest possible defence. The more
atrocious the offence, the more guarded and cautious ought to be the
modes of procedure. So far, however, as they could discover from the
records of the Court, this was the first case in which it had been
attempted to charge three murders in the same indictment. There had
been several instances of three persons slain at the same time, as in
the Aberdeen riots, by a discharge of musketry, and in the case where
a whole family was poisoned: these, however, as Mr. Hume observed,
were all parts of the same foul and atrocious offence. But there was no
example, in the history of the Court, of combining three unconnected
offences against one person; far less of combining three against one
person who was not alleged to have any connection with two of them,
and was only implicated in a third, which had no manner of connection
with those which preceded it. Sir George Mackenzie, who would not be
suspected of any partiality to the prisoner, laid down the principle
most clearly, that different parties ought not to be thus combined in
an indictment. “A person accused,” says he, “was not obliged to answer
of old but for one crime in one day, except where there were several
pursuers, _Quoniam Attachiamenta, cap._ 65. by which, accumulation
of crimes was expressly unlawful, _sed hodie aliter obtinet_, for
now there is nothing more ordinar nor to see five or six persons in
one summonds or indictment; and to see one accuser pursue several
summondses; and yet seeing crimes are of so great consequence to the
defender, and are of so great intricacy, it appears most unreasonable
that a defender should be burthened with more than one defence at once;
and it appears that accumulation of crimes is intended, either to læse
the fame of the defender, or to distract him in his defence.” Title 19,
§ 7. Here the principle was brought out in the clearest manner--that
salutary principle which says that no man ought to be called upon to
answer to more than one crime in one libel; since the accumulation of
crimes was calculated “either to læse the fame of the prisoner, or to
distract him in his defence.” The learned Counsel then referred to the
work of Mr. Baron Hume. That learned author treats of the accumulation
of crimes under different heads: first, of those which are of one
name and species, and of one class and general description; secondly,
of those criminal acts, though of different kinds and appellations,
have a natural relation and dependence; and, thirdly, of that sort
of _cumulatio actionum_, which consists in the charging of _several
persons_ in the same libel _with separate and unconnected crimes_. The
first of these, he argued, had no relation to the present case, because
it did not include murder. All the cases referred to were cases of
housebreaking and theft; and though the former was a capital offence,
yet it was a very different one from murder. No case of the latter
was indeed quoted. The author treated merely of connected crimes, as
robbery and murder. But no injury was done by such accumulation. They
were parts of the same foul and atrocious proceeding, and they had a
natural and necessary dependence. But in the present case there was no
natural dependence, and not even an allegation that the prisoners were
connected.

He then proceeded to the consideration of heterogenous charges, as
of murder and of theft. Some of these, he said, were not cases to
be followed at the present day: and he instanced that of Walter
Buchanan, who was accused of ten different crimes in one libel; namely,
fire-raising, attempts at fire-raising, attempts to poison, theft,
reset of theft, the harbouring, out-hounding, and maintaining of
thieves and robbers, sorning and levying black mail, and killing and
eating of other people’s sheep. Here, however, the Lords restricted
the trial to the more special charges. He now came to the principle,
and mentioned a case in 1784, when the Lord Advocate did depart from
several of the charges. In regard to accumulation of parties, Mr. Hume
put a case of several persons being called to answer in one libel for
the same fact; but then, observe the remedy. “On any occasion when they
see cause, especially if it appear that the Prosecutor meant to lay the
pannels under this disadvantage (he begged to disclaim any insinuation
that such was the intention of the Prosecutor in the present instance,)
the Court may and will separate the trials of the several culprits,
and send those to an assize, in the first place, by themselves, who
are meant to be called as witnesses for the others,” vol. ii. p. 170.
The learned Counsel then proceeded to the third sort of _cumulatio
actionum_, that of charging several persons in the same libel with
separate and unconnected offences, and contended very ably that the
case before the Court fell under this description.

In conclusion, he referred to the English practice as illustrative
of the principle for which he had been contending, and referred to a
decision of Lord Ellenborough, as reported in Campbell, vol. ii. p.
131, and also to the authority of Chitty, vol. i. p. 252. By the law
of England, two felonies may be combined in one charge against two
separate prisoners; but it is usual for the Judge, in his discretion,
to call upon the prosecutor to make his election, and to proceed with
a specific charge against one individual. In point of law they may
be combined, but the judges in their discretion separate them; and
for this reason among others, that the combination would prejudice
prisoners in their challenge of the jury.

The LORD ADVOCATE replied at some length. After complimenting the
learned counsel who had just concluded, on the able manner in which
he had opened the objections submitted to the consideration of the
Court, he stated that he thought them ill-founded. His learned friend
mixed up two objections altogether different. His first objection was
to bringing two prisoners to trial in the same indictment, and his
second to charging three different crimes in that indictment. He would
deal very shortly with the first. The woman was charged as having
been concerned with the man in one of the three murders. And this was
sanctioned by the law of the land. He put her in the indictment that
she might _not_ be prejudiced. If she had been put into a separate
indictment, the public would have known the whole evidence before she
had been put upon her trial, and the prisoner would have had the best
possible reason to complain. This would have been the case had he first
brought the man to trial, and afterwards the woman, adducing against
her the same, or nearly the same evidence, which had previously been
adduced against the man. It was to obviate this, and to prevent her
from being prejudiced, that he had put her in the same indictment. “God
forbid,” said his Lordship, “that any person holding the situation I
do, should do any thing to prejudice a prisoner on his trial.” The
very contrary motive had guided him; but if he proceeded not against
the woman to-day, he would ten days hence, when she could not insist
on that which she now says will prejudice her. Nor, in a case of this
sort, would he be restrained from doing his duty to the country by any
consideration founded upon what were called the interests of science.
It was enough for him that a great crime had been committed; a crime
unheard of before in any civilized country: that the public mind had in
consequence become strongly agitated; and that the duty he owed to the
country left him no alternative. He was determined therefore to probe
and sift the whole matter to the bottom; nothing should deter him from
doing so; and he repeated, that if he was compelled to desert the diet
against this woman now, he would infallibly bring her to trial ten days
hence. Then she would find whether she had been prejudiced by the whole
evidence in this case having gone abroad to the world.

The libel charged three separate acts; and in the major proposition
the crime specified was murder without any aggravation. These murders
were detached, as having taken place within the last six months; but
they were all committed in Edinburgh, and all were charged as having
been perpetrated with the same intent, which however is no aggravation.
Murder, indeed, could scarcely admit of aggravation. When a prosecutor
libels a positive intent, he is tied down to that, and there is no
alternative. These cases were all of the same description--all murders,
and all committed with the same intent. He admitted, that looking to
the proceedings of the Criminal Court, it might be impossible to find a
case of three murders combined in one indictment; but the present was
a case unprecedented in the annals of this or of any other civilized
country. There were numerous examples, however, where different
charges were combined in the same libel. The passage quoted from
Sir George Mackenzie did not apply to the case before the Court. It
referred to a case of a nature totally different. He then quoted Hume
II. 166, and maintained, upon his authority, that the crimes charged
being all of the same name and species, might properly be included
in the same indictment. It would indeed be dreadful if a prisoner,
after having committed three murders, could only be tried for one
of them. Mr. Hume referred to the case of James Inglis, tried upon
three charges of horse-stealing, each of which, if proved, involved
a capital punishment. Now, would not every argument which had been
employed against the present libel apply to such a charge? Again, two
acts of highway robbery were charged in the same indictment, any one
of which would have been sufficient, if proved, to lead to a capital
conviction. The whole tenor of our practice, indeed, confirmed this
mode of procedure, and, if the contrary obtained--if charges of the
same nature and description were put in separate indictments, prisoners
would be exposed to the intolerable hardship of undergoing trial day
after day; a hardship which he conceived would be incomparably greater
than any that could possibly arise from the practice now complained
of. He then referred to the case of Nairne and Ogilvie. Here it had
been objected that there was a _cumulatio actionum_, but the
objection had been repelled. His Lordship then cited the case of James
Morton tried at the Glasgow Circuit in 1823 on four separate acts; of
Donaldson Buchanan also tried there for stouthrief, housebreaking and
theft (all separate acts); of Beaumont, tried at Aberdeen in 1826,
where six acts of housebreaking were charged; and of Gillespie, tried
at Aberdeen in 1827, upon no less than nine separate acts of forgery.
His Lordship then quoted the case of Surridge and Dempster, indicted
for two separate acts of murder, committed indeed at the short interval
of an hour, but still in all respects completely separate acts. Upon
the strength of these consecutive authorities, all of which went to
support the principle for which he contended, his Lordship submitted
that the objection ought to be repelled.

The DEAN OF FACULTY, in reply to the Lord Advocate, argued powerfully
in support of the views which had been opened by Mr. Robertson. His
Right Honourable and Learned Friend (the Lord Advocate) might rely
upon it that, on the part of the prisoner’s Counsel, no doubt whatever
was entertained of the perfect propriety of the motive by which his
Lordship had been actuated in framing the present indictment; they
were convinced that he had prepared and brought forward the case in
the manner which he conceived least likely to prejudice the prisoners
or to distract them in their defence. But, on the other hand, he could
with equal truth and sincerity assure his Lordship, that the objection
now raised had been taken from a firm conviction that the sustaining
of it was necessary for the safety of the law, and indispensable to
the ends of justice. It had been said that the decisions of the Court
ought to be adhered to, that its practice ought not to be infringed
upon; and yet it was admitted that the present was the first case which
had ever occurred of three separate acts of murder being combined in
the same indictment. In this situation, then, were they not justified
in submitting to the Court the objection which had been taken upon
the ground of this unprecedented combination? The Learned Lord had
intimated an intention to desert the diet _pro loco et tempore_ against
the pannel M‘Dougal. But the question still remained whether the
interests of the male prisoner would not be dreadfully prejudiced in
his defence, if put upon his trial for three separate acts of murder,
committed at different times, and in different places. Now he contended
that the present form of the indictment was adopted to effect an
illegitimate object: it was calculated to lead to great injustice to
the prisoner. What the Prosecutor insisted on passing to a Jury was
an indictment charging three distinct murders: he averred that there
were separate and unconnected acts of this crime; and he assumed that
there was sufficient proof to bring them home to the prisoner. But
every man, whatever the number of charges against him might be, was to
be held and presumed to be innocent till the contrary was proved, and
a conviction obtained against himself. There might, or there might not
be sufficient proof to convict him; but he contended for the benefit
of the ordinary presumption. “Give us,” said the Learned Counsel,
“the benefit of this presumption, to which we are entitled, and then
let us see how the case will stand.” In the indictment before their
Lordships three murders were charged; murders committed at different
times; murders of different persons, totally unconnected and living in
different places; and the last of these was stated to have been done in
conjunction with a third person who had no connection with the other
two. But if the Public Prosecutor were in a situation to prove one of
these murders, it would infer the death of the pannel. Then for what
end or purpose of public justice were three murders crammed into one
indictment? If the Prosecutor was unable to prove any one of them,
there was no necessity surely for putting it into this indictment.
Suppose evidence were brought to prove the first, but totally failed,
and the second, but also failed, or at least left them in such doubt
that a verdict of not guilty or not proven would have been returned
if they had been tried separately; nobody would maintain that a false
or improbable charge might not become a make-weight in the evidence
to prove a separate and distinct murder. The prisoner might take his
trial on a combination of such charges, but unless your Lordship
interfered _ex parte judicis_, the result would be what he described.
The prejudice arose from this _talis qualis_ accession, not proved,
but assumed; and from the prejudice thus credited the prisoner might
be convicted. They could not lay the present indictment before a Jury
without necessarily prejudicing that Jury; and yet the Lord Advocate
came forward and alleged that he thought the whole objection frivolous
and untenable, saying that it was an attempt to smother the indictment
altogether; that is, he called an objection to an indictment, which did
not contain a specific allegation of a specific crime, but a congeries
of offences huddled together and charged _in cumulo_, an attempt to
smother it! How smothered? If the indictment was improperly framed, if
two or three charges were crammed into it instead of one, the prisoner
was entitled to have it smothered. He was entitled to a fair trial, and
if the libel was so constructed that this could not be afforded him, he
had a right to have it smothered. Every thing relative to a specific
charge their Lordships would receive, if brought forward in a competent
form; but the point previously adverted to still returned--Were they to
receive evidence in regard to two charges which might not be proved,
and which yet might affect the minds of the Jury in regard to the third
and lead to a conviction? The Learned Lord indeed said, that there was
only one sort of evidence, and that the crime had been committed in the
same place. But the place was not the same; in fact, the _loci_ were
as distinct as if the one crime had been committed in the Canongate of
Edinburgh and the other in the remotest corner of Scotland. In popular
language and popular conceptions, they might be held and represented
as the same, but this would never do in matters of law. They must have
the _locus_ strictly libelled. Nor was the time the same. The first
was committed at the distance of six months from the second: the first
took place in April, another took place in the beginning of October,
and a third occurred in the end of October. Now, might not the prisoner
prove an _alibi_ in regard to one of these crimes though not in regard
to the other? But, further, the acts were different. It was in vain to
say that all the murders were of the same _genus_, for this might be
said of all the murders that ever had been or ever would be committed;
and on the face of the indictment they were all different. In the major
proposition no aggravation was libelled, but it was said that all
these murders had been committed with the intent of disposing of the
dead bodies to the Surgeons, or with some other purpose or intent to
the Prosecutor unknown. Did the Learned Lord mean to say that he would
fail if he did not prove this intent? But that purpose was a separate
crime, as was sufficiently manifest from the late case (among others)
of Bradwell at Glasgow. It could not, therefore, be maintained that
he would fail by not proving the intent--by not proving a different
crime from that libelled. It was perfectly plain that it was competent
to prove the intent, but the not proving it could not in the least
degree affect the libel. The crime consisted in the wilful murder;
and unless the motive amounted to a justification, or an alleviation
which reduced it to culpable homicide, the intent would be inferred
from the fact, and the highest punishment of the law would follow a
conviction. The evil of an indictment so framed as the present was to
produce an illegitimate effect by this combination of intention or
motive with the crime charged. The intent charged might have been laid
as a separate offence; but had this been done we should now have been
on a different objection, namely the competency of such a charge. To
these principles in the abstract, no exception could be taken. Now,
the Court would consider the situation in which the pannel was placed.
He had been put upon his defence fifteen days after his examination;
five declarations emitted by him were libelled on; and most manifestly
there did exist great prejudice against him. He did not say that this
would be a sufficient reason for postponing the trial, but it was a
sufficient reason for the Court taking care that he suffered no injury
in his defence. Another matter in which the prisoner was prejudiced,
by lumping together separate charges in the same indictment, was in
his challenges of the Jurymen. It was evident that the prisoner had an
interest that way. He did not know who the Jurymen were to be, and of
course could not mean to say that there was any danger of an improper
person being balloted; but he had a clear right in the abstract--a
right of which he ought not to be deprived. If he had been tried on
separate indictments he would have had fifteen challenges, whereas by
the combination of the charges in the same indictment he had only five.
Now there might be Jurymen liable to challenge in one case and not in
another, just as one witness might be perfectly unexceptionable in one
case and liable to the most serious and fatal objections in another.
He contended, therefore, that in every view the principle was in their
favour, as well as the justice and imperious necessity of the case.

The Learned Gentleman then referred to the authorities. He began
by commenting on the passage which had been quoted from Sir George
Mackenzie; which, he contended, the Lord Advocate had misunderstood, as
it was quite evident, that George Mackenzie used the word “summonds” as
synonymous with “indictment,” since an “accumulation of crimes,” the
subject treated of, could not be predicated of a summons in the common
acceptation of that term. And the doctrine laid down by this author was
that an “accumulation of crimes is intended, either to læse the fame
of the defender, or to distract him in his defence.” Now what did the
Lord Advocate say in answer to this? He referred to a passage in Mr.
Baron Hume’s work where that learned person says, that “the competency
has never been disputed of charging in one libel any number of criminal
acts, if they are all of one nature and species, or even of one class
and general description.” But it was evident that the offences of which
Mr. Hume spoke were of a different description from murder; for he
expressly added the qualification, “so as to adhere in this point of
view, and stamp a character on the pannel as one who is an habitual
and irreclaimable offender in this sort,” (vol. ii. p. 166.) And
accordingly the instances which he gave were of the crimes of theft
and housebreaking; crimes which were susceptible of being aggravated
by habit and repute, and of which the punishment might be restricted.
But murder admitted of no such aggravation, and never was restricted.
Hear, however, what Mr. Hume said in reference to those cases: “The
Court, whenever they find that the immediate trial of such manifold
changes is likely to prove oppressive, either to the witnesses, the
Jury, or themselves; _and still more, if they see cause to believe that
it may embarrass the pannel in his defence, or beget prejudices against
him in the minds of the Jury_;--in any of these cases, they have it
certainly in their power to divide or parcel out the libel, and proceed
in the first instance to the trial of as many of the articles as may
fitly be dispatched in a single diet, &c.” (vol. ii. p. 168.) The
cases which occurred in 1696 might, however, be referred to in support
of a contrary doctrine; but “if they are, I answer” said the Learned
Counsel--“Are your Lordships prepared to do what was done in those
cases? Are they to rule your Lordships’ decision in a case without any
precedent whatsoever?” But even these did not bear on the present case;
and none adverse to the principle had occurred since the year 1784.
Even the case of 1784 itself was not opposed to the principle. _There_,
there was connection. The case of Surridge and Dempster was mentioned
as a case of two murders, as a case where more than one murder was
charged in the indictment; but these were clearly _partes ejusdem
negotii_; they were committed in immediate sequence and in furtherance
of the same “foul and atrocious design.” It was quite plain, therefore,
that the cases quoted did not apply; that they had no bearing whatever
on the present case, where three different and unconnected murders
were charged against the same individual, and where another party was
mixed up with him in one of the alleged crimes. Were they not entitled,
then, to ask their Lordships, in the exercise of a sound discretion,
(which it was not denied the Court possessed) “to divide and parcel
out” the charges in this indictment, and to find it incompetent to
go to trial upon it as it presently stood? The Learned Counsel then
adverted to the state of the law of England on this subject, commenting
on the passage quoted by Mr. Robertson from the work of Chitty, and
concluded by observing that this was in all respects a most serious
case, and deserved the utmost attention of the Court. No instance of
three murders charged in one indictment had happened in his time; many
instances had indeed occurred in former times; yet it had never been
the practice to try the charges _in cumulo_. But the more anomalous
and unprecedented the case, the more necessary was it to the ends of
justice, and the more important to the law, that it should be proceeded
in with the utmost caution.

Their Lordships then delivered their opinions on the objection which
had been raised and so ably argued by the prisoner’s Counsel.

       *       *       *       *       *

LORD PITMILLY.--The Court were peculiarly circumstanced in being called
upon to give an opinion on an indictment in a case, part of which
must unquestionably go to trial. He was quite clear that one of the
charges must undergo an investigation; that the trial to that extent
must proceed. But Counsel were by no means precluded from stating the
objection they had brought forward, and which, appearing to them in
the light it did, it became their duty to press upon the attention of
the Court. This accordingly they had done with equal zeal and ability,
in a manner which did honour to themselves, and reflected credit on
the Bar of Scotland. But it was the duty of the Court to be calm and
guarded; to express their opinions in a dignified and dispassionate
manner; and to avoid any thing which was either calculated to unsettle
the established principles of that law or to form a bad precedent for
the future. He agreed that there were two different questions before
the Court; the first of which was, whether Helen M‘Dougal ought to
have been included in the indictment. And on that point he had no
doubt of the Prosecutor’s right so to include her. He approved of
what the Lord Advocate had done, and he had no hesitation in saying,
that the trial should now proceed. The other question was of a very
different nature; namely, whether it was competent, and also whether
it was proper and fitting, that Burke should now go to trial upon an
indictment, charging three murders, or should be tried on one or other
of these charges. Of the competency he had no doubt whatever. His
Lordship was much struck with the indictment when he first saw it, and
he felt it to be his duty, as it is always the duty of the Court on
such occasions, to inform his mind in regard to the principle on which
it had been framed. He went to the authorities on the subject, and
after a careful examination of them he had no doubt of the competency.
When he looked at the cases of Beaumont and Gillespie, particularly
the latter, where nine separate acts of forgery were charged, he could
not have the smallest doubt as to the competency of including these
several charges in the same indictment. Our practice on this point was
too firmly fixed to admit of any question, that one individual may
be charged with several crimes of the same nature, and committed at
different times. The English cases referred to he put altogether out of
view, because this was not a new point, now raised for the first time,
and to be settled by a reference to principle or analogy, but a matter
fixed by our own practice, and not again to be brought into dispute.
He was therefore quite clear as to the competency. But where it was a
question of discretion merely, and where that discretion, as in the
present case, was strongly appealed to, the Court would interfere,
because it was their bounden and sacred duty to prevent a prisoner from
suffering prejudice in his defence. The present prisoners, by their
highly respectable Counsel, declared that they would suffer prejudice
if they were put upon their trial on all the charges, and it was not
for the Court to say whether that might or might not be the case. Three
consecutive trials might or might not be beneficial to the prisoner.
In his opinion they were more advantageous to the Prosecutor. By
this means he learned how to conduct his case; and if he saw a link
awanting in one trial, he might endeavour, by means of additional
evidence, to supply it in the next. It did appear to him, therefore,
that what the pannels asked for by the mouths of their counsel, was
calculated to do them more prejudice than submitting to go to trial
upon the indictment as it now stood. But they had doubtless been well
and judiciously advised, and were prepared to take the consequences.
He held, however, that the Prosecutor had done right in including both
of them in the same indictment; and that by doing so he had taken the
only and most effectual means in his power not to prejudice them either
in preparing for their defence or on their trial. He well remembered a
case in which the danger, disadvantage, and odium attending consecutive
trials were strikingly exemplified. It happened in consequence of the
Aberdeen riots, and the parties were brought to trial at the instance
of a private prosecutor. His Lordship was counsel for the pannels, and
they were acquitted. Not satisfied with this, however, the private
prosecutor reared up a new indictment upon new grounds. And he could
never forget the feeling which was excited, by this attempt to bring
the parties acquitted to a second trial, in the Court, the Bar, and
the country at large; there was one general cry of indignation against
a proceeding so shameless and oppressive; the consequence of which
was, that the private prosecutor became alarmed, and the attempt was
quashed. This was the natural course of things. And, in general, it was
lenity, and humanity, and justice, to include all such cases in the
same indictment. In the present instance, no result such as that which
took place in Aberdeen was to be feared. But the Court being clearly
vested with a discretion, and the pannels having strongly appealed to
that discretion, it was his opinion that the cases should be tried
separately.

LORD MEADOWBANK entirely concurred in the views of Lord Pitmilly.
The nature of this case and the impression it had produced upon the
public were such, that it required the most careful and anxious
consideration; but he was confident that the more thoroughly their
Lordships were convinced of the existing state of excitement in the
public mind concerning it, the greater would be their anxiety that the
prisoners suffered no prejudice on their trial or in their defence.
The question here was one of very great and general importance. But
if it had been entertained on the question of competency, it would
have shaken the whole system of our criminal procedure. Our practice
of accumulating a number of charges in the same indictment had been
steady and uniform. With respect to the earlier cases referred to,
particularly that in 1696, he must say that he could not for his
soul comprehend upon what grounds the counsel for the prisoner had
attempted to invalidate their authority. The particular case referred
to occurred _after_ the Revolution, when the Judges were as great and
eminent lawyers as ever sat in that Court. But in order to show the
uniformity of the practice, he needed not go farther back than the case
of Murdiston and Miller, where several acts, committed by different
individuals in different counties, were put into the same indictment;
yet not one iota of an objection was urged against the proceeding
similar to what they had heard to-day. Our own practice, in cases of
forgery, which was a capital crime, left no doubt upon the matter.
Several acts of this description of crime were constantly charged in
the same indictment.--In cases of robbery, it was not competent to
libel aggravation. The Prosecutor was not admitted to libel habit and
repute. That was now settled law. It had not been so formerly; and
accordingly, when he had the honour to fill the same situation, which
his learned friend (the Lord Advocate) now held, he had directed an
indictment to be raised to try the point,--and the law was now settled.
But it was competent to accumulate several acts in the same indictment,
and to have it tried by the same evidence and before the same Jury.
It was competent where there was several acts of robbery charged
against different individuals; and there was one case of a father and
a daughter, where the daughter was charged with two acts, and the
father with all the three libelled. He was therefore of opinion that
the Lord Advocate had done right in proceeding as he did. But the Court
had a discretion; and to that discretion the prisoners had appealed.
But having stated his opinion of that discretion, he deemed it right
to say, that the Court was not answerable for the consequences. The
prisoners had exercised _their_ discretion, and he warned them to
consider well the step they had taken. As to the Court they were bound
to sit there and try the cases one after another.

LORD MACKENZIE also agreed with his learned brothers as to the
competency. In so far as discretion was concerned he likewise
concurred, upon the statement made by the pannel and his counsel that
he would suffer prejudice. He saw that the pannel was well and ably
advised; and he could not take it upon him to allege that there was any
thing absurd or unreasonable in the request which had been made.

LORD JUSTICE CLERK.--The only question here was as to the competency
of the charge against Burke: for the Lord Advocate had intimated
his intention not to proceed at present against the woman. After
listening attentively to all that had been said, after considering the
authorities, and recollecting something of the practice of this Court,
he thought the indictment framed in a legal and proper manner. Burke
was not accused of one crime, but of three different acts of the same
crime; and, therefore, he did not come within the reach of those cases
referred to by Mr. Hume. If this indictment was a bad one, the Court
had been guilty of a great dereliction of its duty in sustaining many
indictments framed upon precisely the same principle. He recollected a
case of several acts of robbery, a capital crime, and one of the four
pleas of the Crown, included in the same indictment; and how could they
distinguish between such a charge and that of murder, which was another
of the pleas of the Crown? In fact, it was not now in the power of the
Court to depart from the practice which had been so firmly established
and so steadily followed. The Court, however, had a discretion, and
where it was appealed to they would exercise it. The Court had even
found an indictment irrelevant where it was strongly alleged by the
pannel that he would suffer prejudice were he tried upon it in its
actual shape.--Upon the responsibility of the respectable Counsel, who
had stated that the present prisoners would suffer prejudice if they
were tried upon the indictment before them as it now stood, he was of
opinion that the Court should interpose in virtue of its discretion.
But they ought to do so upon principle. They ought to find the libel
relevant, and also to find it competent to proceed to the trial of the
charges _seriatim_, leaving it to the option of the Prosecutor to say
which of them he might choose to begin with.

This accordingly became the judgment of the Court. The objection was
repelled, but in respect of the allegation that the pannel would suffer
prejudice were he tried upon the indictment as it stood, find it
competent to proceed with only one of the charges at a time, leaving
it to the Lord Advocate to say which of them he thinks proper to begin
with.

The LORD ADVOCATE.--In consequence of the opinion of the Court I shall
proceed with the last charge, which includes both the man and the
woman. The objection in regard to the latter has now been completely
removed.

The DEAN OF FACULTY.--I beg to remind the learned Lord of his former
statement, that he would desert the diet against the woman.

The LORD ADVOCATE.--The case is now completely changed. My former
statement was made upon the supposition that the trial as to Burke was
to proceed upon all the three charges at once.

The Prisoners on being asked by the Lord Justice Clerk, if they were
guilty or not guilty of the crimes charged in the third article of the
Indictment, each answered “Not guilty.” The following Jury were then
chosen.

    Nichol Allan, Manager of the Hercules Insurance Company, Edinburgh.
    John Paton, Builder, do.
    James Trench, Builder, do.
    Peter M‘Gregor, Merchant, do.
    William Bonar, Banker, do.
    James Banks, Agent, Leith Walk.
    James Melliss, Merchant, Edinburgh.
    John M‘Fie, Merchant, Leith.
    Thomas Barker, Brewer, do.
    Henry Fenwick, Grocer, Dunbar.
    David Brash, Grocer, Leith.
    David Hunter, Ironmonger, Edinburgh.
    Robert Jeffrey, Engraver, do.
    William Bell, Grocer, Dunbar.
    William Robertson, Cooper, Edinburgh.


_First Witness_ called for the prosecution, was JAMES BRAIDWOOD, of the
Fire Office Establishment, who being duly sworn.

Question. Was that plan made by you? A. It was.

Q. What plan is it? A. It is a plan of some houses in the West Port, to
which I was conducted by an officer.

Q. Is the plan a correct one of the under ground houses? A. It is.


                       MARY STEWART _Examined_.

Q. Do you remember a person of the name of Campbell, coming to live at
your house during last harvest? A. Yes, Sir, Michael Campbell.

Q. How long is it since he left your house? A. On the Monday before the
fast day.

Q. Do you remember a woman coming to your house to enquire after him?
A. Yes, Sir.

Q. By what name did she call herself? A. She called herself Madgy
Campbell, and also Duffie, which she said was the name of her former
husband.

Q. She came from Glasgow? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. Did she state she came in search of her son? A. Yes.

  [Illustration: GROUND PLAN
  _OF_
  BURKE’S HOUSE
  as Produced in Court.

      _Published by Thomas Ireland Jun.^r Edinburgh._   _T. Clerk Sc._]

Q. What time did she leave your house? A. I came out of the Infirmary
on Thursday, and she left me on Friday, the 31st October.

Q. Did she tell you where she was going? A. She said she was going to
search for her son.

Q. Do you know a person of the name of Charles M‘Lauchlan?

A. Yes, Sir; he slept with the woman’s son.

Q. Have you ever seen that woman since? A. Not till I saw her at the
Police Office.

Q. What hour did she leave your house? A. I think between 7 and 8
o’clock in the morning.

Q. Do you remember when you saw the woman’s body at the Police Office?
A. Yes, sir; it was on Sunday, two days after.

Q. Could you recognize the body? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. What dress did she leave your house in? A. In an old dark printed
gown, much patched, short sleeves, open before, sewed with white thread
in the back; black bombazet petticoat, and red striped short-gown.

Q. Would you know these things? A. Yes, Sir.

[These articles were shown to witness, and she identified the old
printed gown, and short dress.]

By the Court.--Q. Do you know what her age might be?

A. Between forty and fifty.

By Counsel.--Q. What size was she? A. She was a little broad set woman.

By the Court.--Q. When she stopt in your house, was she in good health?
A. Yes, my Lord.

Q. Did you ever see her drunk? A. No, my Lord.


                    CHARLES M‘LAUCHLAN _Examined_.

Q. In the month of October last, did you reside in the house of Mrs
Stewart in the Pleasance? A. Yes, Sir; along with one Michael Campbell.

Q. What time did he leave that house? A. About the end of October.

Q. Do you remember a woman coming to the house in October? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. When she came did Michael Campbell live at the house? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. What name did the woman go by? A. Mrs Campbell’s name was Marjory
M‘Gonegal; Duffie was her second husband’s name.

Q. Had you ever seen her before? A. Yes, Sir; at home, in the County
Donegal in Ireland.

Q. Did she remain some days at Stewart’s? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. What time did she leave? A. She went away on Friday the 31st
October, between the hours of nine and ten in the morning.

Q. Did you go with her? A. Yes, Sir, as far as my own shop door at the
foot of St Mary’s Wynd, where she shook hands with me. I asked her
where she was going, and she told me she was leaving town.

Q. Did she appear in good health and sober? A. Yes, Sir, she appeared
to be of sober habits.

Q. Did she come in search of her son? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. Do you know if she had any money? A. No.

Q. Did she complain of having none? A. I never heard her.

Q. Did she pay any thing for her lodgings at Stewart’s? A. Her son paid
for them.

Q. Did she breakfast at Stewart’s that morning? A. No, Sir.

Q. Did you ever see her again in life? A. No, Sir.

Q. When did you see the body? A. I saw it at the Police office, on
Sunday the 2d November.

Q. You knew it to be that of the woman Campbell?

A. Yes, Sir.

Q. Did she ever call herself Docherty? A. No, Sir.


                       WILLIAM NOBLE _Examined_.

Q. You are a shop-boy at Mr. Rymer’s, at Portsburgh?

A. Yes, Sir.

Q. Do you know the prisoner Burke by sight? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. Do you know a man of the name of Hare? A. Yes.

Q. What do you sell? A. Groceries.

Q. Do you recollect a body found in the West Port? A. I recollect a
woman came to the door, and asked charity, on Friday 31st October. Q.
Was Burke in the shop at the time? A. He was.

Q. Tell us what passed between Burke and the woman who asked charity?
A. He asked her name, and she said it was Docherty.

Q. What did he say to that? A. He said she was a relation of his
mother’s.

Q. Did Burke say what his mother’s name was? A. No.

Q. Did Burke and the woman seem acquainted? A. Don’t recollect Q. What
happened after that? A. Burke took her away with him, and said, he
would give her her breakfast. This was on the Friday morning.

Q. When did you see Burke after? A. He came back on Saturday, and
bought a box.

Q. What sort of a box was it? A. A tea-box.

He was shewn a tea-chest, and asked, if that was it? A. Could not say.
It was like it.

Q. Have your tea boxes any particular mark? A. No.

Q. Did Burke pay for the box? A. No, it is not paid for yet.

Q. Whom did he send for it? A. Mrs Hare came for it about half an hour
after Burke left our shop, and got it away.


                  ANNE BLACK or CONNAWAY _Examined_.

Q. You live in Wester Portsburgh? A. Yes.

Q. What does your house consist of? A. One room.

Q. You go down a stair to it? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. And going down the stair you come to a passage? A. Yes.

Q. Is there another door in the same side of the passage, a little
farther in? A. Yes.

Q. Does that door lead into a room or a passage first? A. First into a
passage.

Q. And at the end of that passage there is a room? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. Who lived in that room in October last? A. It was Burke; he occupied
it in the last week of October.

Q. Look at the female prisoner. Did she live with Burke in the last
week of October? A. Yes, Sir.

On the other side of the passage there is another house in which lived
Mrs Law.

Q. Did you ever see a person of the name of Hare coming to Burke? A.
Yes, Sir.

Q. Were there any lodgers lived with the Burkes in October? A. Yes, a
man of the name of Gray.

Q. Did you, on the 31st of October, see Burke? A. Yes.

Q. What time of the day? A. I made no remarks.

Q. Did you, see any one with him? A. About mid-day I saw him with a
woman; I was sitting by the fire, and they both passed my door.

Q. Was it the prisoner? A. No.

Q. Were they going in? A. Yes.

Q. Was she a stranger? A. Yes.

Q. Was there any one in the house with you at the time?

A. Yes, Mrs Law.

Q. Did you in the course of the day go into Burke’s? A. Yes.

Q. Did you go in alone? A. Yes.

Q. Did you find any one there? A. Yes, the said woman was sitting by
the fire.

Q. Was she doing any thing? A. Supping porridge and milk.

Q. How was she dressed? A. She had no gown on, she said her things were
washing. I saw nothing but her shift, and something tied on her head.

Q. Did you see any stranger there? A. No.

Q. Was Burke’s wife there? A. Yes.

Q. Was Burke? A. I dont know. You have got a stranger, I said. Yes,
said M‘Dougal, we have got a friend of my husband’s here, a Highland
woman.

Q. Was the strange woman sober? A. I dont know.

Q. Did you hear her speak at that time? A. No.--I then went back in the
dark.

Q. What happened after you went into your own house?

A. Burke’s wife came and asked me to take care of her door until she
returned, as she was going out; my husband was sitting by the fire, and
after she went away, he said he thought he saw some person going into
Burke’s house. We took a light and went to see, but saw nobody, save
the stranger.

Q. What did you do after this? A. I said, I thought some one had come
in. She rose and followed after me, and appeared the worse of drink at
the time. She said she was going to St Mary’s Wynd to see a boy, to
hear about her son, and she wanted the name of the land of houses, that
she might return, as she said she had no money to pay for her bed. I
told her she need not go for she would not find her way back again. She
said Burke, whom she called Docherty, had promised her supper and a bed
that night. I told her if she went out the Policemen would take her as
she was bad in drink.

Q. Did she go out? A. No, she did not, she came into our house and
spoke a good while with my husband about Ireland and the army, in which
he had been.

Q. Did you ask how Burke and she had become acquainted?

A. No, but she said she intended to stop for a fortnight. I told her,
her landlord’s name was Burke and not Docherty, but she insisted it was
Docherty, for that was the name he gave himself to her.

Q. What name did she call herself to you? A. She called herself
Docherty in her own name, and Campbell as her husband’s.

Q. Did any other persons come to your house shortly after?

A. Yes, Hare and his wife; Hare’s wife had a bottle with her, and he
insisted they should have a dram. The prisoner M‘Dougal came in also
and had a share.

Q. Did you drink any? A. Yes, and my husband treated them.

Q. Did the stranger get any drink? A. Yes.

Q. Were they merry in your house? A. Yes, Hare was dancing on the
floor, so were Mrs Campbell and Mrs Burke; Campbell was bare-footed,
and got a scratch on the foot with the nails in Hare’s shoes, of which
she complained, but she was otherwise very well.

Q. Did they leave your house together? A. No, Mrs Campbell said she
would not go till Docherty, meaning Burke, came in. I insisted on her
going, but she bade me not be cruel to a stranger. Shortly after, I
told her there was Docherty now, and she rose and followed him.

Q. At what hour was this? A. I think it was between 10 and 11 at night.
She went towards Burke’s house.

Q. Did you sleep that night? A. No, what disturbed me, was Burke and
Hare quarrelling. They appeared to be fighting.

Q. At what hour did you get up in the morning? A. I got up between
three and four, but went to bed again, and got up altogether about
eight o’clock.

Q. Whom did you see first? A. I heard Hare’s wife in the passage
calling to Mrs Law, who was then in our house, but she did not answer.

Q. Did any other person come to your door? A. Yes, a girl afterwards
came inquiring for John, who witness understood was Burke; it was
between eight and nine.

Q. Did you direct her to Burke? A. Yes.

Q. Did you see Mrs M‘Dougal? A. Yes, shortly after she came and told
me William (Burke) was wanting me. I went to Burke’s and found Mrs
Law, M‘Dougal, and a lad named Broggan. Burke had a bottle of spirits
and gave me a glass, he then threw the spirits up towards the roof of
the house, and upon the bed at his back. I asked him why he wasted
it, and he laughed and said, he wanted it finished to get another
bottle. I then asked Mrs M‘Dougal what was become of the old woman.
She said she kicked her out of the house, as she saw Burke and her too
_friendly_.

Q. Did Burke say anything at this time? A. No.

Q. Did you ask him what the noise was about? A. Yes, he said it was a
fit of drink, but they were all well then.

Q. Did you do anything more? A. No, Sir.

Q. Did you see any straw lying near the bed? A. Yes, there was a bundle
of straw near the bed, which had lain there almost all the summer.

Q. When you got up at the first time in the morning, between three and
four, was all quiet in Burke’s house? A. Yes, while I made my husband’s
breakfast at that hour, I heard no noise.

Q. Did any other thing particular happen in Burke’s that morning? A.
Yes, his wife sung a song.

Q. At what hour did you return to your own house? A. It would be the
forenoon.

Q. Did you go again to Burke’s on Saturday night? A. Yes, at eight
o’clock, Gray’s wife told me of something in Burke’s house and I went
with her to see.

Q. What did you see? A. I saw nothing, I was so frightened that I came
out.

Q. Did you see the prisoner, M‘Dougal? A. Before this M‘Dougal came to
me, and said the woman Gray had stolen some things out of her house,
and asked mo to watch her door, as it did not lock. This was about six
o’clock.

Q. What happened after? A. When I was making my husband’s supper, Hare
came to my door. He was going to Burke’s, but I told him there was
nobody there; and he came into my house, but soon went back into the
passage. I afterwards went to Burke’s door, and found it fastened.

Q. After you went to Burke’s door, did you see any one? A. Yes, Hare
came out of Burke’s after that.

Q. Did you see M‘Dougal? A. Yes, and Burke a good bit on in the night.

Q. Did any thing else happen? A. Yes, some one said to Burke and
M‘Dougal, that they were very much disturbed the night _they murdered_
the woman. M‘Dougal laughed, and Burke said, he would defy all
Scotland, as he never did any wrong. The Police came just after that
and apprehended Burke.


       _Cross-Examined by Sir J. W. Moncrieff, Dean of Faculty._

Q. Did Burke, before he was apprehended, say any thing of the person,
who accused him of the murder?

A. Yes, he said he would go and seek the man, and he met him in the
passage along with the policeman, and they took him into his own house.


                            _By a Juryman._

Q. What was the cause of your fear, when you went into Burke’s house.

A. From having heard of the murder from Mrs Gray.


                   JANET LAWRIE or (Law) _Examined_.

Q. You lived in the same passage with the prisoners in October last? A.
Yes.

Q. Do you remember being at Connaway’s house on the 31st October, about
two in the afternoon? A. Yes.

Q. Do you recollect seeing the prisoner Burke in the passage? A. Yes.

Q. Was he alone? A. A little woman was following him, they went into
Burke’s house.

Q. Did you see Hare that evening? A. Yes.

Q. Did he go into Burke’s house? A. Yes.

Q. Did you go in there? A. Yes.

Q. Whom did you see? A. I saw Hare and his wife and Burke, and the
little woman.

Q. At that time were they merry? A. Yes.

Q. You were not long there? A. About twenty minutes.

Q. Did you get any spirits? A. Yes.

Q. At what hour did you go to bed? A. About half-past nine; sometime
after I heard a noise of dancing and merriment.

Q. Did you hear any singing? A. No, Sir.

Q. Fighting and scuffling? A. There was a great noise.

Q. Did you distinguish any particular voice? A. No.

Q. Did the noise last long? A. Yes. The next morning Mrs Burke came
into my house to borrow a pair of bellows, and asked me if I heard
Burke and Hare fighting in the night time.

Q. Any more about the fighting? A. I asked her then what she had done
with the little woman? She said, she kicked her out of the door,
because she had been using too much freedom with William, (meaning
Burke.)

Q. Did she go after that? A. Yes, that was about eight. She afterwards
returned about nine to borrow a dram glass, and asked me to come into
her house.

Q. Did you go? A. Yes, and saw Hare there and Burke and M‘Dougal; and a
man of the name of Broggan.

Q. Did Gray and his wife come in before you left? A. Yes, and Mrs
Connaway.

Q. Did you remark any thing particular? A. Yes, Burke took a bottle of
spirits, and sprinkled it about the bed and room; he said, because none
of them would drink it.

Q. Was there a good deal of straw lying at the foot of the bed?

A. Yes. This took place on the Saturday morning, and Burke was
apprehended that night.

Q. Did you see Mrs Connaway at Burke’s house? A. Yes.

Q. Did you go to the Police Office on Sunday? A. Yes, and was shewn the
body of the little woman I saw at Burke’s on Friday night.


                           _Cross-Examined._

Q. Was the straw that was near the bed there before? A. Yes.

Q. Was it in use? A. Yes, it had been used for some time as a bed for
Gray and his wife.


                        HUGH ALSTON _Examined_.

Q. Do you live in the same land with Burke? A. Yes, I live in the flat
above the shop, and he lives in the flat below the shop.

Q. Did you hear any noise on the night of the 31st October when going
home? A. Yes, I heard some going along the passage between eleven and
twelve that night.

Q. Tell us what you heard? A. I heard two men quarrelling; but what
particularly attracted my attention was, the cry of murder from a
woman. I went down a part of the stair towards Burke’s house.

Q. Do you know Connaway’s door? A. Yes.

Q. Did you go so far as that? A. Yes.

Q. Now tell us distinctly as far as you can what you heard? A. I heard
two men quarrelling, and a woman crying murder, but not in such a way
as would lead me to think she was in danger. She continued to do so for
a few minutes; then something gave three cries as if it was strangled.

Q. Did it resemble the sound of a person or animal that was strangled?
A. Yes.

Q. What did you hear after this? A. I heard no noise on the floor, only
speaking loud. After these remarkable sounds, I heard the female voice
who cried murder, strike her hand as if against the door and call for
the police, they were murdering her. I went immediately for the police,
and could not get one. I returned and went down the stair a little way.

Q. Did you hear any thing after? A. Nothing but the voices of the two
men which appeared at a great distance.

Q. While you were listening, did you hear feet moving on the floor? A.
Yes.

Q. How far might you be from Burke’s door when you heard those
remarkable sounds? A. About three yards, or ten or fifteen feet.

Q. Was the outer door shut? A. I think it was, and that on the same
door the woman struck her hands.

Q. When did you hear a body had been found? A. On Saturday evening, and
that fixed my recollection of what I heard before.


                           _Cross-Examined._

Q. You said you went in search of the Police? A. Yes.

Q. How far did you go? A. Only to the mouth of the passage. When I
returned I did not consider it necessary to interfere farther.

Q. Was the voice you heard of murder the same you heard when you first
went down?

A. Yes, it was like the voice that said, for God’s sake go for the
police, there is murder here. I since sent a person to strike on the
_inner door_ to see if it sounded the same as I heard before, and
I think it did not.


                            _Re-examined._

Q. Was the last cry for the Police? A. Yes, and that there was murder
there.


                            _By the Jury._

Q. Have you any doubts the cry of murder you heard in the passage came
from Burke’s house? A. I have no doubt of it.


                    ELIZABETH PATERSON, _Examined_.

Q. Look at the prisoner, do you know him by sight? A. Yes, I do.

Q. Did you see him on Friday, 31st October? A. Yes, he came to my
mother’s house on Friday night to ask for my brother David, and I said
he was out. He then went away.

Q. Did you go on the next morning to Burke’s house? A. Yes, my brother
sent me for Burke, and I went and inquired for his house at Mrs Law’s.


                      DAVID PATERSON, _Examined_.

Q. Where do you live? A. At No. 26, West Port.

Q. What is your occupation? A. I am keeper of the Museum of Doctor Knox.

Q. Do you know the prisoner? A. Yes.

Q. At what hour did you go home on the 31st October?

A. About twelve.

Q. Did you find any person at your door? A. Yes, the prisoner; he told
me he wanted me to go to his house.

Q. Did you go? A. Yes.

Q. Did you find people there? A. I found Burke and another man and two
women.

Q. After you went in, what passed? A. The prisoner told me he had
procured something for the Doctor, pointing to the head of the bed,
where there was some straw; he said it in an under voice. I was near
him at the time.

Q. Was any thing shewn to you at that time? A. Nothing.

Q. What did you understand he meant? A. I understood him to mean a dead
body, a subject.

Q. What were his exact words? A. His words were--“There is something
for the doctor (pointing to the straw) which will be ready to-morrow
morning.”

Q. Was there sufficient straw to cover the body? A. There was.

Q. Was that woman, the prisoner at the bar there, (pointing to Mrs
M‘Dougal?) A. She was.

Q. Would you know the other two persons who were present?

A. Yes.


                  Hare and his wife being brought in.

Q. Do you know these people? A. I know them by the name of HARE, they
are the other persons that were at Burke’s house that night.

Q. Had you any further conversation with Burke, while you remained
there? A. No, but I sent my sister for him in the morning, and he came
alone about nine o’clock.

Q. What did you say to him when he called on you? A. I told him if
he had any thing for Dr Knox, to go to himself, and agree with him
personally. I afterwards saw the prisoner Burke and Hare in Doctor
Knox’s Rooms in Surgeon’s Square, along with Doctor Jones, one of
Doctor Knox’s assistants. This was between twelve and two.

Q. Did any thing pass there? A. Either Burke or Hare told Dr Knox, they
had a dead body for him, which they would deliver there that night;
and I had orders from Doctor Knox to be in the way to receive it, or
any parcel that might come. I was there about seven, when Burke and
Hare, and a porter named M‘Culloch, brought a tea-chest. They carried
it in, and it was put in a cellar, (Mr. Jones was present,) and when it
was locked up, I went to Newington to Dr Knox, and told him the parcel
was delivered. Hare, Burke, and the porter had either gone before or
followed. I saw them when I came out of Dr Knox’s house. He gave me
Five Pounds to give the men, with orders to divide it between them,
and in order to do so, I took them to a public-house, and got change,
and gave each Two Pounds Ten Shillings. They left something for the
porter. It was understood they were to return on Monday, by which time,
if Dr Knox approved of the subject, they would get the remainder of the
price, which I believe, was Eight Pounds.

Q. Did you hear the prisoner say any thing about women? A. Yes.

Q. Did you see any women loitering about? A. No.

Q. What happened after? A. The next morning, Sunday, Lieutenant
Paterson and Sergeant Fisher of the Police came to me, and I went to Dr
Knox’s cellar along with them, and gave them the package which was left
there the night before.

Q. Was it still roped? A. Yes, as it had been received.

Q. Did you assist at the opening of it? A. Yes, and found it to contain
the body of an elderly female, apparently fresh and never interred.
The body was doubled up in the box, all the extremities doubled on the
chest or thorax for want of room.

Q. Describe the state when it came out of the box? A. I examined
all the body externally, stretched on a table. The face had a very
livid colour, there was blood flowing from the mouth. The appearance
indicated evident marks of strangulation, or suffocation from pressure.
I found no external marks on the body that might have caused death.

By the Court.--Q. Did the eyes project? A. No.

Q. Was the tongue hanging out? A. No.

Q. Was there any marks about the throat? A. No.

Q. Was there any injury about the lips and nose? A. Yes, they were dark
coloured and marked with blood.


                       JOHN BROGGAN _Examined_.

Was at Burke’s the morning after the murder. Saw Burke spill spirits
about the room, and detailed several indecent speeches of Mrs Burke,
about the way she got a shot of the old woman. He was desired by Burke
to remain, but did not.


                         MRS GRAY _Examined_.

Q. Do you know the prisoners Burke and M‘Dougal? A. Yes.

Q. You lodged in their house at the end of October? A. Yes.

Q. You saw a strange woman there? A. Yes.

Q. What had she on? A. A dark printed gown, and a pink bed-gown over it.


         [Witness was shewn the clothes, and identified them.]

Q. You saw the little woman there once or twice on Friday?

A. Yes.

Q. Did Burke say how he met her? A. He said, he met her in a shop at
nine or ten that morning.

Q. Did you remain at Burke’s house that night? A. No; Burke told me
I should leave the house for that night as my husband and I were
quarrelling; and if I would go, he would pay my lodgings, and he said
I was to go to _William Hare’s_. I went away with Hare’s own wife, and
returned about nine o’clock for some things of my child’s. Hare and
Burke were dancing, and Mrs Docherty was singing to them. In the course
of the day Mrs Docherty wanted to go out, but Mrs Burke would not let
her.

Q. At what time did you return to Hare’s? A. Almost immediately.

Q. Did Hare and his wife come home? A. Yes, and Mrs Burke came to
supper; after that they all went out together, and the Hares did not
return that night. The first thing in the morning that occurred, was
Burke coming to my husband to give him a dram. Then went to Burke’s
house and saw there a number of people, but not the old woman. I asked
where she was, and was told, Mrs Burke had turned her out as she was
drunk.

Q. When you went to the house, did you go back for any thing? A. Yes,
for a pair of my child’s stockings. When looking for them, Burke told
me “to keep out from there;” that is, from the straw. There was whisky
then used. Burke threw it about, and said he wanted to get quit of it
to get more. Burke then ordered me to put on some potatoes; and I went
to reach under the bed for some, when Burke told me to come out of
that, I might set the bed a-fire with my pipe.

Q. Was Broggan there? A. Yes, during the day, and Burke desired he
would sit there, on the chair next the straw, until he Burke came back
again.

Q. Did Broggan remain? A. No, he only stopped a few minutes.

Q. Did Burke bid you clean the house? A. No; but I said it would be
better to wash the floor, and put a little sand on it.

Q. What did you do after Broggan went out? A. I went to look for Burke,
but I could not find him. I went out again, and met him at the West
Bow, he went to take a dram.

Q. Did you discover a dead body in that house after Broggan went out?
A. Yes.

Q. Where did you find it? A. Under the straw at the foot of the bed.

Q. Why did you go back? A. Because my suspicions were raised at seeing
Burke throw the spirits about, and I was determined to see what it
meant. The first thing I seized hold of, was the woman’s right arm. My
husband took her up by the hair of the head, the body was naked, and
there was blood on the nose and mouth. My husband went away before me;
he met Mrs Burke on the stair, and told her what he had seen, and asked
her about the body. She told him to hold his tongue, and it might be
worth Ten Pounds a week to him.

Q. Did you say any thing to Mrs Burke? A. Yes, I spoke to her about the
body, and told her, that was the woman who was well, singing on the
floor; and she bade me hold my tongue, and she would give me Five or
Six Shillings. She repeated the words again, and said, if my husband
would be quiet, it would be worth Ten Pounds a week to him. I said
that I would not wish to be worth money got for dead people.

Q. Did your husband give information after that to the police? A. Yes.

Q. You saw the body there? A. Yes.

Q. Was it the same? A. Yes.

Q. Did you return with Mrs. Connaway to Burke’s? A. No, I sent her in,
but did not go myself.


                Cross-Examined by Sir James Moncrieff.

Q. Did you sleep in Burke’s house on Thursday night?

A. Yes, on the bed of straw.

Q. Did you continue there all the forenoon of Friday?

A Yes, I never went out but for a stoup-full of water.

Q. What time did you go to Hare’s? A. About dark.

Q. Did any one ask you to come back to Burke’s that night? A. No, I
thought as it was Halloween night they did not wish to have me amongst
them.

Q. Who went with you to Burke’s at the time you say you went for your
child’s clothes? A. My husband. It was about nine o’clock, we did not
stop many minutes.

Q. Were they all making merry? A. Yes, they were dancing and singing.

Q. Do you remember was Mrs. Connaway there? A. No.

Q. You went away in a few minutes? A. Yes.

Q. You say that Hare afterwards came home, with Mrs. Hare and M‘Dougal?
A. It was before I went back for the clothes and not after.

Q. Did they ask you to come and have some sport with them? A. No; next
morning Burke came, and went out to give my husband a dram, and he told
us to come down to breakfast, and we did.

Q. When you went down to breakfast, did you see Hare or his wife then?
A. No.

Q. Are you sure? A. Quite sure, she came home before I went to
breakfast. I did not get up until eight o’clock.

Q. Did M‘Dougal say any thing to your husband or yourself about the
body when it was found? Did she say, My God I cannot help it? A. Yes, I
recollect now, she did.

Q. Did these words follow her offer of the ten pounds a week? A. Yes.


                             By the COURT.

Am I to understand she said, “My God, I cannot help it,” after you
said you did not wish to make money by dead people? A. Yes. [Here she
recapitulated her evidence in a very distinct manner.]

Q. Did the woman make no reply, when you said the woman was dead, whom
you saw well and singing the night before? A. No.

Q. What did you say after? A. I said, if she could not help it, she
ought not to remain in the house.

Q. Were these words, “My God, I cannot help it,” used after M‘Dougal
had spoken to your husband of ten pounds a week, and he had refused to
be silent? A. Yes, it was after the offer of money; and I said, did she
mean to bring a family to disgrace, that prisoner replied, “My God, how
can I help it.”


            JAMES GRAY, Labourer, Husband of the foregoing
                         Witness, _Examined_.

Q. You lodged at the prisoner’s house? A. Yes, for a few nights at the
end of last October.

Q. Do you remember Burke having any conversation with you about
sleeping out of his house on the 31st of that month?

A. Yes, Burke said we must go out that night, that he had provided a
place for us, and that we might come back in the morning to breakfast.

Q. Did he give any reason for desiring you to leave his house that
night? A. No, not that I recollect. He took us to Hare’s, and pitched
on a bed he used to occupy himself.

Q. Did you know that Burke brought in a strange woman that morning
before, and ordered breakfast for her? A. Yes. He said, he suspected
she was some relation of his mother’s, as she had the same name, and
was from near the same place.

Q. Did you return the night you left Burke’s? A. Yes, about nine, with
my wife, where we saw a good number of people at Burke’s; we stopped a
few minutes. Next morning Burke came, and my wife and I went down to
breakfast.

Q. In the course of that Saturday, was you present when your wife found
a dead body? A. Yes, it was covered with straw, and lying near the head
of the bed.

Q. Was it the woman you saw there the night before? A. Yes. I then
packed up my things that were there, and was on the point of taking
them to a house opposite, when I met Mrs. Burke, I asked her, what
was the meaning of that thing I saw in her room. She asked what; I
said, I suppose you know, the body. She then fell upon her knees and
supplicated me, offered me five or six shillings, and said, if I held
my tongue, it might be worth ten pounds a week to me. I said, my
conscience would not allow it.

Q. Did she say the same thing to your wife? A. Very near.

Q. Did she say she could not help it? A. She did.

Q. After this conversation, did your wife and you leave it?

A. Yes. Mrs. Burke followed us up to the street. We met Mrs. Hare; she
asked us what we were quarrelling about, and desired us to go into
a house and settle our dispute. We did go, and shortly after I went
straight to the Police.


                             By the COURT.

Q. When you saw the body, did you know it to be the woman who was there
the night before? A. Yes; it was quite naked. There was blood upon the
mouth.


                           _Cross-Examined._

Q. What hour was it when you left Burke’s house first, on the evening
of the 31st? A. About five in the evening.

Q. What hour did Burke come for you in the morning? A. I think about
seven.

Q. Was Burke in Hare’s at supper? A. No; but Mrs. Burke was. The Hares
had left before Burke came.


                     GEORGE M‘CULLOCH _Examined_.

Q. You are a porter? A. Yes.

Q. Did the prisoner Burke come to you to carry a parcel for him at the
end of October last? A. Yes. Q. Where did you go first? A. To Burke’s
house. We went into his room, where we got a box like a tea-box; he
took something in a sheet, and put it into the box. Q. Was it like the
shape of a human body? A. I think it was. Q. Had you no doubt it was a
body? A. No. Q. Did you assist? A. No; but when the body was putting
in there was some hair which I pushed in. Q. When the body was putting
in the box was there violence used? A. Yes. Q. Was there another man
there? A. Yes, of the name of Hare.

Q. What became of the sheet? A. It was left where the body was carried
to. (_The witness was shown a box._)

Q. Was that the box? A. The very box.

Q. Was the hair long? A. No.

Q. Did you carry the box? A. Yes.

Q. Did the prisoner follow you? A. Yes. He told me to go towards the
High School Wynd.

Q. Did you go? A. Yes.

Q. Did any person join you? A. Yes, the prisoner and his wife, and Hare
and his wife.

Q. Then you went to Surgeons’ Square? A. Yes, and took the box off my
back. Q. What hour was it? A. It was half-past six.

Q. Where did you go after? A. To Newington.

Q. Who went with you? A. The prisoner, Hare, and their wives.

Q. Did they separate from their husbands? A. Yes.

Q. You saw a person of the name of Paterson?

A. Yes. We went into a public-house, and he shared the money between
the prisoner and Hare, and gave me five shillings for my trouble. When
we came out the women were gone.


                       JOHN FISHER, _Examined_.

Q. You are a police officer? A. Yes.

Q. Do you remember a person coming to the office? A. Yes.

Q. Where did you go with him? A. To William Burke’s.

Q. What did you go there for? A. To make inquiries, as I heard the
body was removed; I met Burke and M‘Dougal on the stair, I bade them
come down, I wished to speak with them. I asked Burke what had become
of his lodgers? He said, there is one (pointing to Gray) and that he
turned them out for their bad conduct. I then asked what became of the
little woman that was there on Friday? He said she left at seven in the
morning. I asked him if any person saw her go away? He said, William
Hare. I asked if any one else saw her go? He then looked insolent, and
said, many saw her go. I saw marks of blood on the bed, and asked how
they came there. M‘Dougal said a woman had lain in there a fortnight
ago. She said she knew where to find the little woman, she lived in the
Pleasance. She saw her that night at the Vennel, and she apologized for
her bad conduct. I asked her what time she left, and she said at seven
o’clock at night. I then decided on taking them to the office, which I
did, on a pretext that it was all a matter of spite against them, and
if they would come to the police office, it would be all cleared up.

Q. Did you return to Burke’s house that night? A. Yes, with the
Superintendant and Dr. Black.

Q. Did you examine the house? A. Yes.

Q. You found a striped bed-gown on the bed. A. Yes.

Q Was that it?--(_The bed-gown was exhibited._) A. Yes.

Q. Did you find any blood? A. Yes, amongst the straw.

Q. Did it appear to have been long there? A. No.

Q. Next morning you went to Dr. Knox’s with Paterson? A. Yes.

Q. And what did you find?

A. The body of an old woman quite naked. We sent for Gray to see if he
knew the body, and he identified it. We afterwards returned in the day
and removed the body to the police-office.

Q. Was the body shown to the prisoners? A. Yes.

Q. They denied all knowledge of having seen it, dead or alive? A. Yes.

Q. Did you go to Burke’s house again? A. Yes, and found an old gown and
a bag.

Q. Were these the articles? (_They were exhibited._) A. Yes.

Q. Was the body after examined? A. Yes, by Dr. Black, Dr. Christison,
and Dr. Newbigging.


                           _Cross-Examined._

Q. Did Hare deny all knowledge of the bodies? A. Yes.

Q. And his wife? A. Yes.


                  WILLIAM HARE (or HAIRE) _Examined_.

WILLIAM HARE (or HAIRE) a _socius criminis_, was now brought forward,
and his entrance into the witness’s box produced a great sensation in
the Court. He was first sworn according to the form used in Scotland,
and warned in the most pointed manner to speak the truth, for if he was
found to deviate the least from it, the most condign punishment would
await him.

Q. You are a Roman Catholic? A. Yes.

Q. Would you wish to be sworn in any other way? A. I never took an oath
before, I believe it is all one way.

(_He was then sworn upon a New Testament, with his right hand on the
Cross._)

Q. How long have you been in this country? A. Ten years.

Q. How long have you been acquainted with the prisoners? A. About
twelve months.

Q. Is your house near Burke’s? A. Yes.

Q. You remember last Halloween? A. Yes.

Q. Were you drinking in a public-house with Burke? A. Yes.

Q. What did he say? A. He asked me to go down to his house to see what
a _shot_ he had got for the Doctors. He said he got an old woman off
the street, and she would make a good _shot_ for the Doctors. He told
me to go down to the house and see if they were drinking, for he did
not like to go.

Q. What did you understand by a shot for the Doctors?

A. That he was going to murder her.

Q. Did you go down? A. Yes, I found a man and a woman and Nelly
M‘Dougal, and the old woman washing her short-gown.

Q. Was the strange man’s name Gray? A. Yes.

Q. What colour was the short-gown? A. Reddish striped.

Q. Is that it? (_The gown was exhibited._) A. Yes.

Q. Did you remain long there? A. Five minutes, and then went home.

Q. Was you in Connaway’s after that? A. Yes, between eight and nine
o’clock.

Q. Who was at Connaway’s? A. There was William Burke and Broggan, and
another chap I did not know, and my wife, John Connaway, and Nelly
M‘Dougal. The little old woman was left at Connaway’s, where they had
some drink.

Q. Had you some? A. Yes, we then went to Burke’s, and Burke and his
wife and the old woman came in; we were all hearty.

Q. Did you then expect the old woman was to be murdered? A. No.

Q. You had a quarrel with Burke? A. Yes, he struck me on the mouth,
and I struck him again, the woman came between us, he pushed me on the
bed twice and I remained on the bed; the old woman got up and wished
Burke to sit down, as he treated her well; she said she did not wish to
see him ill used; she run out before this to the passage and cried out
either murder or police.

Q. How was she brought back again? A. It was Nelly M‘Dougal that
brought her back both times.

Q. When you were struggling, did you knock the old woman down? A. Yes,
and she lay on her back, so drunk she could not get up, she cried to
Burke to quit.

Q. Did he quit you? A. Yes.

Q. What did he do then? A. He got on the old woman with his breast on
her head, and kept in her breath, she gave a kind of cry and moaned a
little after the first cry.

Q. How did he apply his hands to her? A. He put one hand on her nose
and the other under her chin, and stopped her breath, he continued this
for ten or fifteen minutes.

Q. Did he say any thing while this was going on?

A. No, he then got up and put his hand across her mouth and kept it
there three or four minutes; she appeared quite dead then.

Q. Was you looking on all this while? A. I was sitting on the chair.

Q. Did he strip the body? A. Yes, and put the clothes under the bed, he
then doubled up the body, and put the straw on top of her near the head
of the bed.

Q. While you were sitting on the chair and he was murdering, where
was your wife and M‘Dougal? A. When they heard the first screech they
leaped out of bed and run into the passage, and did not come in until
the body was put away.

Q. Where were you? A. I was sitting at the head of the bed when they
both lay down and covered themselves with the quilt.

Q. Did you see any blood at that time? A. No.

Q. Did any body come to the door when the woman cried in the passage?
A. No.

Q. Before the women sprung up was Burke long on the woman? A. A minute
or two.

Q. Did any one go to Burke to try and save the woman?

A. No one.

Q. Who went out first? A. My wife.

Q. And M‘Dougal followed after? A. Yes.

Q. Could any one have prevented Burke without your seeing them? A. No.

Q. Did the women make any inquiries when they came into the room? A.
No, they both went to bed. Then Burke went out after the woman was laid
aside, and stopped out ten minutes.

Q. Did any body come back with him? A. Yes, the Doctor’s man, Paterson.

Q. Did Burke say any thing to the Doctor’s man?

A. Yes, he wanted him to look at the body. Paterson said it would do
very well, to put it in a box; he would not look at it. I don’t know
when Paterson went away, I fell asleep.

Q. Were you tipsy? A. I knew what I was about.

Q. What time did you awake? A. Between six and seven in the morning. I
was sleeping on the chair, with my head on the bed; the two women and
John Broggan were in bed; he lay next his aunt, Nelly M‘Dougal. Burke
was sitting at the fire. After this I went home, and found Gray and his
wife at my house; they had had a bed there that night.

Q. Did Burke come to your house the next morning?

A. He did. We went to get our morning; he asked me to go to Surgeons’
Square to get a box.

Q. Did you get a box there? A. No. Burke then said he had one bespoke
from Mr. Rymer’s shop-boy. We got a box, and the porter brought it in.
Burke was not in then. We left the box, and stopped at the back door
until Burke came. When he came he asked me what I was doing, that I
did not get it into the box. He then went in, and drew the body from
under the bed, and the porter helped to put it in; there was some hair
hanging out, and the porter put it in; and said, it was bad to let it
hang out. The porter then carried it away to Surgeons’ Square. It was
roped. (That box in Court is it, or like it.) I went with the porter,
and Burke went for the Doctor’s man. They came to Surgeons’ Square, and
we went in with the box. We put the box in a cellar, and then we went
to Newington to the Doctor. Mr. Paterson went in, and he afterwards
came out and asked if we would go to a public-house, he had money for
us. We saw our wives following us, but they did not come into the
house. Paterson gave the porter 5s. and each of us L.2, 7s. 6d. We were
to have five pounds more on Monday. I saw nothing very particular until
I was taken up.


                    Cross-examined by Mr. COCKBURN.

Q. You say you have been ten years in Edinburgh? A. Yes.

Q. How have you been engaged?

A. I have been a labourer, and sometimes employed in selling fish with
a cart and horse.

Q. Have you been engaged in supplying bodies to the Doctors? A. Yes.

Q. Have you been concerned in supplying the Doctors with subjects on
other occasions than that you have mentioned?

The Lord Advocate objected to the question.

Mr. COCKBURN.--I hold that I am entitled to test this _Gentleman’s_
credibility with the Jury, and with that view I shall endeavour to
make him confess such acts as will make his evidence go for nothing.
I purpose to ask him if he was concerned in any other _murder_ except
this one.

LORD ADVOCATE thought the Dean of Faculty had agreed to confine himself
to this case.

LORD MEADOWBANK thought that such a line of conduct could not be
pursued. The question was neither a fit nor proper one.

Mr. COCKBURN.--In general, evidence is adduced because it is entitled
or presumed to be entitled to credit. Now, it is monstrous to suppose
that I should not be allowed to shake the credit of a human being
in respect to his evidence. (He then quoted a case lately tried in
England, where a witness in a similar circumstance was examined and
acknowledged that he had been guilty of the most atrocious crimes; in
consequence of which his evidence was totally discredited.)

Mr. ALISON replied, the law of England was in no point more opposed to
the law of Scotland than in regard to evidence. A witness here could
not be called on to answer for his whole life and conversation. The
utmost license was allowed in England in cross-examination, but it is
contrary to the uniform and fundamental law of Scotland.

DEAN OF FACULTY.--I completely agree with my Learned Friend. Our object
is to discredit, not to disqualify the witness. We wish to propose a
question to try the veracity of this witness. The witness was warned
that he was standing on his oath, being peculiarly situated, but it may
happen in most cases that he will answer it, and answer falsely. If he
answers truly, it will be for his credit; if falsely, it will then be
for the benefit of my client.

LORD MEADOWBANK.--I regret having stated the impression made upon my
mind by the bare announcement of the question proposed to be put to
the witness, because I should most assuredly have rather, in a matter
of this vast importance, have desired to obtain every light that could
have been thrown upon it before I ventured to deliver my judgment
regarding it. But perhaps my having done so had only the effect of my
attention being more anxiously called to every word that dropt from my
brethren at the bar, and if I were satisfied that if any thing that was
suggested by them had the effect of shaking the opinion which occurred
to me at first, nothing that I stated before could have prevented my
honestly and frankly avowing it. I have, however, been confirmed in
that opinion by finding that notwithstanding all the ingenuity of
my learned brethren, they have said so little on the subject, and
that they have been unable to show one single precedent in favour of
their argument, except that which has been obtained from the law of
England. Now, I for one throw the law of England altogether out of
the question. It is, I believe, in matters of this kind diametrically
opposite to ours. That law holds, that a witness has no protection
from having been examined by the Public Prosecutor, on a criminal
trial. We hold, that he has. It is quite absurd, therefore, to dream
of drawing a precedent, which is to guide your Lordships, from the
law of England. But even our law goes no farther than to protect
witnesses from being subject to prosecution on account of matter
immediately connected with the subject of the trial in the course of
which they are examined. I understand it, therefore, to be admitted
that, if the question proposed were admitted by your Lordships, the
witness must be told that he is not bound to answer it, because it is
beyond the competency of this Court to afford protection against being
afterwards questioned for the perpetration of crimes which do not form
the proper subject of inquiry in the present investigation. But I
have always understood that the law of Scotland has gone a great deal
further--that it allows no question to be put which a witness may not
competently answer, and which, if answered, must not be sent to the
Jury as a matter of evidence. Now, in the first place, I admit that
it is quite competent for the prisoner to put any question relative
to the matters at issue by which he apprehends that the credibility
of the witnesses for the Crown, may, if answered, by possibility be
shaken. The oath taken by the witness, binds him to speak the truth,
and the whole truth; but that obligation goes no further than it
refers to the matter before the Court. It neither does, nor has it
ever been held, to bind him to speak to matters relative to which he
has not been called legally to give evidence. I apprehend, therefore,
that even the oath which has been imposed upon the witness, is not
obligatory upon him to speak to matters _not immediately_ connected
with the subject of this trial--and, in fact, such was the opinion of
the Counsel for the prisoners; for, upon their application, the witness
was particularly warned that he was only required to speak the truth,
and the whole truth, relative to the third charge in this indictment.
I have always understood, however, that no question could be put,
upon cross-examination, to a witness in this country, which would, if
answered, have the effect of rendering him in truth inadmissible.
All questions having that effect must be put as preliminary, and
after the questions put to all witnesses by your Lordships before the
examination commences. In that respect, very likely, we differ from
the law of England; but, for the reasons assigned by Mr. Hume in the
passages read by Mr. Alison, I am not inclined to think that the rules
of our law are inferior, or less effectual for the administration of
justice. The object of our law has always been to get at the truth,
and I suspect that is best to be obtained by preventing witnesses
being harassed in the way that would result from such questions as
the present being held to be admissible. But further still, suppose,
in the second place, that the witness answers the question that has
been put in the affirmative, and depones that he has been present at
more murders than the one in question, what is to be the result? Is
the Lord Advocate upon the re-examination to ask him at what murders
he has been present, and who was concerned in those murders; or to go
into an examination of all the matters connected with those cases?
If he is, we may be involved in an inquiry into the circumstances
connected with the other murders in this indictment, which are not now
the subject of trial, and which your Lordships, by your interlocutor,
have precluded from being the subject of trial. I cannot think that
such can be your Lordships’ intention: yet the Court must be prepared
either to go this length or not, before allowing a question to be put
which must open up such a field of inquiry, for if the prisoner is
entitled to put the one question, it must follow that the prosecutor
is entitled to put the other, and if you do permit such an inquiry,
you must be prepared to send the answers so given, and the evidence so
arising, to the jury for their consideration. And what would be the
consequence? By the evidence thence arising, and the suspicions thence
created, the prisoners might be convicted upon matters not at issue in
this indictment. Nor is it enough to say that this has been occasioned
by the prisoner himself; for the law of this country interposes to
protect a prisoner from his own mistakes--it lays down rules by which,
in all cases, protection shall be afforded against either accident or
error; and as I conceive it would be highly erroneous to send such
matters to a jury, and yet that we are entitled to permit no questions
to be put, the answers to which must not be sent to the jury, I think,
this question cannot be admitted. But I set out with saying, that I do
not think any question can be sustained by your Lordships, which, if
answered in the affirmative, would disqualify a witness. Thus, suppose
that the question put were, Have you committed ten acts of perjury--and
the answer were in the affirmative, what is to be the result?--Your
Lordship must tell the jury either that the witness’s answer is true,
or that it is false. If true, must it not also be added that he cannot
be believed upon his oath; and if it appears not to be true, then he
is equally incredible. By admitting such questions, therefore, the
necessary result is that you put it in the power of the witness to
disqualify himself; and that, I have invariably understood, I can
solemnly assure your Lordships, to have been a principle reprobated by
the law of this country.

The LORD JUSTICE CLERK thought that the question might be put, but that
the witness should be cautioned that he was not bound to criminate
himself, for if he answered the question the Court could not protect
him.

LORD MACKENZIE thought the question might be put. The witness being
warned that he is not bound to criminate himself, and told that he
has no protection from the Court, but for the crime now before it.
The admission of his having been guilty of a secret crime could not
disqualify him. He had yet seen no sufficient authorities to shake that
opinion.

The LORD JUSTICE CLERK agreed with Lord Mackenzie, although he thought
with Lord Meadowbank that it was the “most extraordinary question he
ever heard;” but the case being an extraordinary one, allowance must be
made.

The LORD ADVOCATE wished to know in what situation he was placed. Was
he allowed to ask him, if he confessed--“Of what murders were you
guilty?”

Mr. COCKBURN.--We put that question, and the Lord Advocate is entitled
to put what other he chooses. I cannot state the thing more generally.
We intend to object to no question the Lord Advocate may choose to ask.

       *       *       *       *       *


                           _Hare recalled._

Q. You mentioned when you was last here, that you assisted in taking
the bodies to Surgeons’ Square?

A. I never was concerned in furnishing _none_, but I saw them do it.

LORD JUSTICE CLERK.--You are not bound to answer the question about to
be put.

Mr. COCKBURN.--I am going to put some questions to you, and you need
not answer them if you don’t choose.

Q. How often have you carried dead bodies? A. I won’t answer it.

Q. Have you ever been concerned in any other murder?

A. I won’t answer that.

Q. Was there a murder committed in your house on the 8th October last?
A. I won’t answer that.

Q. When Burke said he had got a shot for the Doctors, how did you know
what he meant by a shot?

A. I heard it often before.

Q. Did you know it meant murder, then? A. Yes.

Q. How did you know it?

A. He told me he would murder her.

Q. Had you any notion that mischief would happen that night you were
dancing? A. I could not say.

Q. When did you suspect there was going to be mischief?

A. When I saw him on the top of her.

Q. Did you see the body of the woman at the Police Office?

A. Yes.

Q. Did you deny there ever having seen the body before?

A. I denied it.

Q. How soon was it after her death you saw her at the Police Office? A.
I saw a body there on Saturday or Sunday.

Q. You have been acquainted with Burke long? A. Yes.

Q. Have you received any money before from Dr. Knox?

A. No.

Q. Did you ever receive any from his assistants?

A. Burke did, and he gave it me.

Q. Did you ever receive any? A. No.

Q. Who received the money? A. Burke.

Q. Are you positive that it was five pounds that was to be received on
Monday? A. Yes.

Q. Who was it paid the man? A. I believe Burke did.

Q. Burke paid you? A. Yes, he threw two pounds to me, and seven
shillings in silver. Paterson put two pounds in one parcel, and two in
another, and halved the silver and Burke shoved it over to me.

Q. Had you ever any quarrel with Burke about money? A. No.

Q. You told us that the old woman went out into the passage and cried,
Police and Murder? A. Yes.

Q. You say you shoved her down over a stool? A. Yes.

Q. And she lay on her back? A. Yes.

Q. At the time that Burke was on the top of the woman, did you hear her
screech? A. Yes.

Q. It could be heard a good bit off? A. Yes.

Q. You say that Broggan was in bed in the morning,--did you see him
come in? A. No.

Q. Did you sit in that chair and see Burke for ten minutes killing the
woman, and offer her no assistance? A. Yes.

Q. You sat by calmly and saw the murder done? A. Yes.

Q. Did you give any information the next day? A. No.

Q. But you went to dispose of the body, and received money for it? A.
Yes.

Q. And the next day you denied all knowledge of the body? A. Yes.


                    MRS. HAIRE or HARE _Examined_.

   _This witness was sworn and solemnly admonished by_ LORD
   MEADOWBANK _to speak the truth, after which she was examined by
   the_ LORD ADVOCATE.

Q. You are the wife of William Hare that was here just now? A. Yes.

Q. Do you remember last Halloween night? A. Yes.

Q. Did two persons sleep in your house that night?

A. Yes.

Q. Why did they do so? A. Burke asked me to give them a bed there in
the course of the day.

Q. Did you go out that night in search of your husband?

A. Yes, I found him in John Connaway’s.

Q. Who was there at the same time? A. Connaway and his wife.

Q. Was Burke there? A. I don’t recollect.

Q. Had you spirits there? A. Yes.

Q. Do you recollect seeing an old woman there? A. Not that I recollect.
I stopped there until my husband rose, and then we went into Burke’s
house with M‘Dougal.

Q. Was Burke there? A. No. He came in soon after.

Q. Was the old woman there? A. Yes, she was there before.

Q. Was there a fight there between Burke and your husband? A. Yes.

Q. Did you go between them? A. Yes.

Q. Did the old woman cry murder? A. Yes.

Q. Did she get a push? A. Yes.

Q. You saw Burke on the top of the old woman? A. Yes.

Q. Did you see him long there? A. No; for M‘Dougal and I ran out of the
room into the passage, and stopped there upwards of a quarter of an
hour.

Q. When you returned, did you see the old woman?

A. No.

Q. Did you ask after her? A. No. I had my suspicion.

Q. What, that she was murdered? A. Yes.

Q. Did you two lie down in the bed? A. Not immediately.

Q. Where were you when Burke was lying on the old woman? A. I thought,
before, I was in the bed, but I think now I was between the door and
the bed.

Q. How many minutes was he on her? A. Not many.

Q. Where was M‘Dougal? A. I don’t exactly know.

Q. Which went first out at the door? A. It was I.

Q. Were you both alarmed? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. You say you suspected what was doing? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. Had you any previous reason of suspicion of the act about to be
committed on the old woman?

A. I had seen a little trick of it done before. I suspected when I saw
him lying on her, and Nelly M‘Dougal told me something.

Q. Just tell us what she said?

A. She came to our house, and said there was a shot in the house; and
I asked her what she was, and she said, Burke fetched her in out of a
shop.

Q. How did you know it was a woman? A. She told me.

Q. Did she say they intended to make away with the woman?

A. No. But I understood from the word _shot_ they were to do it.

Q. Why did you understand that?

A. Because I heard that word made use of before to express the
determination of murdering others.

Q. Were they pressing drink on the woman? A. Yes.

Q. Was she much the worse of it? A. Rather.

Q. You remained there all night? A. Yes, until 5 o’clock. I was lying
in bed when Mr. Paterson came in, but I did not hear what he said.

Q. Did you know where the body was put? A. Yes, at the head of the bed.

Q. Did Burke ask you to go out and get a box? A. Yes. He said he had
purchased one for to put old shoes in. I went for the box and a porter
came and carried it. I afterwards followed with M‘Dougal, our husbands,
towards Newington, for fear they should quarrel or get drunk.

Q. What answer did you make to her about this shot? A. I said nothing.

Q. Had you and M‘Dougal any talk about it on your way to Newington? A.
No.

Q. Did she feel sorry for it? A. No.

Q. What were you speaking of while you were in the passage? A. Perhaps
I said it might be the same thing with her and I.

Q. Do you mean that you might be murdered? A. Yes.

Q. Why did you not go into the woman Connaway’s? A. Because I left my
home three times before; and it is not natural for a woman to go and
inform on her husband.

Q. You mention the old woman went out at the door? A. No, Sir, she
never went out of the inside door.

Q. Was it after she came back from the door she fell down? A. I believe
she got a push.

Q. Was it very soon after that that Burke lay down on her? A. Yes.

Q. What was he doing when you run out? A. Burke was lying on her chest.

Q. Why did you go out? A. I did not like to see her murdered.

Q. Was your fear created in consequence of M‘Dougal having told you she
was a shot? A. No. I had no thoughts of it at the time.

By the COURT.--On the oath you have now taken, did you suppose she was
to be murdered that night? A. No, I did not.


          _Mrs. Hare Cross-examined by the_ DEAN OF FACULTY.

Q. Was it instantly after the old woman was pushed down that he got on
the top of her? A. Yes.

Q. There’s a door at the outer side of the passage? A. Yes.

Q. How is it fastened? A. I don’t know.

Q. When you were in the passage did any one knock at that door? A. Not
that I heard.

Q. When you were in the passage did you hear the old woman cry? A. No,
Sir.

Q. When you returned in, you went to bed? A. Yes, Sir.

Q. There was a young man of the name of Broggan came in? A. Yes, and we
had a dram.

Q. Who? A. All of us.

Q. Then you got up to have it? A. Yes.

Q. Did you go to bed again? A. No.

Q. Was M‘Dougal in bed? A. No; Broggan, M‘Dougal, and I lay down upon
the floor.

Q. Was there any more fighting? A. Yes; Burke took the stick and struck
Hare, and M‘Dougal interfered and said she would not have Hare treated
in that manner.

By the COURT.--You had a bed in your own house, why did you not go home
to it, and take your husband along with you? A. I did all I could, but
he would not come.


                        Dr. BLACK, _Examined_.

Q. You saw a woman’s body at the Police Office? A. Yes.

Q. Did you examine it? A. Yes.

Q. Were there any marks on the body? A. None.

Q. Were there any on the face? A. Yes, there was blood.

Q. What appearance had the face? A. It was much swollen.

Q. Any thing remarkable about the eyes? A. They were swollen and the
face black.

Q. Did you think that she came by her death by violence? A. My private
opinion was that she had, but I could not give a decided medical
opinion on the subject.

Q. What was your opinion the moment you saw her? A. I formed the
conclusion that she came by her death with violence.

By the DEAN OF FACULTY.--Q. Have you any medical diploma? A. No; but I
am a regularly bred surgeon, and have been surgeon to the police for
twenty years.

Q. Did you go with the police to the house of Burke?

A. Yes.

Q. What did you see there? A. The thing I took particular notice of
was, from fourteen to sixteen ounces of blood mixed with saliva, and
having been told the woman had lain in that place, I was able to judge
it came from the mouth and nose.

Q. Do you mean now to state you have formed a medical opinion in regard
to the body? A. I am really afraid to hazard an opinion.

By the COURT.--Q. Were the appearances you have seen on people brought
into the police-office who have been suffocated from drink like this
case? A. Yes.

Q. If you had seen this body lying in the place where you saw the
saliva and blood, would you have hesitated in your opinion? A. I have
seen several corpses that died by suffocation, and taking the entire
circumstances into view, I think the appearances identical.

By the DEAN OF FACULTY.--Q. Have you had any case of simple
suffocation lately? A. No.

Q. Were the symptoms here the same, or nearly the same, as in cases
of suffocation from drink? A. The eyes were nearly started from the
sockets.

By the LORD ADVOCATE.--Q. Have you seen such saliva and blood in cases
of drink, unless some injury was done?

A. No.


                      DR. CHRISTISON, _Examined_.

Q. Did you see the body of an elderly female at the police-office at
the commencement of November? A. Yes. I saw and minutely examined a
body there on the 2d and 3d of November.

Q. Did you perceive any marks of violence on it? A. Yes.

Q. Describe what you saw to the Court and Jury?

A. I saw several contusions on the legs and the elbows, one on the
loin, one on the right shoulder blade, a very small one on the inside
of the upper lip, and two upon the head; one on the back part of the
left side of the head, and another upon the fore part of the right
side. I also found pale lividity of the features generally, and dark
lividity of the lips; great redness (from vascularity) of the whites of
the eyes; an almost total want of lividity on almost every other part
of the body except the face; and roughing of the scarf-skin or cuticle
under the chin and over the upper part of the throat. Internally, I
found a general fluidity of the blood, and an accumulation of it in the
right cavities of the heart. In the middle of the neck, I found the
ligaments connecting posterior parts of the vertebræ torn, and blood
effused among the spinal muscles, near the laceration, and into the
cavities of the spinal muscles. I found no sign of natural disease,
except a very slight incipient disorder of the liver. All the other
organs of the head, the chest, and the belly, were unusually sound. I
forgot to mention a small patch of blood on the left cheek, and also a
very slight contusion over the left eye.

Q. Did you consider that those contusions could be produced after death?

A. No; but the injury of the spine and other appearances described
might have been caused as well after death as before it. An injury
properly applied eighteen hours after death, would, I think, cause
the same appearances. Cramming into a box or chest like that shown
might have caused these appearances. Strangulation or smothering,
or throttling, is consistent with what has been described, but
particularly throttling or applying the hand under the throat, and
throwing the head backward, would prevent the access of air. I found
unequivocal proof of violence, in the contusions dispersed throughout
the body, and in no signs of disease being visible. I beg to add,
from the woman being seen so recently alive and well, from the blood
under the bed, as well as the appearances already mentioned, death by
violence is extremely probable. If the woman had met her death by the
prisoners at the bar, the appearances were such as would correspond
with these circumstances. The appearances in some cases of suffocation
would be similar to those in the present instance. The appearance of
blood from the mouth or nose after death may be produced by any species
of suffocation. Directly or indirectly, death by intoxication must
physiologically be occasioned by suffocation.

By Mr. COCKBURN.--Q. Did the appearances found on the body justify only
a suspicion? A. Coupled with the circumstances mentioned they amount to
a probability.

By the COURT.--Q. Did you open the stomach?

A. Yes, my Lord.

Q. Describe the contents. A. I found half-digested porridge, but no
smell of whisky or of any narcotic. The smell is not a necessary
circumstance even in cases of intoxication where a person was said to
have died of continuous intoxication. At least I know of a reported
case where a person was said to have died from constant intoxication,
without any smell having been found in the stomach, though it was found
in the brain and other parts of the body, but I also know a similar
case where the stomach, on being opened, gave out the effluvia of
whisky.

This closed the case for the prosecution.

The declarations of the pannels were then read.




                         DECLARATION OF BURKE.

                              _At Edinburgh the 3d November 1828._

        In presence of GEORGE TAIT, Esq. Sheriff-Substitute of
                            Edinburghshire,

Compeared William Burke, at present in custody, who being examined,
declares that he is 36 years of age, and he was born in Ireland, and
he came to Scotland about 10 years ago: That he is a shoemaker, and he
has lived for rather more than a year in the West Port, and about two
months ago he went to the house in the West Port in which he at present
lives; but he does not know the name of the entry; and the prisoner,
Helen M‘Dougal, has lived with him for about ten years; but she is not
married to him. Declares, that he at first lodged in his present house
with a man named John Brogan, but Brogan went away about ten days ago,
and the declarant now lodges in the house by himself. Declares, that
James Gray and his wife and child came to lodge with the declarant
about a week ago. Declares, that on the night of Thursday last, the
30th of October, no person was in the declarant’s house, except Helen
M‘Dougal, Gray, and his wife. Declares, that on the morning of Friday
last he rose about 7 o’clock and immediately began to his work, by
mending a pair of shoes: That M‘Dougal rose about 9 o’clock. Declares,
that Gray rose about 6 o’clock and went out: That Gray’s wife rose
soon afterwards and lighted the fire, and the declarant then rose as
before mentioned. Declares, that he went out about 9 o’clock to get
some tobacco, and he returned in a few minutes, and they all four
breakfasted together about 10 o’clock, and the women were occupied
through the day in washing and dressing, and sorting about the house;
and Gray was going out and in, and the declarant was working; and
declares that on Friday evening he told Gray that he and his wife must
go to the other lodging, because he could not afford to support them
any longer, as they did not pay for the provisions which they used, and
they went away; and the declarant accompanied them to Hare’s house, to
which he recommended them. Declares, that he thinks Gray and his wife
went away about 5 o’clock. Declares, that about an hour afterwards,
when he was standing at the mouth of the entry, a man came forward to
him dressed in a great coat, the cape of which was much up about his
face: That he never saw that man before, and does not know his name:
That the man asked if the declarant knew where he could get a pair
of shoes mended, and the declarant, being a shoemaker, took him home
with him, and got off the man’s shoes and gave him an old pair in the
meantime: That while the declarant was mending the shoes the man walked
about the room, and made some remarks about the house being a quiet
place, and said that he had a box which he wished to leave there for a
short time, and the declarant consented: That the man went out, and in
a few minutes returned with a box, which he laid down upon the floor
near the bed, which was behind the declarant, who was sitting near the
window, with his face to it: That the declarant heard the man unroping
the box, and then making a sound as if he were covering something
with straw, and the declarant looked round, and saw him pushing the
box towards the bottom of the bed, where there was some straw on the
floor, but he did not observe any thing else than the box: That the man
then got on his shoes, paid the declarant a sixpence, and went away:
That the declarant immediately rose to see what was in the box, and he
looked under the bed and saw a dead body among the straw, but he could
not observe whether it was a man or a woman: That soon afterwards the
man came back, and declarant said it was wrong for him to have brought
that there, and told him to put it back into the box, and take it away:
That the man said that he would come back in a little and do it, and
then went away, but he did not return till Saturday evening about 6
o’clock, and when he did not return on Friday night, the declarant took
the box into the entry, but allowed the body to remain under the bed.
Declares, that on Saturday morning, about ten o’clock, he went out to
the shop of a Mr. Rymer, in the West Port, and when he was there, a
woman came to the door begging, whom he had never seen before: That the
people in the shop refused to give her any thing, and the declarant,
discovering from her dialect that she came from Ireland, asked her from
what part of it she came, she said it was from Inesomen, which is a
small town in the north of Ireland, and he then asked her name, and she
said that it was Mary Dougherty, and the declarant remarked, that his
mother’s name was Dougherty, and that she came from the same part of
Ireland, and that, therefore, they might perhaps be distant relations;
and as she said that she had not broken her fast for twenty-four
hours, if she would come home with him, he would give her breakfast,
at which time the only persons in the house were Helen M‘Dougal, Gray
and his wife: That she sat by the fire till about three o’clock in
the afternoon smoking a pipe, the declarant going out and getting a
dram, because it was Halloween, and they all five partook of the dram
sitting by the fireside. Declares, that at three o’clock Mary Dougherty
said, that she would go to the New Town to beg some provisions for
herself, and she went away accordingly. Declares, that he thinks Helen
M‘Dougal was in the house when Mary Dougherty went away, but he does
not remember whether Gray or his wife were in the house, and does
not remember of any other person being in the house. Declares, that
a few minutes before Mary Dougherty went away, William Hare’s wife
came into the house, but went away into the house of a neighbour, John
Connoway, immediately before Dougherty, went away, and he thinks that
Hare’s wife, or Connoway’s wife, may have seen Dougherty go away,
and Mary Dougherty never returned. Declares, that Helen M‘Dougal and
Gray’s wife then washed the floor, and cleaned out the house: That
there was no particular reason for doing so farther than to have it
clean upon the Saturday night, according to their practice; and the
declarant continued at his work: That soon afterwards Gray and his wife
went away, and Helen M‘Dougal went to Connoway’s house, leaving the
Declarant by himself, and the Declarant had not mentioned to any person
about the dead body, and no suspicion that it had been discovered.
Declares, that about 6 o’clock in the evening, while he was still
alone, the man who had brought the body came, accompanied by a Porter
whom the declarant knows by sight, and whose stance is at some where
about the head of the Cowgate, or the foot of the Candlemaker-Row, and
whose Christian name he thinks is John: That the man said he had come
to take away the body, and the declarant told him the box was in the
entry, and the Porter took it in, and the man and the Porter took the
body, and put it into the box and roped it, and the porter carried
it away. Declares, that when the man came with the porter he said he
would give the declarant two guineas for the trouble he had in keeping
the body, and proposed to take the body to Surgeons’ Square to dispose
of it to any person who would take it; and the declarant mentioned
David Paterson as a person who had some connexion with the surgeons,
and went to Paterson and took him to Surgeons’ Square, where he found
the man and the porter waiting with the box containing the body: That
the body was delivered, and Paterson paid a certain number of pounds
to the man, and £2, 10s. to the declarant: That he then went straight
home, and was informed by some of the neighbours that a report had been
raised of a dead body having been found in the house, and in particular
by Connoway’s wife, who told him that a policeman had been searching
his house, and he then went out in search of a policeman, and he met
Finlay and other policemen in the passage, and he told them who he was,
and they went with him to the house and found nothing there, and they
took him to the police office. Declares, that he yesterday saw in the
police office the dead body of a woman, and he thinks it is the dead
body which was below the bed, but it has no likeness to Mary Dougherty,
who is not nearly so tall: And being interrogated whether the man who
brought the body and afterwards came with the porter is William Hare,
declares that he is. And being interrogated, declares that he does
not know of any person who saw that Hare had any concern in bringing
the body or in taking it away; and being interrogated, declares that
the porter’s name is John M‘Culloch, and declares that the box in
which the body was contained was a tea-chest; and being specially
interrogated, declares that the woman above referred to, of the name
of Mary Dougherty, was not in his house on Friday, and he never to
his knowledge saw her till Saturday morning at 10 o’clock: That she
promised him to return on the same evening, but she did not, and he
does not know what may have become of her. And being interrogated,
declares that he sprinkled some whisky about the house on Saturday,
to prevent any smell from the dead body. Declares, that Hare did not
tell him, nor did he ask where he got the body. Declares, that he
did not observe whether there was any blood upon the body. And being
specially interrogated, declares, that he had no concern in doing harm
to the woman before referred to, of the name of Mary Dougherty, or to
the woman whose body was brought to the house, and he does not know of
any other person being concerned in doing so. Declares, that Dougherty
was dressed in a dark gown; and being shown a coarse linen sheet, a
pillow case, a dark printed cotton gown, and a red striped bed-gown,
to which a label is affixed, and signed by the declarant and Sheriff,
as relative hereto, declares, that the sheet and pillow-slip are his,
and he knows nothing about the dark gown and bed-gown: That the blood
upon the pillow-slip was occasioned by his having struck Helen M‘Dougal
upon the nose, as is known to Gray and his wife; and the blood upon the
sheet is occasioned by the state in which Helen M‘Dougal was at the
time, and is known to Gray’s wife. All which is truth.

    ARCHD. SCOTT.                                      WM. BURKE.
    A. M‘LUCAS.                (Signed)                G. TAIT.
    A. MACLEAN.


                    _At Edinburgh, the 10th day of November 1828._

        In presence of GEORGE TAIT, Esquire, Sheriff-Substitute
                          of Edinburghshire.

Compeared William Burke, present prisoner in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh,
who being examined, and the declaration emitted by him before the
said Sheriff-Substitute of Edinburghshire, on the 3d day of November
current, being read over to him, he declares that it is incorrect in
several particulars--declares that it was upon the Friday morning, and
not upon the Saturday morning, that the woman, named Mary Dougherty,
came to the house, and that all that is said with reference to that
woman, up to her going out at 3 o’clock, happened upon the Friday,
and not upon the Saturday; and declares that the floor being wet in
consequence of Helen M‘Dougal and Gray’s wife washing in the house,
those two women washed the floor then, rather than defer it till next
day, and the floor was usually washed twice a week, and it was usually
washed on the Saturday, as one of the days: That those two women
continued doing things about the house, and the declarant continued
working till it was duskish: That the declarant then stopped work, and
went out and brought in a dram, because it was Halloween, and he and
the two women sat by the fire and drank the dram, and while they were
doing so, William Hare came in, and the declarant went for more drink,
and they all four sat drinking till they got pretty hearty. Declares,
that when he was out for drink the second time, he found when he came
back, that Mary Dougherty had returned, and was sitting by the fire,
and she drunk along with them: That when it was pretty late in the
night, but he cannot mention the hour, he and William Hare differed,
and rose to fight, and the three women were still in the house
drinking, and Mary Dougherty had become much intoxicated. Declares,
that while he and Hare were struggling together, Helen M‘Dougal and
Hare’s wife did what they could to separate them; but declares that
there was no noise, and, in particular, there were no cries of murder.
Declares, that after they were separated, they sat down at the fire
together to have another dram, and they then missed Mary Dougherty, and
asked the other two women, what had become of her, and they answered
that they did not know, and the declarant and Hare searched for her
through the house, and they both went straight to the straw of the
shake-down bed upon the floor at the bottom of the standing bed, to see
whether she had crept in there, and they found her amongst the straw,
lying against the wall, partly on her back and partly on her side:
That her face was turned up, and there was something of the nature of
vomiting coming from her mouth, but it was not bloody: That her body
was warm, but she appeared to be insensible, and was not breathing:
That, after waiting for a few minutes, they were all satisfied that
she was dead, and the declarant and Hare proposed to strip the body,
and lay it among the straw, but they did not, at that time, say what
further they proposed to do, and Helen M‘Dougal and Hare’s wife
immediately left the house, without saying any thing, and the declarant
supposed it was because they did not wish to see the dead body: That
the declarant and Hare waited till the neighbours should be quiet,
there being a considerable stir among the neighbours on account of its
being Halloween, and in particular, in the house of Connoway, who lives
in the same passage, in case any of the neighbours should come in upon
them, and they stripped the body, and laid it among the straw, and it
was then proposed by both of them, but he cannot say by which of them
first, to sell the body to the Surgeons, and they both arranged that
they would sell the body to David Paterson, whom they knew to be a
porter to Dr Knox, in Surgeons’ Square, and who, they knew, received
subjects, and that they would put the body into a chest, and get it
conveyed to Surgeons’ Square, the following morning, and they then
sat down by the fire again, and Helen M‘Dougal and Hare’s wife then
returned, but nothing was said by any person about the dead body: That
Hare and his wife then went home, at which time it would be near 12
o’clock on the Friday night, and the declarant and M‘Dougal went to bed
and fell asleep, and rose next morning soon after 6 o’clock: Declares,
that Gray and his wife came in about 8 o’clock in the morning and
lighted the fire, and prepared breakfast, and they all got breakfast
together, and the declarant then went out, and brought in a dram, and
sprinkled it under the bed, and upon the walls, to prevent any smell:
Declares, that he went out about 12 o’clock noon, and was out for about
two hours walking about, and when he returned, he found Gray, and his
wife, and Helen M‘Dougal still in the house, and after that he was
occasionally out. Declares, that when it became dark he went to call
for Paterson, but found that he was out, at which time it was past five
o’clock: That he then got John M‘Culloch, a porter, and took him to the
passage of the declarant’s house, and then left him there, and went
into the house, and found William Hare there, but no other person, and
he also saw an empty chest upon the floor, and they both immediately
put the body of the woman into the tea-chest, and they roped it up with
a line which hung across the house for drying clothes; and they called
on M‘Culloch and put the tea-chest upon his back and told him to follow
Hare, but they did not tell him what was in the tea-chest, nor did he
ask them; and the declarant then went straight to Paterson’s house and
found him at home, and told him that he had sent forward a subject to
Surgeons’ Square, and he has no recollection of having seen Paterson on
the Friday or the Saturday before that time. Declares, that Paterson
and the declarant then went to Surgeons’ Square together, and they
found Hare and M‘Culloch waiting there with the tea-chest, and Paterson
opened the door of a cellar and the tea-chest was put into it: That
Paterson then went and got £5, and gave it to the declarant and Hare,
and they paid the porter and then went to their respective homes, and
the declarant on his way home met Helen M‘Dougal, and when they got
home they heard from Connoway’s wife the report of policemen having
searched the house for a dead body, and he then met with Finlay the
criminal officer, and he was apprehended and taken to the police office
as formerly mentioned; and being interrogated, declares, that he cannot
say whether the dead body he saw in the police office on Sunday the
2d current be the body referred to; and being interrogated, declares,
that he had no concern in killing the woman, or in doing any harm to
her, and he has no knowledge or suspicion of Hare or any other person
having done so; and it is his opinion, that the woman was suffocated,
by laying herself down among the straw in a state of intoxication; and
being interrogated, declares, that no violence 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 neck at all; and being specially interrogated,
declares, that no other person had any concern in the matter; and,
in particular, declares, that a young man, named John Brogan, had
no concern in it, and that Brogan came into the house on Saturday
forenoon, as he thinks, while the body was in the house, but he did not
know of its being there. And all this is truth.

    ARCHD. SCOTT.              (Signed)                WM. BURKE.
    A. M‘LUCAS.                                        G. TAIT.
    A. M‘LEAN.


                    _At Edinburgh, the 19th day of November 1828._

        In presence of GEORGE TAIT, Esq. Sheriff-Substitute of
                            Edinburghshire,

Compeared William Burke, present prisoner in the tolbooth of Edinburgh,
who being examined, declares, that he is thirty-six years of age, and
he was born in Ireland, and he came to Scotland about ten years ago,
and he is a shoemaker, and he has lived for rather more than a year in
the West Port; and the prisoner M‘Dougal resides with him; declares,
that he never saw a lad known by the name of Daft Jamie; and he does
not know of such a person having lived with Hare’s wife, before her
marriage with the prisoner William Hare, and he had no concern in
injuring such a person; and he does not know of M‘Dougal, Hare or his
wife, having done so. Interrogated, declares, that he has a brass snuff
box which he purchased about four years ago from a shearer lad at Mr.
Howden’s farm, about two miles from Tranent for sixpence, and he left
it in the Lock-up-house last Monday, when he was committed to jail;
and declares, that he had a snuff-spoon which was taken from him when
apprehended, and he purchased it for twopence in September last from
a hawker at the West Port, whose name and residence he does not know,
and being shown a brass snuff-box, and a snuff-spoon, to which a label
is attached, signed by the declarant and Sheriff, as relative hereto,
declares, that they are the snuff-box and snuff-spoon he refers to;
declares, that he gave the box to a tinsmith in the West Port, named
James, whose surname he does not know, but whose shop is next door to
Brown’s circulating library, to put a new lid upon it, and he thinks he
gave it to the tinsmith in September last, and the tinsmith kept it in
his possession some weeks; and all this is truth, &c.


                      _At Edinburgh, the 3d day of November 1828._

        In presence of GEORGE TAIT, Esq. Sheriff-Substitute of
                            Edinburghshire,

Compeared Helen M‘Dougal, at present in custody, who being examined,
declares, that she is 33 years of age, and she was born in
Stirlingshire: That she never was _married_, although she has
lived with the prisoner, William Burke, for 10 years: That about a
year ago they came to reside in Tanner’s Close, West Port; and about
three months ago they went to another house in the West Port, but she
does not know the name of the close: That a person, named John Brogie,
occupied the house in which they at present reside; but Brogie left
the house on Friday 8 days, and the declarant and Burke, who were
living with Brogie previously to his leaving the house, took possession
of it by themselves. Declares, that James Gray and his wife came to
live with Burke on Sunday the 26th of October. Declares, that the
only persons who were in the house on the night of Thursday last, the
30th of October, were Gray and his wife, and Burke and the declarant:
That Burke and the declarant arose from bed on Friday morning about
10 o’clock, and Ann Gray made breakfast for them; and when she was
making breakfast for them Burke went out, and said that he was going
to the shop, by which she understood him to mean that he was going
to get a dram, and he came in when breakfast was ready; and in about
five minutes afterwards, when they were taking breakfast, a woman came
in whom the declarant had never seen before, and who afterwards said
that her Christian name was Mary: That Mary appeared to be the worse
of liquor: That she asked leave to light her pipe at the fire; and she
then asked a little bit of soap to wash her cap, and a short-gown, and
her apron, and the declarant gave her a bit of soap, and she washed
her clothes, and Gray’s wife dried them and ironed them; and while
that was doing, she talked about having come from Ireland in quest of
her son, and soon after she came into the house she said she had got
no meat for three days, and the declarant gave her a share of their
breakfast: That Burke and Mary entered into conversation; and Burke,
upon hearing that she came from Ireland, said that he came from Ireland
too, and he did not know but she might be a relation of his mother’s.
Declares, that about 1 o’clock in the afternoon Burke brought in some
whisky and gave them a glass once round, it being the custom of Irish
people to observe Halloween in that manner: That Mary became very
impatient to go away in order to go to St. Mary’s Wynd to inquire for
her son, and she went away about 2 o’clock. Declares, that Burke had
gone out about half an hour before that and returned about 3 o’clock;
and when he came in, he mentioned that Nancy Connoway, a neighbour,
had said to him that she wondered how he could keep Gray and his wife
in the house because the noise of their quarrelling was so unpleasant
to the neighbours; and therefore he told them to go away, and never
to come back again, because he had not up-putting for them, and Gray
and his wife accordingly went away immediately. Declares, that Hare’s
wife happened to be in the house at the time, and said that she would
give them a night’s lodging, as she had a spare bed, and the declarant
supposed that they went to Hare’s, and it would be about six o’clock
when they went away: That Burke went to Hare’s house about seven
o’clock, and the declarant went about half an hour afterwards: That
when she went to Hare’s, Burke was not there, but she went to an
adjoining shop and brought him there, and they had some supper and
drink there: That the declarant then went home, and Burke followed
soon afterwards bringing some whisky with him which he had got in a
shop, and soon afterwards Hare and his wife came in, and they four
had some spirits together; and Nancy Connoway, before mentioned, came
in and had a share of the spirits: That the declarant then went to
Connoway’s house and had a dram, and then returned to her own house,
and found Hare and his wife still there: That they almost immediately
went away, but very soon returned, and Hare was very much intoxicated,
and Hare lay down in the bed and slept along with Burke all night,
and the declarant and Hare’s wife slept on the floor: That about six
o’clock in the morning Hare and his wife went away: That about seven
o’clock, Gray and his wife came in to get some clothes which they left,
and the declarant and Burke lay down in bed, and about eight o’clock
Burke rose and told Gray’s wife, who still remained in the house
along with her husband, to sort the house and get the kettle boiled,
and he himself went to a neighbouring shop for tea and sugar and bread
and butter: That when Burke came, Gray’s wife made the tea, and Gray
and his wife and Burke took breakfast together, and a young man named
John Broghan came in and got a share of it: That the declarant did not
take any of it: That after breakfast, Gray’s wife washed the floor and
cleaned the house, the declarant being in bed unwell, in consequence
of drink which she had had, and Broghan was in the house most of the
day: That Gray remained in the house all day: That Burke was sometimes
out and sometimes in, and he lay down for a short time. Declares, that
about five o’clock that afternoon the declarant sent Mrs. Gray to Mrs.
Law’s with some clothes to get mangled; and Gray and his wife left
the declarant’s house about seven o’clock to go to their lodgings,
and shortly after they so left the house, Mrs. Law came and asked
the declarant if she gave Mrs. Gray orders to get her gown: That the
declarant said she had not, and Mrs. Law then said, she was off with
it, and in a little after a girl came in and told the declarant that
a man was on the street with the declarant’s gown, and she went out
and found Gray standing at the head of Tanner’s Close with the gown
under his arm: That she got her gown from Gray, and the declarant and
Gray and his wife and Mrs. Hare had a dram together, and the declarant
left the gown in Mrs. Law’s to get mangled: That the declarant then
went home and kindled the fire, and she went out for her husband as
it was late, and after she found him they went into Connoway’s house,
where they remained for a few minutes, and Connoway told them that
Mrs. Gray had been raising a disturbance, and the declarant and her
husband were going out of Connoway’s house, when they were apprehended
by two policemen, who said that they had taken a corpse out of the
house; and, being interrogated, declares, that she did not see Mary
after two o’clock on the Friday, and, in particular, she did not see
her in the house on the Friday night. Declares, that she yesterday saw
the dead body of a woman in the Police Office, but declares that it is
not the body of the woman named Mary, because Mary had dark hair, and
the body of the woman in the Police Office had grey hair; and being
interrogated, declares, that she had no knowledge or suspicion of there
being any dead body in the house; and, in particular, of its being
under the bed, till after she was apprehended. Declares, that there
is only one bed in the house; and declares, that so far as she knows,
nothing was under the bed except a few potatoes and a little straw,
which had fallen from the bed. Being interrogated, declares, that she
had no conversation with Gray regarding a dead body; and in particular,
never promised him any money not to say any thing about a dead body;
and being shown a coarse linen sheet, a coarse pillow-case, a dark
printed cotton gown, and a red striped cotton bed-gown, to which a
label is attached, signed by the sheriff as relative hereto, declares,
that the sheet belongs to a William M‘Kinn, from whom the declarant
got a loan of it. That the pillow-case was used for containing dirty
clothes, and lay at the head of the bed as a pillow, but she never saw
the dark gown before to her knowledge. Declares, that the bed-gown is
like the one which Mary wore on the Friday, but she cannot say that
it is the same, as it is torn. Declares, that Burke had no money on
the Friday, and he had to borrow money for their breakfast on the
Saturday morning. That the declarant got 3s. from him on Saturday
night, but she does not know where he got that money; and, being
specially interrogated, declares, that she had no concern in killing
the woman Mary, or in hurting her, and does not know of Burke, or Hare,
or any other person being concerned in doing so, or in concealing the
dead body about the house, or in afterwards disposing of it. And,
being interrogated in regard to some marks of blood on the sheet and
pillow-slip, declares, that the marks upon the pillow-slip were from
her nose bleeding, in consequence of Burke having struck her; and the
blood upon the sheet proceeded from the declarant, in consequence of
her state at the time, as was known to Mrs. Gray. And all this she
declares to be truth, and that she cannot write.

    ARCHD. SCOTT.              (Signed)                G. TAIT.
    A. M‘LUCAS.
    A. MACLEAN.


                    _At Edinburgh, the 10th day of November 1828._

        In presence of GEORGE TAIT, Esq. Sheriff-Substitute of
                            Edinburghshire,

Compeared Helen M‘Dougal, present prisoner in the tolbooth of
Edinburgh, and being examined, and the declaration emitted by her
before the said Sheriff-Substitute, at Edinburgh, upon the 3d day of
November current, being read over to her, she adheres thereto. And
being interrogated, declares, that between three and four o’clock of
Friday afternoon, the woman named Mary insisted on having salt to wash
herself with, and became otherwise very troublesome, and called for tea
different times, and the declarant told her she could not be troubled
with her any longer, and thrust her out of the door by the shoulders,
and never saw her afterwards. And being interrogated, declares, That
Brogan did not bring any woman into the house. And being interrogated,
declares, That William Burke and William Hare had a slight difference
and struggle together on Friday night, as she thinks; but there was
no great noise made, and no cries of murder, so far as she heard. All
which she declares to be truth; and that she cannot write.

    ARCHD. SCOTT.              (Signed)                GEORGE TAIT.
    A. M‘LUCAS.
    A. M‘LEAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

The LORD ADVOCATE addressed the Jury in the following terms:--

_Gentlemen of the Jury._--It is now my duty to make a few remarks
on the tenor of the evidence which has been laid before you in support
of the indictment against the pannels at the bar; and, at this late
hour, when you must be exhausted with the long trial in which you
have been engaged, I shall not detain you long. Indeed, had this been
an ordinary case, I should have had great pleasure in leaving the
evidence to your own judgment, without one word of comment from me,
satisfied that, in the charge which you will receive from the Court,
before you retire, a much more luminous and impartial detail of its
substance and bearings will be given, than can be expected from one
holding the situation which I do, as Public Prosecutor. But this is a
case of no ordinary complexion; and I am, therefore, called on for some
observations, more especially, as you will be addressed on behalf of
the prisoners by my honourable and learned friends on the other side of
the bar; and it might be thought remissness on my part, if I were to
allow the evidence to go to you for a verdict, without some remarks on
its tendency, while its true effect would perhaps be impaired by the
able comments of the pannels’ counsel.

Gentlemen, it affords me peculiar satisfaction to see, in a case of
this kind, so full and formidable an array of counsel for the defence.
In all cases, the Bar of Scotland does itself honour by undertaking
the defence of the unhappy persons who are brought before this Court
accused of offences; but, in this case, I am proud and happy to see
the most distinguished among my brethren engaged in the defence of
the prisoners--coming forward and lending the strength of their great
talents and great learning spontaneously and gratuitously to these
unfortunate persons. It is for the ends of public justice that they
have done so: and it is a great consolation to me, in the discharge of
my painful duty, that the pannels, and in them the law and the country
at large, will derive all the benefit which may be looked for from
the knowledge and the eloquence of such distinguished advocates. If
an acquittal should follow the proceedings in which we have this day
been engaged, I hope it will be acknowledged that I have only done my
duty to the public, in putting these prisoners on their trial; and
should they be convicted, they will be ably defended, if they have any
defence; and the country must be satisfied that the conviction will be
just, when the defence is in the hands of counsel so eminent, and so
universally and deservedly respected.

And, Gentlemen, this aid of able counsel is of the more importance,
that 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 arises from detestation of the assassins’
deeds, and from veneration for the ashes of the dead. But I am bound
to say, that whatever may have occasioned this general excitement, or
raised it to that 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 this business;
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, Gentlemen, 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
tranquillize the public mind, when I declare I am determined to do so.
I cannot allow any collateral notions about the promotion of science
to influence me in this course; and I am fully determined that every
thing in my power shall be done to bring to light and punishment those
deeds of darkness which have so deeply affected the public mind.

Gentlemen, before I proceed to detail, which I shall do very briefly,
the evidence now laid before you in support of the indictment against
the prisoners, I must impress upon you what will be more eloquently
and emphatically told you by their counsel and the Court, that in
judging upon the only charge now under trial, you are to banish from
your minds all impressions which you may have received from any other
source than from the evidence itself. To that evidence alone you must
confine your attention--and you are not to allow yourselves to be
moved by the fact that there were other charges in the indictment of
a similar description, because these charges have now been entirely
withdrawn, for the present, from your consideration. Those charges have
been separated from that now to be tried, at the special desire of the
prisoners themselves, and to remove any ground of objection that an
impression was necessarily created to the prejudice of the prisoners.
God forbid, that I should ever in any case, pursue a criminal in a
form to the prejudice of the party accused. The pannels are accused
of murder--and the three instances that were libelled were only three
separate facts in support of that general charge. But since the
prisoners and their Counsel have made their option to be tried for each
separately, and the Court have sanctioned this course, I willingly
acquiesce in it. I must say, however, that in framing the indictment,
including all the three charges, I did so to give the pannels the
fairest chances on their trial, and for the purpose of probing to the
bottom the whole system of atrocity, a part of which I have this day
brought before you, with evidence, which, I conceive, amounts to the
most complete and convincing proof.

In going over that proof, Gentlemen, it is not necessary that I should
read over to you fully the notes of the evidence--because that will be
more ably and authoritatively done by the Court, than it can be by any
one in the situation of Public Prosecutor. I shall, therefore, content
myself with a condensed and connected reference to its import--from
which I have no doubt, you will find a verdict of guilty against the
pannels.

Gentlemen--the chain of evidence in this case is very complete, and
you can, from the testimony of the witnesses you have heard examined,
trace the poor creature who was murdered, from Mrs. Stewart’s house, in
the Pleasance, to Burke’s house, where she was bereaved of life, and
whence her body was afterwards carried, by the direction of Burke, to
Dr. Knox’s dissecting-room, in Surgeons’ Square, where Burke sold it to
the Doctor, and delivered it to his assistant. This is the essence of
the crime charged, and it is clearly established in evidence. You have
heard the evidence of Mrs. Stewart, that in the forenoon of Friday,
the 31st October last, the deceased left Mrs. Stewart’s house to go
in quest of her son. In this case there is no doubt as to the time,
for it was in the Sacrament week, and on Hallowe’en--two circumstances
which enable all the witnesses to speak positively on that point. You
have next the testimony of Charles M‘Lachlan, who lodged with Mrs.
Stewart, and who accompanied the deceased as far as his own shop in St.
Mary’s Wynd, where he parted with her, betwixt nine and ten o’clock
on the forenoon of that day. You have then the testimony of William
Noble, Mr. Rymer’s shop-boy, that she met with Burke in his master’s
shop, at an early hour in the forenoon of the same day, when he asked
her name, and struck up an acquaintance with her on hearing it, upon
a pretence that it was likely she was a kinswoman; and as she was
destitute, and seeking charity, he beguiled her to his house in the
West Port, by pretending kindness, offering her breakfast, &c. Mrs.
Connaway, who lived in the same house with Burke, saw him pass into
his apartment with the deceased in his company, about the middle of
the same day--saw her again in the evening in Burke’s company, when
jollity prevailed--dancing, and singing, and drinking; in all of which
hospitalities the deceased joined, and was in perfect health and good
spirits; and, finally, saw her go from her (Connaway’s) house into
Burke’s, about eleven o’clock the same night, in company with the
pannels and Hare and his wife. Mrs. Law corroborates a great deal of
this, and the deceased is identified by all these witnesses, so as
to leave that matter quite clear. Then, the disturbance in Burke’s
house, after the pannels, and Hares, and the deceased went into it,
is instructed by all the neighbours; and the testimony of Alston is
most important; for, in addition to the other circumstances previously
established, he proves that, betwixt eleven and twelve o’clock the
same night, he heard a riot in Burke’s house, and cries of murder and
distress, which induced him to go in search of the Police; but not
finding an officer, and the cries having ceased, he concluded the
riot to be over, and the mischief which he apprehended, to be at an
end. It is also proved, by Connaway and others, that Burke went out
in the evening, and was absent about ten o’clock, at which hour, it
is proved by Elizabeth Paterson, that Burke called, inquiring for
her brother, an assistant to Dr. Knox, Lecturer on Anatomy; and he
being from home, that Burke proceeded with the deceased, and the other
persons referred to, including the defunct, into his own apartment, at
eleven o’clock that night. There is the testimony of Gray and his wife,
that they, being temporary lodgers in Burke’s house, were requested
to go elsewhere _for that night_, and that their lodgings for
that night were provided and paid for by Burke; and they confirm many
particulars stated by the other witnesses. Then there is the testimony
of Paterson, Dr. Knox’s assistant, that Burke came to him at twelve
o’clock the same night--took him to his house, and told him he had
got a subject for the Doctor. You have the evidence of Gray and his
wife, that on Saturday the 1st November, they found lying under the
bed, the dead body of the deceased, whom they had seen the previous
night in Burke’s room, alive and in good health. There is no evidence
that she was drunk. You have the evidence of the porter who packed and
carried the dead body to Surgeons’ Square--of Paterson who received it
in a box, and paid £5 of the price to Burke and Hare--of the shop-boy
who sold the box to Burke; and thus proof of every circumstance,
except the actual fact of murdering the woman by the pannels; and then
that is supplied by the testimony of the Hares, who, no doubt, were
_socii criminis_, and who explain all the horrible details of the
perpetration of this deliberate and midnight murder. That they are
liable to suspicions as _socii criminis_, I admit; but they only
corroborate evidence which, in all its parts, would alone be sufficient
to bring home the crime to the pannels: and, however worthless these
persons may be, it is with you, gentlemen of the jury, to decide to
what measure of credibility they are entitled, when they, in this and
other particulars, give an explanation of what could only be seen by
them at the time--being an occult crime, committed in the dead of
night. When it is proved by other unexceptionable evidence that Burke
seduced this poor destitute woman into his house, on a pretext of
hospitality, she being at that time in perfect health, that he went
to a person with whom he was in the habit of dealing in dead bodies,
as anatomical subjects, at ten o’clock--went again to him at twelve
the same night, and offered him a subject--and next day carried it,
and sold for money the body of the deceased, which has been fully and
satisfactorily identified,--what conclusion can be drawn from all this
good evidence, corroborated by that of the _socii_, but that these
pannels had perpetrated the foul murder libelled, with the intent and
purpose of selling the body to be dissected, for a paltry sum of money?
I will not waste your time by going into every minute circumstance in
the proof; but it is all consistent,--reconcilable, except in the most
trivial and unimportant points, and perfectly conclusive against the
prisoner Burke. The credibility of the _socii_ will be strongly
questioned, I have no doubt, by the counsel for the defence; but giving
all proper weight to the ordinary objections in such cases, I submit
to you that the main points of the case are borne out by all the other
circumstances that are well established. In particular, I most call
your attention to the testimony of Hare, that Campbell went out into
the passage and called “Police and murder” during the scuffle betwixt
him and Burke; and that when Burke began his work of death she gave “a
screech.” This is confirmed by Mr. Alston, who providentially arrived
in the immediate vicinity at that critical time; and he depones, that
when he heard in Burke’s house the sound of a scuffle and fighting, he
also heard, first, a female voice calling “Murder” and “Police,” “For
God’s sake go for the police, for there is murder here;” and in a few
minutes he heard some person or animal give fainter cries, as if it
were choking.

This witness is above all suspicion, and corroborates Hare’s edition
of the transaction in these most material particulars; and then Burke
admits in his declaration many of the facts sworn to by the several
witnesses. He admits that he picked the deceased up in Rymer’s
shop--that she was in his apartment during the 31st October, and at
a late hour that night. He acknowledges that he administered liquor
to her, that she lost her life that night in his house, and that next
day he had her body packed up in a box and carried to Dr. Knox’s
dissecting room, after which he got money from Paterson for it. In
these circumstances, is it possible to doubt that he murdered her for
the purpose of selling her body? And even from the facts admitted by
himself, independently of all other proof, I feel myself warranted to
call on you for a verdict of guilty.--That the woman M‘Dougal, who
was not bound to him by any legal tie, was guilty art and part, and
witnessed and sanctioned the whole proceedings, is equally clear. I,
therefore, submit to you, Gentlemen of the Jury, that you ought to
give a verdict of guilty against the pannels. And if you do not give
a verdict against them, I do not think it possible that in any case I
shall ever obtain a verdict against the greatest criminals. The crime
now charged is one of unexampled atrocity--unexampled in the history
of civilized countries--and the occurrence of which, in this country,
in my time, is a circumstance which I deeply deplore.

The DEAN of FACULTY began his address to the jury at three o’clock on
Thursday morning, and at first spoke in a low tone of voice, indicating
exhaustion. He addressed the jury nearly as follows, and soon began to
speak with his wonted energy:--

Gentlemen,--It is some relief to my mind at this moment, that I shall
not have occasion to go over all the mass of evidence which has been
laid before you in support of the charge against the prisoners. We
have now been seventeen hours engaged in this trial, and, with the
exception of a short space consumed in the discussion of the point
of form, the whole of that time has been devoted to the hearing of
evidence in support of the prosecution. Such a mass of testimony must
of itself distract and press heavily upon your minds; but it shall be
my endeavour to show you, that, extensive and varied as it is, it does
not amount to that legal proof which you require, as a jury, to find a
verdict against my client; and that it is wholly destitute of force, on
the main, and indeed, the sole fact in the case--that the pannel Burke
did commit the crime of murder charged against him in this indictment.

Gentlemen, I do not stand here as the advocate of William Burke’s
character. To do so would be to insult you, and to degrade my own
profession. But I appear before you as an advocate for the great
principle of our law, under which you and I, and all of us, live and
repose in safety--the broad and general principle, that no man is to
be held guilty of any crime unless his guilt be proved by good and
unexceptionable legal evidence,--and to the benefit of this sacred
principle my client, however odious, or however abandoned he may be in
any other respect, is fully entitled in judging of the case now before
you.

The pannel, Burke, labours under great disadvantages--He is avowedly a
person who has been engaged in the loathsome and detested occupation
of procuring dead bodies for dissection; and this circumstance is
calculated to excite prejudice, and ought to guard your minds strongly
against being influenced by any feelings, except the convictions of
your understandings, and the dictates of your consciences, on a strict
and rigorous examination of the evidence which has been laid before
you. And I must warn you also against any prepossessions created by
what has appeared in newspapers, or otherwise, out of doors. Gentlemen,
laying all prejudices and extrajudicial statements aside, and guarded
only by the lights of law and of justice, you must look steadily at
your duty as jurymen--not to the many irrelevant circumstances which
have been this day sworn to, but to the evidence which has been laid
before you of a murder having, as is alleged, been committed on the
body of Campbell, and committed by my client Burke. Now, I maintain,
that of these averments there is no proof at all--for none of the
witnesses, except Hare and his wife, swear to that point--and they are
so utterly contaminated--and have such strong and obvious motives to
criminate my clients in order to screen themselves, that their evidence
is of no value whatever. They are incredible as witnesses--and they
are in this case the only witnesses. It has been said they corroborate
the other witnesses; but this cannot be the case, for there is nothing
to corroborate. There is no other evidence of the fact of the murder
charged in the indictment but their testimony; and that testimony
cannot be believed.

Gentlemen, it is the great and governing principle of our law, that
in all cases of alleged murder, the fact of murder must be proved.
In the highest species of murder, that of high treason,--that of
compassing the death of the King--the overt act must be established by
unexceptionable evidence. Constructive treason is not now recognized
in our law. In such cases the accused is covered all over with the
armour of the law; and to every other case of alleged murder the same
principle extends its protecting power. The fact of murder must here be
proved; the fact of murder by the hand of Burke--for without that fact
being established by good, credible, and unpolluted witnesses, there is
here no case, and no evidence whatever, in support of the indictment.

There are many flaws and inconsistencies in the whole of the evidence;
and Hare and his wife not only contradict each other in several
instances, but the statements of both are contradicted by other
witnesses who also contradict one another. Thus Mary Stewart swears
that Campbell left her house in the Pleasance, betwixt 7 and 8 o’clock
on the morning of Friday, 31st October, while M‘Lachlan swears that
it was between nine and ten. William Noble says it was on that Friday
morning about breakfast-time that Burke and the woman Campbell met in
his master’s shop; but Mrs. Connaway says it was mid-day when they
entered Burke’s house to breakfast, and Mrs. Law makes it two in the
afternoon. But this is nothing to the contradictory testimonies of
Hare and his wife themselves, as to the scenes in Burke’s house. Hare
swears that at the time of the scuffle the old woman went out into the
passage and cried “police,” and “murder;” but his wife swears that she
never went out of the inside door, nor cried out at all. And the wife
even contradicts herself; for at another part of the evidence she says
that Campbell did call out “murder.” Again, Hare says that when Burke
was above Campbell on the floor, and when his wife and M‘Dougal heard
the first screech, they leaped out of bed and ran into the passage; but
the wife says that she was not in the bed when Burke was lying on the
old woman, but standing between the door and the bed. And after all the
scenes which they pretend to describe with such accuracy and truth,
Hare says that he did not go to bed, but slept on a chair with his head
on the bed, the two women and Broggan being in the bed, and Broggan
being next to his aunt M‘Dougal; while the wife swears that she,
Broggan, and M‘Dougal, lay down upon the floor, and the men, Burke and
Hare, slept in the bed, the dead body being underneath it; and Broggan
gives an account of the matter differing entirely from both, for he
says that he and the men lay on the floor at the fireside, while the
two women were in bed. Then as to the proceedings of Saturday, we have
a similar tissue of contradictions. Hare swears that Burke took the
body from under the bed, and the porter helped him to put it into the
box. But M‘Culloch swears that he did not assist in putting the body
into the box--that he did not see a body at all, but _something_ in a
sheet, and that he only thought it was a body, because he saw some hair
sticking out after this something was crammed into the box. Further, as
to the settlement of the price by Paterson, we have more contradiction.
Paterson swore that he had seen both Hare and Burke dealing with Dr.
Knox about dead bodies: that he had been directed by the doctor to
divide the L.5 betwixt them to prevent them from quarreling, as they
had done formerly: that he took them to a public-house and got change,
and gave each L.2, 10s., that they left something for the porter, and
that the whole price of the body was L.8. Now Hare swears that Paterson
gave the porter 5s., and each of the others L.2, 7s. 6d., and that the
price of the subject was L.10. But Hare, on cross-examination, said it
was from Burke, not Paterson, that he got the L.2, 7s. 6d. Paterson
says that he gave each of Burke and Hare L.2, 10s. and that they
paid the porter; but the porter himself swears that it was Paterson
who paid him, so that all these witnesses, Paterson, M‘Culloch, and
Hare, prevaricate and contradict each other in the clearest and most
unequivocal manner.

Paterson, who was questioned as a person having medical and anatomical
knowledge, as to the appearance of the body, deponed, that the eyes
did not project when the subject was taken from the box, and Dr. Black
swore that the eyes were nearly started from the sockets, and he
further said that Docherty’s appearance was very much the same with
that of persons brought to the police office who had been suffocated
with drink; and he declared he was afraid to hazard an opinion whether
her death had been occasioned by violence. Dr. Christison merely stated
his opinion that it was probable she had suffered a violent death;
but there never were medical opinions on the whole so various and
inconclusive in support of a libel for murder.

These particulars in the evidence may appear trivial; but in a case of
circumstantial evidence, the most trivial circumstance is often of the
greatest importance in judging of a witness’s credibility; and when
you find among so many of the witnesses in this case such a cluster
of inconsistencies and contradictions;--when you remember the nature
of the occupations in which these witnesses are avowedly engaged, and
consider the motives by which they must be actuated, to whitewash
themselves as far as possible by inculpating the pannels, it is utterly
impossible you can give credence to their testimonies, or listen to it
for one moment as the evidence of witnesses upon which you can with a
safe conscience give a verdict against the pannels. The Dean concluded
by urging the jury to keep in mind the general principle on which the
safety of every man in society rested, and the necessity of the murder
being proved upon better evidence than that of such nefarious witnesses.

Mr. COCKBURN, for the pannel M‘Dougal, said, that in pleading her
defence, it was only necessary for him to assume what was contrary to
the fact, that the Public Prosecutor had succeeded in establishing
the guilt of the other pannel Burke; a proposition which no one would
maintain after listening to the powerful argument of his friend the
Dean of Faculty. But he would assume that the guilt of Burke was
established, and what followed? Not that the other pannel M‘Dougal had
aided and assisted in that murder, but that she fled from the scene
described by Hare, and did not even witness the atrocities of which
that monster held himself out as a willing and passive spectator.
Although it were correct and credible, it proves nothing against
M‘Dougal. But to talk of their credibility was a sporting with men’s
lives and a mockery of justice. The evidence of these miscreants could
not be received in the same manner as the evidence of an honest person.
Their character was written in characters of blood, that never could
be effaced from the recollection of those who heard their horrid
narrative. Could they conceive that an accessory to murder was worthy
of credit?--and yet the law made him an admissible witness. The man who
was the chief evidence in a trial for the crime of murder,--who had
told that he sat on a chair within a yard of the murdered and murderer,
and raised not an arm, nor uttered a cry to save the unhappy victim
calling for help and struggling with the assassin in the last agonies
of life;--which was the most guilty,--the cool, cold-blooded spectator
of the foul murder--or the actor, whose physical exertions would, in
such an awful moment, impart phrenzy to his mind? There were certain
questions which he had felt it his duty to put to Hare; but which he
warned him he need not answer unless he chose. “I asked him,” said Mr.
Cockburn, “if he had been concerned in other murders; but he declined
to answer. I asked him whether a murder was committed in his own house
in October last; and again that monster took shelter in his privilege.
In what situation was that man placed when he gave his evidence? There
were other murders hanging over his head, upon which he might be
libelled; he came from the jail and would be returned to it,--knowing
full well, that, if the case failed, he might be called upon to descend
from the witness-box, to take, along with his wife, his place at the
bar--in short, to exchange places with the pannels. And if they were
the pannels, and Burke and M‘Dougal the witnesses, then would the true
state of the case appear and the present witnesses would be proved the
guilty perpetrators. The monster had come that very day out of jail, to
which he would be again consigned if he failed to make them (the Jury)
believe his story.” He (Mr. C.) had often heard of King’s evidences, or
approvers, in crimes to which they had been accessories; but of persons
coming to give evidence with other crimes of a similar nature hanging
over their heads, the very idea was horrible. If Hare and his wife
had stood at the bar, and made a judicial confession of participation
in the crimes which they had stated from the witness-box, sentence of
conviction, legally disqualifying them, would have been recorded; but
being allowed to make their confession from the box, they were not only
freed from the crime, but cleared to the effect of being converted
into good and credible witnesses. But what could a jury think of the
evidence of the man who came forward and said, “I have been guilty of
one murder, but want to free myself from blame by impeaching another
who was not probably so guilty?” They had seen the squalid wretch--the
very picture of his revolting traffic--a visible spectacle of penury
and profligacy.

And then, as to Hare’s wife; Mr. Cockburn said he did not know whether
or not the Lord Advocate had any skill in physiognomy. Perhaps the
Lord Advocate liked her face--a good one for a King’s evidence;--but
as his Lordship’s back was towards the witness, he did not perhaps
see that woman’s face so well as he (Mr. C.) did. To him it appeared,
that on that countenance every evil passion was imprinted. She stood
in that box, with a miserable child in her arms, the blighted creature
of vice and misery; and, instead of casting upon it a look of maternal
tenderness in its distress, she evinced a harshness and brutality, and
seemed to eye it in such a manner as added to her malign aspect. He
would say, without fear of contradiction, that he never had, in the
course of his practice, seen such wretches placed in the witness box.
The learned gentleman alluded to the declarations, and said, if the
jury allowed their minds to be influenced by the statements of those
documents, the pannels would be legally murdered.

And in the conclusion of his speech, Mr. Cockburn addressed the jury
in a tone of peculiar eloquence and impressiveness: “If, Gentlemen,
(said he,) you have any doubts--you must give the pannels the benefit
of those doubts;--and after seeing the exhibition, and hearing the
testimonies of Hare and his wife this day as witnesses--good God! can
you say there are no doubts? It is the duty of the Public Prosecutor
to prove his case by good evidence. He has produced a horde of
wretches who are a pollution to any evidence. The Hares, the Grays,
the Connoways, M‘Cullochs, and Brogans, the whole host of witnesses
to every material circumstance in the proof are polluted. Talk not
of suspicions of dangers to the public--for in my mind no greater
danger can be imagined than that of a criminal verdict on doubtful and
polluted evidence. Though the town should ring with clamours and the
country resound with them, you are only called on the more strongly to
discharge your duty manfully, by the exercise of your own judgment,
and the dictates of your consciences--banishing from your minds every
prejudice, and looking well to the nature of the evidence on which
you are called to condemn a fellow-creature to death--recollecting
too, that when the public mind is agitated and disturbed, it is the
Courts of Law, and the Juries of our country, who hold in their hands
the balance of justice--and that when the storm is up, and popular
prejudice and passion rage around, the louder is the call for an
enlightened and intrepid discharge of your duty.” He concluded by
craving an acquittal of M‘Dougal from the charge made against her.

The LORD JUSTICE CLERK began his charge to the Jury at six o’clock on
Thursday morning, and finished about half-past eight. His Lordship
expressed great satisfaction at the defence having been committed to
such eminent counsel; for he could assure them (the jury) he never
had heard the defence of any individuals conducted with more zeal
and consummate ability than that of the prisoners. There was another
consideration which he was called upon to bring under their notice;
namely, to express his thorough confidence that they would divest
their minds of every impression or prejudice which might have been
raised from what they had read or heard out of doors. It would be a
matter of infinite regret, if writings or publications, or any sort
of public feeling, should for one instant affect their minds; but he
was sure they knew their duty too well, to be influenced by prejudice;
they would be guided by nothing but the facts as disclosed during the
investigation.

The evidence was partly circumstantial, and partly direct. The first
was composed of a number of minute facts and circumstances; and the
latter of the testimony of _socii_. It would be their duty,--First,
to consider the general evidence; Secondly, that of the _socii_;
and, Thirdly, the combined effect of both conjoined. From these, the
verdict, upon a fair inference drawn from a consideration of the whole,
would be made up. His Lordship then directed the attention of the Jury
to the way and manner the old woman, Campbell, had been bereaved of
life, informing them, that if they were satisfied she had not died in
consequence of violence, there would be an end of the inquiry. If they
held the contrary opinion, they would proceed to consider, whether she
had lost her life by the hands of the prisoners, or one or other of
them.

The evidence of the identity of her person was the first branch of
the investigation. His Lordship then went over the whole evidence
with great minuteness, commenting upon those parts where there were
seeming contradictions, or which had been specially alluded to by the
Public Prosecutor, or the counsel for the pannels, in the course of the
defence, but it is unnecessary to recapitulate his Lordship’s detail,
as the reader has the whole evidence itself before him.

With respect to the _socii_, his Lordship said they were entitled to
credit, if they gave a true account of the transaction of which they
spoke. He admitted they were not placed in the same situation with
persons against whom no suspicion existed; but it was the duty of
the jury to sift their evidence, and in as far as it was corroborated
by good evidence, it was entitled to such a measure of credibility as
they in their consciences thought it merited. They had been told of the
Hares being connected with other murders. With what murders they might
be chargeable, he did not know; but to a certainty, they could not be
libelled on either of the charges contained in the libel now under
trial, and which had not been sent to the jury. It was, therefore,
unfounded in law to say, that these two persons were liable to be tried
for the two murders contained in the indictment. These individuals, who
were under the protection of the Court, had been called as accomplices,
in the same manner as associates in robbery, wilful fire-raising,
and other capital crimes. With respect to M‘Dougal, his Lordship was
understood to express his opinion, that if the evidence was to be
believed, she had been an accessory before the commission of the crime,
during its commission, and after it was committed; and, upon the whole,
he considered the libel as made out against both.

The Jury then retired at half-past eight o’clock to consider their
verdict, and after an absence of fifty minutes, returned into Court and
gave in the following verdict by their chancellor, WILLIAM MACFIE,
ESQ.




                               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 Lords assoilzie the pannel, Helen M‘Dougal, simpliciter, and
dismiss her from the bar.

The LORD ADVOCATE having moved for the sentence of the Court,

Lord MEADOWBANK bank gave his opinion nearly in the following
terms:

My Lords, after a trial of unexampled length--protracted to nearly
twenty-four hours--a trial in which the minds of your Lordships have
been exerted to the uttermost, it would be improper in me to detain
the Court with commenting on the circumstances of this most atrocious
case; and I feel that it is quite impossible for any one who has
attended to the proceedings on this trial, to think that we have any
thing left to do, but to go through with the distressing duty which
is now fallen to your Lordships to perform. But it is impossible,
in considering the whole circumstances of this distressing case,
not to advert to that extraordinary--that most unexampled, and that
atrocious system, which every one must feel has been developed by
the evidence that has been brought forward. I am sure, and I speak
in the presence of your Lordships, who can correct me if I am wrong,
that in the whole history of the country--I may say, in the history
of civilized society--nothing has ever been exhibited that is, in any
respect, parallel to this case. Murders have been committed before
now; crimes of all descriptions have unhappily been too common; but we
had flattered ourselves that our county was, in a great measure, free
from the stigma of any great or heinous atrocity committed within its
bounds. That there should have been found, therefore, not one but many
leagued and combined together, in order to sacrifice their unoffending
fellow-creatures, for the wretched purpose of disposing of their
bodies, is, to the last degree, humiliating. The very announcement of
such a system is sufficient to raise ideas of horror which it would
be vain to search for words adequately to express. When I take a view
of the other features of this case, it exhibits a picture of iniquity
which the greatest stretch of imagination can hardly take in, yet
it was so clearly brought in proof, that, I am sure, it must carry
conviction to every one who heard the evidence. It is proved that the
prisoner, in going up the street after some of his usual avocations in
the morning, fell in with the poor unprotected old woman, with whom, it
is quite clear, that he was perfectly unacquainted before. Now began
his arrangements for ensnaring his victim. With the immediate feeling
upon him of the object which he had in view, he claims kindred with
her by a fictitious name; and by pretences of kindness endeavours to
gain on her affections. He entices her into his own house, and there
continued his friendship to her, insomuch that she expressed gratitude
to Mrs. Connoway for the kindness with which he had treated her. He
thus contrives so far to attain his object, that she seems to have
opened her affection and confidence to him--she looked to him for
protection--she felt he had dealt kindly with her--she refused to
enter the house until he entered with her. She did enter with him.
A struggle, or pretended struggle, ensued; and, when I recollect
that the moment she fell that struggle ended, I cannot rationally
entertain a doubt that it was feigned, and got up for the purpose of
entrapping her, and throwing her off her guard. What did the individual
to whom she looked for protection now do? She is thrown down, and he,
with the atrocity of a demon, instantly throws himself upon her, and
extinguishes life in a few moments. I do not state this with any view
whatever of exciting the feelings, or aggravating indignation against
the unhappy prisoner, but really when such a system of crime, in
which there are many actors, is developed in the midst of this great
metropolis, I cannot resist stating the impression which it has made
upon my mind as one of the most monstrous exhibitions of atrocity ever
disclosed in the annals of criminal jurisprudence in this or any other
country. Sitting as I do in this place, there is little occasion to
advert to certain matters that were pointed at, and eloquently pointed
at, in the course of the defence. I will only observe, that with
matters of science we have nothing to do. We have nothing to do but to
administer the law as handed down to us, and God forbid that the claims
of science, or of philosophy, or of speculation of any kind, shall
prevent us from feeling the horror which such offences are naturally
calculated to excite. With respect to the issue to the prisoner, your
Lordships are aware that that issue must be death. The highest law has
said, “Thou shalt not kill--thou shalt do no murder;” and the law of
this country says, that he who commits murder shall suffer death. The
prisoner must have considered that he was committing the high crime of
murder. In his breast, as in the breast of every one, must be implanted
that feeling, that murder was the most heinous of crimes. There is no
doubt that it is the duty of the Court to pronounce sentence on the
prisoner; and I now suggest that he be detained in the Tolbooth of
Edinburgh, and that he suffer death on the scaffold on the 28th day of
January next, and his body be given for dissection.

Lord MACKENZIE expressed his concurrence.

The LORD JUSTICE CLERK then addressed the prisoner nearly as
follows:--William Burke, you now stand convicted by the verdict of
an intelligent and respectable Jury, of the atrocious murder charged
against you in the indictment, upon evidence which could not leave a
doubt of your guilt on the mind of any one who heard it. I so fully
concur in the view which has been so eloquently given by my learned
brother, of the nature of the offence, that I will not occupy the
time of the Court with commenting on it. A crime more atrocious, a
more cold-blooded, deliberate, and systematic preparation for murder,
and the motive so paltry, was really unexampled in the annals of the
country. It is now my duty to inform you, that if ever it was clear
beyond all possibility of a doubt, that the sentence would in any case
be carried into full execution, this is the case. You may rest assured
that you have no chance of pardon; and I now would solemnly warn you to
prepare your mind in the most suitable manner to appear in a very short
time before the throne of Almighty God, to answer for this crime, and
for every other with which you stand chargeable in your own conscience.
The necessity of repressing crimes of this nature precludes the
possibility of your entertaining the slightest hope of a remission of
your sentence. The only doubt I have in my mind is, whether to satisfy
the violated laws of your country and the voice of public indignation,
your body ought not to be exhibited in chains, to bleach in the winds,
in order to deter others from the commission of similar offences. But,
taking into consideration that the public eye would be offended by so
dismal a spectacle, I am willing to accede to a more lenient execution
of your sentence, and that your body should be publicly dissected. I
trust that if it is ever customary to preserve skeletons, yours will
be preserved, in order that posterity may keep in remembrance your
atrocious crimes. I earnestly advise you to lose no time in humbling
yourself in the sight of God, and that you will seek the aid of the
ministers of religion, to whatever profession you may belong. The
present charges having been fully established against you, it is my
duty to inform you that you have but a few days to remain on the earth.
His Lordship then pronounced, with due solemnity, the sentence of the
law, which was recorded in the following terms:




                               SENTENCE.


The Lord Justice Clerk and Lords Commissioners of Justiciary, in
respect of the verdict before recorded, decern and adjudge the said
William Burke, pannel, to be carried from the bar back to the Tolbooth
of Edinburgh, therein to be detained, and to be fed on bread and
water only, in terms of an act of Parliament passed in the 25th year
of the reign of His Majesty King George the Second, entitled “an
Act for preventing the horrid crime of murder,” until Wednesday the
twenty-eighth day of January next to come, and upon that day to be
taken furth of the said tolbooth to the common place of execution in
the Lawnmarket of Edinburgh, and then and there, between the hours of
eight and ten o’clock before noon of the said day, to be hanged by the
neck by the hands of the common executioner upon a gibbet until he be
dead, and his body thereafter to be delivered to Dr. Alexander Munro,
Professor of Anatomy in the University of Edinburgh, to be by him
publicly dissected and anatomized, in terms of the said act, and ordain
all his moveable goods and gear to be escheat and inbrought to His
Majesty’s use, which is pronounced for doom.

                           (Signed)      D. BOYLE,
                                         A. MACONOCHIE,
                                         J. H. MACKENZIE.

Counsel for the Crown, the LORD ADVOCATE, ROBERT DUNDAS, Esq.,
ARCHIBALD ALISON, Esq., and ALEXANDER WOOD, Esq., Advocate Deputies,
JAMES TYTLER, Esq., Crown Agent.

Counsel for Burke, Sir JAMES W. MONCRIEFF, Bart., Dean of Faculty,
PATRICK ROBERTSON, MARK NAPIER, and DAVID MILNE, Esqrs.

Counsel for M‘Dougal, HENRY COCKBURN, DUNCAN M‘NEIL, HUGH BRUCE, and
GEORGE PATTON, Esqrs.

Agent for both pannels, JAMES BEVERIDGE, Esq. W. S. one of the agents
for the poor.

We understand that the learned counsel above named, all very handsomely
gave their services to the prisoners gratuitously.

       *       *       *       *       *

Having thus given a faithful account of the judicial proceedings
in this important trial, it will not, we trust, be an unacceptable
supplement if we subjoin some particulars connected with it, which
might indeed have been interwoven in the progress of the foregoing
report, but which would have only incumbered the technical details that
are, of course, most interesting. To these particulars we may add
such other facts connected with the nefarious system of murder which
had been organized among us as have transpired since the trial; and
in an affair which has excited the most extraordinary sensation ever
perhaps known in Scotland, in reference to crimes of a private nature,
it seems desirable not only to give a complete and connected account of
them, but to collect and embody along with it, in a single record, the
various expressions of public feeling, as these have come forth through
the press in all parts of the country.

       *       *       *       *       *

From the whole evidence there appears scarce the shadow of a doubt
that Helen M‘Dougal was equally involved with the other in this scheme
of systematic murder. She did not put forth her hands because this
was not the part which she was best fitted to perform; but that she
was privy to what was about to take place is clearly made out, by her
reluctance to part with the woman Campbell, evidently from the fear
of losing her prey; and that she was an accessary after appears from
what she said to the Grays, that if they would conceal what they saw,
it would be worth to them L.10 a week. This is proved by the testimony
of those witnesses, which is above all challenge. That it should have
been necessary to set at liberty a wretch of this description, stained
with such foul crimes, to begin anew her career of iniquity, cannot be
sufficiently regretted.

  [Illustration: HELEN M‘DOUGAL
  as she appeared at the Bar,
  taken in Court

  _Published by Thomas Ireland Jun^r, Edin^r._]

We may mention also as a singular instance of the obliquity of the
human understanding, or at least of the effect produced upon some
by the Dean of Faculty’s powerful speech for Burke, that two of the
Jury by whom he was tried were of opinion that the Prosecutor had not
made out his case against that unhappy man, and consequently were
for returning a verdict of Not Proven in his case as well as that of
M‘Dougal. No one who attended to the evidence as it was led, or who has
examined it since, has been able to discover upon what ground such a
verdict was returned even in the case of the female pannel; but had the
opinion of these two gentlemen prevailed, and the charges against Burke
been found not proven, Justice might have thrown away her balance and
broken her sword, and the Prosecutor might well have despaired of ever
again obtaining a verdict upon a charge of murder. Happily nothing so
utterly monstrous as this occurred. Justice has received one victim,
but she will not be satisfied with this solitary sacrifice. Others
yet remain to be claimed, whose hands are dyed in blood, and whose
criminality is not either in law or in morality inferior to that of the
unhappy man whose days are numbered, and who is doomed to expiate his
manifold crimes on the scaffold.

The intense sensation which has been excited among all classes by this
extraordinary case, far exceeds what we have ever witnessed on any
former occasion. The story, when it was first rumoured, created the
deepest agitation. But it was treated by many as an idle tale, framed
to feed the vulgar appetite for the marvellous, and too horrible to be
believed. Nor need we wonder that the most credulous should have been
startled by the recital of such atrocious cruelty, which far surpasses
any thing that is usually found in the records of crime. The offence of
murder, dreadful as it is, is unhappily too familiar in our criminal
proceedings; but such an artfully contrived and deliberate scheme,
such a systematic traffic in blood, was certainly never before heard
of in this country. It is a new passage in our domestic history; it is
entirely out of the ordinary range of iniquity; and stands by itself,
a solitary monument of villany, such as would almost seem to mark an
extinction in the heart of all those social sympathies which bind man
to his fellow-men, and even of that light of conscience which awes the
most hardened, by the fear of final retribution. In works of fiction,
no doubt, where the writer, to produce effect, borrows the aid of his
imagination, we have accounts of such deeds, perpetrated, perhaps, in
the secret chambers of some secluded castle, or in the deep recesses of
some lone and sequestered haunt. But the striking and awful peculiarity
of the present case is, that we have laid open, not in the high-wrought
scenes of romance, but in the sober records of judicial inquiry, a
den of murderers in the very bosom of civilized society, in the heart
of our populous city, amid the haunts of business and the bustle of
ordinary life, who have been, if we may so speak, living on their
fellow-creatures as their natural prey. Words would fail to convey an
idea of the sensation that was excited in the Court as in the progress
of the trial the horrid details of this conspiracy were gradually
unfolded; the craft by which the unhappy woman was lured to her
destruction; the artful preparations for the bloody tragedy; and the
cool decision and ferocity with which, when the fitting time was come,
the murderer sprung upon his victim and extinguished life in a few
moments. At every new view of this unhappy story, it assumes a deeper
dye. What a fearful character does it present of cunning and violence,
the true ingredients of villany! From first to last we see the same
master spirit of iniquity at work to contrive and to execute. We see
no doubt, no wavering, no compunctious visitings of the conscience,
nor any soft relenting; but a stern deliberation of purpose, that is
truly diabolical; and it is fearful to reflect, that a person capable
of such crimes should have been so long haunting our streets, mixing in
society, and coolly selecting subjects for his sanguinary trade.

Among the other peculiarities of the present case, we may remark, that
such acts of savage atrocity are rather out of place in so civilized
a community as that in which we live. They are not in unison with the
moral tone of society. Crimes of violence are the natural product of
barbarism. They grow up to frightful maturity in that congenial soil;
and all savage communities are accordingly distinguished by cruelty,
and the most profligate indifference to human life. As mankind improve,
and as knowledge is diffused, those crimes disappear, and are succeeded
by others sufficiently odious, no doubt, but still of a less atrocious
nature. The same process by which we cultivate the intellectual
faculties would seem also to open the heart to more humane sentiments
and to more kindly feelings. But however we may improve society and
diffuse instruction, there is still a vast expanse of ignorance,
poverty, and vice, which we may lessen by active efforts, but which we
cannot altogether remove, and it is in this intellectual desert, if
we may so speak, where nothing that is humane, enlightened, or moral,
ever springs up to refresh the eye, that crimes are produced. Under
the influence of ignorance all the best affections of the human heart
wither and lie dead; and it is chiefly from those who are within its
sphere, that the ranks of crime are recruited; and that, occasionally,
such wretches arise as Burke or Hare, or their female associates, who
distance all competitors in iniquity, and shock the feelings of the
age by their enormous crimes. It will generally be found that these
criminals are not only wicked and immoral, but that they are uneducated
and grossly ignorant; living, no doubt, in a civilized community, and
with certain habits of civilization that they cannot avoid, but still
in respect to mental cultivation, scarcely, if at all, raised above the
level of savages. Hence the vast importance to society of spreading
knowledge, of bringing all ranks under some process of mental tuition,
and of establishing schools where instruction and morality, for they
go together, are retailed at a cheap rate. It is only in this way that
we can ensure the decrease of crimes; and more especially of such
atrocious crimes as have been recently perpetrated.

In the course of this trial, some allusion was made to the interests
of science, to which, in the impressive address of Lord Meadowbank,
previous to passing sentence, there is a conclusive reply, and we would
only remark, that the more this subject is agitated, the greater will
be the prejudice excited; nor can any law be made that would be of
the least service. The subject, involving as it does so many critical
considerations, is far too delicate to be touched by act of Parliament;
besides, that the popular ferment, that would thereby be raised,
would multiply the present difficulties tenfold. We cannot possibly
comprehend how Parliament could interfere in this matter, or how any
act could be framed to make that legal which is at present illegal.
Science, in short, may be injured, but it cannot possibly be benefited
by any public agitation of the subject.

       *       *       *       *       *

During the whole course of the trial Burke maintained the most
perfect self-possession and tranquillity, even when some parts of the
evidence that made others shudder came out against him. He conversed
occasionally with M‘Dougal, and more than once we saw him smile at such
parts of the testimonies as probably appeared to him not to be “the
whole truth.”

In the course of his trial we understand that Burke, about four
o’clock, asked when he would get dinner, and being informed it would
be about six, he begged that he might have a biscuit or two, as he
would lose his appetite before that time. Both pannels ate bread and
soup heartily; and although they displayed no external marks of inward
emotion, they frequently, especially the woman, took copious draughts
of water.

Before the jury retired, and during the time they were enclosed, Burke
endeavoured to prepare the mind of M‘Dougal for her fate, as, from
the address of the Lord Justice Clerk, he supposed she would be found
guilty; in the view of which he gave her directions how she should
conduct herself, desiring her to look at and observe him when the Lord
Justice Clerk was pronouncing sentence. When the jury returned with
their verdict, they mentioned first that they found the libel against
M‘Dougal Not Proven. He was immediately heard coolly to exclaim,
“Nelly, you are out of the scrape.” After the Lord Justice Clerk’s
address to him he was very anxious that permission should be given to
M‘Dougal to remain a day or two in the Lock-up-house, for her personal
protection.

The advocates for the Crown and the pannels spoke in their addresses
to the jury nearly six hours; and, altogether, the trial was one of
the most interesting we ever witnessed, by the horrors which the
investigation disclosed, by the intense interest which pervaded the
whole assemblage, and by the picturesque and singular appearance of
the scene. This was not a little heightened by the expedient to which
the greater part of the audience were obliged to resort for self
preservation against the inclemency of the weather. By orders from the
Court a large window was thrown open as far as it could be done, and a
current of cold damp air beat, for twenty-four hours, upon the heads
of the whole audience. How far this was necessary or considerate we
presume not to say; and we trust no fatal consequences will ensue; but
we must be permitted to express a hope that some plan will be adopted
for preventing a repetition of a similar occurrence--such an occurrence
as last winter, on Mrs. Smith’s trial, endangered the life of one of
our most valuable and esteemed advocates. In the present instance, the
greater part of the audience being Advocates and Writers to the Signet
in their gowns, these were wrapped round their heads, and, intermingled
with various coloured handkerchiefs in every shade and form of drapery,
which gave to the visages that were inshrouded under them, such a
grim and grisly aspect as assimilated them to a college of monks or
inquisitors, or characters imagined in tales of romance,--grouped and
contrasted most fantastically with the costume of the bench and crowded
bar engaged in the trial.

The personal appearance of Burke and M‘Dougal has been already
mentioned; and that of Hare has also been described in terms
sufficiently glowing by the Counsel for M‘Dougal. Hare is indeed one
of the most squalid-looking wretches we have ever seen; and when he
gave his evidence, he had a sinister expression in his look which
made his presence peculiarly revolting. After being warned not to
answer any questions which might criminate himself, except with
regard to the murder of Docherty, instead of answering Mr. Cockburn’s
interrogatories, he repeatedly gave a silent diabolical nod with his
head; and on his way from the witness-box to the Lock-up-house in
the custody of the macer, he had a look of evident satisfaction in
his imagined escape; and he even chatted and conducted himself with
the most hardened levity. He repeatedly, when giving his evidence,
distinguished Docherty by the contemptuous appellation of “the old
wife.” His appearance betokens the greatest effrontery, while
it is altogether that of a low blackguard; and all his demeanour
fully justifies Mr. Cockburn’s account of him as an embodiment of
“penury and profligacy.” His wife is a short, stout, round-faced and
fresh-complexioned personage, but withal has a look of coarse and
determined brutality, fitting her to be a suitable consort to such
a mate. From their demeanour and aspect it is perhaps less to be
marvelled at that some of the jury, led away also by the eloquence of
the Dean of Faculty and Mr. Cockburn, should have been unwilling to
convict even Burke on the testimony of such wretches to whom falsehood
seemed more familiar than truth.

The honest Irishman Gray, and his wife, to whom alone the public are
indebted for the disclosure of this base murder, and the exposure
of the gang of miscreants engaged in this trade of blood, forms an
interesting contrast to the party with whom their miseries made them
for a time bed-fellows. And when it is known, that in addition to the
temptation for concealment which their poverty and the promised reward
for secrecy supplied, there was the additional one of screening a near
relation, their honesty assumes a higher character. Hitherto they have
not met with the applause nor the reward to which their integrity
and valuable services entitle them. They both gave their testimony
with a clearness and precision, and in a manner which bespoke a clear
conscience, and no one could see and hear them without sympathising
sincerely with these poor but honest people, whose destitution
subjected them and their child to repose on the bloody bed of straw,
on which perhaps they were destined, at no distant period, to have
perished, if they had not been providentially the means of bringing
those hidden deeds to light. It has been well observed, that the
fiendish gang gave a powerful though unwilling testimony to their
uncorrupted honesty when they found it necessary to put them out of the
way until their deeds of darkness were perpetrated.[2]

       *       *       *       *       *

Blame has sometimes been cast upon the periodical press for raising a
popular excitement by exaggerated statements. In this case, no such
charge could be made. The press, up to the time of the trial, remained
nearly silent, and the dreadful and revolting crimes then divulged
were beyond the conceptions almost of the most fertile imagination.
Popular feeling was however excited; and the interest universally
expressed, has seldom been equalled in intensity. At an early hour
in the morning, the avenues to the Court were crowded; judicious
arrangements had been made for the jurymen, witnesses, and those who
were concerned, procuring admittance by private entrances; and due
precautions used to prevent a rush and inconvenient crowding into the
Court. Still, however, the court-room, which is small, was excessively
crowded; and although very few were suffered to pass the cordons of
policemen, who guarded the approaches, it continued in this state
till the result was known. The usual good nature and sympathy towards
a criminal were laid aside in this instance, and a universal desire
seemed to pervade all classes, that both pannels should be convicted,
and a regret that Hare also and his guilty partner could not share the
same fate. All day, the streets in the neighbourhood of the Parliament
Square were thronged by anxious groupes, who eagerly questioned those
proceeding from the Court as to the progress of the trial, and their
reports speedily found their way to the remotest parts of the city.
The imperfect rumours of the objection made to the relevancy of the
indictment, and the subsequent account of its being confined to one
charge, seemed to create a fear that the criminals were about to
elude the grasp of the law on some technical grounds. Had such been
the case, a popular tumult from the reckless, unthinking part of the
assemblage appeared an inevitable consequence. Towards the evening, the
numbers increased; and about nine o’clock, a gang of blackguard men
and boys proceeded to Dr. Knox’s class-room, in Surgeons’ Square, for
the purpose of destruction. By this time the high constables, and the
other bodies of constables, joined to the ordinary police force, were
in readiness, and the steady front that was exhibited quickly induced
the assailants to withdraw. Some of the mob proceeded to the college,
and broke a few panes of glass in the windows of Dr. Monro’s class-room
and the neighbouring rooms; but the arrival of a party of constables
and policemen speedily stopped their proceedings here also. During
part of the night, the concourse continued; but as the inclemency of
the weather continued, and the night advanced, without bringing a
prospect of a speedy conclusion, the people gradually dispersed. The
hour to which the proceedings were protracted, allowed time for them to
reassemble next morning, and with renewed patience wait the conclusion.
Hasty inquiries about the result were made by those citizens who had
spent the night comfortably in bed, and were now proceeding to their
places of business, of those coming from the direction of the Court,
and whose jaded and pale appearance betokened that they had either
been employed in some capacity, or had been so fortunate as to obtain
a hearing of the interesting proceeding at the expense of a night’s
rest. The citizens of Edinburgh are by no means blood-thirsty, and,
on ordinary occasions, would rejoice to learn that a fellow-being had
escaped the fearful death that the law adjudges to great criminals; but
in this case there was expressed a universal feeling of satisfaction,
and if at all alloyed, it was by the knowledge that the woman, who was
considered equally guilty, should not have been equally punished. It
seemed as if the enormity of their offences had stopped the channels of
pity, and an unanimous requisition for vengeance was made by a whole
population.

The offices of the newspapers published on that day were beset by eager
purchasers, and the presses kept constantly at work could scarcely
supply the unceasing demand. It has been computed, that eight thousand
copies, in addition to their ordinary circulation, were sold in one
week by the Edinburgh newspapers alone.

A general outcry has been raised for the blood of the miscreant Hare,
and if he, who is believed to have been the author and principal
actor in so many murders, be suffered to escape, it will be to the
disappointment of the public; every confidence, is, however, felt in
the Lord Advocate. He, it is understood, is still actively prosecuting
his inquiries, and as long as the ruffian and his wife are detained
in custody, hopes are cherished that it is with a view of putting
them upon their trial. Discussions have taken place as to the policy
and legality of such a course, some of which will be found in the
subsequent parts of this work. It is not our part to decide upon the
question, but apparently nothing will allay the public ferment until
either a resolution to sift the matter regarding them to the bottom be
promulgated, or some official annunciation of its impracticability be
made public.




                       CONDUCT IN LOCK-UP-HOUSE.

After the trial, Burke and M‘Dougal were removed to the Lock-up-house;
Hare and his wife followed, and were lodged in different apartments.
Burke had hardly been seated, when looking round, he said to the
officers who had him in charge, “this is a ---- cold place you have
brought me till.” The officers had been long inured to moral turpitude,
to bacchanalian frenzy, and wickedness of every description; but lying,
as he then was, under sentence of an ignominious death, for a crime of
unparalleled atrocity, his unseemly levity struck them with horror,
and one of them rebuked him sharply for his conduct. Burke stated,
that from the moment he heard that Hare had been admitted an evidence,
he was aware that escape was impossible, and he was prepared for the
worst. It was stated to him, that as he had for some time lived a
life of unexampled wickedness, a fair confession of his crimes, and
an accurate account of his life, might be read with interest, and be
of service to mankind; he replied that he would make no confession
whatever till he had consulted his priest on the subject. He stated,
that he considered Hare was the most guilty of the two; for, said he,
“he murdered the first woman, he persuaded me to join him, and now he
has murdered me, and I will regret to the last hour of my existence
that he did not share the same fate.” One of the officers stated, in
Burke’s hearing, “I think I could never wish to see that man forgiven
who could murder that poor harmless good-natured idiot, Daft Jamie.”
Here the wretched man stared intently on the officer, and replied with
peculiar emphasis, “My days are numbered--I am soon to die by the hands
of man--I have no more to fear, and can now have no interest in telling
a lie, and I declare 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 in so far, for I assisted to carry the
body to ----, and got a share of the money.”

He stated, in answer to direct questions of course, that it was the
general plan to look after poor and wretched strangers, who were not
likely to be inquired after by any person of consequence; but promptly
refused to state, till he had consulted his priest, whether or not he
had been concerned in any other murders than those with which he was
charged in the indictment, or whether he was in the practice of going
to the country for the purpose of enticing poor wanderers to his house.
He gave rather a different account of the mode in which he put the poor
woman Campbell to death, from that given by his accomplice Hare. He
stated, that after the sham fight was over, she was thrown down on her
back; that Hare seized her by the legs; that he forced the mouth of a
bottle into her throat, and poured down whisky till she was choaked
or nearly so, and that he himself then sat down upon her, stopping
up her nose and mouth so completely that she died in a few minutes.
About three o’clock, he inquired if he might be permitted to offer up
a short prayer; his request was instantly granted, and the unhappy
man prayed with great fervour for a few minutes. In the course of his
prayer, he implored forgiveness for the wicked life he had led, and
more especially for the great crime for which he was about to suffer
on the gibbet. He also entreated that his wretched partner in guilt
might be brought to a full sense of the crimes of which she had been
guilty,--that she might repent, and atone, as far as it was in her
power to do so in this world, by a life of quietness, piety, and honest
industry. At his request, the officer read about half a dozen chapters
of the Scriptures, to which he paid great attention, occasionally
saying, “That passage touches keenly on my crimes.” When preparations
were making for his removal to the jail on the Calton-hill, he
requested the officers to visit him in the prison. On being informed
that there would be no admittance to him, he said, “Well, well, though
I should never see you again, you will see me on the 28th January, at
the head of Libberton’s Wynd. I have now only five weeks to live, and
I will not weary greatly for that day.” While in the Lock-up-house, he
expressed the greatest dread of the heavy irons in the condemned cell.
On reaching the jail, however, he was secured in the usual way, and
every possible precaution will be used lest he should in some degree
defeat the ends of justice by suicide, and add self-destruction to the
appalling list of murders to which he has been accessary. No person
has since been permitted to hold any conversation with him, except
his spiritual instructors. Though he has been brought up in the Roman
Catholic faith, and has intimated his resolution to die a member of
the church, in a belief of whose principles he has been educated, he
receives the visits of the Rev. Messrs. Porteous and Marshall, with
the same pleasure he does those of the Rev. Gentlemen of his own
persuasion. He pays due attention to their exhortations--reads the
Bible or some religious book constantly in their absence, and is making
every preparation for the great and awful change which he must soon
undergo.

       *       *       *       *       *

The woman M‘Dougal, upon her release from the Lock-up-House, in which
she had been detained for two days for her personal protection, had the
audacity or folly to proceed to her old haunts in the West Port, and
even to venture to the street. She was quickly recognised, and a mob
collecting, was in danger of being roughly handled. Fortunately for
her, the proximity of the place to the police watch-office, enabled
protection to be immediately afforded, and with some difficulty she
was conveyed to the watch-house. The mob increased to a somewhat
alarming size for the slender force that was stationed there, and the
officers had to resort to an expedient to prevent an assault. A ladder
was placed at a back window, by which it was pretended that she had
descended; this induced the populace to depart, when she was escorted
to the head office. Since then she has been several times exposed to
similar danger, and as often rescued by the police officers. Finding
the lower classes too much exasperated to allow her to live in safety
in Edinburgh, she left it, and proceeded to the village of Redding in
Stirlingshire, where her father is now settled. It is said that she
has since left that village, and is living in Glasgow with Constantine
Burke.

On Sunday, after her confinement in the Lock-up as formerly detailed,
this wretched woman related a horrible, but a plausible story, to one
of the subalterns of authority. She stated, that one night Burke and
Hare were carousing in one of the apartments of Hare’s human shambles,
on the profit of a recent murder. In the midst of their unhallowed
orgies, Hare raised his hand, and in a fit of fiendish exultation,
stated that they could never want money, for, when they were at a loss
for “a shot,” (a body for dissection,) they would murder and sell,
first one and then the other of their own wives. Being in the adjoining
apartment, the females overheard, and were petrified by this horrible
resolution, as they had every reason to be assured that the monsters
would certainly carry it into effect. A discussion of some length
ensued, and Hare finally succeeded in persuading Burke to consent,
that when the dreaded emergency did arrive, M‘Dougal should be the
first victim. Hence, this woman may be supposed to have run as imminent
a risk of a violent death by the hands of her inhuman husband, as she
did of an ignominious end on the gallows.

       *       *       *       *       *




                           ANOTHER ACCOUNT.

When Burke was removed from the Court-room to the Lock-up house, he was
considerably agitated, and throwing himself upon his knees, addressed
a prayer to God, whom he had so grievously offended. During the rest
of the day he was composed, and even spoke cheerfully to the policeman
who had the charge of him. He expressed his joy at the acquittal of
M‘Dougal. He also said that the Irishwoman was murdered, not by him,
but by Hare, in the manner described in Hare’s testimony; but admitted
that, during the shocking operation he held her hands. He confessed
that he had participated in many more murders than those he had been
indicted for; and said, that after his mind was composed, he would
make disclosures which would implicate several others besides Hare and
his wife, in the same crimes as those for which he was doomed to die.
He was asked how did he feel when he was pursuing his most horrible
avocation? He replied, that in his waking moments he had no feeling,
but that when he slept he had frightful dreams, which previously he had
been unaccustomed to. The fact is, that when awake, by means of ardent
spirits, he steeped his senses in forgetfulness; and his excessive use
of spirits accounts for his absolute penury at the time of his being
apprehended. He expressed a wish that one of his Counsel, whom he
mentioned, would call upon him, that he might furnish him with notes
of his life and adventures, as he was desirous to have his history
published. At night he had short fits of sleep, during which he raved,
but his expressions were inarticulate, and he grinded his teeth in the
most fearful manner. Whenever he awoke he was in a frantic state, but
always recovered his composure; and in the course of the evening he
read two chapters of the Bible. At two o’clock on Friday morning he was
removed in a coach to the Calton Hill Jail, and put upon the gad.

       *       *       *       *       *




                           CONDUCT IN JAIL.

Burke since he went to Jail has been remarkably composed and devout.
He has observed that he is by no means a bigot in religion; that
besides Popish churches, he had, when a soldier, attended Presbyterian,
Episcopalian, and Methodist ones, with the peculiar tenets of all which
he appears to be perfectly conversant. He says that he has received
instruction from good men of every faith; and that “real repentance and
a strong belief,” are sufficient to ensure salvation.

He mentioned at first that he would wish to have a clergyman to attend
him; and upon being asked of what persuasion he would like him to be,
expressed indifference upon that point, but wished only one who would
point out the way to salvation. He received the visits of the Reverend
Mr. Marshall, minister of the Tolbooth Church, with whose ministrations
he expressed himself much satisfied, and of the Reverend Mr. Porteous,
chaplain of the Jail. One day Mr. Marshall, and the Reverend Mr.
Stuart, Catholic priest, called to see him; and upon being asked which
he would wish to converse with, he replied that he would have both; he
has also received visits from the Reverend Bishop Paterson, and the
Reverend Mr. Reid, Catholic priests; latterly, since the visits of
clergymen of his own persuasion, he has declined those of Mr. Marshall,
and they have consequently been discontinued. Whether it be that the
horrors of his wretched death have been mitigated in the contemplation
by the familiarity with it, which time must produce after the first
shuddering sensations have passed away and left a comparatively
apathetic calmness, certain it is, that he now displays less concern
about the sin than he did during the first few days; he is penitent
because his crimes have been detected and punishment awarded; but were
not this the case, in all probability he would think little of the
heinousness of the offences.

He continues to be particularly anxious that his associate Hare should
be brought to trial, and receive the punishment he merits for his
misdeeds, but asserts that it is not from any vindictive or revengeful
feeling that he cherishes towards him, but from motives of humanity.
When conversing lately upon the subject, he stated his perfect
conviction, that if Hare should again be let loose upon society, he
would recommence his murderous career when he wanted money; at the same
time he declared that he was afraid the spirits of his future victims
would reproach him in the regions of bliss, for not having taken means
to get Hare executed, and thereby preventing their violent and untimely
deaths.

A day or two after conviction he sent his watch and what money he
possessed to M‘Dougal; and when informed that his mission was executed,
expressed satisfaction, and observed, “poor thing it is all I have to
give her, it will be of some use to her, and I will not need it.” He
speaks in terms of great affection towards her, and anticipates that
she will be allowed to have an interview with him before he suffers.

He is free and communicative to those who are necessarily about him,
though strangers coming from motives of curiosity are excluded. Had
liberty been afforded to the turnkeys to admit those who came, they
might have cleared a handsome sum: so much as two guineas has been
offered for admittance. He is watched day and night: and throughout
the night it is ascertained every half hour that the watchman does not
slumber at his post. Any thing by which self-destruction could possibly
be effected is sedulously kept out of his way.

He is afflicted with a cancer which has been incorrectly stated to
have been produced by a bite from Daft Jamie. It is of long standing,
and distresses him much, and would, in all probability, have ended his
days at no distant period, if he had escaped the gallows; and there is
little doubt that Hare would have had no compunction in transferring
his comrade’s body to the dissecting-rooms, as well as those he had
so frequently trafficked in. This sore keeps him in great pain, and
along with some of the adjuncts of prison fare and treatment, tends
to divert his mind from his spiritual state to his bodily discomfort.
The condemned cell, as he observed, is but a comfortless place, cold
and cheerless and dreary, where hope, at least in such a case as his,
never enters to enliven it; chained in such a place to the gad--much
confinement to bed is necessary to produce a little warmth, especially
at this season; while coarse bread and cold water are but unpalatable
food for one who was accustomed to spend his profligate gains in
debauchery and drunkenness. The very deprivation of ardent spirits
must be felt as an intolerable grievance, and while it is properly
withheld, food, that could in some degree supply the craving for
stimulants that such a long course of indulgence cannot fail to have
produced, might surely be afforded. It is not from any notion that his
appetite should be pampered that we mention this, but from a desire
that a man in his awful situation, standing on the brink of eternity,
and to whom a few calm days may be of eternal import, should not have
his mind distracted by any needless bodily mortifications. The law in
this part of the island humanely allows a period for the purpose of
giving an opportunity of repentance to the criminal, and time to make
up his peace with God, while it at the same time annexes conditions
which in some degree renders the indulgence nugatory for the purpose.
The statute is a British one, and probably the legislators did not
contemplate that an interval of six weeks should be spent upon this
hard regimen.

Captain Rose, the Governor of the Jail, does all that humanity dictates
to alleviate his situation.

       *       *       *       *       *




                           HARE’S BEHAVIOUR.

When the officers were removing Hare from the Courthouse to the
Calton-hill jail, he is reported, to the horror even of those men
accustomed to vice in its most hardened and depraved forms, to have
been seized with a fit of diabolical glee at his fancied escape from
justice. There is something awfully appalling in the merriment of a
being who a few minutes before, had, to save himself from a merited
fate on the gallows, by his testimony consigned his guilty partner
to an ignominious death,--the comrade too whom he had lured to the
commission of the crimes, and instructed in the manner of executing
them. It might even have been supposed, that the recollection of the
appearance he made in the witness’ box, when he could only escape from
the avowal of numberless murders, by skulking under the privilege of
his situation, would have prevented his unseasonable mirth. His wife
and he have since been kept in confinement, and inquiries have been
instituted, apparently for the purpose of attempting to prove some of
the numerous charges of murders alleged against him, which, although
unauthenticated and unproved, have assumed such a shape as to be worthy
of official investigation.

Stories have been sent abroad of his anxiety to shun the public
gaze, and muffling himself under the bed-clothes when visited by the
authorities. Usually, however, he shows no such indisposition to
publicity; but amuses himself in the airing ground attached to the
ward, along with the other prisoners confined in it, and exhibits no
disinclination to be looked at. He has the appearance of the greatest
effrontery; and whether from design or apathy, appears unconscious of
his being remarkable, or that there is any thing about him that could
satisfy curiosity. He is generally disliked by the prisoners, who,
whatever may be their crimes, naturally share in the universal aversion
that causes any person, preserving even a small portion of the ordinary
feelings of humanity, to shrink from contact with a deep-dyed murderer.
Joined to the horror of such companionship, another means of annoyance
accompanies Hare; the ward is the greatest object of attraction to the
numerous visitors to the jail, and a groupe is generally waiting his
appearance; the other prisoners are thus either prevented from taking
their usual exercise, or subjected to the gaze of the assemblage. To
obviate this as much as possible, they are in the custom of shoving
Hare forward, and forcing him to satisfy the public curiosity, and thus
rid them of the annoyance for a season.

       *       *       *       *       *

It gives us no small pleasure to be able to inform the public, that the
Lord Advocate has caused inquiries respecting these atrocious murders
to be resumed with renovated zeal and activity; and it is said that
Mr. Peel, Secretary of State for the Home Department, has communicated
with his Lordship, requesting that the matter should undergo a complete
investigation. On one day no less than seven individuals, including
four resurrectionists, and three persons who were in the habit of
frequenting Hare’s house, were examined; the different anatomical
lecturers and various medical gentlemen have likewise been examined.
We may also mention that one of the macers of the High Court of
Justiciary has apprehended a woman in Glasgow, who had been servant to
Hare, and there are no slight grounds to hope, that she and the others
will unfold a tale of horror, which will cause a jury to consign that
acknowledged murderer to the ignominious death he deserves. He is
beginning to get remarkably uneasy in his confinement; and his anxious
inquiries at the turnkeys in the jail, the decline of his health, and
the dogged silence he maintains, evince that he is labouring, as he
well may, under the most serious apprehension.

Public clamour is also loud against him and his wife; and every one is
anxious, if it were at all possible, that criminal proceedings should
be commenced against them. We have no doubt, however, that those who
have so successfully investigated and brought to light those foul
proceedings will anxiously deliberate, and firmly resolve, on what is
best to be done. They have before them all the evidence, and to their
sound discretion the whole matter may be safely left.

It is stated upon good authority, that measures have been taken, with
the sanction and by the authority of the nearest kindred of James
Wilson, commonly called “Daft Jamie,” for investigating into the cause
and manner of his death, and, if possible, bringing those concerned in
his alleged murder to punishment. For this purpose, an able and active
agent has been employed, and Mr. Jeffrey, we understand, is already
retained as senior counsel for the intended prosecution, while other
eminent counsel have also been retained.

The public at large are making anxious and universal inquiry after
Paterson. This man, instead of checking at once the course of murder,
and bringing the murderers to justice, encouraged the homicides and
profited by the horrid traffic. Had he procured only such bodies as
were indispensable for his employer’s hall, dire necessity might
have been urged as a slight palliation of his odious conduct, but he
enjoined the assassins to “procure as many subjects as they could,”
“asked no questions,” and it is beyond dispute, that he offered the
body of the woman Docherty to an eminent lecturer in town for L.15,
who spurned the proposal with merited indignation and contempt. It
was proved on Burke’s trial that he never paid more than L.10 for a
body, and had this gentleman accepted his offer, here was at once a
profit to Paterson of L.5. It will ever be regretted if no severer
punishment than universal reprobation and abhorrence overtake this
wholesale dealer in the bodies of his murdered fellow subjects. He has
not absconded, as has been reported, though discharged from Dr. Knox’s
service; he is still in Edinburgh.

       *       *       *       *       *




                      BURKE’S AND HARE’S HOUSES.

Great numbers have been attracted to the habitations of Burke and
Hare, where the slaughters were carried on. Mr. Alston, the witness
on the trial, who has the key of Burke’s den, has been much annoyed
by the multitudes who have beset him for admission. He has somewhat
unusual punctilios against making profit by the transaction, and, not
unreasonably, is unwilling to be farther troubled. Indeed, little
damage could be done now though the doors of both houses were thrown
open, and the public freely admitted; the places are completely
dismantled, and only the bare walls remaining. The only danger to be
feared is, that the eagerness to procure reliques, which has been
so strangely manifested, should induce some individuals to break up
the doors and windows. Great anxiety has been shown to be possessed
of some article or other which belonged to the peerless criminals;
one man boasts that he has got Burke’s hammer; another that he has
obtained that invaluable article Hare’s whisky bottle; a third has had
the marvellous good fortune to secure Burke’s cane, while others have
actually carried off small pieces of wood, in order to be converted
into snuff-boxes, or some articles of fancy. Hare’s furniture, if
the trumpery sticks that decorated his walls and supplied the place
of furniture can be called such, has been safely deposited in an
adjacent cellar, which is securely padlocked, and all chance of a
curiosity-monger getting access to the precious store excluded. In the
late case of Corder, the rope that hanged the criminal was said to
have been sold at the rate of a guinea per inch, and if the Edinburgh
hangman be as well acquainted with the art of turning the penny as
his southern prototype, he may possibly contrive to supply as large a
demand as the taste of the public creates at the same rate, every
inch, of course, being a genuine part of the cord by which Burke was
suspended.

  [Illustration: BURKE’S HOUSE FROM THE BACKCOURT.

     A. Burke’s Window.

     B. Back entrance where the Bodies were brought out.]

A sagacious personage, who is troubled with none of Mr. Alston’s
scruples, observing that Hare’s house was an object of great
attraction, rented it for a specific time, and shows it for a trifle
to the visitors. His speculation will probably be a profitable one, as
scores are frequently waiting their turn for admittance.

Both places seem admirably adapted for the deeds of darkness that were
carried on in them; a happier choice could scarcely have been made,
although the occupation of them had been the result of design instead
of accident, as it certainly was in Burke’s case. Situated in the heart
of a swarming population, and the resort of every sort of vagrant,
they are still retired and apart from observation. In approaching
Burke’s you enter a respectable looking _land_ from the street, and
proceed along a passage and then descend a stair, and turning to the
right a passage leads to the door, which is very near to Connaway’s
and almost directly opposite to Mrs. Law’s; a dark passage within the
door leads to the room; to this passage the women retreated while the
murder was committed. The room is small, and of an oblong form; the
miserable bed occupied nearly one end of it, (that next the door,) so
that the women must have almost stepped over the poor old woman, while
Burke was stifling her, when they went into the passage. For some days
after the trial, every thing remained in the position in which it
had been when they were arrested, and presented a disgusting picture
of squalid wretchedness; rags, and straw, mingled with implements of
shoemaking, and old shoes and boots, in such quantities as Burke’s
nominal profession of a cobbler could never account for. A pot full
of boiled potatoes was a prominent object. The bed was a coarse wooden
frame, without posts or curtains, and filled with old straw and rags.
At the foot of it and near the wall was the heap of straw under which
the woman Campbell’s body was concealed. The window looks into a small
court, closed in by a wall. At the top of the stair leading down to
the room is a back entrance from a piece of waste ground, across which
the body was conveyed by M‘Culloch. There are several outlets from it.
Nobody can, however, discover where the cellar is situated in which
it is said the subjects were concealed; they were apparently conveyed
direct from the shambles to the dissecting-rooms.

Hare’s house is a little further west, in a dirty, low, wretched
close called Tanner’s Close, which also opens off the West Port, from
which it descends a few steps. It has likewise a back entrance, which
communicates with the waste ground behind Burke’s. It is a dwelling of
more pretension than Burke’s, being _self-contained_ and possessing
three apartments. It is a one storey house, and though the interior
is liable to be observed by any passer-by from the close, it is not
immediately connected with other dwellings. It was, before the trial,
completely divested of furniture: when occupied, it was fitted up as
a lodging for beggars and other wanderers, and “beds to let” invited
vagrants to enter, frequently to their destruction. The outer apartment
is large, and was all round occupied by wretched beds; one room opening
from it is also large for such a place, and was furnished in the
same manner. So far from any concealment being practised, the door
generally stood open, and we have mentioned above that the windows were
overlooked by the passengers in the close; but there is a small inner
apartment or closet, the window of which looks only upon a pig-stye and
dead wall, into which it is asserted they were accustomed to conduct
their prey to be murdered. No surprise could have been excited by cries
of murder issuing from such a riotous and disorderly house, but it
was unlikely that any could reach the ear from the interior den; and
even though they had, the house might have borne a fair semblance in
front, while the murderous work went on behind. In the inner apartment
Burke used to work when a lodger in Hare’s, when he did work, which was
seldom.

       *       *       *       *       *

When we consider this most singular and atrocious conspiracy, and the
characters of the different actors in it, as we understand them to
be, it should seem as if they had each of them their allotted parts
in the bloody drama. Hare, as far as we can learn, is a rude ruffian,
with all the outward appearance of a ruffian; drunken, ferocious, and
profligate; and far likelier to repel than to ensnare any one by a
specious show, which he is quite incapable of assuming. He appears,
however, to have been the more deeply designing of the two; and to
have over-reached his associate, Burke, whom he succeeded in always
thrusting forward, with a view, we have no doubt, of turning short upon
him, as he has done at the last, and consigning him to the gallows,
when this should be necessary, in order to save himself. Burke was
indeed the only one of the two qualified to manage the out-door
business of the copartnery, and he it was, accordingly, who always
went out to prowl for victims, and to decoy them to their destruction.
In his outward manners he was entirely the reverse of Hare. He was,
as we learn from good authority, quiet in his demeanour; he was never
riotous; was never heard cursing and swearing; and even when he was
the worse of drink, he walked so quietly into his own house, that his
foot was scarcely heard in the passage. He was of a fawning address,
and was so well liked by the children in the neighbourhood, that each
was more ready than another to do his errands. The riots which often
occurred in the house, and in which Hare always bore a conspicuous
part, were, there is every reason to believe, got up on purpose, either
when they were in the act of committing murder, or that the neighbours
might not be alarmed at the noise which inevitably accompanied the
mortal struggle between them and the unhappy inmates whom they had
enticed into their dwelling.

       *       *       *       *       *




                       MURDER OF MARY PATERSON.

The first murder which was charged against Burke, although it is
surmised that several had been committed before that time, is that of
the girl Paterson, who was about eighteen or twenty years of age. It
appears that this girl, with one of her associates, Janet Brown, had
been lodged in the Canongate Police Office on Tuesday night, the 8th
of April. They were kept till six o’clock next morning, when they went
to the house of one Swanston, to procure spirits. Here they were met,
for the first time, by Burke, who asked them to drink. He afterwards
prevailed on them to go with him to breakfast, and gave them two
bottles of spirits to carry along with them. They accompanied him to
Constantine Burke’s house, in the Canongate. This man was a scavenger,
and went out at his usual hour to his work. After they had been in
the house for some time, Burke and his wife began to quarrel and to
fight, which seems to have been the usual preliminary to mischief. In
the midst of this uproar, Hare, who had been sent for, and who was
a principal agent in this scene of villany, entered, and in the mean
time Janet Brown, agitated seemingly, and alarmed by the appearance of
violence, wished to leave the house, and to take her companion along
with her. By this time it was about ten o’clock on Wednesday morning,
and Paterson was asleep in one of the beds, totally unconscious of her
approaching fate. The other girl went out, and was absent about twenty
minutes. When she returned she asked for Paterson, and was told that
she had left the house. By this time she was murdered. She came back in
the afternoon in search of her, and received the same answer. Burke had
availed himself of the short interval of twenty minutes, during which
her companion Janet Brown was absent, to execute his horrid purpose
when she was asleep, by stopping her breath; and that very afternoon,
between five and six o’clock, her body was taken to the dissecting room
and disposed of for L.8. The appearance of this body, which was quite
fresh, which had not even begun to grow stiff, and of which the face
was settled and pleasant, without any expression of pain, awakened
suspicions, and Burke was strictly questioned as to where he procured
it. He easily framed some plausible excuse, that he had purchased it
from the house where she died, which silenced all further suspicion.

       *       *       *       *       *




      JANET BROWN’S STATEMENT RELATIVE TO THE MURDER OF PATERSON.

The following is the account of the circumstances connected with the
death of the unfortunate girl, Mary Paterson, who was murdered in
Constantine Burke’s house, in Gibb’s close Canongate, as given by
her companion, Janet Brown. Brown, though a girl of the town, seems
possessed of considerable intelligence, and tells her story with
distinctness and with every mark of apparent truth. She does not appear
disposed to exaggerate, but rather seems unaware of the inference that
may be drawn from some parts of the statement. This account has been
communicated by herself, and is taken down nearly in her own words.

Mary Paterson and she, after leaving the Canongate watch-house, between
four and five o’clock in the morning on which the murder was committed,
proceeded to the house of an acquaintance, Mrs. Lawrie, where they had
formerly lodged. Mrs. Lawrie wished them to remain. They, however,
left the house in a very short time, and went to a spirit-dealer’s in
the Canongate, named Swanston. They had there a gill of whisky, and
while drinking it, they observed Burke, who, in company with Swanston,
was drinking rum and bitters. He entered into conversation with the
girls, and affected to be much taken with them, and three gills of rum
and bitters were drank at his expense. He wished them to accompany
him to his lodgings, which he said were in the neighbourhood, and
upon Brown expressing reluctance, was very urgent that she should
go, saying that he had a pension and could keep her handsomely, and
make her comfortable for life, and that he would stand between them
and harm from the people in the house. This particular attention to
her, she supposes to have been in consequence of finding her more
shy and backward than Paterson, who was always of a forward fearless
disposition. They consented to go along with him, and he promised them
breakfast when they reached the house. He purchased, before leaving
Swanston’s, two bottles of whisky, and gave one to each of the girls to
carry. He then conducted them to Constantine Burke’s house in Gibb’s
close. They found there Constantine and his wife; when they arrived
the fire was not lighted, and William Burke swore and abused the woman
for her negligence.

The fire was afterwards lighted up, and breakfast, consisting of tea,
bread, eggs, and Finnan haddocks prepared; but during this process,
the two bottles of whisky were produced and partly drank by Burke,
Constantine, his wife, and the two girls. Constantine partook only of
part of it, having in the meantime left the house to his work as a
scavenger.

Before the whisky was finished, however, Burke had requested Brown to
leave the house along with him. He seems to have considered Paterson as
already sufficiently intoxicated for his murderous purpose, and to have
applied himself more particularly to Brown, on whom the spirits had
not taken so much effect. Finding that the enormous quantity of whisky
had not yet produced the requisite effect upon her, he accompanied
her to a neighbouring public-house, where he proceeded further in his
design of stupifying her, by giving her two bottles of porter which he
also partook of, and a pie. All along, it is remarkable, that Burke,
although he seems never to have lost sight of his object, but to have
adopted every method to further it, should nevertheless have partaken
as freely of the liquors consumed as if he had no other intent than to
produce intoxication on himself as well as his intended victims, and
it appears surprising that such a quantity of ardent spirits, joined
to the porter, should not have disqualified him for carrying on the
plot. He has, since his conviction, mentioned that it had produced this
effect, and that he was intoxicated when the murder was committed.

After leaving this public-house, Brown was again taken to
Constantine’s, and the second bottle of whisky finished. While engaged
on it, M‘Dougal, who had hitherto been unobserved, suddenly started
from a bed, and joined in drinking the spirits. When she appeared,
Constantine’s wife whispered to the girls that she was Burke’s wife,
and upon her upbraiding him for his conduct, Brown apologised for being
in his company, mentioning that they did not know him to be a married
man, otherwise they would not have come, and proposed then to leave
the house. M‘Dougal replied that she did not blame them, but that it
was his constant practice to desert her and spend his money upon loose
women. She requested them to sit still, and seemed anxious that they
should not go away. The quarrelling between Burke and her then got more
violent, and she took up the eggs which had been set down for breakfast
and threw them into the fire. Upon this Burke took up a dram glass and
flung it at her; it hit her forehead above the eye and cut it.

At the commencement of the uproar, Constantine Burke’s wife ran out
of the house, as Brown supposes for the purpose of bringing Hare;
indeed, as she saw no other person dispatched anywhere, it is difficult
to account otherwise for this vampire’s speedy appearance. After
her departure Burke succeeded in turning M‘Dougal out of the house,
locking the door upon her. By this time Paterson was lying across the
bed in a state nearly approaching to insensibility, and the murderer
seems to have considered her as incapable of exertion, and certain to
fall an easy prey when he had leisure to finish her. On this account,
doubtless, he endeavoured to commence his diabolical work upon her
more active companion; he affected great kindness towards her, and
pressed her to go along with him into the bed which M‘Dougal had so
recently left. As she herself observes, however much she might have
been disposed to yield to his wishes, she could scarcely have done so
after the brawl she had so recently witnessed, and while M‘Dougal was
still making a noise at the door and knocking for admittance, and she
peremptorily refused. Fortunate it was for her that she did so, as
there can be no doubt about his purpose, if he had succeeded in getting
her into the bed, and once there it cannot be questioned that it was
intended she should never leave it alive.

The confusion and uproar which had most probably been got up at first,
as was their usual custom, to cover the commencement, and continued
afterwards to drown the cries of the victims, had in this instance
an opposite effect, and Brown, who had become much alarmed by their
proceedings, though still unsuspicious of the horrible reality,
persisted in her wish to be allowed to depart, promising to return in
a quarter of an hour. Upon this promise she was suffered to depart,
and Burke at her request conducted her past M‘Dougal, who was still
upon the stair-head apparently much enraged. It is not easy to account
for his allowing his prey to escape from his clutches, probably he did
expect her to return, and perhaps she got off more easily, as Hare,
who if there is any difference in their desperate wickedness, seems to
merit the distinction of being the arch-fiend of the two, had not yet
arrived. If so, Brown again made a narrow escape, as from the short
time that elapsed before she returned, when the murder was perpetrated,
and Hare appeared standing as if unconcerned; he must have come within
a very few minutes of her leaving the house.

She went straight to Mrs. Lawrie’s, and jestingly told her that she
would not remain with her, as she had got fine lodgings now; but
after informing Mrs. L. of the circumstances, she agreed to go back
along with her servant, and endeavour to get Paterson removed. Upon
her return, she did not recollect perfectly the close in which the
house was situated, and applied at Swanston’s for a direction to the
residence of the man who left his house with them. She was told that
they could not have gone with him, as he was a married man, and did
not keep company with such as they, but that she would probably find
him in his brother’s in Gibb’s Close. Even after getting into the
close and the stair, she did not recognise the house, and entered
that of a decent woman, inquiring if it was there she was before. She
was informed that they kept company with no such people, but that it
would likely be in the house up stairs. They proceeded up accordingly,
and found there M‘Dougal and Hare and his wife. Mrs. Hare ran forward
to strike Brown, but was prevented. Between her leaving Burke’s and
returning, she thinks there was only about an interval of twenty
minutes.

Upon inquiring for Paterson, they alleged that she had gone out with
Burke, and added that they expected them back soon, and invited her
to sit down and take a glass of whisky with them. She did so, in the
hope that Paterson might quickly return. Mrs. L.’s servant then left
them, and M‘Dougal commenced a narration of her grievances from Burke’s
bad conduct, and railed at him for going away with the girl, and this
while her murdered body must have been lying within a few feet of her!
In a short time the servant returned for Brown, Mrs. L. having become
alarmed at her report, had sent her to bring her. No attempt was made
to detain her; but she was invited to return, which she promised to do.

In the afternoon she did go back, and was again informed by Constantine
Burke’s wife that Burke and the girl had not returned.

In answer to her subsequent inquiries and those of Mrs. Worthington,
in whose house they lived, it was pretended that Paterson had gone
off to Glasgow with a _packman_; but this reply did not satisfy
Brown, as she knew that Paterson was a well-educated girl, and could
write sufficiently well to send an account to her friends if she had
left Edinburgh, which she certainly would have done; her clothes also
remained unclaimed. No more satisfactory intelligence, however, could
be obtained, and she never heard farther tidings of her until after the
murder of the woman Campbell, when the mystery was developed, and the
clothes which Paterson wore were found in the West Port. Upon being
confronted with Burke and M‘Dougal, she readily recognised them.

She believes firmly that Constantine Burke and his wife were cognizant
of the proceedings, both from their manner at the time and the conduct
of Constantine afterwards when she questioned him about Paterson.
Whenever she saw him, which she frequently did at his work early in the
morning, she inquired after her. His answers were always very surly;
on two occasions saying, “How the h--ll can I tell about you sort of
people; you are here to-day and away to-morrow;” and on another, as if
in allusion to the horrid transaction, “I am often out upon my lawful
business, and how can I answer for all that takes place in my house in
my absence.”

She represents Paterson to have been irregular in her habits, but not
so low as has been represented, and appears indignant at a paltry
print of her, in which she is represented in the garb of a servant, a
dress in which she never appeared. She had been well educated for one
in her situation, and possessed a fine person, for which she was more
remarkable than beauty of face. The story which has appeared in the
newspapers about her mother being a housekeeper in the west country,
Brown alleges to be unfounded. She was a native of Edinburgh, and her
mother is dead.

       *       *       *       *       *




                        MURDER OF “DAFT JAMIE.”

The second murder charged in the indictment was that of James Wilson,
commonly known by the name of “Daft Jamie;” and the circumstances
attending it were even more revolting than those of the women Paterson
and Campbell. None of their misdeeds has excited a greater feeling of
indignation in the public mind. Jamie was very generally known, and
was a universal favourite. His appearance marked the imbecility of his
mind, and was such as to make every one regard him with a feeling of
tenderness and sympathy. He was perfectly harmless and inoffensive,
and possessed apparently great kindliness of heart. To all who had
occasion to be on the streets of Edinburgh, whether at an early or late
hour, Jamie’s appearance was perfectly familiar--wandering about, in
every sort of weather, bare-headed, and without stockings or shoes,
and his good-humoured laugh and salutation, by an awkward bow and
twitch of the front lock of hair, were readily recognised and replied
to. Though roaming almost constantly about in this guise, he was never
known as a beggar, but occasionally visited certain houses, where he
was admitted as a familiar guest, and kindly entertained, while even
in these he conducted himself in a modest unobtrusive manner. He used
to allege that he did not need money, as he had sometimes the “feck
o’ half-a-croun on him.” Jamie was by no means, however, the moping
idiot that he has been represented. Though undoubtedly imbecile
and incapable of any continuous mental exertion, he possessed some
small portion of intellect. To the boys of Edinburgh, his knowledge
of the days of the month and week, and facility in computing on what
day of the week any given time would fall, were well known; indeed,
he sometimes appeared to serve in place of a kalendar to them. His
musical talents were also appreciated, and he was often called upon to
entertain his juvenile acquaintances with a song, which he executed in
tolerable style.

He was scrupulously clean in his person and linen, changing it
frequently. His hands and feet, though uncovered, were also observed
to be always clean. They were peculiarly formed, and by his feet he
is said to have been recognised by some of the students in Dr. Knox’s
dissecting-rooms.

It is a curious fact, that almost all the _naturals_ who have lately
been known on the streets of this city, have met with a violent and
untimely end. Bobby Auld, a contemporary and acquaintance of Jamie’s,
was killed by the kick of an ass, and afterwards became also a subject
for dissection. There is an anecdote told concerning them, which is
a curious instance of blindness to a personal deficiency, joined to
a just perception of it in another, and at the same time exhibits
in a strong light what we have said of Jamie’s innocent and artless
disposition. It is narrated that the two met accidentally one day
somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Grassmarket. “It’s a cauld day,
Bobby.” “Aye is’t, Jamie,” replies Bobby. “We wud be the better o’ a
dram--hae ye ony siller? I hae tippence;” “and I hae fourpence,” says
Jamie. “Oh, man,” rejoins Bobby, “that’ll get half a mutchkin.” They
then adjourned to a neighbouring public-house, where the money was
produced, and the liquor ordered. But before any of them had partaken
of it, Bobby inquired anxiously, if Jamie had seen “the twa dougs
fechting on the street?” “No,” says Jamie, “I saw nae dougs fechting.”
“It’s a grand fecht though,” replies Bobby, “and has lasted half an
hour; its weel worth your seeing, and you had better gang to the door
and see it.” Jamie accordingly proceeded unsuspectingly to the street
to witness this wonderful dog fight, but speedily returned with the
intelligence that he could discover no such conflict. “They’ll be dune
then,” coolly observes Bobby. “But what’s come o’ the whisky?” said
Jamie, on observing the stoup standing empty. “Ou, man,” says the
treacherous Bobby, “ye bade sae lang I couldna wait.” Upon Jamie’s
being questioned what he had done to Bobby for this false play, he
replied, “Ou what could ye say to puir Bobby? he’s daft, ye ken.”

Jamie, however, though inferior to Bobby in trickery and low cunning,
was much his superior in intellect. His father is said to have been a
decent religious man, and took him regularly to a place of worship in
the old town on Sabbaths, which Jamie, after his death, perhaps from
habit, continued to attend. When examined by a respectable member, it
was found that his religious knowledge was far beyond what could have
been expected, and superior to many whose appearance promised more. His
answers to questions were intelligent, and out of the usual routine.

It is probable that this poor creature had been for some time watched
by the gang of murderers, and marked out as one that might be easily
taken off without exciting suspicion. They had very much miscalculated
however, both the notice that would be taken of his disappearance,
and the degree of resistance he was capable of making. Accident
unfortunately threw him in their way. He was met by Burke at nine
o’clock one morning in the beginning of October last, wandering about
in his usual way in the Grassmarket. He instantly accosted him in
his fawning manner, and inquired of him whether he was in search of
any one; he told him he was seeking his mother, to whom, as he was a
creature of kindly dispositions, he was warmly attached. The wretch at
once saw that he now had him within his grasp, and instantly commenced
his schemes for drawing him away to some convenient place where he
might be murdered. He contrived to persuade him that he knew where
his mother had gone, and would take him to the place, and by coaxing
and flattery he at length decoyed him into Hare’s house. Here those
monsters of iniquity, exulting over their deluded victim, began to
pretend the greatest kindness for him, and having procured liquor, they
pressed it upon him. He at first decidedly refused to taste it, but
they so far wrought upon his good nature by their assumed kindness,
that they induced him to join them in their cups, and then plied him
so effectually, that he was soon overpowered, and laying himself down
on the floor, fell asleep. Burke, who was anxiously watching his
opportunity, then said to Hare, “Shall I do it now?” to which Hare
replied, “He is too strong for you yet; you had better let him alone
a while.” Both the ruffians seem to have been afraid of the physical
strength which they knew the poor creature possessed, and of the use he
would make of it, if prematurely roused. Burke, accordingly, waited a
little, but impatient at length to accomplish his object, he suddenly
threw himself upon Jamie, and attempted to strangle him. Oppressed as
he was with the influence of liquor, he was roused at once by this
assault to a full sense of his danger; and, by a dreadful effort, he
threw off Burke, and sprung to his feet, when the mortal struggle
began. Jamie fought with all the fury of despair, and would have been
an overmatch for any one of his ruffian assailants. Burke had actually
the worst of the struggle, and was about to be overpowered, when he
called out furiously to Hare to assist him, crying that he would stick
a knife into him if he did not do so. Hare rushing forward turned the
balance of the unequal conflict by tripping up Jamie’s heels; and
afterwards dragging him along the floor, with Burke lying above him.
None were present at this murder, which was completed before mid-day,
except the two ruffians themselves.

This will be readily recognised as Hare’s account, and, of course,
it is fitted to show him in the most favourable light which the
circumstances will admit of. It is but justice, however, to give the
statement of his companion in guilt, who, if there is any choice, is,
after all, perhaps the one whose testimony is most entitled to credit.

Burke states that it was Hare who decoyed Jamie into the house, and
then sent for him to assist him in his inhuman design,--that Jamie
not only peremptorily refused to taste the liquor presented to him at
first, but actually did drink very little of it, and not nearly so
much as to produce intoxication,--that he then sat down upon the bed,
reclining backwards and leaning upon his arm, and that Hare sat beside
him in the same position,--and after some time, impatient for his
prey, began to attempt to suffocate him in the usual way, by pressing
his hands over his nose and mouth. Jamie, however, when he found him
using violence, resisted stoutly, and grappled with him; and during
the struggle, both fell off the bed, and rolled on the floor. Hare
then called for Burke’s assistance, which he effectually rendered,
by falling upon Jamie’s body, when, by their united efforts, he was
dispatched.

Jamie fought manfully, and did inflict some injuries upon them; but it
is a mistake to suppose that Burke’s cancer was produced in consequence
of the bite which he is said to have given. It was originally the
effect of heat and fatigue in walking, which he had neglected, and
leading a dissipated dissolute life afterwards, it reached the
dangerous state which it has now assumed. After Jamie’s death, Burke
remarked that his clothes would answer his brother, to whom they were
given, and a pair of trousers were afterwards recognised upon him by a
baker in the Cowgate, whose they had been, and who had given them to
Jamie. It was also observed that his son wore his kerchief.

       *       *       *       *       *




DISCUSSIONS RELATIVE TO THE TRIAL OF HARE AND THE _SOCII CRIMINUM_.


Since the condemnation of Burke a very important question has been
agitated, not only among lawyers, but in society and the public
prints,--namely, whether or not Hare, or any of the other parties who
were concerned in the two murders that were libelled in the indictment
against Burke, but which were not brought to trial,--can now, after
having been admitted as evidences for the crown, be legally put upon
their trial for participation in those murders? This is a very nice
and intricate question indeed, and it is likely to be brought on
for immediate discussion in a regular shape, as the mother of James
Wilson, one of the victims, has been advised that it is competent to
her, as a private party, to prosecute Hare, or any of the other guilty
persons, notwithstanding any arrangements into which the Lord Advocate,
as public prosecutor, has entered with them as king’s witnesses on
Burke’s trial;--and such is the strong current of public feeling in
support of an attempt to bring Hare to justice, that a subscription
has been set on foot, and some of our nobility and gentry of high rank
have given the sanction of their names, and the aid of their purses,
to support the poor woman, while eminent counsel and an agent--as we
formerly mentioned--have undertaken the conduct of the proceedings.
Preparatory to such a prosecution, application has been made, in name
of Wilson’s mother, to the Court of Justiciary, to have Hare and his
wife detained in custody until an indictment shall be served, and the
other preliminary steps gone through, preparatory to a solemn trial of
the question.

In the meantime, it may be interesting as a chapter in the history
of this frightful drama of real life, to combine with the details
formerly given such a selection from the arguments which have already
been maintained on this point, as will afford a concentrated view
of the discussions which lie scattered over a number of different
publications. And in doing this, we shall take the liberty of lopping
off such parts of the controversy as are extraneous to the mere point
of law, and as might tend to prolong any of that irritation and
personality which very naturally, although not necessarily, mingle
themselves in public discussions.

We regret that the length to which these discussions necessarily
extend will prevent us from giving, so early as was intended, a
complete account of the Life of William Burke, and the circumstances
attending the murders, including many interesting particulars hitherto
unpublished. This will appear immediately after, and in the meantime we
trust that the public will appreciate the importance of the question
now presented to their notice.

The first publication, we believe, on this subject was an article in
the Caledonian Mercury, of which the substance is as follows:

   It is now certain that no further proceedings are to be
   taken against the persons concerned either as principals or
   accessories in the late murders; at least, we have seen a
   document issued from a high quarter, the gist and bearing of
   which lead directly to this inference. But the matter cannot
   possibly be allowed to rest here. The united voice of society
   calls loudly for further, deeper, and fuller investigation; and
   if the Public Prosecutor refuse to obey that call, and redeem
   his pledge to probe and sift the whole system of iniquity to
   the bottom, there is another place where the universal cry for
   justice, which now rings throughout the land, will be listened
   to and respected, and where even that high functionary himself
   may be called to account for the mode in which he has exercised
   the almost unlimited, certainly undefined, powers of his office.
   We are quite prepared to give him credit for the perfect
   purity and uprightness of his motives in abstaining from the
   institution of further inquiries, and in wishing to allow the
   veil, of which a corner only had been withdrawn, to drop for
   ever on scenes too horrid and bloody to be contemplated without
   fear and trembling. He may have come under a promise to the
   prime _particeps criminum_ which, as a man of honour, he cannot
   violate; and he may be actuated by a desire to avoid, as far as
   possible, every thing calculated, as he believes, to injure the
   schools of anatomy in this city. But, in regard to the first of
   these grounds of forbearance, (which the reader will observe we
   put merely as suppositions) the public have nothing whatever to
   do with any private and extrajudicial obligations of this sort,
   which however expedient or necessary in some cases they may be
   thought, are in every case illegal; and the answer made to such
   an apologetical plea will unquestionably be, that justice is
   not to be stifled, nor a horde of murderers, and accessories
   to murder, suffered to escape, because one of the horrid gang
   was induced to “peach” by a promise of impunity and protection.
   That incomparable miscreant, steeped to the very teeth in
   blood and slaughter, the originator of the assassinations,
   Burke’s master in the art of murder, and a principal or an
   accessory in every crime which has been committed,--in short,
   if there be any gradations of guilt in atrocities such as were
   never before heard of or paralleled in any age or country,
   the most guilty,--was not surely a fit subject to be selected
   for clemency upon the condition of betraying his accomplices:
   especially, where these were so numerous that others less
   deeply implicated might have been found equally capable of
   revealing the whole mystery of iniquity. Besides, his evidence,
   if evidence it may be called, was unnecessary and useless.
   It was unnecessary, because, exclusive of his revelations,
   there was abundant evidence to bring home the crime charged
   to _both_ of the prisoners; and it was useless, for what Jury
   would credit the testimony of a wretch whose only title to
   be believed consisted in his having been concerned in the
   perpetration of _three_, perhaps _thirty_ murders,--who coolly
   admitted in the box that he had stood or sat by, with perfect
   composure and unconcern, while Burke was strangling the unhappy
   woman for whose murder his life has been forfeited,--who had
   the most powerful of all human motives, and the very strongest
   conceivable interest in saying every thing which he deemed
   calculated to effect the destruction of his quondam pupil and
   associate,--and who must have exchanged places with the pannel,
   if the pannel had been acquitted? We say, therefore, that we are
   utterly at a loss to conceive upon what principle this execrable
   villain was admitted to “peach.”

       *       *       *       *       *

This was followed by an answer, reply, and various replications, which
we shall content ourselves with inserting in their order, denuded only
of such portions as might have perhaps been spared, but which must
have crept in unadvisedly, in the heat and hurry of composition for
newspapers.


                        _Edinburgh Advertiser._

Much dissatisfaction has been expressed that no more of the horrid gang
of murderers are likely to be brought to trial, and, consequently, that
Burke is the only victim who is to be sacrificed to public justice; but
the decision to which the Court came in restricting the Prosecutor to
the proof of one of the three charges exhibited against Burke, however
it may have been consistent with strict justice, was attended with the
necessary effect of preventing the disclosure of the circumstances
connected with the other two murders, namely, those of Mary Paterson
and of “Daft Jamie,” for which the Lord Advocate so strenuously
contended, in the view of satisfying the public mind; for, after Burke
had been convicted under the third charge, it was out of the question
to proceed to try him a second and a third time on the two previous
accusations. The limited nature of the disclosure thus produced has
naturally led the public in the present state of excited feeling, to
call for the farther trial and punishment of this atrocious gang.

We have heard, however, that no farther trials will take place, and
we can figure the reasons why. It is apparent that there were just
four persons engaged in these horrid deeds, viz. Hare and his wife,
Burke and M‘Dougal; the latter of whom, though not actually married
to Burke, had lived with him as his wife, and had borne his name for
ten years, and was thus legally his wife. After being detained weeks
in jail, we understand, that not one of these four prisoners, when
examined as accused persons, would acknowledge any share of guilt.
In such circumstances, if these persons had been all indicted, it
is obvious that the evidence against them would have been merely
presumptive, and considering the difficulty even in convicting Burke,
when two eye-witnesses swore to the way in which the deed was done, it
is plain that all the four would have been acquitted. What effect such
a result would have had on the public mind it is needless to inquire.
_The only course left to secure a conviction was to admit a part of
the gang as witnesses against the rest._ To have taken the women
as king’s evidence against the men, if they had been willing to speak
out, which it is believed they were not, could have availed nothing,
as by law their testimony could not have been received against their
husbands; besides, their knowledge could not be of that extended nature
which it was desirable to possess. The only resource, therefore, must
have consisted in taking Hare, who, however criminal, _was not the
leader of the gang_. It may be well supposed that Hare would not
have been so well dealt with, unless he had agreed to disclose, not
merely the circumstances connected with the murder of Docherty, but
with _every other crime of that nature in which he and Burke had
been concerned_, and that his wife, against whom _he_ could
not give evidence, should confirm his statements so far as consistent
with her knowledge. Such information was clearly indispensable for
the safety of the public. It is known that it was solely from Hare’s
consequent disclosures that the murders of Mary Paterson and Daft Jamie
were ascertained, and that collateral evidence was obtained sufficient
to warrant a charge against Burke as connected with these murders. In
both these cases, it is certain that the bodies were recognised in the
dissecting-room, and in both, part of the clothes of the unfortunate
persons murdered, were found in Burke’s possession. If no other case
was charged, it may well be supposed to have arisen from the absence
of such collateral evidence, without which no conviction could have
been looked for. If we are right in this statement, _and we have
been at some pains in obtaining accurate information_, it would be
_impossible_ to bring Hare or his wife to trial for crimes which
they had disclosed under such circumstances, even if there could be
evidence against them, which is no ways likely.

M‘Dougal has been tried, and a jury has thought fit to acquit her of
the only charge of which evidence could be obtained of her accession;
and Burke has been convicted, and he is to be executed. Deeply as
we regret that punishment should not reach a greater number of those
miscreants, we cannot shut our eyes to the obstacles which may thus
present themselves to its accomplishment, and must console ourselves
with the reflection, that if farther trials are not to take place, the
public functionaries are now well informed not only of the extent but
of the nature of such practices; and, thus alive as they must be to
the dreadful consequences of such crimes, the public has good reason
to trust to the effect of their vigilance and exertions in affording
security to the lives of the unprotected.


                       _The Caledonian Mercury._

In a contemporary journal of Friday last, we observe an article
entitled “The West Port Murders,” which we think deserving of our
special notice; and as it is substantively an answer to our legal
argument respecting the liability of Hare to be tried for the murders
of Mary Paterson and Daft Jamie, as well as a defence of the Public
Prosecutor, for declining to bring any more of “the horrid gang of
murderers” to trial, we feel ourselves called upon to reply to it.
In doing so, however, we shall not fail to keep in mind that we
have to deal with a question of law and of fact merely, and that,
differing as we do _toto coelo_, from the Lord Advocate, in the view
which he has taken of his duty upon this occasion, there is but one
opinion as to the purity and uprightness of the motives by which he
has been actuated, and of his desire, (unless opposed by technical
difficulties,) to afford the fullest satisfaction to the public. His
Lordship, to his infinite honour, has uniformly paid attention to the
strongly expressed sentiments of the country.

The article in question sets out as follows,--for quotation see pages
141 and 142, paragraph commencing, “Much dissatisfaction, &c.

Now, we contend that this is altogether erroneous in point of law, and
that the writer, in order to arrive at his conclusion, has confounded
two things perfectly distinct, viz. the legal effect of a verdict of
conviction _before_ sentence, and the legal effect of such conviction
_after_ the Court has been moved to pronounce judgment; and after a
sentence has been passed sinking the _caput_ of the prisoner. It is
quite clear in law, that even a conviction, upon a capital charge,
does not and cannot destroy the _status_ of the prisoner; and for
this reason, that the verdict may be special, or inapplicable, or
it may find something different from the facts charged, or it may
involve a conclusion which is inept in law, so that, upon a motion
in arrest of judgment, no sentence can pass upon it. Instances of
this kind constantly occur; and every one who is acquainted with the
books of criminal law, must be familiar with many of them. It follows,
therefore, that if an objection were proponed upon any of these
grounds, and sustained by the Court, the prisoner would fall to be
dismissed _simpliciter_ from the bar. But until the Court be moved for
judgment, it cannot be known whether such an objection may not lie;
and, consequently, it is manifest that a mere conviction, however valid
it may ultimately be found, does not and cannot affect the _status_ or
destroy the _caput_ of the prisoner, which is the joint result of the
verdict _and_ the sentence. Hence, we contend that the writer before
us labours under a complete mistake in supposing that the decision of
the Court “in restricting the Prosecutor to the proof of _one_ of the
three charges exhibited against Burke _was attended with the necessary
effect of preventing the disclosure of the circumstances connected with
the other two murders_,” and that, “_after Burke had been convicted
under the third charge, it was out of the question to proceed to try
him a second and a third time on the two previous accusations_.” As
matters turned out, it was indeed out of the question to try Burke
a second and a third time for the other two murders. But how was it
out of the question? Solely on account of the error committed by the
Prosecutor himself in moving and obtaining the sentence of the Court on
the verdict of conviction which had been returned by the Jury on the
third charge, namely, the murder of the woman Docherty: For the moment
Burke was condemned to die, his _caput_ was destroyed,--he was dead in
law, and had no longer a _persona standi in judicio_; consequently,
after such conviction and sentence, it was clearly “out of the question
to proceed to try him a second and a third time on the two previous
accusations.” But we have some confidence that no lawyer will maintain
the incompetency of proceeding to try Burke upon these charges, had the
Lord Advocate rested satisfied with the conviction he had obtained,
and delayed moving for sentence. We will not argue a point so clear as
this. It is evident to us that the dilemma in which the Prosecutor has
placed himself is the consequence of his own blunder, and that Burke
might have been tried on twenty separate charges, if the indictment had
contained so many, but for the error committed by his Lordship himself
in moving the Court for judgment, and thus destroying the prisoner’s
civil personality, and, of course, his _persona standi in judicio_.

After stating, what is perfectly true, that “the limited nature of the
disclosure thus produced has naturally led the public, in the present
state of excited feeling, to call for the farther trial and punishment
of this atrocious gang,” the writer then proceeds to say:--See
paragraph on page 142, commencing “We have heard, however,” &c. to end
of the article.

Now, our readers will perceive that this just comes, in substance, to
the fact stated by implication in our Saturday’s publication, that
Hare and his wife were admitted to “peach” upon a promise of impunity
and protection. But were the circumstances such as to warrant the
Public Prosecutor in giving such a promise, or accepting disclosures
from Hare in regard to the murders of Mary Paterson and Daft Jamie,
calculated to embarrass him in dealing with these miscreants, or to
tie up his hands altogether from proceeding against them on account
of these horrid crimes? We maintain there were no such circumstances,
and our reasons for thinking so are already partly before the
public. The defender of the Lord Advocate says, indeed, that “there
were just four persons engaged in these horrid deeds, viz. Hare and
his wife, and Burke and M‘Dougal,” and that if all four had been
indicted, “it is obvious that the evidence against them would have
been merely presumptive, and considering the difficulty experienced
even in convicting Burke, _when two eye-witnesses swore to the way
in which the deed was done_, it is plain that all the four would
have been acquitted.” Now, all this is very loosely and inaccurately
stated;--for, in the first place, the Lord Advocate knows as well as
we do, that instead of _four_, there were at least _seven_ persons
concerned either as principals or accessaries in these murders;
secondly, that independently of the testimony of Hare and his wife,
there was more than “presumptive evidence” inasmuch as he himself
rested the case against Burke on the other evidence adduced, exclusive
of Hare and his wife altogether; thirdly, that the Jury paid no regard
whatever to the testimony of these wretches, yet convicted Burke of the
charge libelled; and, lastly, that no other difficulty was experienced
in obtaining this conviction than arose from the Prosecutor having to
contend with the great talents of the Counsel arrayed for the defence,
or were inseparable from a protracted investigation into a great
body of circumstantial evidence. How, then, can it be maintained,
that if Hare and his wife had been included in the indictment with
Burke and M‘Dougal, the whole four would have been acquitted? It is
said, indeed, that these miscreants, particularly the former, made
such disclosures in relation to the murders of Mary Paterson and Daft
Jamie, as renders it now impossible to bring them to trial for these
assassinations; but even admitting this to the fullest extent, it is
not pretended that they made any disclosures connected with the murder
of Docherty; and as their testimony proved of no avail in facilitating
or insuring a conviction against Burke, the necessary inference is,
that the Prosecutor mismanaged his case in not including them in the
same indictment with their associate and accomplice for that offence at
least. But if people will not seek for evidence they cannot find it.
Why was Falconer not sought out and brought forward? Had the Prosecutor
apprehended this fellow and Paterson, and afterwards admitted them as
king’s evidence, there would have been no want of proof to convict
the whole operative part of the gang, _if not to go even farther than
this_. The teachers of anatomy ought also to have been examined. They
had it in their power to tell much that had come to their knowledge,
and to point out channels by which more might have been discovered.
Information of the most valuable description might have been obtained
from them, had it been required; information, which they were willing
and anxious to give, and which, we rejoice to learn, the Prosecutor is
now taking the proper means to obtain.

In the paragraph above quoted there are some errors in point of fact,
which are the more material and germane to our view of the case,
because the mind of the Public Prosecutor may have been misled by
them, and his course of conduct influenced by the misconceptions under
which he laboured. First of all it is stated that M‘Dougal, “though
not actually married to Burke, had lived with him as his wife, and
had borne his name for ten years, and was thus legally his wife.” In
his “confessions,” Burke states himself to have been living in notour
adultery, which of course could only be the case upon the supposition
that a former wife of his own was alive; which we understand to be the
fact. M‘Dougal’s connection with Burke, therefore, was not of such a
nature as legally to disqualify her for giving evidence against him.
Next, the writer is misinformed when he says that Hare “was not the
leader of the gang.” Further investigation, we are convinced, will
prove the contrary. Hare was engaged in this horrid traffic _before_ he
formed an alliance with Burke; and although the superior appearance,
address, and physical strength of the latter, led him to act as the
decoy, and to take a conspicuous share in the perpetration of the
murders, Hare, we are satisfied, was his master and his tempter, as
he is known to have been his constant associate in all the murders
he committed, except, perhaps, one, which Burke alleges Hare did by
himself when he was in the country. It is really melancholy to “hear,”
therefore, “that no farther trials will take place,” and that, as far
as the Prosecutor is concerned, Hare and his wife are now free from all
challenge.

Happily, however, there is one method by which they may still be
brought to justice. The mother of Daft Jamie is alive; and it is
competent for her to prosecute for the murder of her son, upon
obtaining the concourse of the Public Prosecutor, which his Lordship
cannot withhold. This, we understand, is a settled point, and we
know of a case in which a private party similarly circumstanced came
forward. It was in consequence of several persons being shot, in
Aberdeen, on the late king’s birth day, Captain M‘Donach was that day
the officer on duty, and gave the orders to the military to fire upon
the mob, in consequence of which several persons were killed. Politics
then ran high, and his Majesty’s Advocate refused to bring the Captain
to trial. But a private party came forward; his Lordship was obliged
to grant his concourse; and Captain M‘Donach was put upon his trial.
The Hon. Henry Erskine conducted the case for the prosecution; but in
spite of all his efforts the Jury acquitted the prisoner. We do not
remember how the instance was laid, and we have not time at present
to consult the authorities. We are quite certain, however, as to the
main fact, that the prosecution was brought by a private party, with
concourse of his Majesty’s Advocate, after that Functionary had refused
to prosecute in his own name. Now, the inference we draw from this
is, that the mother of Daft Jamie ought to come forward upon this
occasion; and in order to enable her to do so, a subscription should
be immediately opened for raising the necessary funds to defray the
expense of the trial. Were this done, hundreds, nay thousands would
subscribe to enable her to prosecute; and we are satisfied that the
Lord Advocate would not only not refuse his concourse, but would be
pleased and gratified with a proceeding calculated to relieve him from
the embarrassments with which he is at present surrounded.


                        _Edinburgh Advertiser._

The Lord Advocate is blamed, not only for not having possessed the gift
of “second-sight,” and discovered sooner that Burke and Hare, and their
two wives, were murderers. He is blamed in the second place, for having
been able to procure the conviction of only one of the gang. Hare and
his wife, it is said, ought not to have been made King’s evidence.
There was enough of evidence, we are told, against their associates
without them; and we are desired, therefore, to adopt the conclusion,
that they were improperly screened from punishment, by being invested
with the character of witnesses. This is really too much. But some
persons, when _disposed_ to find fault, require, in the language of
the proverb, “but a _hair_ to make a tether.” It has proved so, in the
present instance. A better arranged case of proof, circumstantial and
direct, has seldom, perhaps, been laid before a jury, than that which
was submitted to the jury on the trial of Burke and M‘Dougal. A train
of more clearly delivered and unshakenly adhered to testimony, on the
part of the unexceptionable witnesses, has seldom been listened to.
Yet, even when aided by the direct testimony of Hare and his wife, for
whose evidence we are told there was no necessity, a jury, including
individuals of the most respectable character, unanimously found
the charge _not proven_ against _M‘Dougal_, while, at least, two of
them, it is asserted, contended for a similar verdict _even against
Burke_ himself. Had Hare and his wife, therefore, not been witnesses,
there is the best reason for supposing that the conviction of none of
the four would have been obtained. It is surprising that, in such a
state of facts, the Lord Advocate should be accused of having acted
improperly in admitting these miscreants to the privileges of king’s
evidence.

In our last paper we endeavoured to show that his Lordship could not
have acted otherwise than he has done. A contemporary of yesterday has
reviewed the remarks we then made. After affecting to consider them as
coming from a “higher quarter” than ourselves, in order, of course--to
secure the greater attention to his own observations--he still contends
that the Lord Advocate acted improperly in giving immunity to Hare and
his wife, and that if he had not done so, he might have accomplished
the conviction of more of the gang than Burke. On a _prima facie_
consideration of the subject, this must appear very unlikely. His
lordship was, of course, in possession of all the evidence in its
authentic shape, the broken parts of which have been wafted, in an
exaggerated form, to the knowledge of the public. He was, perhaps,
aware too, that the murders had all been so committed as to preclude
the chance of direct evidence of them, except either from Burke or
Hare--who were accustomed, according to the recent confession of
Burke, to keep even their wives out of the way, on such occasions. Our
contemporary has not stated, and we, therefore, imagine, cannot state,
that any third party, not of the gang, ever witnessed a single one of
the murders, or was ever so connected with their perpetration, as to be
able to give any thing approaching to the requisite direct evidence on
the subject. He should be prepared to do so, however, before censuring
the Lord Advocate for a mode of procedure which may have been, and
which, we believe, was wholly unavoidable.

Our contemporary objects to the extent of immunity he supposes to have
been given to Hare and his wife. On this point, we should think, he
need feel no uneasiness. If king’s evidence was necessary--if without
such evidence it be plain from what has occurred on the trial of
Burke, that there was more than a chance, a probability even, that
the conviction of none of the gang could have been obtained--we may
rest assured that the Lord Advocate offered no farther premium on the
treachery which he felt to be requisite, for the sacrifice of some of
them, than was absolutely necessary to insure it.

But then our contemporary thinks that, at all events, a different
selection ought to have been made, and that, by the testimony of
M‘Dougal, had she been admitted as king’s evidence, Hare might have
been convicted as well as Burke. In our last paper, we stated that
M‘Dougal, although not actually married to Burke, had, for ten years,
lived with him as his wife, and, in law, therefore, _was_ so, and could
not be examined against him; and as the other woman could not, for
the same reason, have been examined against Hare--and neither of them
could furnish against the husband of the other, that clear and decisive
evidence required from _socii criminis_, to give it sufficient weight;
the result of taking _them_ as king’s evidence might, and probably
would have been, the escape of the whole four. Burke, however, it
seems, has been confessing since his condemnation, and, as one of his
confessions is said to lead to an _inference_ that his cohabitation
with M‘Dougal could not make her his wife, as either he or she were
previously married, and the wife or husband of the former marriage
still alive--our contemporary, on the tacit assumption that this even
yet mysteriously hinted at fact was or ought to have been known, and
capable of proof _before_ the trial--endeavours to give the _coup de
grace_ to our argument against the possibility of having made M‘Dougal
give evidence against Burke. His attempt to do so is founded on the
result of what is generally called, reasoning in a circle, and seems to
require no farther notice. His whole argument, indeed, on this part of
the subject proceeds on this other assumption, that the Prosecutor, in
looking out for king’s evidence, has the selection of it entirely in
his own hand. This, we rather think, is but seldom the case; and, where
the gang have been connected as husbands and wives, the selection must
often be prescribed to him, or made imperative, by circumstances over
which he can have no control. Is our contemporary quite sure that the
Lord Advocate had not his hands tied, in this way, in the present case?

As to his lengthened argument to show that had the Lord Advocate not
moved for judgment against Burke, when found guilty of the last of the
three murders charged against him, it would have been competent to have
led evidence of the circumstances attending the other two--we would
simply ask, _cui bono?_ What good effect could have resulted from the
leading of it? Hare and his wife being protected as king’s evidence
against the consequences of _their_ participation in them, and M‘Dougal
not being charged with _them_ at all, they could only have been proved
against Burke. After what had passed, must not this have seemed, in
so far as Burke was concerned, to be like the pouring of water on a
drowned mouse, and, in so far as the public was interested, to be the
exciting of feeling unnecessarily and without object?

Our contemporary, in conclusion, asserts, that whatever immunity the
Lord Advocate may have felt it necessary to give to the infamous Hare,
the mother of “Daft Jamie,” taking advantage of the disclosures made by
that wretch under promise of pardon, is entitled to prosecute him, with
the concurrence of the Lord Advocate, which concurrence, in all these
circumstances, his Lordship, he says, will be bound to give. This seems
very novel doctrine. We can only say, that we should be extremely glad
to think our contemporary correct in laying it down; and no man, we are
certain, would be more happy to think his reasoning without flaw, than
the Lord Advocate.

There is still another point of _dittay_ against his Lordship, an
insinuation that he is unwilling to prosecute trains to the knowledge
of other murders which are said to have opened to him, and which are
reported to implicate other murderers than those already known to the
public. Such an insinuation might safely be contemned by any one, and
must be far too incredible, when made against his Lordship, to find a
couple of ears on the respective sides of the most credulous head in
the strongholds of credulity itself, to take it in. The Lord Advocate,
we suppose, thinks coolly before he acts--finds out some person to
be tried--and on grounds inferring probable conviction, before he
institutes the trial; and, as our contemporary admits that he is still
proceeding in his investigations, the charge of unwillingness to
prosecute, seems, even on his own showing, to be very premature, as
well as incredible.

We are satisfied that, in the prosecution of Burke and his associates,
and in the investigation of the system of murder with which they have
been connected, the Lord Advocate has done, and is doing his duty,
ably, impartially, and fearlessly, and that he is entitled to the
highest praise instead of the slightest censure. Feeling this to be the
case, we cannot withhold our humble effort to make it appear so.


                         _Edinburgh Observer._

The people are not satisfied with the imperfect disclosures that
have taken place, and the trivial atonement that is to be made to
outraged humanity, by the death of only one of the atrocious gang.
There is a cry for blood--more blood--throughout the land; and coming,
as it does, from the bulk of the nation, it will require no little
discrimination and firmness, on the part of the Public Prosecutor,
to see his way clearly, and to keep it when he has found it. A more
difficult situation than his, at the present time, we cannot well
imagine. Even the activity of the press, in reiterating the calls for
further inquiry and for more victims, at the very moment when he is
known to be indefatigably employed in prosecuting the one and searching
for the other, has greatly contributed to render his duties more
harassing and ungracious. Under a sincere, and, despite what others
say, we conceive a just impression, that all the monsters might escape
the gallows, as one of them has actually done, by a verdict of “not
proven,” he permitted two of them to purchase their worthless lives by
bearing testimony against their associates. That the Hares obtained
this immunity as being the lesser criminals in his estimation, we do
not believe. The fact of the particular murder, which led to the whole
discoveries, having been perpetrated under Burke’s roof, naturally
pointed out him and his guilty partner as the more immediate objects of
legal vengeance. It is evident, that throughout the whole business,
the Lord Advocate has been actuated by the most honourable anxiety
to investigate the affair to the uttermost; and had he not, at the
very outset of the trial, been urged into a concession to the legal
scruples of the counsel opposed to him, whose eloquence most assuredly
reft one wretch from the clutch of the hangman, not merely one, but
three acts of the horrid drama would have been publicly revealed.
It is stated, that since the trial, his Lordship and his assistants
have been unremitting in their inquiries. He has attended almost
every precognition, and surveyed in person the foul abodes which the
murderers inhabited, and even the dwellings of their victims. But he
refuses to violate the public faith, of which, in this instance he is
the custodier, by yielding up the tools he has been forced to employ,
to that punishment which they have so abundantly merited, yet from
which the nation stands pledged they are redeemed. God forbid that we
should advocate the indemnity of these monsters on any ground, save the
sanctity of such a pledge. We question greatly, whether Hare and his
partner, cast upon the world with ignominy and crime branded on their
foreheads, are not more condignly punished, than the wretched man whose
days are numbered, and whose doom, it is certainly not uncharitable
to predict, will yet overtake them. In the case of Weare’s murder,
Probert, one of the accessaries, was admitted to a like immunity. When
his foul breath had consigned one of his associates to the gallows, he
was allowed to go forth into the world a free man; but, like Cain, he
found himself an outcast, and, in the course of a few months, was again
arraigned as a felon, convicted, and executed.

Though we dissent from the summary mode of procedure which many people
recommend, and conceive that it would be a perilous innovation on the
prerogative of the Public Prosecutor to say, that in this instance, his
pledge of immunity shall be disregarded, unless some new charge can
be substantiated, we view the detestation so unaffectedly expressed
by the public towards the whole gang, as consolatory to humanity.
Had criminals, with hands so deeply dyed in blood, found even one
commiserator or advocate beyond the walls of the Court of Justice--had
any man ventured to whisper that the crimes which they have perpetrated
are not worthy of death--nay, had not the whole nation lifted up
its voice, and declared, that even death itself was but a miserable
atonement for crimes so monstrous, we should have regarded it as a
national disgrace. It is to be hoped, however, that this laudable
spirit will not degenerate into tumultuary violence. The authorities,
we are satisfied, will not relax their efforts to develope the whole
of these sanguinary atrocities; and, if the correspondence which is
at present carrying on between the Lord Advocate and the teachers of
anatomy should, in conjunction with other investigations in progress,
lead to the inculpation, in the remotest way, of any individual, we
are satisfied that nothing will shield the culprit from the vengeance
of the law, be his rank or previous respectability what it may. As yet
only one individual of that body has been in any way implicated in
these horrible transactions; and we know that a feeling is prevalent
that he has been treated with greater delicacy than he deserves;
but the culpability of one man must not be received as condemnatory
evidence against a whole tribe. An earnest desire is entertained by the
teachers of anatomy that the fullest investigation should take place;
and if criminal laxity in the receipt of subjects can be traced to any
particular quarter, an ample exposition will follow. This exposition
they are entitled to demand; for the reputation of the whole fraternity
is perilled by the revolting suspicions which the crimes of their
caterers have engendered.

       *       *       *       *       *


                       _The Caledonian Mercury._

               THE PUBLIC PROSECUTOR AND HIS APOLOGISTS.

    _Mieux cents ennemis qu’un imprudent ami._--French Proverb.

The remarks which appeared in our Monday’s publication, on the defence
of the Lord Advocate inserted in a contemporary Journal of Friday
last, have been reviewed, not answered, in the columns of the same
paper of Tuesday; and were it not of the very greatest importance,
at the present moment, that the public should be accurately informed
respecting some of the points at issue, we should have been well
content to leave the subject to the decision of all competent persons,
upon our first and somewhat hurried statement. We trust that we shall
be excused for proceeding at once to deal with the only matters of law
and fact to which the writer has thought proper to advert.

And, in the first place,--(for the sake of perspicuity, we shall
take the different topics in the same order as formerly)--the writer
reluctantly admits the validity of the argument which we adduced
“to show that had not the Lord Advocate moved for judgment against
Burke, when found guilty of the last of the three murders charged
against him, it would have been competent to have led evidence of the
circumstances attending the other two.” But he asks, _cui bono?_ “What
good effect could have resulted from the leading of it?” We answer,
first, that it would have redeemed the Lord Advocate’s pledge; and,
secondly, that it would have satisfied the country. Both in replying
to the arguments of the prisoner’s Counsel on the relevancy, and in
addressing the Jury for the Crown, his Lordship distinctly pledged
himself to probe and sift the _whole_ of these murders to the bottom.
In the former case, while contemplating being under the necessity of
deserting the diet against M‘Dougal, owing to the view taken of the
indictment by the Court as containing a _cumulatio actionum_, and the
exercise of their discretionary power in separating the charges, he
said, “The question is now reduced to one of time and trouble; for if
I do not proceed against her to-day, she will be proceeded against ten
days hence. In such circumstances I shall not certainly insist now on
that woman’s being tried on this indictment. I shall proceed against
her alone, since she now says that being tried on this indictment will
prejudice her case.” And again, almost immediately after, he added,
“No motive shall 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_. 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_.” The Court, in giving judgment on
the relevancy, fully recognised the propriety of this most distinct
and articulate pledge; for Lord Pitmilly unequivocally held, that it
was competent to try Burke on all the three charges, and that the
Public Prosecutor should proceed with the first and then with the
others. Lord Meadowbank, entirely concurring in this view, expressed
his opinion, that while their Lordships sustained the indictment, they
should “direct the Lord Advocate to proceed separately in the trial
of the different charges.” Lord Mackenzie and the Lord Justice Clerk
acquiesced in this suggestion, and, in fact, it ultimately became the
judgment of the Court. Fortified by such authority, the Lord Advocate
accordingly reiterated his pledge in his address to the Jury, and in
terms equally emphatic and unequivocal. Now, we would simply ask the
writer before us, Was this sacred and solemn pledge redeemed? Were
“all the three” charges tried? Were they gone through from first to
last? Did the Prosecutor do his duty according to his own view of it,
by going “through the whole of these charges?” He cannot answer in
the affirmative. By moving for, and obtaining judgment against Burke
on the conviction under the first charge, he rendered it impossible
for himself to redeem his pledge; and two of the charges were, in
consequence, dismissed without investigation. Now, was this not an
error in judgment, which is all we ever alleged? Nay, was it not
an error calculated to place the Prosecutor in a very embarrassing
position in reference both to his own pledge and to the public? It is
true the apologist says that trying Burke upon the first and second
charges, after he had been convicted on the third, would have been
“like pouring water on a drowned mouse.” But we cannot say we admire
either the elegance or the felicity of this illustration. The question
is not one that concerned Burke, whose fate was in fact determined by
the conviction under the third charge. It concerned the Lord Advocate
and the country alone; the former as having become bound to try “all
the three” charges; and the latter as, by his Lordship’s admission,
“entitled to know them from first to last,”--a knowledge which his
Lordship conceived it to be his “duty” to afford, and which he would
be deservedly condemned by the country if he did _not_ afford. But
the writer adds, that taking any further proceedings was calculated
“to excite the feelings of the public unnecessarily and without
object.” We are really surprised that any person could have been found
short-sighted and ignorant enough to hazard such an assertion. What!
was the exposure of one murder, and the quashing of all investigation
into the circumstances of other two, calculated to _allay_ the
excitement of the public mind; or rather, was it not calculated to
produce the very opposite effect? A corner of the veil only had been
lifted up; a glimpse merely had been given of crimes which this very
writer himself describes as “destined in point of atrocity, to stand
alone, and in advance of every other that man has hitherto been known
to commit,” and as covering up from the view “the very outposts and
limits of human wickedness;” and then the curtain was suffered to drop
on others which it was equally necessary that the public should know,
and which they were equally “entitled” to have fully and thoroughly
brought to light: this was the course pursued; ample scope was given
for the imagination to work, under the influence of an undefined
apprehension; and yet we are gravely told that this was the most
approved mode which could have been adopted to prevent an unnecessary
excitation of public feeling! Has it been attended, we would ask, with
any such results?

Next, as to the unquestionable title of Daft Jamie’s mother to
prosecute Hare for the murder of her son, with concourse of the Lord
Advocate, which concurrence his Lordship may be compelled to give,
our learned opponent remarks, that “this seems very novel doctrine.”
We certainly do not hold ourselves bound to instruct our opponent in
the first principles of criminal law; but, for the sake of a public
purpose, we shall endeavour to show that the doctrine we maintain,
so far from being “novel,” is _tritissimi juris_, one of the most
common and most thoroughly settled principles in our criminal code.
To entitle a private party to prosecute, he must have an _interest_,
not remote or feeble, but immediate and powerful in the cause; the
wrongs alleged must be wrongs done to the _person_, and “of a high
and aggravated kind, such as may naturally excite strong feelings of
anguish and resentment in the minds of the _kindred_ of the sufferer;”
an oath of calumny must be taken by the prosecutor, if required by the
party accused; caution must be found to insist in the prosecution; and
the law also subjects the private prosecutor in expenses, and even in
penalties, if he insist in a groundless or malicious accusation. Now
has not the mother of Daft Jamie an _interest_ in the prosecution we
point at? Was there not a wrong done to the _person_ of her innocent
child who was foully murdered? May she not with perfect safety take
the oath _de calumnia_, if required? And is it impossible for her to
find caution to insist, and to find means to defray the expense of
the prosecution? The public, with their usual generosity, will, we
doubt not, give a practical answer to the last of these queries; and
as to the others, we profess ourselves unable to discover that we have
proponed any “novel doctrine.”

Again, we said the Lord Advocate might be compelled to grant his
concurrence in such circumstances; and we think Mr. Burnett and Mr.
Baron Hume will amply bear out our assertion. The former, after
stating at length the conditions above briefly indicated, says, it is
perfectly understood “that his Majesty’s Advocate _cannot refuse_ his
concourse, and _may be compelled to give it_, in all cases where the
complaint of a private party is founded on a known and relevant _point
of dittay_, (murder for example) and as to which he has _prima facie_
a _title_ to insist.” pp. 306–7.--And Mr. Baron Hume is, if possible,
still more explicit on the point. After stating that the Lord Advocate
may refuse his concourse, if it be asked to a charge of witchcraft,
which a statute has expunged from the list of crimes, or of treason
for which no private party can prosecute, or of murder at the instance
of some stranger, who does not even allege that he is anywise related
to the deceased, he goes on to say, “On the other side, certainly
the Lord Advocate is not the absolute and accountable judge on such
occasions; but is subject to the control and direction of the Court,
_who will oblige him to produce and justify the grounds of his refusal
to concur_. Nay more; except in such extraordinary situations as those
above supposed, _he shall not even be allowed to engage in any inquiry
concerning the merits of the case, the propriety of the prosecution,
the form of the action, the sufficiency of the title, or the like_, BUT
SHALL BE ORDAINED TO COMPLY STRAIGHTWAY; _leaving the discussion of
these matters for the proper place and season, after the libel shall
be in Court_.” Vol. II. pp. 123–24. Lord Alemore’s opinion, given on
the complaint of Sir John Gordon against his Majesty’s Advocate, June
21, 1706, is equally precise: “Had the Advocate refused his concourse,
_he might have been compelled to give it_, for everyone is entitled to
justice; but he cannot be forced to prosecute.” Maclaurin, p. 298. Is
there any “novel doctrine” in all this?

But our opponent endeavours to complicate the matter by most
disingenuously attributing to us a statement which we never made, or
even so much as dreamt of, namely, that the mother of Daft Jamie,
“_taking advantage of the disclosures made by the infamous Hare, under_
PROMISE _of pardon_,” is entitled to prosecute him with the concurrence
of the Lord Advocate. The artifice is paltry enough; but our answer is,
that the rights of the private party, who, as such, “is entitled to
justice,” cannot be in any manner of way læsed or impaired, far less
destroyed by any previous proceedings of the Prosecutor, in his public
capacity; especially when these proceedings are in the eye of the law
illegal, and only winked at upon a principle of utility or general
expediency. What, in the name of common sense, of reason, and of law,
had the mother of Daft Jamie to do with the disclosures made by Hare
to the Lord Advocate “under _promise_ of pardon?” That “promise” may
be good against his Lordship himself; but it is utterly monstrous to
pretend that it can in any way affect the rights of a private party who
comes forward to prosecute; which it would unquestionably do, in the
most serious manner, were his Lordship to be held entitled, in virtue
of that most injudicious promise, to refuse his concurrence. Nay, we
maintain, on the authority of Mr. Baron Hume, that it would be illegal
in the Lord Advocate, when his concourse was applied for, to take any
such circumstance into his consideration at all; for it is expressly
laid down in the passage already quoted, that his Lordship “shall not
even be allowed to engage in any inquiry concerning the _merits_ of
the case; the _propriety_ of the prosecution, the _form_ of the action,
the _sufficiency_ of the title, or _the like_; all these are _jus
tertii_ to him;” and, accordingly, the Court would “ordain him to comply
straightway; leaving the discussion of these matters for the proper
place and season, after the libel shall be in Court.” This, we should
think, is not very “novel doctrine;” and as no man, we are assured,
“would be more happy to think our reasoning without flaw, than the Lord
Advocate,” (which we well believe,) we humbly hope that the exposition
we have now given will be found to answer that condition.

These then are the main points of our case; and we flatter ourselves
that we have made them out. But as we are resolved to engage in no
further controversy on the subject, and therefore wish to clear off
our score at once, we shall take the liberty of adverting, before we
conclude, to one or two points of secondary importance, on which our
opponent strenuously insists.

And, in the first place, he persists in maintaining that “had Hare
and his wife not been witnesses, there is the _best reason for
supposing_ that the conviction of none of the four would have been
obtained.” We would have been much better pleased, however, had this
incurious apologist condescended to inform us in what this “best reason
for supposing” consisted; as we confess our own inability to discover
a shadow of “reason” for the “supposition” so gratuitously made.
The point, we are well aware, is an important one for our opponent;
because, unless he can make out that there was no case against Burke,
without the evidence of Hare and his wife; in other words, disprove our
argument that there was sufficient testimony to convict without the
evidence of the accomplices at all, then our conclusion is inevitable,
that Hare and his wife ought to have been at the bar, and not in the
witness-box. But, strange to say, although the point at issue is so
important to the justification which our adversary labours to make
out, he has not ventured to bring forward a single argument, or show
a vestige of “reason” or authority, for the opinion he so strenuously
asserts. We shall not, however, follow his example in this respect,
but state as shortly as possible the grounds upon which we hold that
Hare and his wife ought to have been placed at the bar beside Burke and
M‘Dougal.

The testimony of a _socius criminis_ is good in law only in so far
as it is corroborated by other testimony perfectly unexceptionable,
or by circumstances of real evidence; and where it stands alone and
unsupported, it is the duty of the presiding Judge to direct the
Jury to pay no attention whatever to it. Let us apply this test to
the evidence of Hare and his wife, and observe to what conclusion it
will lead. The former, wherever he spoke to circumstances which fell
within the knowledge of unexceptionable witnesses, differed from, or
rather was flatly contradicted by them; and consequently his evidence
in regard to these was of no avail whatever, except to impeach his
own credibility. Again, he was contradicted by his wife in respect to
several of the occurrences in Burke’s and Connaway’s on the evening
of the murder; and both were contradicted in regard to other matters
in which they agreed, by the unexceptionable witnesses. As to what
they said in regard to matters concerning which no other person could
speak, they stood alone and unsupported, and of course were not in law
entitled to be believed; while they were farther discredited by the
want of all corroboration in regard to circumstances spoken to equally
by them, and by the unexceptionable witnesses. How then was it possible
that any weight whatever could be attached to such evidence, either
by the Court or the Jury, particularly the latter? Two miscreants,
whose only title to be believed was their having been engaged in the
commission of three murders, are adduced as witnesses to speak to
one of them, and wherever their testimony is susceptible of being
corroborated, it is flatly and pointedly contradicted by persons who
are above all suspicion; and where it stands alone and unsupported, it
is in the eye of the law worth nothing. Why, then, were such witnesses
adduced at all? They were not necessary, because their testimony was
not and could not be believed; and, in point of fact, their depositions
served no other purpose, except to enable the Dean of Faculty to plead
what would have been otherwise nearly an unpleaded case, and to point
out such a formidable array of flagrant contradictions as to shake
the minds of the Jury in regard to the effect of the unchallenged and
unchallengeable testimony. The case, therefore, was, in point of fact,
made out against Burke by other evidence than that of Hare and his
wife; and as the same evidence which led to the conviction of Burke,
would have also led to the conviction of Hare at least, we have again
to submit that that hideous wretch, if not also his wife, ought to have
been placed at the bar beside his brother murderer.

We are accused of having blamed the Lord Advocate “for not having
possessed the gift of second-sight;” and various other follies which
seem to have entered the imagination of our opponent, when heated
with his subject, are also laid to our charge. To these, however, we
disdain to offer any reply. We can well believe that the case opened
upon his Lordship gradually, and that, had he now to retrace his steps,
he would, in many respects, act differently from what he has done. With
the very best intentions in the world, a Prosecutor may be placed in
such circumstances as almost inevitably to lead him to bungle a case:
but surely it can be no very heinous offence to point out such errors
as a warning for the future, and at the same time to show how even
at present they may be in a great measure remedied.--“The very head
and front of our offending hath this extent--no more.” It is true,
we called for further investigation, and we did our best to indicate
what channels ought to be explored. That call has been answered, and
inquiries have been set on foot which can scarcely fail to lead to
important results. In regard to the nature of these inquiries, or the
facts which have been elicited, we are for the present dumb. Our object
is to aid, not to thwart, the progress of judicial investigation; and
no wish to gratify the public curiosity, or any other motive indeed
shall induce us to breathe a whisper calculated to defeat the great
and necessary purpose which the Public Prosecutor is now labouring so
zealously to accomplish.

In order to give a connected account of the preliminary legal
proceedings respecting the contemplated trial of Hare, we shall delay
introducing the subject at present. In a future number a detail of the
whole proceedings will be given.

We now proceed to detail the particulars which we have carefully
collected, with respect to the lives and characters of the several
individuals who have been concerned in these nefarious transactions. Of
these, the first we shall notice is,




                            WILLIAM BURKE.

We can pledge ourselves that every circumstance that is here narrated,
has been obtained from such sources as to leave no doubt of its
authenticity; it will be seen that while this memoir is a great deal
fuller than any one that has appeared, it is also dissimilar, in many
particulars, to the disjointed fragments that have been from time to
time published; how these have been obtained, we cannot say, but we
can aver that this account has been received from sources which may be
relied on, and much of it from the unhappy man himself, indeed so much
as to entitle us to say that it is almost his own account.

WILLIAM BURKE, whose crimes have condemned him to an ignominious death
on the scaffold, describes himself, in his judicial declaration,
emitted before the Sheriff-substitute of Edinburghshire, in relation
to the cause for which he was tried, as being thirty-six years of
age. He was born in the parish of Orrey, near Strabane, county of
Tyrone, in Ireland, about the year 1792. His parents were poor, but
industrious and respectable in their station, which was that of
cottiers, occupying, like the most of the peasantry of Ireland, a
small piece of ground. The Irish are remarkable for the avidity with
which they seek education for their children, under circumstances
in which it is not easily attainable. The parents of Burke seem to
have been actuated by this laudable desire, as both William and his
brother Constantine, must have received the elements of what, in their
condition, may be called a good education, and superior to what usually
falls to the lot of children in their rank in Ireland. He was educated
in the Roman Catholic faith, which he has ever since nominally adhered
to, though with little observance of its doctrines or ceremonies. He
is by no means, however, a person of the brutal ignorance or stupid
indifference that his callously continuing in a course of unparalleled
wickedness, apparently without compunction, would betoken. He has
sinned deeply, but it has not been altogether against knowledge, as he
could at times put on a semblance of devotion; and during the fits of
hypocrisy, or it may be, starts of better feeling, before he became
so miserably depraved, his conversation was that of a man by no means
ignorant of the truths of Christianity, and such even as to lead
some to imagine him seriously concerned about his eternal salvation.
During one of these temporary ebullitions about five years ago, he
became an attendant on a prayer-meeting held on the Sabbath evenings
in the Grassmarket. He was, for some time, remarked as one of its most
regular and intelligent members. He never omitted one of its meetings,
and expressed much regret when it was discontinued. As a Catholic, he
was considered wonderfully free from prejudice, frankly entering into
discussions upon the doctrines of his church, or those of other sects,
with whose tenets he showed some acquaintance.

He read the Scriptures, particularly the New Testament, and other
religious books, and discussed their merits. On a Sabbath, especially
though he never attended a place of worship, he was seldom to be seen
without a Bible, or some book of devotion in his hands.

At that time no one of his acquaintances would have admitted the idea
for a moment that he was capable of committing such infamous crimes,
and probably his own mind would have revolted at the contemplation of
such enormities; but a continued indulgence in sin produced in him its
never failing consequences in hardening and deadening the heart, and
fitting it for the perpetration of deeds, which a little before the
sinner would have shuddered at.

Burke was remarked to be of a very social and agreeable disposition,
with a great turn for raillery and jocularity, and what from his after
proceedings could scarcely have been supposed, was distinguished not
only as a man of peculiarly quiet and inoffensive manners, but even as
evincing a great degree of humanity. Of this _softness of heart_,
a singular instance is given by an acquaintance and near neighbour,
whose child Burke was remarkably fond of, and used to caress much. The
little boy chanced, during the time he lodged in the neighbourhood, to
be afflicted with a tumour and gathering on the neck, and his mother
took him to a neighbouring dispensary. The medical attendants there
considered it advisable to open the gathering, which was done. Upon the
mother’s return home with the child, she informed Burke of what had
taken place; he appeared very much affected at the recital, and said
repeatedly that he could not have witnessed the operation; that the
mention of it made his flesh creep, and expressed great surprise that
the mother could be so cruel as to permit and witness it.

At an after period, in Peebles, he still made considerable pretensions
to religion, as the subjoined note testifies.[3] It is from an
intelligent correspondent of the Saturday Evening Post, who mentions,
“On my first visit to his house, he had one or two religious books
lying near him, which he said he read; being at that time confined by
a sore leg.” Somewhat inconsistent with this pretended sanctity, is
the other part of the intelligence, that, “on Saturday nights, and the
Sabbath days, his house was the scene of riot and drunkenness with
the lowest of his countrymen.” In his confessions, published in the
Caledonian Mercury, the following testimony, borne by himself, as to
his religious feelings, appears:


“He states, that while in Ireland, his mind was under the influence
of religious impressions, and that he was accustomed to read his
catechism, and his prayer-book, and to attend to his duties.”

All his pretensions, however, seem to have had but little influence
on his life and conversation, as he was all the time living in the
flagrant violation of the plainest dictates of religion, a drunkard,
blasphemer, and adulterer.

Burke originally worked as a labourer about his native place, assisting
his father, and living in his house, until he attained the age of
eighteen, when he left him. He then went as servant to a gentleman
in the neighbourhood, but after being one year in this capacity, the
gentleman died, when he was obliged to seek other employment.

At the age of nineteen, he entered the Donegal militia as a substitute,
and served in it as a private soldier for seven years. In this
regiment, his brother Constantine held the rank of a non-commissioned
officer. During the greater part of his service, he acted in the
capacity of an officer’s servant; and from the propriety with which he
acquitted himself, gained considerable respect.

It was at this period that he became acquainted with a young woman, of
a respectable character, in Ballina, county of Mayo, to whom, after
some time, he was regularly married. By her, he had seven children,
of whom some were still-born. All of them, excepting one boy, are now
dead. His wife still survives, and resides with her father in Ireland.

It is probable, that notwithstanding her good character, the connection
was not a very comfortable one for her. He proved unfaithful to
her; and this is a vice which must have marred their domestic
happiness. Indeed, even at his best time, he appears to have displayed
considerable laxity in his intercourse with women.

At the general peace, his regiment was disbanded, along with the rest
of the militia forces. He then went with his family to reside in the
county Mayo, in the neighbourhood of his father-in-law. He was also in
the same class as Burke’s parents, and possessed a small farm, which,
in conformity with the custom in Ireland, he was willing to parcel out
to his family and connections. The system pursued in that country, of
the lessee or tacksman, of what originally is, perhaps, a very small
farm, sub-leasing miserable portions of it to an indefinite number of
retainers, is now so universally understood, that it is unnecessary
here to explain it. In a country swarming with an unemployed
population, and when so many additional claimants for the most wretched
patch of potatoe ground, had been superadded by the reduction of the
army, to the already redundant population, it must have been no slight
good fortune in Burke, to find a father-in-law whose farm could still
afford sustenance for another family. He does not seem, however,
to have been contented with the permission that was allowed him to
cultivate, from year to year, for his own behoof, the share that was
allotted to his use, and insisted upon having a lease granted him. This
the old man peremptorily refused, on the allegation, that his object,
after obtaining the lease, was to sell it and desert his family. This
difference led to squabbling between them; and after it had continued
for some time, Burke finding that there was no probability of gaining
his point, abandoned the project, and deserted his wife and family.

After taking leave of his parents, he came to Scotland in 1817 or 1818.
He then engaged as a labourer, on the cutting of the Union Canal, soon
after its commencement; and subsequently wrote to his wife in Ireland,
but she would not receive the letter. After some time it was returned
to him, and with this, all intercourse with his family ceased, never to
be renewed. He has ever since, however, spoken in respectful terms of
his wife, and several times expressed an intention, when he could get
matters arranged, of returning to her; but motives are seldom wanting,
for a continued indulgence in a favourite sin, and want of clothes,
to make a respectable appearance, when he joined her, or some other
frivolous pretence, constantly diverted him from his purpose.

While employed upon the Union Canal, he accidentally met the woman
M‘Dougal at the village of Middiston in Stirlingshire, where she was
residing with her father after the death of her husband. The story told
of his falling in with her on the streets of Glasgow is incorrect. An
intimacy was speedily formed, and about a year from the commencement
of their correspondence, they agreed to live as man and wife, and have
done so ever since.

A similarity of disposition seems to have produced a corresponding
affection, and the sympathy that attracted them to each other
appears still to have outlived all their quarrels and the ill usage
he subjected her to. They have expressed great attachment to each
other since his conviction. It is understood that an account of his
connection with M‘Dougal, while his wife was still alive, having
been made to the priest of his religion, he was first admonished,
and recommended to return to her, and upon his refusal to do so, was
excommunicated. This may perhaps in some measure explain his not
attending chapel while his religious fits were upon him.

He, after the completion of the canal, came, along with M‘Dougal, to
reside in Edinburgh, and engaged in the petty trafficking in various
sorts of merchandise practised by many of his countrymen, travelling
about the country in prosecution of his trade. He dealt in different
sorts of pedlary wares, old clothes, &c. and collected skins, human
hair, &c. in the country.

During the work on the canal, he had been noted among the other
labourers as of a particularly handy active turn, and skilful in
cobbling, in a rude way, his own and the shoes of his acquaintances.
After his subsequent settlement in Edinburgh, he turned his talent to
some account; and though he never had learned the craft and mystery of
shoemaking, contrived to gain from fifteen to twenty shillings a week
by his new acquirement. His practice was to purchase quantities of old
shoes, and, after cobbling them in the best fashion he could, to send
M‘Dougal to hawk them about among the colliers and poor people of her
native district.

At this time he lodged in the house of an Irishman named Michael, or
more commonly Mikey Culzean, in the West Port, who kept a lodging-house
for beggars and vagrants, similar to the one which Hare’s crime has
made so familiar to the public,--in the language of the classes who
frequent them,--a _beggars’ Hotel_.

Many will probably recollect of a fire happening in one of these abodes
of wretchedness about six years ago, when incredible numbers emerged
from the miserable hovels. In this conflagration Mikey’s dwelling
suffered, and Burke and M‘Dougal escaped from the flames nearly naked,
and with the loss of all the little property they possessed. Some
charitable individuals contributed to procure clothes and necessaries
for the sufferers, and they received some relief by the hands of the
Rev. Dr. Dickson, one of the ministers of the parish. By this disaster
he lost his library; and though it is somewhat surprising to hear
at all of a collection of books under such circumstances, it is not
the less so when the names of some of the works are mentioned. Among
them were, Ambrose’s Looking unto Jesus, Boston’s Human Nature in its
Fourfold State, the Pilgrim’s Progress, and Booth’s Reign of Grace. His
landlord afterwards took a room in Brown’s Close, Grassmarket, where
Burke also again went as a lodger.

It was at this time that he attended the religious meeting we have
previously mentioned, which was held in the next apartment to the one
in which he lodged. During his attendance he was always perfectly
decorous in his deportment, and when engaged in worship had an air of
great seriousness and devotion. The conductor and frequenters of it had
formerly been subjected to much obloquy, and even violence, from the
Catholics who abounded in that neighbourhood; and one evening, after
Burke’s attendance on it, his landlord, Mikey Culzean, attempted to
create annoyance, by breaking through some sheets of paper which were
used to cover up an old window, and crying out in a voice of derision,
“that the performance was just going to begin.” Burke expressed himself
in indignant terms on the occasion, saying, that it was shameful and
unworthy of a man to behave in such a manner.

From the general aversion to the meeting so unequivocally manifested
by the Catholics, and Burke being universally known to belong to that
persuasion, his frequent attendance on it, and reverential behaviour,
excited the more notice. It was usual for him to remain conversing
with the individual in whose house they assembled after the others
had dispersed; and on these occasions the subjects that had occupied
their attention during the service naturally were often talked over.
His conversation was generally such as to show that he had been
attentive to what was passing, and comprehended the topics brought
under his notice. Since his conviction he has adverted frequently to
the subject, and deplored that the meetings had been discontinued,
as even this imperfect form of public worship had a tendency to keep
him from flagrant sin. He has kept in his recollection, and mentioned
after condemnation, an expression which was used in one of the
exhortations--“that there was no standing still in sin.” His career
of guilt, gradually advancing in the commission of crime, until the
violation of every human and Divine law led him to most flagrant
enormities, has awakened him, by bitter experience, to give his
unwilling testimony to the justice of the remark.

During his residence in this neighbourhood, he gave no indications of
any thing that would lead people to anticipate his future enormities.
He was industrious and serviceable, inoffensive and playful in his
manner, and was never observed to drink to excess. He was very fond
of music and singing, in which he excelled, and during his melancholy
moods was most frequently found chanting some favourite plaintive
air. All these qualifications, and his obliging manner, joined to
a particularly jocular quizzical character, with an interminable
fund of low humour and drollery, rendered him a general favourite.
His custom was to take a walk almost daily along the streets with an
acquaintance, and freely to interfere in any thing which occurred to
indulge his humour. Some of these occurrences are still recollected by
his companions in his perambulations, a specimen of which, as every
thing concerning him now seems to possess interest, may be given. In
passing along the Cowgate on one occasion, his musical ear was annoyed
by the continued inharmonious cry of an itinerant vender of salt. Upon
her approaching him still nearer, the annoyance reached its climax by
her drawling out in discordant sounds her reiteration of “_wha’ll buy
saut_;” though flinching under it, he turned and replied with his
usual politeness, “Upon my word I do not know, but if you will ask that
woman standing gaping at the door opposite, she will perhaps be able to
inform you.”

On another occasion, when attacked by a girl of the town in the
High Street, instead of replying directly to her solicitations, to
the astonishment of the unfortunate girl, he commenced a torrent of
abuse, on account of the awkward style in which she had painted her
face, saying that he might have passed over the painting, had it
been properly done; but that it was shameful to come to the street,
bedaubed in such an unskilful manner. Such was the humour with which
he continued his remonstrance, that the rude laugh of the crowd was
effectually directed against the amazed girl, and she was glad, by a
hasty retreat, to save herself from farther ridicule.

Though his conduct was such as has been described, and even to his
paramour, notwithstanding her irregular habits, partook most frequently
of his general character. Yet on several occasions, he subjected her
to ill usage, or sometimes rather, perhaps, returned her violence,
by relentlessly beating her. A fruitful source of quarrels, was his
propensity for the company of loose women, which, when exhibited,
never failed to rouse her jealousy. The most common subject of it, was
a near connection of her own, whose virtue was not of an immaculate
description. She was, however, a great favourite of Burke’s and often
was introduced into the house. In one of these squabbles, a result
was nearly produced, which might have terminated both their lives, in
a somewhat less notorious manner, than his is likely to be, though
more conducive to the public safety, than his after impunity was, and
exhibits the latent savageness of his disposition, notwithstanding the
fair exterior. One evening, Burke, M‘Dougal, and the female already
mentioned, had gone to bed together. In the night, some jealousy had
arisen between them, and a battle was the consequence. So long as
the conflict was maintained on nearly equal terms, Burke contented
himself with witnessing it; but, when the elder virago was likely to
master the young one, he rose out of bed, and interfered in behalf of
his favourite. His interposition speedily turned the scale, and he
inflicted an unmerciful thrashing upon M‘Dougal. The neighbours who
had heard the uproar, but as usual, were backward in interfering, were
now alarmed by the cries of an interesting little girl, a daughter
of M‘Dougal’s by her former husband, who lived with them, and who
entreated them to assist her mother, as William Burke was murdering
her. Upon hastily rising and opening their doors, they found M‘Dougal
extended on the floor of the passage, apparently lifeless, with her
brutal companion standing by, contemplating her. After some time, she
exhibited signs of life, when, again seizing her by the hair, and
uttering a horrid imprecation, he exclaimed, “There is life in her
yet,” and dashed her head violently on the floor. The police watchmen
had by this time, been made aware of the noise, and arrived immediately
after this fresh inhumanity. Upon asking Burke, if the woman was his
wife, he again assumed his usual mild manner, and in an insinuating
tone said, “Yes, gentlemen, she is my wife.”

After living for a year in Brown’s Close, he removed, still as
Culzean’s lodger, to Swan’s Close on the opposite side of the
Grassmarket, where he resided for some time still cobbling and pursuing
the same course of conduct. About this time, his acquaintance with the
individual who has furnished us with some of the above particulars,
suffered an interruption. Burke, although so liberal in his intercourse
with Protestants, had still enough of Catholic feeling, as to take
exceptions to his friend’s attending Orange lodges, and a coolness in
consequence ensued.

After leaving Swan’s Close, he went to Peebles, where he settled for
some years. He was employed there as a labourer, and went daily to
road-making in the neighbourhood of Innerleithen.

Here, although he still maintained some pretensions to religion, we can
trace a gradual deterioration in his character. From the note formerly
given, it will be seen that he was now distinguished for keeping
suspicious hours, and that his house was the resort of profligate
characters, and noted as the scene of drunkenness and rioting,
especially on Saturday nights and Sundays.

From thence he went to Pennicuik, where his conduct and occupation
were much the same, working generally as a labourer, and occasionally
following his self-taught occupation of mending shoes.

After the harvest of 1827, he, still accompanied by M‘Dougal, came
again to reside in Edinburgh, and it was at this time that he first
became acquainted with the monster Hare, who was his tempter to these
unhallowed deeds, and his teacher, as well as seducer. He came to live
in Hare’s house in Tanner’s Close, West Port, which was kept as a
lodging-house by his wife, under the name of her former husband Log.
In this abode of profligacy and vice--the resort of vagabonds of every
description, and the theatre of continued brawling and drunkenness, it
is not surprising that every trace of decent feeling that might still
have lingered about him should speedily be dispelled, and his mind be
properly tutored and prepared for the commencement of the murderous
trade in which he so ruthlessly continued for nearly twelve months.

An intimacy was speedily contracted between Hare and him, and to show
the vile footing on which the two families lived, we may here relate
an anecdote which was communicated by a respectable neighbour of
theirs, who called on Burke with the intention of giving him a job as
a cobbler. He found Hare most brutally beating the woman M‘Dougal, who
was lying on the floor, and Burke unconcernedly sitting at the window.
He asked Burke why he suffered another man to beat his wife? to which
he replied, “She well deserved all she was getting.”

Burke still, however, maintained a more respectable character than any
of his partners; Hare was a rude and ferocious ruffian; his wife was
a meet companion for him; and M‘Dougal was very little behind them
in drunkenness and profanity. He continued, (unlike the other three)
to work a little at his business, in the inner small apartment. The
person who now shows Hare’s house is, along with his other avocations,
a dealer in old shoes, and used to employ him to mend them up for sale.
The stock of boots and shoes which was found in Burke’s house upon
their arrest, and which excited so much speculation, belonged to him.

Previously to his becoming an inmate in Hare’s dwelling, he had been
in the habit of engaging in harvest work, first at Mr. Howden’s, an
extensive farmer in East Lothian, and subsequently with Mr. Edington,
farmer at Carlinden, near Carnwath, where Burke and Hare, with their
two women, wrought last harvest.

Of Burke, it had been observed, that he seemed to be a polite,
obliging, and industrious person. In rainy weather, while the reapers
could not work in the fields, it was usual for him to find out some
useful service, which he performed at the farm-steading; so that he
was seldom, if ever, idle. Whenever it happened that a servant had any
heavy article to lift, he, of all the harvest people assembled in the
kitchen, was the foremost to offer his assistance. On a young woman’s
mentioning that she had never seen Edinburgh, the same courteous Burke
invited her to town, saying, that he would give her a lodging in his
own house, and that he would show her the city; but, fortunately, she
never had an opportunity of availing herself of his kindness. After a
stay of a few days at Carlinden, a letter arrived, which was said to
announce the illness of a child of Hare’s, in Edinburgh; the parents
began to arrange for their returning homeward, when M‘Dougal remarked,
that “if Hare goes, William Burke will go too, for they are like
brothers, and cannot be separated.” Accordingly, all the four went off
together.

While he resided in the West Port, he was remarked to be a very early
riser, frequently appearing on the streets in his working dress, on a
summer morning by three or four o’clock; some who were also on foot
at these early hours, used to observe him, and taunt the shoemakers
of the West Port with the observation that the Irish lad was the most
industrious man among them. It is probable that this activity was for a
very different purpose to what was suspected.

The first dealing in subjects commenced in a manner which few would
be inclined to visit with very great reprehension, and had the pair
throughout confined themselves to similar exploits, they would probably
have been regarded as adroit and ingenious knaves, perhaps more
beneficially employed in furnishing the necessary supply of subjects
in a manner which harmed no one, than from their bad habits they were
likely otherwise to be.

In December 1827, the natural death of a lodger happened in Hare’s
house,--not of a woman, as has been erroneously stated, but of a very
tall and stout man, a pensioner who led a dissipated good-for-nothing
life. His debauched habits sufficiently account for his death, while
yet in the vigour of life, without any suspicion of unfair agency being
aroused.

After his decease, the ordinary observances were gone through, and all
matters fitly prepared for the funeral; a coffin was procured, and the
funeral guests invited, and every thing managed in a decorous manner;
the undertaker came, and while employed in fastening down the lid, was
invited into the other room to recruit his strength by a dram, the
coffin was then uncovered, and the corpse quickly dislodged and made to
change situations with a sack of waste bark which had been previously
procured from a neighbouring tannery. After this, the fastening
proceeded. The coffin was borne out at the appointed time, before the
assembled guests, and with all due solemnity deposited in the Grey
Friars churchyard. The rogues, after the ceremony, proceeded to find
out a purchaser for the body, and so unacquainted were they with the
manner of proceeding, that they did not at first apply to the proper
quarter. Throughout the day, however, they found this out, and at dusk
the subject was conveyed away in the sack which had held the bark, and
was carried on Burke’s back. Their first resting place was at Bristo
Port, where it was set down for a little, when Hare took his share of
the burden. They then took the round-about road of College Street to
Surgeons’ Square. They soon afterwards, however, found out the nearest
way.

After all that has been said, subjects must be procured for scientific
purposes; the necessity of a young man under a course of education
for surgical practice qualifying himself for his future profession by
anatomical dissections, renders them indispensable, while the very
ordinances and regulations of the College of Surgeons, makes dissection
imperative before he can obtain a diploma or license to follow his
profession. Were all subjects procured in this harmless way, where
neither the feelings of private friends were outraged, nor public
decency violated, small fault would be found, though the nature of the
traffic would continue still sufficiently revolting to deter all but
ruthless blackguards from embarking in it.

But after once gaining what to them was a large sum of money, Burke’s
and Hare’s cupidity could not be satisfied with this comparatively
innocent method of supplying their wants. They were apparently too
indolent or inexpert, or lacked courage too much, to adopt the ordinary
but hazardous mode of raising the dead from church-yards. Still, with
this easy, and apparently unlimited means of acquiring money opening to
them, they could not betake themselves again to the pursuits of honest
industry; and, stimulated by the greatness of the reward, and the
prospect of their sensual indulgences being so readily gratified, they
formed the desperate resolution of committing murder, and of continuing
to imbrue their hands in their fellow-mortals’ blood, as their ordinary
and sole means of procuring a livelihood.

Before commencing the revolting narrative of their appalling crimes, we
may mention, that previous to the period in which they engaged in them,
their neighbours used to observe them only to notice the squalor and
wretchedness of their appearance; but all at once, there was a sudden
change, and Burke and M‘Dougal especially assumed a different aspect.
They appeared well dressed, and spent money freely. Whisky, which
however much it may be relished, can only be procured at intervals by
men in his situation, seemed to be constantly at their command; and
even credit at a neighbouring spirit-dealer and grocer’s, was obtained,
to an extent that almost no individual in his situation would have
ventured to hope for or request. At this time, Burke mentioned to the
wife of an old acquaintance, whom he met accidentally, that he had
spent fourteen pounds within the last fortnight; and if he had known
where her husband lived, would have been glad to come and spend three
or four pounds in company with him. Of course, all this apparent
affluence was not exhibited, without exciting the speculation of those
who observed it; and they were troublesome in their inquiries into the
secret, that enabled them to live well, and drink continually, without
working. Various were the excuses that were made; for they never
appear to have been at a loss for an answer. On one occasion, when the
question was put to Burke, and suspicions intimated, that he followed
the trade of a resurrection man, he neither would give a denial nor an
affirmative to the proposition, but contented himself with remarking,
that the querist was as bad as the rest. On another, he would ask
Mrs. ---- “Can you keep a secret,” and when the curious inquirer,
expecting to be entrusted with the whole mystery, eagerly answered,
“Yes,” he would reply, with an air of secrecy, that he smuggled a
little small-still whisky.

Nelly M‘Dougal had a different way of accounting for it. She averred
that she had a property in Stirlingshire, which had been left to her by
her former husband, and which produced twenty pounds a year; and that
it was from the rent of it the money came. It was afterwards observed
to her by some of the neighbours, that this story would scarcely
account for their abundant supply of money, as the rents of such
properties, as she described, were usually drawn at definite terms,
and they seemed to get money much more frequently. She then alleged
that the money was the proceeds of a legacy that had been lately left
her, and that she drew part of it when she pleased. To humour this
story, she used to announce to her acquaintances, from time to time,
that their money was expended, and that she had written off for a
fresh supply. In a few days, accordingly, she intimated that the money
had arrived, and new vigour was imparted to their drunken disorderly
courses.

It must be perfectly apparent what the dispatching of the letter meant,
and if these proceedings does not amount to a guilty knowledge and
accession to the murders, so far as knowledge of, and sharing in the
proceeds goes, we do not comprehend what can constitute participation.

At another time she intimated that William [Burke] was the favourite
of a lady in the New Town, who never allowed him to want money, and
sometimes she had known him receive twenty pounds at a time from her.

Burke states, that Hare and he had often talked over the subject of
murder, and had consulted upon the best mode of effecting it. It may
well be credited, as their first essay seems to have been conducted
with as much coolness and deliberation, as much cautious management in
effecting it, and as little compunction in the execution, as if they
already had been adepts in the art. It was perpetrated on an elderly
woman, belonging to the village of Gilmerton, whom Hare had observed a
little intoxicated on the streets. She was a pensioner to a gentleman
in the New Town, from whom she received 1s. 6d. a week. Hare accosted
her, and easily succeeded in enticing her into his house, here they
gave her spirits to drink, and afterwards Mrs. Hare, purchased, for one
shilling and sixpence, a small cann of _kitchen-fee_ which she had
received at the house of the gentleman already mentioned. The price
of it was also laid out in liquor, and the poor woman speedily got
altogether intoxicated, and commenced singing in the exuberance of her
mirth. She told them that she had a very fine young daughter at home,
and, with maternal feeling, was loud in her praises. Hare represented
himself as an unmarried man, and said, that upon her representation,
he would marry her daughter: The poor woman readily consented to the
match, when the heartless fiend, expressed great kindness for her,
and alleged that his bride and he could not live without her, and
that when the daughter came home, she must come to reside with them.
She willingly consented to this arrangement, and expressed herself
quite overjoyed at meeting with such a good provision for herself and
daughter, and promised to return and get the marriage consummated.
They took care to ply her well with liquor, in order that being made
completely drunk, she might remain after the other lodgers had departed
in the morning. Next day, the spirits had the effect, and she was sick
and vomited. The monsters had not abandoned their purpose, however, and
after stupifying her with more whisky, when all the others had left the
house, they put her to death in the way they pursued ever afterwards,
by covering and pressing upon the nose and mouth with their hands. The
body was afterwards conveyed to Surgeons’ Square, and the money readily
obtained for it. This happened in December 1827.

In the whole story, we see none of the hesitations and misgivings of
men engaged in a first attempt, at such a horrible crime; every thing
appears rather like the acts of those, whom long familiarity with a
course of iniquity had rendered completely callous; and yet there does
not seem any sufficient ground for supposing that either of them had
been engaged in such crimes before. Burke asserts strenuously, that
he never was concerned in like transactions, and expresses his belief
that Hare also was guiltless up to this time, so far as he knows, of
the blood of his fellow-creatures; and, after what has happened, he
assuredly will not be much inclined to favour Hare. This opinion is
also corroborated, when we recollect that they proceeded like novices
in the disposal of the pensioner who died naturally.

The next unfortunate victim to be inserted in the horrid catalogue was
an Englishman, a travelling pedlar or _packman_, who had lodged
also in Hare’s house. The process which they had now ascertained to
be most easy and efficacious was also gone through with him. He was
enticed to drink to intoxication at night; and when the house was
cleared, he was suffocated in the usual manner.

Success in these instances made them more eager, and Burke describes
himself at this time as thirsting continually after his prey.

A connected or chronological account of their murders cannot now be
obtained; the copartnery kept no books to which reference can be
made, and were not curious in inquiring into their victims’ names or
circumstances; but such distinctive marks of every one of them has been
furnished, as to enable us to lay before our readers some notice of all
the individuals murdered, though it may not perhaps be exactly in the
order in which they occurred; even in this particular, we believe, it
will be found nearly correct. They in all amounted to sixteen; fewer
than what some have asserted, but far above what any one could have
conceived of before this atrocious system was unveiled. One of this
number was effected by Hare at the time that Burke was absent in the
country; how it was accomplished, remains only known to that demon
himself, as it was only by accident that Burke discovered anything of
it. It has been often said, that there is honour among thieves: this
does not, however, seem to hold good regarding murderers, as Hare
appropriated to himself the price of this subject; and upon being
challenged by Burke for his breach of contract, audaciously asserted
that nothing of the kind had taken place. It was only after his
comrade applied at Surgeons’ Square that the truth transpired. This
is understood to have been the minister’s servant, to which public
attention has been attracted.

Another, and probably the third one sacrificed, was a dissipated
character, who used to infest the Grassmarket and neighbourhood, called
Mary Haldane; she was enticed into the house, and fell an easy prey;
her previous habits caused her readily to imbibe a sufficient quantity
of ardent spirits, and little difficulty was found in despatching her.

It is singular, that among their victims should be ranked a mother and
her daughter, and at different times too, but so it is that the child
of this Mary Haldane was kidnapped into the house where her mother had
been formerly murdered--she was unconscious of her mother’s fate, and
was deprived of life in the same way. She was a woman of the town, and
led a very dissolute life; one of her sisters was transported to Botany
Bay not long before the murder of the mother and sister.

Among the rest, was an old man, who was usually known by the name
of Joe. He had been a miller, but old age and infirmities had
incapacitated him from working at his trade. In an evil hour he entered
Hare’s lodging-house, and never departed from it; he was also plied
with liquor, and when in a drunken slumber, his breath was stopped.

Among the other melancholy stories, there is one of a peculiarly
touching description, which Burke, remorseless as he has been, often
talks of, and deplores as the one that hangs heaviest upon his
conscience. It is that of the poor Irishwoman, and her deaf and dumb
grandson, which has been already noticed, though incorrectly, in the
newspapers. The poor woman, with her helpless charge, had been met
by Hare on the street, and though her circumstances as a destitute
country woman, and the protectress of the helpless boy, might have
melted the hardest heart, he does not seem to have felt any compunction
in marking her and her child out for slaughter. She was invited to
the house, and to her seeming, hospitably entertained. She seemed
perfectly well pleased, and even expressed to them the satisfaction
she felt at her good fortune in meeting with a kind countryman, who
behaved so generously to her, and in whose house she could repose safe
from the dangers of this wicked town. But their feelings could not be
touched by such appeals, and the unfortunate woman was put to death at
night, and allowed to remain in bed as if sick or asleep. The youth
did not comprehend what had taken place, but seemed to imagine that
his grandmother was unwell. Next morning he was, almost charitably,
dispatched also. Burke took him upon his knee, and broke his back. He
describes this murder as the one that lies most heavily upon his heart;
and says that he is constantly haunted by the recollection of the
piteous manner in which the boy looked in his face. The lad was laid
in the bed alongside of his grandmother; and when the time arrived for
conveying them to the dissecting-rooms, the bodies were tumbled into an
old herring barrel.

A curious incident happened in connection with this murder which had
well nigh put a stop to their career, and, in looking back upon the
circumstances now, it appears astonishing that it should not have led
to a complete discovery of their infamous transactions. The herring
barrel containing the two bodies was placed on a cart. An old horse
which Hare possessed, and which he used in his traffic in fish and
crockery-ware was yoked to it, and the two set out at darkening to
Surgeons’ Square with their cargo. They proceeded along the West
Port, without any thing remarkable happening, but when they reached
the market-place at the entrance to the Grassmarket, the horse
stopped, and, notwithstanding all their efforts, would not proceed
a step farther. It may be easily conceived that they were in a sad
quandary, with nothing before them but instant exposure. As Burke has
since said, they “thought the poor old horse had risen up in judgment
against them.” Unfortunately for the public, though luckily for them,
as it gave them a respite for some time longer, the assembled crowd
were so much engaged in attending to the horse, that none of them
thought of inquiring into the contents of the cart; and when it was
ascertained that nothing could induce the horse to move forward,
two porters were allowed to bear off his burden without attracting
particular observation, and, like M‘Culloch, they bore their load to
the dissecting-rooms without being troubled with any scruple upon the
subject, or once venturing to ask either themselves or their employers
what it was composed of. The miserable horse, which it is probable age
and hard usage, and insufficient diet, had arrested in its progress,
rather than any suspicions or unwillingness to comply with the assigned
task, was, in revenge for the fright it had given its masters, and the
trouble it had put them to, led to a neighbouring tannery and shot.

The subjects, however, reached their destination, and, notwithstanding
this untoward event, and the imminent risk the guilty pair had
incurred, the next opportunity found them as eager for slaughter as
if no cause of terror or subject for reflection had occurred: indeed,
by this time probably any feeling of compunction, which appears--if
such ever existed--to have been of a very evanescent description,
had disappeared. They had tasted the sweets of an abundant supply of
money, and ample means of gratifying their sensual appetites, without
the irksome operation of working for the necessary means; and it was
not likely that any temporary alarm would divert them from practices
which supplied all their wants. With their hearts seared, if such an
operation ever was requisite, by the habitude which former crimes had
given them, and assured by the impunity which had hitherto attended
their speculations, it was unlikely that any scruples should assail,
or any dread dismay them. Reflection was quite out of the question.
Hare seems to have been both mentally, from original organization, and
physically from his incessant use of ardent spirits, incapable of it;
and Burke, though possessing a more active and acute mind, was yet
endowed with an unstable rambling disposition, which incapacitated him
from any continuous mental exertion, and besides, at this time he was
in the constant habit of “steeping his senses in forgetfulness,” and at
the same time banishing reflection and the warnings of conscience, by
the indulgence of his inordinate appetite for stimulants.

Whatever might be their feelings, or whether they felt at all or
not, the next opportunity found them actively engaged in what had
now assumed the character of a regular trade. The narration must be
proceeded in, and the disgusting catalogue gone through, however
revolting to humanity, and we hasten to lay before our readers the
remainder of the intelligence we have obtained respecting these murders.

Another one was effected upon the body of a poor old woman who had
unhappily drank too freely, and not being in a condition to behave
discreetly, had subjected herself to the surveillance of the police,
who, as a last resource, were in the act of conveying her to the
office; Burke happened to be in the way, and apparently commiserating
the situation of the unfortunate woman, proffered his good offices in
taking charge of her and furnishing her with a night’s lodgings. The
officers were doubtless glad to get their troublesome charge so easily
off their hands, and readily acceded to his request; she was conducted
to the ordinary slaughter-house, Hare’s, and speedily put out of a
condition to give any further annoyance to the police.

Another victim was a cinder gatherer, whose occupation caused her
to wander about the streets at all hours, and while Burke prowled
abroad at the early hour we have mentioned, many opportunities must
have occurred to form an acquaintance with her, and we may suppose
that little inducement would be requisite to cause her to leave her
wretched employment for a season, and partake of his good cheer: she
was destined never to return to it.

If there be any gradation in their wickedness it appears more
incredible and unnatural that a near relation of the one, and
connection of the other, should have been selected as a sacrifice;
yet it is well ascertained and admitted by Burke, that a young woman,
a cousin of M‘Dougal’s was also put to death, after having been
intoxicated. Some relations, we believe her mother and sister, after
the nefarious system was developed, came to Edinburgh in fearful
apprehension, endeavouring to ascertain the fate of her whom they had
long anxiously mourned over, and applied at the house of Constantine
Burke, when her relative Helen M‘Dougal was present. She, in answer
to their agonised inquiries, replied, that they need not trouble
themselves about her, as she was murdered and sold long before.

One of the remaining murders was perpetrated on the body of a woman who
came from the country, and took up her lodgings also in Hare’s.

We have already given, at page 125–137, a description of the murders
of Mary Paterson and James Wilson, or Daft Jamie, and it will be
unnecessary here to repeat what has already been inserted. Burke has
admitted, that he was intoxicated when he suffocated Paterson, and
that it was done in the presence of Hare, while she was in a slumber,
which the excessive quantity of spirits he induced her to swallow had
produced. All legal proceedings regarding her may be considered to be
at an end. Should it be resolved upon, however, to indict and try Hare
for the murder of Daft Jamie, a farther development of some of the
circumstances connected with him may be anticipated. As it stands at
present, we may assert that no additions can be made to the narrative
formerly given. It is singular that he was the only individual murdered
who had sense enough to refuse the liquor that was pressed upon
him, and apparently the only one that they found any difficulty in
dispatching. Burke has latterly, in allusion to this, remarked, “that
they found more trouble with a sober fool than a drunk one.”

During the progress of this wholesale butchery, Burke and M‘Dougal
removed from Hare’s, or as it was more commonly called Mrs. Log’s
house, to that of a relation or connection of theirs, named Broggan,
the father of the witness of that name. We cannot determine whether
there had really occurred such a quarrel between Hare and them as to
induce them to separate in disgust, as has been asserted, or whether
it was imagined that another establishment would furnish additional
opportunities for accomplishing their designs; but if a disagreement
actually did take place, it had been of short continuance, and their
operations appear to have suffered no interruption in consequence.
It has been already stated, that Broggan’s house presented admirable
capabilities for carrying on the work, provided the inmates could be
relied upon, but as it only consisted of one small apartment, this was
indispensable. There was also the dark passage, furnishing a place of
retreat for the women, when that should be considered convenient.

Previously to occupying their new lodgings, however, they seem to have
spent a short time in Constantine Burke’s house in the Canongate, as
they were residing there when Paterson and Brown were enticed into
it in April. Soon after Whitsunday they removed to Broggan’s house,
and not long after commenced using it for the purpose that Hare’s had
been formerly applied to. A decent woman, the widow of a porter, named
Ostler, who lived in the Grassmarket, and who had died shortly before,
was the first victim in it. She gained her living in an industrious
laborious way, mainly by washing and dressing, and eked it out by any
sort of work she might be employed in, and during harvest engaged in
country work. She had been accustomed to frequent Broggan’s house in
her vocation of a washer-woman, and was well known to the neighbours
from her long residence about the neighbourhood, and from her often
coming to Mrs. Law’s, where she got her clothes mangled. One day she
was observed to enter Broggan’s house, and was noticed afterwards
singing “Sweet Home” in company with Burke. This was the last time that
she was seen. After having been persuaded to drink, she was dealt with
in the usual manner.

Those who lived in the neighbourhood cannot divest themselves of
the idea that Broggan, or at least his wife, was cognizant of this
affair. Their characters were not good, he being a rude, brutal and
drunken personage, who made the place the scene of a continued series
of brawls; his wife also was not held in good estimation. The time
of the murder, they argue is pretty well ascertained by the fact of
Mrs. Ostler’s having been known to enter the house, and never seen to
depart, and her disappearance from her usual places of resort, as well
as Mrs. Law’s mangle, a place which her occupation required her often
to visit; and it is alleged, that at that period, though Broggan might
be out of the house, his wife could not, as she had lain in about the
time. It is but justice, however, towards the Broggans to state, that
Burke has never implicated them in any knowledge of his nefarious
proceedings, and in this particular case, he says, that the accouchment
had taken place some time before the murder, and that Mrs. Broggan, as
well as her husband, was absent from the house at the time.

Some time after Burke’s coming as a lodger to this house, he became
the sole occupier. Broggan had been unable to pay his rent at
Martinmas, and Burke and Hare, who were cautioners for it, were under
the necessity of satisfying the landlord. Broggan immediately after
this decamped with his family, though it could not be to evade the
landlord’s claim, or from inability to meet it, as we have seen that
the rent was already paid by his sureties. He left Burke in undisturbed
possession of the house, and furniture.

After his removal, it might have been supposed that no inmate
would have been admitted whose presence could possibly prevent the
accomplishment of their designs; yet with strange inconsistency they
shortly after invited Gray and his wife to lodge with them. It could
scarcely have been with the hope of mastering them, as Gray appears
too stout a man to have been attempted single-handed, even by both of
the villains, and the notion of his being an accomplice is equally
out of the question. It is true that when a “_a shot_,” as their
abominable cant termed it, was obtained, they were sent out of the
way, but this must have been inconvenient, and after being felt so,
it is probable that they would not have occupied their lodgings long.
The girl that Hare murdered, when Burke was absent in the country,
completes the number of sixteen; and this, according to Burke’s
confession, makes up the whole number. The amount is sufficiently
horrifying, and the details abundantly fearful.

The account of the trial, furnishes ample details of the murder of
Margery Campbell, or Docherty. It was the last committed, and afforded
the means of detecting and putting an end to their wicked career. It is
fearful to contemplate to what lengths it might otherwise have gone, or
how long it might have continued.

To the notices which have been given, we may subjoin a list of the
whole; and although, as we have already premised, we cannot vouch for
the order in which they happened being strictly observed, we believe
that it will be found otherwise perfectly accurate.

    The first subject sold was,
        The pensioner who died a natural death.

    The murders were,
        The old woman from Gilmerton.
        The English pedlar.
        The old man Joe the miller.
        Mary Haldane.
        Her daughter.
        The old Irishwoman.
        Her grandson.
        The Cinder Gatherer.
        The old woman taken out of the police officer’s hands.
        Mary Paterson.
        The woman from the country.
        The girl M‘Dougal.
        Mrs. Ostler, the washer-woman.
        Daft Jamie.
        The woman Campbell, or Docherty.
        The girl murdered by Hare alone.

Of these, nine were murdered in Hare’s house, and two in the cellar
adjoining to it, which was used by him as a stable. Four or five of
them were effected in what was first Broggan’s, and afterwards Burke’s
house, and one in Constantine Burke’s, in Gibb’s Close.

We have frequently had occasion to advert to the insinuating manners,
and mild deportment of Burke; and the same character attended him in
his last place of residence in the West Port: Though seldom occupied
at work, and almost continually drinking, he was still considered a
quiet inoffensive man. The frequent squabbles that took place between
M‘Dougal and he, and the beastly orgies of Hare and his wife, did not
change the opinion of their neighbours. His character rather stood
out favourably, when contrasted with his associates; and a scuffle
in the family of Irish people of his rank, is not such an uncommon
occurrence, as to excite much attention. Indeed, so little was this
regarded, that the cries of murder, on the night in which Campbell was
suffocated, were passed over with this single remark by one of their
near neighbours, that “Nelly would surely be murdered to-night, as she
was making such a noise;” but without any idea that there was any thing
more serious than usual going on.

On ordinary occasions, if he chanced to meet any person in the passage
when intoxicated, he would pass on with the observation of, “I am fou
to-night; but I will not disturb you.”

His fondness for music has been formerly noticed, and this
distinguished him to the last. It was his practice to engage some
wandering minstrel--a young Savoyard, or Italian boy who plays
about the streets on a hurdy-gurdy most frequently, and with his
assistance to get up in his house a concert and dance among the
children that could be collected about the neighbourhood; and such was
his popularity, that his assemblies were generally well attended. He
appears to have displayed considerable affection towards children, and
to have secured their good will by joining them in such harmless sports
as these dancing parties. Those who were too young to participate in
the amusements were propitiated by gifts of sweetmeats, &c.

Many anxious mothers have found out since the trial, that their
children were objects of regard to the murderer Burke; and in the
plenitude of their parental affection, have congratulated themselves
upon their escape from his clutches. Nothing could now convince them
that a plot was not laid to kidnap their beloved offspring, and that
if he had not been detected, they would ere this time have furnished
subjects for dissection. Burke, however, alleges that he never meddled
with children, and never intended to do so. There is little room to
doubt, however, that had the supply of full-grown and higher priced
victims failed, he would not have scrupled much to betake himself to
younger ones; we cannot allow any tenderness of feeling to one who
could go on butchering so unconcernedly and for such a length of time.
He states, indeed, that he would have abandoned it long before, had
it not been for the enticements of the monster Hare, who, whenever
he proposed stopping short, incited him on by threats and fresh
temptations; but although Hare may have been, and, we believe, was the
greater delinquent of the two, if any distinction can be made, still
Burke must be allowed to have possessed free-agency enough to have
withdrawn himself, or even to have arrested the progress of his partner
when he pleased, and we fear that this excuse will scarcely serve to
palliate his conduct. He was all the time a sharer in the unhallowed
gains, and an active co-operator, and seems to have prowled about as
ruthlessly in search of miserable wretches to practise upon, as if no
feeling of remorse ever entered his mind.

He has even stated, that Hare and he intended taking a journey in
the way of their business next spring, they were to proceed westward
from Edinburgh, and after visiting the intermediate places, travel on
to Glasgow, where they expected to find a rich harvest. They were to
proceed thence to Belfast, by way of Greenock, which was also to be
attempted on the route, and after doing what they could in the north
of Ireland, were to journey on to Dublin. They had little fear about
making a successful speculation; and in all probability, with such a
fine field before them, they would not have been disappointed.

It is evident from all this that a year’s impunity had produced the
effect of making them consider themselves as engaged in a species
of profession which had indeed, like illicit distillation, or any
contraband traffic, to be concealed from the authorities, but which,
except for this annoying accompaniment, was pursued with nearly as
little compunction as any other profession would have been; and
after some practice, they must have found it a lucrative one. The
commencement was made in December 1827, about Christmas it is stated,
and the woman Docherty was murdered on the 31st October 1828. Their
bargain was to receive eight pounds for each subject during the
summer season, and ten pounds in the winter. While novices in the
profession, in the course of ten months they had massacred sixteen
individuals, which must have produced about one hundred and fifty
pounds, or seventy-five pounds to each, without counting the price of
the first subject; no small sum for persons in their condition. Their
evil-got gains seem, however, to have departed as readily as they came,
and all that either of them possessed when arrested, was about two
pounds received on the same day as part of the price of the corpse of
Campbell. Burke’s money was upon his person, and Hare’s was hid under
the door of his inner closet, where it was got and delivered to him in
the jail.

Upon the evening of the day on which the body of Docherty was detected
lying among the straw, and before the neighbours were apprised of it,
Hare was discovered lurking in the stair leading to Burke’s room,
about the time when the body was to be conveyed away, and upon being
questioned as to who he was, and what induced him to lounge about in
that manner, he replied that he was waiting for William Burke. By this
time he was recognised, and as he was an universal object of dislike,
was desired to go away. Mrs. Connoway adding, “that he would frighten
the _lasses_ from coming to Mrs. Law’s mangle.” Some time after
he was still found loitering along the passage, and again interrogated
about his remaining so long. This time he took an effectual mode of
relieving himself from his troublesome inquirers by commencing to retch
and vomit. Mrs. Law shut her door violently in his face, exclaiming,
“what an ill-bred fellow,” and Mrs. Connoway also followed her example.
This was apparently the signal they waited for, and immediately
afterwards M‘Culloch the porter carried out the tea-chest containing
the body.

When the alarm was given by Gray and his wife that a dead body had
been seen in the house, and that it was now removed, a great sensation
was naturally created, and people flocked about the place; none of
the suspected individuals, however, could be found, and the police
officers, who by this time had been informed of it, and had visited
the house, left the place in search of them, and the tumult in some
degree subsided. After a short while, Burke and M‘Dougal were heard
coming down the stair and along the passage. By this time they must
have been aware of the discovery, as M‘Dougal had been informed by the
Grays of their suspicions, and had made an unsuccessful attempt to
tamper with them; yet there was no flurry nor precipitation perceptible
in their manner, and, instead of proceeding directly into their
apartment, M‘Dougal observed, “I have a candle but no light,” and
entered Connoway’s house to procure one, as if there was nothing wrong.
Burke leaned unconcernedly against the door-post, without speaking
until Connoway said, “We have been speaking about you William;” he
then replied, indifferently, “That he hoped they had not been speaking
ill of him;” and upon Connoway’s answering that “It was not good they
had to speak about him,” he inquired, “What ill they had to say?”
After being informed that it was about a body that had been found, he
affected to make light of the affair, under the pretence that it was
one of their old stories about lifting the dead. He was then informed
that it was not such a surmise now, but that he was suspected of
murdering the little old woman with whom they all were so happy the
night before, and that the police were after him. He replied with more
asperity, “That he defied all the country to prove any thing against
him; that he had not been long about these doors, and this was the
second time such a story had been raised upon him.” Mrs. Connoway
remarked, that she had heard of his being a resurrection man, but never
had known of any murder being laid to his charge.

He entered into an explanation of his meaning, which as much as any
thing else tends to show the cool designing nature of the man. “Do
you recollect the old woman that came from the country?” he said,
describing an elderly woman who had been introduced as a country
friend of M‘Dougal, and had lived with them for three or four days
some time before. Mrs. Connoway answered, “That she did.” “Then do you
recollect,” he rejoined, “her coming in to you and shaking hands, and
bidding you farewell?” Mrs. Connoway replied, “That she remembered it
perfectly well.” “I made her come in and do so on purpose,” he added,
“as Broggan told me that you said I had murdered her.” Whether Broggan
had actually said so, or whether Burke had devised this blind to screen
him when another occasion required it, we cannot say, but Mrs. Connoway
had never heard of the circumstance before. The officers immediately
after this colloquy entered, and seized the culprits. They were
conveyed to the police office, and after examination by the sheriff,
were transferred to the Calton Hill Jail, and placed among the untried
prisoners. Burke’s conduct before trial was decorous, and corresponded
with what has been previously said of him. His behaviour during the
trial, and immediately after it, has also been described, and little
remains to be added, save some short account of his demeanour since
conviction.

On the first morning after his removal from the Lock-up-house to
the condemned cell, which, in the Calton Jail, is under the women’s
cells, and adjoining the stair which leads to them, he mentioned to
the jailor who attended him, that he had heard a woman lamenting, and
inquired if it would be Hare’s wife. He was informed that it could not
be she, as she was confined in a distant part of the house. He asked,
if there were any women in the same quarter, for he was sure that it
was a woman he heard mourning. The jailor then told him that it must
have been his own wife, who was kept among the women for protection.
“Is the place convenient,” he said. The jailor answered, “That it was
quite near.” “Poor thing,” he relied, “she has lost her only earthly
provider.” On the evening before M‘Dougal left Edinburgh, she called at
the jail with Constantine Burke, both requesting to see Burke, and upon
this being denied them, M‘Dougal sent a message, informing him that she
wanted money. He sent all that remained of his money, and a common old
watch, to her. He has since expressed great affection for her, and a
strong desire to see her before he suffers.

Shortly after he came to the jail, it was observed by some one that he
would receive absolution from the priest, which would make all right.
He answered in a serious tone, “that there was only one absolution for
sin, and that it had already been made.” Any account of the spiritual
conversion of a great criminal has frequently been complained of by
many, under the supposition that it has a tendency to encourage sinners
to continue in their iniquity, in the hope that a tardy repentance
may place them in a state of grace at last. We question much the
justice of their conclusions. Men engaged in a career of crime do not
reason in this way, nor reason at all upon the subject; and, though
they did, it would require great hardihood in a fellow-sinner to
endeavour to deprive them of “the hope set before them in the Gospel.”
Though we certainly do not imagine that these objectors would for a
moment contemplate fettering the operation of the Spirit. We, at the
same time, hold the opinion, that the utmost caution should be used
in promulgating such accounts, and that the state of mind of the
individual should be thoroughly sifted and rigidly inquired into
before a conversion be announced. It is with some pain, therefore, that
we have heard it given forth that Burke has become a true penitent.
Happy should we have been had we been enabled to proclaim that “the
wicked had forsaken his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts,”
and glad should we still be to learn that it was so; but truth compels
us to state, that no symptom has hitherto occurred to warrant such
a conclusion. We know well that he has expressed contrition for his
misdeeds, but we fear that it is rather sorrow for punishment having
overtaken him, than a sense of the magnitude of his sin against God;
and as for saying that he has sinned, a man who has committed fifteen
cold-blooded murders, if he speaks on the subject at all, can scarcely
say any thing else. He is said to be perfectly resigned to his fate,
and to express himself quite calmly on the subject. We believe it
all. He is a man of that stamp that would resolutely bring himself to
suffer calmly what he could not avoid. As to his announcing that he
would not now accept of pardon though it was offered to him, it appears
to us to be a mere fiction. We would not wish to speak irreverently
upon such a solemn subject, but surely we may be allowed to say, that
conversion to the faith of the Gospel, and to a firm belief in the
truths of Christianity, does not and ought not to bring along with it
a predilection for being hanged; that while it alone prepares a man
for death, it also capacitates him for worthily continuing in life.
We fear if Burke has made use of such an expression, it can only be
accounted for by wrong-headedness or hypocrisy. He must know well that
a pardon is not likely to be granted, and if it were, that his consent
would not be asked; and any observations upon the subject may therefore
be spared. We repeat that we shall be happy to be assured that we are
mistaken in the view we have taken of his state, but there is much
fear that though a melancholy it is a just one.

Since his conviction he has been very strictly watched, lest he should
find means to destroy himself, though he has never shown the slightest
inclination to do so. A man sits with him night and day, and to those
engaged in this duty, as well as others who are necessarily employed
about him, he has been very communicative and garrulous.

As illustrative of the freedom with which he converses with those who
are about him, we may mention an instance which, were it not for the
melancholy and awful situation in which he is placed--standing on the
brink of eternity--would bear an irresistibly ludicrous aspect. His
mind seemed to have been engaged in a train of reasoning upon some
subject, and at last he gave vent to it by saying, that he thought he
was entitled to, and ought to get, the five pounds from Dr. Knox, which
was still unpaid, on the body of the woman Docherty. It was observed
to him, that Dr. Knox had lost by the transaction, as the body was
taken from him. He replied, “That was not my business: I delivered the
subject, and he ought to have kept it.” It was then said to him, that
if the money was paid, Hare ought to get half of it. He pondered a
little upon this view, and then answered, “No; that Hare had cleared
himself by becoming king’s evidence, and he thought that he had justly
forfeited his share of it, and that all the five pounds should go to
him.” It turned out that his anxiety for the five pounds proceeded
from a desire to appear in a reputable manner on the scaffold. “Since
I am to appear before the public,” he said, “I should like to be
respectable. I have got a tolerable pair of trousers, but have not a
coat and waistcoat that I can appear in; and if I get the five pounds
I would buy them.” Though it is not likely that he will receive the
money, his wish will be gratified in respect to the clothes,--a topic
which he has frequently adverted to. We understand that the priest who
attends him has provided him with what he desires; and if he had not
done so, the Magistrates would have supplied the want.

His disease has now got worse, and gives him great uneasiness. In
consequence of the surgeon’s request some change has been made on his
food, and in addition to the meagre diet formerly hinted at, a little
soup has been allowed him daily. This day, (Tuesday) he will receive
the sacrament according to the rites of the Romish church. He was
removed to the Lock-up-house previous to the awful ceremonial of a
public execution, at five o’clock this morning.

Since his condemnation, all intercourse with him has been strictly
prohibited, except by those whose duties required their attendance, or
the authorities who might wish to see him upon public business; or,
finally, those who had, from their situation, the privilege of the
_entrée_, and could extend the same privilege to a few of their
immediate friends; but, with the exception of their visits, they seem
to have been actuated by the laudable desire, that the unhappy man
should not be annoyed from motives of curiosity, and the public has
been rigidly excluded. Still a sufficient number found their way into
his cell, to harass and tease him about confessions; and to be rid
of the annoyance, as it is stated, he addressed a letter to the Lord
Provost, requesting that a professional gentleman, whom he named, might
be allowed access to him, for the purpose of, once for all, giving
through him an authenticated confession, which might satisfy the public
mind.

The public authorities appear all along to have been actuated by a
decided reluctance to disclose to the public any thing connected with
these transactions beyond what must necessarily appear on the regular
trials; and in doing so, we have no doubt have been anxious to secure
to official persons the exclusive knowledge of such circumstances
as might be necessary for the ends of justice, as well as, in their
opinion, to prevent the public mind being unnecessarily excited.




            TOWN-COUNCIL OF EDINBURGH, WEDNESDAY, JAN. 21.

The Lord Provost stated to the Council, that they were perhaps aware
that a written application had been made to him, _signed_
by Burke, the individual at present under sentence of death, for
permission to be visited by a Writer in town, to whom he was desirous
of making some disclosures regarding the crimes with which he had been
connected, and that, acting upon the advice of the Lord Advocate, he
had deemed it right to refuse the application in question.--That advice
had been given by the Lord Advocate in a letter, which, of course, was
not written with the view of publication; but as much misrepresentation
had gone abroad regarding the matter, the Lord Provost deemed it right
that the letter should be laid before the public, that they might know
the true grounds on which the request had been refused. His Lordship
further stated, that he had waited upon Burke, and explained to him
the reason for refusing access to the individual whom he had mentioned
in his letter, and by whom that letter was written, though it was
certainly signed by Burke--when the unfortunate man mentioned to the
Lord Provost, that he was perfectly indifferent as to the matter, and
that he did not conceive that the narrative of his life, which the
person already mentioned had wished to prepare for publication, was of
a nature calculated to interest any one. The Lord Advocate’s letter is
of the following tenor:--

                                 “_Edinburgh, January 15, 1829._

   “MY LORD PROVOST--I had the honour to receive your Lordship’s
   letter of yesterday’s date, transmitting a communication to you
   from William Burke, which is herewith returned.

   “Your Lordship is perhaps not aware that, on the 3d instant,
   Burke intimated to the Sheriff, through the Governor of the
   Jail, that being harassed by inquiries, he wished once for
   all to make a full confession of every thing he could say in
   regard to the atrocious transactions in which he had been
   engaged, to the end that he might afterwards be allowed to
   remain undisturbed, and apply his mind to things fitted to his
   situation. In consequence of this communication, the Sheriff, on
   that same day, repaired to the jail, and took from Burke a full
   and voluntary confession, which was drawn up in the shape of a
   declaration, consisting of 19 pages. This declaration is now
   in my possession, and I sometime ago sent a copy of it to the
   Secretary of State.

   “It appears to me of importance both to the individual himself,
   and to the public, that no second statement, which might be
   contradictory of, or inconsistent with, the first, (so solemnly
   and deliberately given) ought now to be impetrated from this
   man by irresponsible parties, with the avowed object of its
   publication; and that the proper answer for your Lordship in
   return is, that Burke having himself most properly already
   selected such a mode of making his confession as was best
   calculated to secure its accuracy, and to render it truly
   authentic, no deviation from that mode of proceeding can now be
   sanctioned; but that the Sheriff will wait upon Burke, for the
   purpose of reading over to him the confession made on the 3d
   current, and that that magistrate will then take down whatever
   additions or alterations Burke may desire to have made upon it.”

                                “I have the honour, &c.
                        (Signed)                      “WM. RAE.”
      “Right Honourable the Lord Provost
          of Edinburgh, &c. &c. &c.”

It is difficult, however, to see how “it is of importance to the
individual himself, and to the public, that no second statement, which
might be contradictory of, or inconsistent with, the first,” should be
given. To us it seems of great importance, that all he is willing to
confess ought to be received and given to the public. So far from his
wishing to remain undisturbed, it is at his own request conveyed in a
letter, signed with his name, that that permission for the gentleman
to visit him was asked; and his second statement could only be
important, in as much as it differed from the one previously given to
the Sheriff. It could only be with a view of giving a fuller account,
and more minute in its details, that he was desirous of being troubled
further in the matter. It is not an impossible supposition, that the
declaration the Sheriff received is altogether a tissue of lies; and
is the immaculacy of it still to be upheld, and all correction denied,
because it would be contradictory of, or inconsistent with, the former
document? Neither does it seem to us, that the avowed object of its
publication makes any difference. It is only in as far as this object
is concerned that the public cares a straw upon the subject. And if the
Sheriff’s document is not intended to be immediately published, but
is to be shut up in the archives of his office, until some future Sir
Walter Scott grubs it out, and weaves for other generations a romance
of thrilling interest out of the horrifying confessions of Burke, the
public perhaps would have been as well pleased had all this official
activity been spared.

We cannot believe that these very respectable functionaries can feel
in common with those who use the silly cant, that the public mind may
be contaminated by an account of his crime. The public mind has been,
and is strongly excited. Some information the public requires, and will
get, and it surely is better to have a correct and authentic statement
than garbled and exaggerated reports. Were it a detail of the clever
tricks of an ingenious and adroit rogue, there might be some colour
for the above opinion; but no one is likely to be so enraptured with
Burke’s narrative as to engage in such a revolting trade in imitation
of him.

But while their Lordships have been deliberating upon this subject, and
ultimately resolving that he should not be allowed to give an account
to any but themselves, the poor man has been confessing all the time;
and it is well known that several have had access to him, whose mouths
cannot be stopped, and whose pens have not been idle. We are assured
that not one, but several “authentic confessions of Burke” will be made
public; and we have reason to know, that a duly authenticated one will
appear, whether the Lord Advocate’s be published or not. Whatever is
interesting, our readers may rely upon receiving.

For the present, with the exception of the following “confessions”
which first appeared in the Caledonian Mercury, and which, we are
assured, are perfectly authentic, we will leave the unfortunate man
until the last act in the singular drama of his life closes.




                         CONFESSIONS OF BURKE.

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 his 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.

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 that time? Were they
thirty 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 that 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[4] 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 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 a 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.[5] 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.” [Our informant omitted to
interrogate him about the surgical instruments stated to have been
found in his house; but this omission will be supplied.]

“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 Falconer. 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 get the 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 (man)
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 was 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, as 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 most
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 interrogatories in the terms
above stated; declaring, at the same time, upon the word of a dying
man, that every thing he had said was true, and that he had in no
respect exaggerated or extenuated any thing, either from a desire to
exculpate Hare, or to spare any one else. The unhappy man is, moreover,
perfectly penitent, and resigned to his fate. He never deluded himself
with any hopes of escape or of mercy; and he is now accordingly
preparing himself for confession, and for receiving absolution, by a
perusal of such books as his spiritual guides have put into his hands,
and by listening with the most devout attention to their religious
instructions. He fully acknowledges the justice of his sentence; nay,
he considers it in some measure as a blessing, the certainty of his
approaching fate having brought back his mind to a sense of religion,
from which it had been long estranged. At first he expressed deep
regret that Hare, whose guilt he conceives as of a still deeper dye
than his own, should have escaped the vengeance of the law; but by
the exertions of his spiritual monitors, who have been indefatigable
in their efforts to impress him with a strong sense of the dreadful
enormity of his own guilt, as well as to bring him to a right frame and
temper of mind, he no longer gives expression to such feelings, and
now only breathes a wish to die at peace with all mankind. As often as
the subject of the late trial is mentioned, however, he never fails to
assert that Hare perjured himself in the account he gave of the murder
of the woman; repeating the statement we have already given, that, so
far from sitting by, a cool and unconcerned spectator of the crime,
Hare actively assisted in the commission of it, and was upon the body
of the woman co-operating with himself in his efforts to strangle her.




                    PREPARATIONS FOR THE EXECUTION.

We are now drawing near a termination of the earthly career of the
wretched man who has lately occupied so large a place in the public
mind. At the time that his atrocities were first brought to light, a
deep and general sensation of horror and astonishment was produced.
The fresh disclosure of new crimes which were announced from day to
day, kept alive this feeling, until at last it was wound up to a pitch
of interest which can scarcely be imagined. All classes seemed actuated
by a common feeling of indignation against the ruffians who could
perpetrate such enormities; while the disappointment of the public,
that the vengeance of the law had hitherto overtaken only one of the
murderous gang, was strongly expressed. There was manifested, at the
same time, great satisfaction that one at least of the miscreants had
not also escaped his merited fate; and, as the time appointed for his
execution drew near, an universal interest was exhibited to learn the
progress of the preparations, and the state of mind of the unhappy
man. The magistrates and authorities, however, seem purposely to have
adopted a line of conduct calculated directly to disappoint the very
natural anxiety so unequivocally exhibited; and up to the moment when
he appeared on the scaffold, all knowledge of what was passing was
withheld, and all access to the condemned cell or to the Lock-up-house
denied; while those, whose duty required that they should be brought
in contact with Burke, were repeatedly cautioned against divulging
such intelligence as their situation might enable them to obtain. So
rigidly was this injunction enforced, that one of the turnkeys in the
Calton-hill jail, an individual who was very generally respected in his
station, and who, we believe, heretofore conducted himself with much
propriety, has, notwithstanding his previous character, been dismissed
for revealing some of the secrets of the prison-house.

In despite, however, of all this well-preserved mystery, some
particulars of the last hours of the doomed man have transpired, and
we now are enabled to lay before our readers an account, as complete
as it can be made, of the awful ceremony which terminated his mortal
existence.




                     REMOVAL TO THE LOCK-UP-HOUSE.

At four o’clock on the morning of Tuesday the 27th, (the day previous
to that appointed for the execution), Burke was taken off the _gad_,
and conveyed in a coach from the Calton-hill Jail to the Lock-up-house
in Libberton’s Wynd. The time was purposely fixed at this unusual
hour to prevent any annoyance from the crowd, which would undoubtedly
have assembled had it been delayed to a later time of the day. From
this cause, the only persons present, and indeed the only individuals
acquainted with it, except the coachman, were Captain Rose and one of
his assistants. The criminal was strongly ironed, and secured with
shackles of unusual magnitude and strength.

He maintained on this trying occasion, both immediately before leaving
the jail, and during the time he was in the coach, the same composure
of mind which he has displayed ever since his conviction.

On reaching the Lock-up-house, he was supported into it in a state of
extreme exhaustion; so much so, as to lead some who witnessed it to
imagine that the gallows might still lose its deserved victim, by his
death taking place before the next morning.

In the course of the last day of his existence, his composure
or insensibility still continued unshaken, excepting when the
dead-clothes, a suit of sables, were presented to him. On receiving
them he exhibited deep emotion, and by his own confession he felt it.
We have mentioned before that his thoughts had been frequently occupied
about the dress he was to appear in. He remained perfectly unmoved,
with the exception of this transient indication, throughout the rest of
the day. In the course of the day, he was visited by the Rev. Messrs.
Reid and Stewart, Catholic priests, and the Rev. Mr. Marshall, whom
he requested to attend him to the scaffold, as well as the Rev. Mr.
Porteous, which he promised to do. He said to those in attendance
that he had committed no more murders than those which were comprised
in the declaration he made to the sheriff since his conviction. For
two or three nights previously, he had enjoyed sound sleep, and it is
extraordinary that such was his state of dogged tranquillity, that his
rest was sound and unbroken, for five hours, from Tuesday night to
Wednesday morning. This, we believe, has however been observed to be
frequently the case with criminals on the evening previous to execution.

At length, he manifested some impatience for the arrival of the time
when he was to leave this world. In the course of the night, he said
with much apparent earnestness, “Oh that the hour were come which
is to separate me from the world!” About half-past five o’clock on
Wednesday morning, he expressed a desire to be relieved from his
chains, complaining much of the weight of them. This desire was readily
complied with. He held out his leg to the smith employed to perform
this service, and when the fetters fell from his limbs, he exclaimed,
turning up his eyes towards Heaven, “So may all earthly chains fall
from me!”

About half-past six o’clock, the two Catholic clergymen (the Rev.
Messrs. Reid and Stewart) entered the Lock-up-house: The former
immediately waited upon the criminal in his cell, and was absent for a
considerable time with him.

At seven Burke walked with a firm step into the keeper’s room, followed
by his confessor; and at this moment no appearance of agitation or
dismay was discernible in his countenance or manner. He took his
seat on an arm chair at the side of the fire, and twice or thrice he
was remarked to sigh heavily. There were present at the time Bailies
Child, Crichton, and Small, and one or two official persons besides;
who were shortly afterwards joined by the Reverend Mr. Marshall and
Mr. Porteous, chaplain to the Calton-hill Jail. Before the latter
gentleman arrived, however, Burke and his spiritual assistants of the
Catholic persuasion had commenced their devotions; he engaged in them
with much apparent fervour. The Reverend Messrs. Reid and Stewart
followed up their prayers with some serious exhortations. In the course
of these devout and pious admonitions, Mr. Reid used the words, “You
must trust in the mercy of God;” upon which the unhappy wretch heaved
a long, deep-drawn suspiration, or rather suppressed groan, which too
plainly betrayed the anguish and despair that lurked about his heart.
He seemed to have a secret feeling that he was too deeply sunk in
crime to be entitled even to hope in the infinite mercy of Heaven: his
mind acknowledged the truth of the observation, while his guilty and
perhaps awakened conscience bade him doubt of that mercy being extended
to him.

What is somewhat singular, he exhibited no emotion on the executioner
making his appearance. After this portion of his religious exercises
had been gone through, he was on his way to an adjoining apartment,
when he was accidently met by Williams, who stopped him rather
officiously; upon which he said, “I am not ready for you yet.” The
executioner followed him, and in a very short time both returned, Burke
with his arms tightly pinioned behind his back, but without any change
in his demeanour. While Williams was discharging this part of his duty,
no conversation took place; indeed he rather appeared disinclined to
hold conversation with any.

He was then invited to take a glass of wine, which he accepted of,
and before putting it to his lips, bowing to the company, he drank
“Farewell to all present, and the rest of his friends.” He then entered
into conversation for a few minutes with Mr. Marshall and Mr. Porteous
upon religious subjects. The Magistrates, Bailies Crichton and Small,
who had previously gone out, now appeared in their robes, with their
rods of office, and Burke took the opportunity, before he went forth
to meet his doom, of expressing his gratitude to the Magistrates
generally, and particularly to Bailie Small, for the kindness he had
experienced from them, as well as from all the public authorities. He
likewise made similar acknowledgments to Mr. Rose, the Governor of
the Calton-hill Jail, Mr. Fisher, the Deputy-Governor, and Mr. and
Mrs. Christie, who have the charge of the Lock-up-house, for their
unremitting and kind attentions.

Precisely at eight o’clock, Burke was upon his feet, as if eager to
have the ceremony proceeded in, and immediately after the melancholy
procession began to move towards the scaffold. He was supported by the
two Catholic priests, more from the difficulty of walking, owing to
the circumstance of his arms being pinioned than from any inability,
or any faltering in his steps. When proceeding up Libberton’s Wynd, he
seemed perfectly cool and self-possessed, turning from side to side,
and conversing with the Rev. Messrs. Reid and Stewart, and the Rev. Mr.
Marshall. In crossing from the Lock-up-house to the postern entrance in
Libberton’s Wynd, to where the pathway was wet from the rain and thaw
of the morning, he was observed picking his steps with the greatest
care. When he arrived at the head of Libberton’s Wynd, his face had
an expression of wistfulness and anxiety, as if he were uneasy and
uncertain of his reception from the mob, and he hurried on with his
eyes half closed, eager apparently to bring the fatal scene to a speedy
close.




                      OCCURRENCES ON THE STREET.

We will now advert to what was passing in the mean time out of doors.
Here fortunately no individual “dressed in a little brief authority”
could interfere, to prevent all the circumstances from being transacted
under the public eye, or from the press, causing the knowledge of them
to be widely extended far beyond even the countless multitudes who
thronged and blocked up the High Street.

On Tuesday many anxious spectators were collected near the
ordinary place of execution at the head of Libberton’s Wynd, and
the thoroughfare was kept up, notwithstanding the inclemency of the
weather, during the whole day. The preparations commenced at an early
hour in the forenoon. Holes were dug in the pavement for the reception
of the upright posts, and a space surrounding the place which it was
intended the scaffold should occupy, was enclosed with strong posts
and chains, to prevent the crowd breaking in upon the scaffold. At
ten o’clock on Tuesday night, the ceremony of setting up the scaffold
commenced. Its progress was watched by a great many eager beholders,
although the rain still continued at intervals to pelt upon them.
The din of the workmen and clanging of the hammers were mingled with
the shouts which were raised by the assembled populace, whenever an
important piece of the erection was completed, while the torches used,
shedding a lurid glare on the black apparatus and dusky countenances of
the workmen, added greatly to the wildness and interest of the scene.
When all was finished, and the fatal beam placed transversely upon
the perpendicular one, and its dark outline visible through the dim
light, three tremendous cheers were given. To show the feeling of the
working classes, we may mention, that notwithstanding the reluctance
that is invariably exhibited among the operatives of the carpenter
employed to set up the apparatus for an execution is such, that lots
have to be cast for those workmen in the employment who are to fulfil
the disagreeable task. On this occasion, one and all volunteered their
services, and performed the work with a gusto and alacrity which
would have been astonishing in an ordinary case. It was completed
about two o’clock in the morning, and shortly after that hour the
people dispersed, some few having delayed their departure until they
witnessed the fitting and adjusting of the rope. It was afterwards
removed, and replaced shortly before its services were required.

Long before this time the closes and stairs near the spot were blocked
up by those who had resolved upon securing a good view, by remaining
all night on the ground. The inclemency of the weather drove them to
any shelter that could be obtained, and morning found them in the
comfortless lairs they had chosen overnight.

A constant bustle was also kept up by the arrival of those individuals,
who either from favour or for money, had procured the conveniency
of a window in the vicinity. Many gave considerable sums for this
accommodation, and such was their desire to avail themselves of their
good fortune in securing them, that they spent the night in the
apartment.

The streets were nearly perfectly quiet throughout the morning after
the erection of the gibbet; the heavy and almost incessant rain must
have contributed greatly to prevent any very early assemblage. As the
morning advanced, however, groups were seen hastening to their windows,
or taking their station in as favourable a place as they could fix upon
for properly witnessing the approaching event.

About five o’clock the people began again to assemble and take their
station, principally in front of the gallows, and above it towards the
Castle Hill, while large parties of policemen and patrole successively
arrived, and were judiciously posted in a strong line in front of the
railing which kept off the crowd. The space left free was larger than
is usually reserved upon such occasions. The Police acted under the
conduct of Captain Stewart and his Lieutenants. Their services were not
in a solitary instance required except it might be to prevent the great
pressure of the vast multitude from bursting the barrier; indeed the
mob were in perfect good humour, and instead of their usual animosity
against the police officers being displayed, in futile attempts to
annoy or retard them in the execution of their duties, one and all of
the immense assemblage would willingly have done any thing in their
power to aid the officers and further the arrangements.

From six to seven o’clock a great concourse thronged every avenue to
the High Street, and the numbers pouring, almost rushing into it from
every quarter, gave the immediate vicinity a very busy and animated
appearance. Among the arrivals, there were many whose appearance
betokened that they did not belong to the usual class who attend
such scenes. In this number were included many well dressed ladies,
who by and bye made their appearance at the windows of the lofty and
sombre looking lands in the Lawnmarket, as well as those of the county
buildings, and gave an unexpected variety to the picturesque scene. We
understand that windows commanding a view of the place of execution
were eagerly inquired after, and engaged at prices varying according to
their locality, from five to thirty shillings each, while some who had
engaged a window retailed a view at the rate of half a crown a head.
The great numbers who were constantly arriving up before seven o’clock
seemed principally to disperse themselves in this manner, as no very
sensible addition was made to the mass up to this hour.

About six o’clock the weather had become less inclement, and though it
was a cold raw disagreeable morning, the showers were only partial and
less violent than they had been during the night. After seven o’clock,
when the rain almost entirely ceased, the crowd became rapidly larger
and more dense, and about eight o’clock the area contained between the
West Bow and the Tron Church, presented an aspect of such an immense
and closely wedged mass of human beings--such a living and moving sea
of uncountable multitudes as could very seldom be witnessed, and we
should suppose has never been known on a similar occasion, or perhaps
on any other in the city, excepting perhaps at the king’s visit. All
along the street the people were packed more closely than could have
been conceived, and as far as the eye could reach, every vantage
ground that could command a view was thickly studded. In the immediate
neighbourhood of the scaffold, looking downwards, the crowd presented
a dark appearance from the great proportion of males who composed it,
but few females, much under the number that usually attends on similar
scenes were present. Farther out, however, where the pressure was
not so great, the usual proportions of the sexes seemed to be more
nearly maintained. Some few females were sprinkled even in the most
dense parts of the crowd, and their screams and unavailing efforts
to extricate themselves, sometimes gave a painful interest to their
appearance. We noticed one boy who was with great difficulty preserved
from being trampled under foot. Another unlucky youth had by some
chance got elevated above the heads of the crowd, and cut a grotesque
figure as sprawling on the top of the mass, he was tossed by its
movements from side to side; at last he was cast up against the houses
and secured a more stable station on a lamp iron. At the movement of
any part of the mob, a correspondent and simultaneous motion seemed to
be imparted to it in nearly all its parts, and some action continually
happening, imparted an appearance of a vast substance continually
waving to and fro.

The numbers collected at this time have been computed at from twenty
to thirty thousand individuals; we were disposed at first to consider
this calculation excessive, but, upon consideration, we are inclined
to believe that the amount has been under rather than overrated. Any
idea of counting is quite out of the question, and guessing by the
appearance in such a case, is nearly equally fallacious. The only
way that tolerable accuracy can be obtained, is by calculating the
superficial extent of the space occupied by the crowd.

We believe that we are not far wrong in assuming, that the High Street,
from the West Bow to the Tron Church, is about three hundred yards in
length, and averages about thirty yards in breadth. This would give for
the superficial contents of the area, nine thousand square yards. The
people did not quite extend to the Tron Church, but they were higher
than the West Bow, and some standing on the Castle Hill; and taking the
number in Bank Street, and those pushed out of the line in front of
the Advocates’ Library, and into closes and stairs, and throwing off
one thousand square yards, as an ample compensation for the deficiency
about the church, there is still left eight thousand square yards.
The mean density cannot be taken at less than four individuals to the
square yard,--indeed, from the close packing for a considerable way
round the scaffold, we are convinced that this is rather under than
over the mark. This computation will give thirty-two thousand persons
standing on the streets. We imagine that it is reckoning within the
number when we calculate five thousand additional for the crammed
windows, and those adventurous individuals who occupied the house
tops. In all, we arrive at the enormous number of thirty-seven thousand
persons. We do not give this calculation as strictly correct. It cannot
under these circumstances be so, but we believe that it is nearer the
truth than any guess, and that the whole number approximated more
nearly to forty thousand souls than to thirty-five thousand.

This immense multitude presented certainly nothing of the appearance
of having come for the purpose of witnessing a sad solemnity, and
differed very widely in demeanour from that which is usually exhibited
by the spectators of an execution. In ordinary cases, a great degree
of sympathy for the sufferer is usually manifested, and even in the
worst a respectful and solemn deportment is observed, as if it was
recognised that they were met upon a melancholy occasion. In this it
was totally different. Every countenance bore an expression of gladness
that revenge was so near, and the whole multitude appeared more as if
they were waiting to witness some splendid procession or agreeable
exhibition. Rude jokes and puns were bandied about, and any opportunity
for fun and frolic to while away the time was immediately seized upon.
Even the disagreeable and almost suffocating pressure was borne with
equanimity, and the glances that were cast at St. Giles’ clock rather
betokened an impatient desire to glut their vengeance by the spectacle
of the arch-fiend’s death-struggles, than an anxiety to be released
from their uncomfortable situation.

Eight o’clock at last struck solemnly, and commanded universal
attention; all eyes were directed towards the scaffold. It now remains
for us to describe what took place there, and




                            THE EXECUTION.

We left the _cortege_ proceeding up Libberton’s Wynd, the windows
of which were also filled with spectators. When Bailies Crichton
and Small, who were foremost in the procession, reached the top of
the wynd, and were observed by that part of the crowd who were in a
situation to see them, a loud shout was raised, which was speedily
joined in by the whole mass of spectators. When the culprit himself
appeared ascending the stair towards the platform, the yells of
execration were redoubled, and at the moment that he came full in
view, they rose to a tremendous pitch, intermixed with maledictions,
such as “the murderer! _Burke_ him! choke him, hangie!” and other
expressions of that sort. The miserable wretch, who looked thinner
and more ghastly than at his trial, walked with a steady step to the
apparatus of death, supported between his confessors, and accompanied
by the Rev. Messrs. Marshall and Porteous, and seemed to be perfectly
cool and self-possessed.

When he arrived on the platform of the scaffold, his composure seemed
entirely to forsake him, when he heard the appalling shouts and yells
of execration with which he was assailed. He cast a look of fierce and
even desperate defiance as the reiterated cries were intermingled with
maledictions, such as we have already described. His face suddenly
assumed a deadly paleness, and his faculties appeared to fail him.
Deafening cries of “hang Hare too,” “where is Hare?” “hang Knox,” were
mingled with the denunciations against Burke.

His appearance betrayed considerable feebleness, whether from disease
or emotion we cannot say.

He was dressed in the suit of black that we have already noticed, which
was rather shabby in appearance. The coat had been made for a man of
a much larger size, and from the looseness gave a look of weakness to
his person. His appearance was that of a short man, narrow about the
shoulder and chest; this proceeded from the dress, as he was really a
well formed muscular man. His head was uncovered, and his hair, which
was of a light sandy colour approaching nearly to white, along with
his dress, gave somewhat of a reverend aspect to him. The resemblance
to the portrait which was given in our third number, was universally
acknowledged by those who were around us, and we cannot give a better
idea of the man at this time to those who did not see him than by
referring to it, allowing for the colour of the hair, the cadaverous
hue, and some alteration which disease, confinement, and the murderer’s
fare, had produced. He wore a white neckcloth, and boots which seemed
to have lain uncleaned for a length of time in some damp place until
they had become mouldy.

It was precisely five minutes after eight o’clock when they ascended
the scaffold. Having taken his station in front of the drop, he
kneeled with his back towards the spectators, his confessor on his
right hand, and the other Catholic clergyman on his left, and appeared
to be repeating a form of prayer, dictated to him by one of these
reverend persons; the position called forth new shouts and clamours
of “stand out of the way,” “turn him round.” Mr. Marshall, in the
meanwhile, offered up a fervent supplication to Heaven in his behalf.
The bailies, and other persons on the platform, stood round and joined
in the devotions, with the exception of Williams the executioner, and
his assistant, who kept their station all the time at the back of
the drop. During the prayer a partial silence was obtained, although
there was still considerable confusion and uproar, which Bailie Small
in vain endeavoured to repress, by turning repeatedly and waving his
hand. Mr. Marshall’s prayer occupied exactly five minutes, when he and
the others, excepting the Catholic clergyman, retired from around him,
Burke and the priests still continuing to kneel. His prayers seemed to
be very fervent, and he mentioned to one of the priests, that he died
in the full assurance that he would be saved through the mediation of
our Saviour.

When he arose from his kneeling posture, he was observed to lift a
silk handkerchief on which he had knelt, and carefully put into his
pocket. He then cast his eyes upwards towards the gallows; and took
his place on the drop, the priest supporting him, though he did not
seem to require it from any bodily weakness. There was some hesitation
displayed in his manner, as if loath to mount; one of the persons who
assisted him to ascend, having rather roughly pushed him to a side, in
order to place him exactly on the drop, he looked round at the man with
a withering scowl which defies all description. While the executioner,
who was behind him, was proceeding with his arrangements some little
delay took place, from the circumstance of his attempting to unloose
the handkerchief at his breast. Burke, perceiving the mistake, said,
“the knot’s behind,” which were the only words, not devotional, uttered
by him on the scaffold, and the only time he spoke to any one excepting
the priests.

When the hangman succeeded in removing the neckcloth, he proceeded to
fasten the rope round his neck, which he pulled tightly, and after
adjusting it, and affixing it to the gibbet, put a white cotton
night cap upon him, but without pulling it over his face.

  [Illustration: EXECUTION of WILLIAM BURKE.
  _taken on the spot._

  _Published by Thomas Ireland Jun^r. Edinburgh._]

While this was going on, the yells, which had been almost
uninterrupted, became tremendous, accompanied with cries of “hang
Hare too;” “where is Hare.” “_Burke_ the ----, do not waste rope
upon him;” “give him no rope.” “You ----, you will see Daft Jamie in a
minute.” He seemed somewhat unsteady; whether from terror or debility,
we cannot say.

The Rev. Mr. Reid then advanced, and conversed with him shortly, but
earnestly. It was then, we presume, that he directed him to say the
creed, which he did.

His countenance continued to present a death-like paleness, but
appeared composed, and he stood unflinching and motionless. When Mr.
Reid retired, the executioner advanced, and offered to draw the cap
over his face. He manifested some repugnance to its being done; but,
with some little difficulty, this part of the fatal preparations was
also completed.

When every thing was ready, and the assistants withdrawn, he uttered an
ejaculation to his Maker, beseeching mercy, and immediately gave the
signal, throwing the handkerchief from him with an impatient jerk, as
violently as his pinioned arms would permit, and was instantly launched
into eternity.

Before his removal from the jail, he had said that he would make short
work on the scaffold; and, though evidently disconcerted, and his
ideas scattered by the appalling shouts of the mob, he kept his word.
The whole proceedings on the scaffold occupied only ten minutes, and
precisely at a quarter past eight o’clock the drop fell. The fall was
very slight, and certainly could not dislocate his neck. It was nearly
so imperceptible, that at one instant he seemed standing, and engaged
in an active operation; on the next, with almost no change visible, he
was hanging helplessly suspended only by the cord that was suffocating
him.

Though no sympathy could be felt for such a despicable and cold-blooded
monster, it is still a fearful sight to witness death snatching his
victim with such circumstance. If any feeling of pity could be aroused
by this, it must have been heightened by the terrific huzza raised at
the moment he was thrown off, and the populace saw their enemy in the
death struggle.

    ----“One universal cry there rushed,
    Louder than the loud ocean--like a crash
    Of echoing thunder.”

In all the vast multitude there was not manifested one solitary
expression of sympathy. “No one said, God bless him;” but each vied
with another in showing their exultation by shouting, clapping of
hands, and waving of hats.

This universal cry of satiated vengeance for blood ascending to heaven,
rung through the city, and we are assured was distinctly heard by the
astonished citizens in its most remote streets. Never perhaps was such
a noise of triumph and execration heard, and we may safely say never on
a similar occasion. It was followed by a more partial and savage cry of
“Off with the cowl;” “let us see his face;” and many appeared desirous
of glutting their revenge by gloating on the disgusting spectacle of
his distorted features.

The magistrates, clergymen, and executioners immediately upon the drop
falling retreated from the scaffold, and left it under the charge only
of about half a dozen city-officers, who walked about to keep them
from the cold, and looked as if they would willingly have followed the
example of their superiors.

There was nothing which could be called struggling observable on the
now apparently lifeless body. It seemed as if, slight as was the jerk
given by the fall, instantaneous death had been produced, although the
neck could not have been dislocated, yet the body swung motionless
except from the impetus given by the fall, until about five minutes
after the suspension, when a slight convulsive motion of the feet
and heaving of the body indicated that vitality was not entirely
extinguished. Upon observing this another cheer was raised by the crowd
who were anxiously watching the body. It was repeated at intervals
as the motions were renewed. This happened we think perhaps twice
after the first, each time diminishing in force until the last seemed
merely a slight tremulous motion of the feet, imperceptible except to
those who were gazing intently upon the body. Notwithstanding that the
criminal was now obviously dead, and nothing visible but his wretched
carcass hanging at the end of a cord, a disgusting spectacle of the
pitch of degradation that guilt and crime can reduce a human being to,
the populace showed no disposition to disperse, and comparatively few
left the place. They seemed to wait for the purpose of gloating their
eyes with the spectacle of the last agonies of this object of their
implacable dislike, but after the occurrence of what we have mentioned,
there were no indications of sensation, and the very gradual swinging
round appeared to be produced by the action of the wind: The head also,
as usual, leaned a little to one side, which added a more miserable
character to the scene.

At a particular part of the crowd a cry of “to Surgeons’ Square,” was
now raised by some individuals, and a large body detached themselves
from the mass and proceeded in that direction. The signal was not
imparted to any other part, and the movement confined to the quarter
in which it originated. We are informed that the detachment which thus
broke off, though large when it left the Lawnmarket, was gradually
diminished by stragglers who dropped off in its progress, until upon
reaching its destination it was not able to cope with the party of
policemen who were stationed there in anticipation of such an attack.
Though they removed from the thickest part of the crowd, their
defalcation did not produce a sensible difference in the appearance.
At this time a baker had the hardihood to attempt a passage down the
street with a board on his head and a few rolls in it, and, contrary
to expectation, succeeded in accomplishing it. At one time his board
was nearly capsized, but an escort of fellow tradesmen quickly rallied
round him, and guarded him safely past the danger. A chimney-sweeper
with his ladder was not so fortunate as the baker, as his brethren
probably did not muster so strong, and he had to retreat without
accomplishing his purpose. With such incidents the mob were amused,
while the melancholy spectacle was exhibited before them, and their
laughter and glee continued unabated up to their dispersion.

At the time this was passing we observed a person dressed in a drab
great coat hallooing and encouraging the mob to persevere in these
manifestations of their feelings, from a window on the second floor of
a house, a little to the eastward of the scaffold, on the opposite
side. This individual, who seemed anxious to render himself conspicuous
by prompting fresh ebullitions of the popular sentiment, persevered
indefatigably in his exertions until the body was cut down; but the
vengeance of the mob appeared to have been satiated with the death of
the criminal, and the shouts, though renewed at intervals, gradually
became fainter and fainter.

After hanging a considerable time, some individual from below the
scaffold, the under part of which was boxed in for the reception of
the body when it should be cut down, gave the body a whirl round, but
no motion except what was thus given was observable. From the same
place was handed up to the town-officers on the platform shavings and
chips taken out of the rude coffin underneath. These were held up to
the populace, and some chips thrown over among them;--conduct which
did not appear very decorous from the official attendants upon such
a solemnity. At five minutes to nine o’clock, Bailies Crichton and
Small again came up Libberton’s Wynd, still habited in their robes and
with their staffs, but did not ascend the scaffold. The executioner
mounted it and immediately commenced lowering the body, which was done
by degrees and rather leisurely. Again the people made the welkin ring
with three hearty cheers when they saw their vengeance completed. A few
cries of “Let us have him to tear him in pieces” were heard, but there
was no colour for what has been said in a newspaper account, that there
appeared indications of a riot to effect this. There was perhaps never
a tithe, or a twentieth part of the same number collected in Edinburgh
who showed less disposition to disturb the public peace. So far from
the bold front of the policemen deterring them from their purpose, the
policemen stood all the time with their backs to the crowd, and we
believe had not to interfere in a single instance. Had the purpose of
the mob been evil, and had they acted simultaneously, no bold front of
the detachment of police, though it was strong, could have prevented
them attaining their object: the physical force and pressure of such
a mass would have overwhelmed all the officers present. But the crowd
were in perfect good humour, and never was there one that thought
less of rioting. Their desires were gratified--their aspirations were
answered, the arch-criminal had met with his doom, and there was for
the present nothing to ruffle their tempers. Accordingly after the body
was lowered, the people commenced dispersing quietly, and in an orderly
manner, until the streets were perfectly cleared. The body was lowered
precisely at five minutes before nine o’clock, having hung exactly
forty minutes. Upon its falling into the space under the scaffold,
which was boxed in, a scramble took place among the operatives for
relics, consisting of pieces of the rope, shavings from the coffin, &c.
&c. The body was placed in a shell and almost immediately carried down
on men’s shoulders to the Lock-up-house.

The populace, upon seeing this winding up of the business, quietly
dispersed. All Wednesday, however, large groupes visited the scene.

Instantly after the tragedy was closed, the men who were to remove the
scaffold and other erections appeared and commenced operations; such
was their celerity that by half-past eleven o’clock all traces of it
were removed.

We have abstained in the foregoing account of the exit of this
notorious criminal, from expressing any opinion upon the very
remarkable and unusual display of feeling which was manifested by
the immense majority of the spectators present, but have contented
ourselves simply with describing these ebullitions along with the other
incidents attendant on it, conceiving that to our readers who did
not witness it, they would form part and parcel of the transactions,
aye, and a more important part than either some of the actions of the
culprit, or the doings of the officials engaged in it. No one who
witnessed the unprecedented conduct of the crowd, could have hindered
himself from being impressed with it: and assuredly we did not survey
it with indifference, nor refrain from forming an opinion. Some of the
journals who record such events, appear to have felt very wrathful upon
the occasion, and to have lavished every term of vituperation upon
those whose conduct ran counter to their fine drawn sentimentality. We
confess that we cannot see any reason for indulging in such excessive
sensibility. It is not customary certainly to behave so; and this
departure from the etiquette of an execution is probably what has
shocked them; but then we must recollect that ordinary executions
are very different things from what this was, and that in them the
expression of feeling and sympathy for the sufferer is genuine and
heartfelt; and if those who exhibit it are entitled to any praise for
honesty and sincerity in that case, they have not forfeited it in
this, as there can be no doubt that the behaviour complained of was an
unpremeditated and simple expression of detestation for the crime, and
exultation that punishment had overtaken it.

No comparison can be drawn between a man who is executed for some petty
theft, whom the frequenters of executions cannot bring themselves to
consider as a very desperate felon, and a monster who is most justly
hanged for one execrable murder, when there are fifteen behind as
abominable. The sentiments and opinions of the mob cannot be the same
in the one case, as in the other; they cannot enter into nice legal
distinctions--if indeed legal distinctions would blame them; but they
see one man suffer for stealing a few shillings, and they pity him,
and another for murdering sixteen individuals, and they execrate him.
There is nothing extraordinary in all this, though it is unusual,
almost unprecedented, that an opportunity should occur to call it
forth. To show any thing else than an implacable aversion to such great
moral turpitude, would have been to manifest a slight perception of
evil, and we suspect that those who blame the shouters, were themselves
actuated by equally honourable feelings, though they would not permit
them to operate in the same way.

We will concede to them, that people of very refined feelings and
cultivated minds would not triumph over the last moments of the most
depraved man who ever lived, and that Burke was that man, perhaps with
the exception of Hare, there can be no question; but then we must
recollect that those who jostled each other upon the High Street of
Edinburgh on the morning of the execution, make no pretensions to such
high refinement. We must also bear in mind, that many of the populace
were of the same rank in life as the massacred victims, and that they
naturally felt more deeply on the subject than those whose station
and habits removed them from the risk of being butchered. Also, that
a notion had gone abroad among these people that their bodies were
mangled for behoof of a science which is to benefit more peculiarly the
rich, and that those obnoxious individuals who exercise the inhuman
trade of resurrectionists, are screened by them from the punishment
they merit. They believed also that there was a desire to deal too
leniently towards this ruthless gang, and that although one of them had
been sacrificed, others of the delinquents had been snatched from a
deserved fate, because their blood was little accounted of. It had been
even imagined that a disposition was cherished of saving the life of
Burke, and that he was unwillingly consigned to his fate; now all this
is very erroneous, and some of it very absurd, but still these opinions
were conscientiously held by numbers, and would be as operative in
dictating an expression of their feelings, as more rational ideas could
have been.

It is not wonderful, then, that when they witnessed the preparations
for the ceremony, they should indulge in expressions of satisfaction;
and that when the culprit himself was exhibited before them, an
uncontrollable and simultaneous shout of triumphant exultation should
burst forth, and that execration for his enormous guilt should have led
the vast multitude, without concert or premeditation, to repeat again
and again their acclamations.

The law in such cases justly and wisely, but relentlessly, consigns
the perpetrators to death, and the public voice also relentlessly adds
to it obloquy and reproach. Nay more, the Lord Justice Clerk, before
passing sentence, mentioned that he was prevented only by a sense
“that the public eye would be offended by so dismal a spectacle,”
from ordering also, “that to satisfy the violated laws of his country
and the voice of public indignation, his body should be exhibited in
chains, to bleach in the winds, in order to deter others from the
commission of similar offences.” His Lordship, so far from having any
aversion to posthumous vengeance, adds, “I trust, that if it is ever
customary to preserve skeletons, yours will be preserved, in order
that posterity may keep in remembrance your atrocious crimes.” And he
could scarcely have used other terms in animadverting upon what he
justly characterized in the following words: “A crime more atrocious, a
more cold-blooded, deliberate, and systematic preparation for murder,
and the motive so paltry, was really unexampled in the annals of this
country.” His Lordship’s colleagues also expressed themselves in
similar terms, and still the people are blamed for acting in unison
with their declared sentiments.

Even the hangman seemed to share in the general feeling. His
instructions to the porter who assisted him were conveyed in the
following petty sentence, “Hold him till I get the rope adjusted, and
then let the ---- kick.” When fastening the rope about his neck, he did
give it an unmerciful tug, so as nearly to strangle him.

It is admitted by those who complain of the violation of decency and
good taste, that he was a cold-hearted miscreant, towards whom a spark
of sympathy could not be extended, and his atrocities are denounced
in eloquent and indignant terms, and yet it appears to have been
anticipated that the public, on the only occasion they had of publicly
manifesting their sentiments, should have met him with a semblance
of pity and forgiveness. They could not have done so without doing
violence to every feeling that agitated them, and it would have been
an unaccountable piece of hypocrisy to have attempted it. Public
detestation unequivocally expressed, is always an important, and
sometimes the most important auxiliary of punishment, and the scorn
and contumely that is heaped upon a guilty head may be the best ally
of the repressors of immorality, and if there was in that assemblage
one individual whose sordid soul, could contemplate the commission
of enormities which might outrage humanity, and bring on him similar
manifestations of disgust, it must have acted as a solemn warning
when he made the terrible discovery, that “when it goeth well with
the righteous the city rejoiceth, and when the wicked perish there is
shouting.”

Our sentiments concerning the character of the unhappy wretch, and
his crimes, has been explicitly stated in the foregoing part of this
narrative, but it may not be unacceptable to our readers that a brief
view of the opinions of others should be furnished. We subjoin,
therefore, the following observations, the merit of which may well
justify their insertion.

       *       *       *       *       *

The atrocious murderer, Burke, whose hands were more deeply dyed
in innocent blood than those of any other homicide recorded in the
calendar of crimes, has undergone the sentence of the law; and from the
narrative of the concomitants of the tragedy, it will be seen that the
circumstances attending his exit were as extraordinary as his guilt was
transcendant and unprecedented. Essentially and in his real character
an ignoble, base, mean-spirited wretch, this wholesale assassin, by the
mere extinction or obliteration of every moral principle and feeling of
his nature, and by a consequent abandonment of the faculties bestowed
upon him to the commission of crime, has succeeded in obtaining “a bad
pre-eminence,” even among those who had prostituted and degraded far
higher endowments to the ways of iniquity; and a name which ought never
to have been heard of beyond the precincts of the lowest and meanest
compartment of society, is now damned to immortal infamy, and stands
out in strong relief from the long and black catalogue of those who
have most signalised themselves by their daring violation of the laws
both of God and of man. In fact, it was reserved for this incredible
monster and his associate fiends to reduce murder to a system, and to
establish a regular traffic in the bodies of their victims. Ordinary
homicides slay from passion or revenge; the murders they commit are
the product of an ungovernable and overmastering impulse, which hurls
reason from her seat, and, in the wild conflict of guilty passion,
precipitates them into the commission of acts which are no sooner done
than they would perhaps give the universe were they undone. But Burke
and his crew possess the horrid and anomalous distinction of having,
without the palliation of passion, or of any other motive which a
just view of human infirmity can admit in extenuation, and from a
base and sordid love of gain, and of acquiring the means of rioting
in profligacy and iniquity of every sort, established a traffic in
blood upon principles of cool calculation, and an utter recklessness
of either God or man, which would have done no discredit to Mammon
himself. Hence it is, that Burke is perhaps the only criminal who has
died, not only without exciting an emotion of pity in a human bosom,
but amidst the curses, both loud and deep, of the assembled thousands
who witnessed the ignominious termination of his guilty career. The
wild shouts of exultation which saluted him upon his appearance on the
scaffold, and which rung in his ears with still fiercer acclamations
when the world was closing on him for ever, must have appalled even the
heart of ice within his worthless bosom, and sounded as the knell of a
judgment to come, where the spirits of the slain would rise up before
him to demand a just retribution. Yet at that awful moment, when his
deeds of blood must have arisen before him, and when the unknown future
must have presented itself to his mind as the past was about to close,
the wretch seemed almost calm, and looked defiance, nay, scorn at those
who, yielding to their overpowering sense of his crimes, blasted his
last moments with their shouts of wild triumph and exultation.

       *       *       *       *       *

It will be long ere such a scene as this occur again, unless,
indeed, as is the devout wish of every one, a similar spectacle be
produced by the execution of Hare. There never, perhaps, was such a
signal and appalling expression of a whole populace’s indignation
as on this occasion. The nature of the feeling by which they were
actuated, indeed, could only be estimated by looking at the species of
crime, at once so novel and so aggravated, of which the wretch has
been convicted. History, even in its blackest record, the _Newgate
Calendar_, has disclosed nothing similar or equal in atrocity to the
late transactions at the West Port, if we except one or two straggling
and doubtful cases, which the progress of inquiry, stimulated by the
recent events, has since elicited. The commission of such horrors, and
the state of mind and feeling which could bend to their commission,
formed, as it were, a new era in the history of human nature and
of human crime. A proportionate impression was communicated to the
multitude, who literally stood for a season “in pitiless horror fixed.”
Found guilty of a tissue of enormities, at the very least, of which one
would require to be something more or less than human to refrain from
shuddering, the execution of this monster was anticipated by thousands
without any of those sentiments of commiseration which usually
accompany such spectacles. After all was granted that the advocates of
science could demand, still the bare _species facti_, and no sophistry
could pervert or soften that, was narrowed and nailed down to this,
that Burke had done a deed which stands highest in the code of crime,
by the laws both of God and man,--that he had done so, not from any of
these various motives or temptations which the indulgence of mankind
is often apt to admit as palliatives to guilt, but from the basest of
all considerations, the procurement of a paltry pittance,--and that he
had contracted this heavy villany, not once or twice, or from sudden or
casual impulses, but coolly and deliberately had gone about exercising
the work of murder as a trade--dealing with human creatures as a
butcher deals with cattle--shedding their blood and selling their flesh
for bread.

It is impossible, without adverting to all these facts, to form any
conception of the popular fury on this occasion. It might be possible
to imagine a case in which a criminal, although exhibiting the very
highest depravity, might yet be not improperly looked upon with the
eye rather of pity than of condemnation,--as one whom nature had given
instincts and passions such as she gives alike to man and brute, but
for whom subsequent events had done worse than nothing. In fact, such
is the strong tendency of mankind to revolt from the idea of such
unnatural enormities being committed in aught of human shape, that
when the system of traffic which had been practised by Burke and his
associates first flashed in a full disclosure on men’s understandings,
not a few were inclined to search, in some extenuating circumstances
of this kind, for a cause of palliation of this unparalleled felon’s
iniquity. It was at least not an impossible supposition, that the
wretched man might have been labouring under a total insensibility of
moral and even of intellectual feeling, arising from an entire want of
education--from a mind dull and inert in its perceptions originally,
and not only in after life allowed to lie waste, but rendered still
more callous and impassive every day by a constant contact with scenes
of infamy. Could we indeed imagine that Burke had been left to have his
character formed under an accumulation of influences fatal and awful
to contemplate as these are--that his life had been always spent in
profligate habits and profligate haunts--that he had been born with a
ferocious and indocile nature, and bred in situations which barred all
progressive movements to good--that, in short, he had never had ideas
poured into his intellect, or any humane feelings generated in his
bosom--then perhaps it might furnish matter of curious investigation
to the metaphysicians, whether he was not, after all, a case which
called for deep sympathy. But enough has transpired of the history
of this extraordinary man, to show that he at least was placed in no
such deplorable predicament. His education and rank in life, instead
of having been by any means of the lowest order, were such as, in
the judgment of the world, and on the authority of experience, are
held of necessity to humanize and inform the mind, and to communicate
perfectly just conceptions of moral distinctions. In addition to this,
many people hold it to have been made out that Burke was a man of
strong mind, of an understanding much superior to his condition. When,
therefore, he stood convicted before his country as one who, for his
livelihood, had been a wholesale dealer in human slaughter, he stood
without the benefit of one single mitigating circumstance, to weaken
the profound sense of horror and indignation which pervaded all hearts.
He had known the full measure and enormity of the guilt which he was
perpetrating, and the whole practical amount of human suffering which
he was inflicting day by day on bereaved families and friends; and,
appearing in this light, every one felt that it was idle to talk of
mercy, and the most charitable were disposed to say, Let the law take
its course.

       *       *       *       *       *

During the whole of Wednesday the College was beset by numbers anxious
to catch a glimpse of the body as it was conveyed to Dr. Monro’s
Anatomical Theatre. It was resolved, however, that the removal should
not take place upon that day, but should be effected in the subsequent
night, when there was no probability of a crowd collecting. Still,
however, the people continued to stand and gaze at the building in
which they believed him to be, as if they expected the inanimate body
to appear to them.

Early on Thursday morning the corpse was removed from the Lock-up-house
to the College, and placed in one of Dr. Monro’s rooms. Several
scientific gentlemen attended at an early hour to examine the
appearances before the promiscuous entry of the students should prevent
their undisturbed examination; among others we noticed Mr. Liston, Mr.
George Combe, and his philosophical opponent Sir William Hamilton; Mr.
Joseph the eminent sculptor, was also present, and took a bust of the
criminal. Sketches were likewise taken by more than one young gentleman.

The body was that of a man you might call stout or sturdy. The neck
was one of those that are usually denominated a bull-neck. The chest
and the upper part of the arms were extremely muscular. The lower
parts were so also, but not in the same proportion. The lower part of
his body was thin, but his thighs were extremely large, the leg and
foot small. Altogether he exhibited any thing but the appearance of an
emaciated body, and every one was astonished to find it display such
plumpness and stoutness, differing very materially from the aspect
he had upon the scaffold,--but then, as we have already noticed, the
size of the clothes making them hang loosely upon him, gave a look of
feebleness and narrowness to the chest which it did not possess.

The countenance was not so much altered after death as is usually
the case, or as was generally expected. It presented the appearance
of great placidity, without the slightest thing which could indicate
that he had suffered a violent death, excepting the discoloration of
the neck where the cord had surrounded it and made a livid mark; nor
was there that fulness of the features generally attendant on those
who have suffered a similar death, owing, perhaps to his head having
been supported in a perpendicular position after being cut down. The
countenance betokened the same meanness and low wickedness which it
exhibited at the trial.

In the course of the forenoon the body was inspected by a number of
individuals, though the public were not admitted generally.

Professor Monro, in pursuance of the sentence of the Court, gave a
public dissection of the body at one o’clock to a numerous audience;
indeed the class-room was quite crowded. The learned lecturer was
received with every mark of respect, accompanied by the usual
demonstrations of welcome. We observed among the audience many highly
respectable professional gentlemen anxiously waiting to hear Dr. Monro
upon the particular subject of the day’s lecture, as it was known that
it was to be the brain, a portion of the anatomy of the human body on
which the professor has bestowed particular attention, and on which, in
consequence, his lectures are particularly valued. He has also some new
views regarding the brain, the correctness of which we are assured the
result of the lecture sufficiently proved. Previously to commencing,
the professor did every thing in his power to satisfy the curiosity of
those who wished to have a view of the features, by exposing him in the
most favourable position. In the dissection he was aided by his able
assistant, Mr. M‘Kenzie. It was commenced by first taking off the scalp
to show the muscles of the upper part of the head; these being removed,
the skull was sawn through, and the brain with its covering exposed.
The quantity of blood that gushed out was enormous, and by the time the
lecture was finished, which was not till three o’clock, the area of the
class-room had the appearance of a butcher’s slaughter-house, from its
flowing down and being trodden upon.

The anxiety to obtain a sight of the vile carcass of the murderer was
exceedingly great, particularly after the dismissal of Dr. Monro’s
class; and the Doctor, in the most obliging manner, accommodated every
one to the utmost extent the apartments would admit of. About half
past two o’clock, however, a body of young men, consisting chiefly of
students, assembled in the area, and becoming clamorous for admission
_en masse_, which of course was quite impracticable, it was found
necessary to send for a body of Police to preserve order. But this
proceeding had quite an opposite effect from that intended. Indignant
at the opposition they met with, conceiving themselves to have a
preferable title to admission, and exasperated at the display of
force in the interior of the University, where they imagined no such
interference was justifiable, the young men made several attempts, in
which they had nearly succeeded, to overpower the Police, and broke
a good deal of glass in the windows on either side of the entrance
to the Anatomical Theatre. The Police were in fact compelled to use
their batons, and several hard blows were exchanged on both sides.
The Lord Provost was present for some time, but was glad to retire
with whole bones, amidst the hootings of the obstreperous youth, who
lavished opprobrious epithets on the Magistrates, particularly on
Bailie Small, the College Bailie, who displayed considerable activity,
and harangued the assemblage from time to time with apparently very
little effect. Attempts were made to convey some prisoners the Police
had made across the square, but they were speedily rescued on attaining
the open space. Those captured afterwards were lodged in one of Dr.
Monro’s rooms, but this scarcely afforded more secure custody. It
was also attempted to clear the yard with but indifferent success;
indeed the Police were overmatched, and could only stand their ground
by avoiding the open area. The disturbance lasted from half-past two
till nearly four o’clock, when an end was at once put to it by the
good sense of Professor Christison, who announced to the young men
that he had arranged for their admission in parties of about fifty at
a time, giving his own personal guarantee for their good conduct. This
was received with loud cheers, and immediately the riotous disposition
they had previously manifested disappeared. We cannot conceive why this
expedient was not thought of earlier; for if it had, there would have
been no disturbance of any kind. Several of the more violent of the
youths were taken into custody by the Police, but were very properly
liberated on their parole by the Magistrates. The whole fracas, indeed,
was a mere ebullition of boyish impatience, rendered more unruly by
their extreme curiosity to obtain a sight of the body of the murderer.
Several of the policemen were severely hurt; but _en revanche_, we
believe not a few of the young men have still reason to remember the
weight of their batons, and some severe contusions were received. South
Bridge Street, in front of the College, was kept in a continued uproar,
and almost blocked up by the populace who were denied access to the
interior, and had the approaches not been guarded fresh accessions of
rioters might have given it a more serious aspect. In fact, the body of
Police on duty were too weak for the rioters, small parties being sent
from the office as they came in from other quarters; a circumstance
which rendered it necessary for them to use harsher means than they
would otherwise have employed. On Friday, however, matters were better
arranged. An order was given to admit the public generally to view
the body of Burke, and of course many thousands availed themselves
of the opportunity thus afforded them. Indeed so long as daylight
lasted, an unceasing stream of persons continued to flow through the
College Square, who, as they arrived, were admitted by one stair to
the Anatomical Theatre, passed the table on which lay the body of the
murderer, and made their exit by another stair. By these means no
inconvenience was felt except what was occasioned by the impatience of
the crowd to get forward to the Theatre.

On that day we again paid the College a visit, and formed part of the
immense multitude who pressed on anxious to see the remains of the
wretch. Having made our way to the stairs leading to the class-room,
we moved up without much exertion of our own being required. The
progression alone of the dense body which kept continually advancing,
almost supplying the place of our usual locomotive powers. After a
sufficiency of squeezing, we found ourselves in the room, where we
tarried for awhile, that we might have sufficient time to make more
minute observations than those who were hurriedly carried past in the
continuous stream that moved along. The body was lying on the black
marble table, which is usually in the class-room, on one side of the
area, so as to allow free ingress and egress.

To give a better idea of what the countenance had been, the skull cap
which had been sawn off the preceding day was replaced, and the outer
skin brought over it, so as to retain it in the proper situation.
The face, however, was much altered. We understand that an immense
quantity of blood had flowed from the body during the night, producing
doubtless the paleness which was now its principal characteristic.
The features had entirely lost that decidedness and sharpness they
yesterday possessed. The nose was thickened, as the lips likewise were,
producing that bloated appearance usually seen in the faces of those
who have died from strangulation. It altogether no longer presented the
countenance of Burke.

It was really amusing to observe the different emotions displayed
in those approaching and passing the body. They presented as great
a variety of faces, both in old and young, as the most zealous
physiognomist could have wished for in his studies. Some hesitated at
the entrance, half inclined to retrace their steps, as if appalled
at their own audacity in venturing so nearly into the presence of a
corpse. The crowd behind, however, and their own curiosity urged them
on, and they were almost borne past with uncovered head and pallid lip.
Others walked boldly forward, viewing the body with a malicious smile,
which spoke plainly their disgust at the crimes of the individual, and
that this aversion overcame every sentiment of horror they might have
felt at another time in looking on a similar spectacle.

The immense concourse of people whose curiosity induced them to visit
this sad and humiliating spectacle of fallen and degraded man may
be judged of, when it is mentioned, that by actual enumeration it
was found that upwards of sixty per minute passed the corpse. This
continued from ten o’clock until darkening, and when we left at nearly
four o’clock the crowd was increasing, we cannot compute the number at
less than twenty-five thousand persons, and counting the other days on
which many saw him, though the admissions were not so indiscriminate,
the amount cannot be reckoned under thirty thousand souls. A greater
number of males probably than was present at the execution, and a far
greater concourse perhaps than ever paid homage to the remains of any
great man lying in state.

We understand, though we did not witness it, that some women whose
curiosity presented a stronger impulsive motive than could in them be
counteracted by the characteristic grace of a female,--modesty, found
their way with the mob into the room where the naked body was exposed.
It is not likely, however, that their curiosity will, in such a case,
again get the better of their discretion, as the males, who reserve
to themselves the exclusive right of witnessing such like spectacles,
bestowed such tokens of their indignation upon them as will probably
deter them from again visiting an exhibition of the sort; seven in all
is said to be the number of females in Edinburgh so void of decency;
but in justice even to them we may presume that they did not anticipate
such an exposure. Several more however cast a longing look into the
University, and even ascended the steps, but had the prudence again to
retire.

Next day, Saturday, all ingress was denied, and again the front of
the College presented a scene of confusion sufficiently annoying to
those in the neighbourhood, and to passers by. Long after they had
ascertained that no admission was allowed, the people continued gazing
at the outer walls, and when their curiosity was abundantly gratified
by this, or their patience exhausted, fresh arrivals of unwearied
spectators arrived.

The phrenologists have, as a matter of course, seized with avidity this
opportunity of, as they imagine, through it exhibiting the advantage of
their favourite science, and thereby advancing it in public estimation.
We will, out of the descriptions of the number given forth, confine
ourselves to the two following.




                 PHRENOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENTS OF BURKE.

For the following measurement of the head of Burke, with the
development deduced from it, we are indebted to an ingenious friend who
has taken some interest in the science of Phrenology, without, however,
becoming a convert to its doctrines. The measurement was taken with
the greatest care, in the presence and with the assistance of an able
Phrenologist: so that its accuracy may, we believe, be confidently
relied upon:--


                             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 Philo-progenitiveness      4.8
    From ditto to Firmness                                 5.4
    From ditto to Benevolence                              5.7
    From ditto to Veneration                               5.5
    From ditto to Consciousness                            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. Philo-progenitiveness, 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. Casualty, 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 posterior 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, and we have, from the best
authority, been given to understand, that it presented nothing unusual
in its appearance. We have heard it asserted, that the lateral lobes
were enormously developed, but having made inquiry 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 an 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
influence of these better faculties, lived upwards of thirty years,
without committing any of those tremendous atrocities which have so
paralysed 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 archfiends 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 reposed 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?--We hope to have it in our power, at an early
period, to adduce sufficient evidence to determine these questions;
and in the mean time, leave our readers, who have the inclination and
leisure, to amuse themselves, like the astrologers of old, with the
above phrenological horoscope of this atrocious criminal.

       *       *       *       *       *

It is an old saying that Doctors differ; nor has our recent experience
tended, in any degree, to abate our confidence in this maxim. As it is
desirable, however, to show both sides of a question at once, we insert
the following “Observations on the Head of William Burke,” from the pen
of a distinguished Phrenologist:--

Public attention has been so strongly attracted by the atrocious
crimes of Burke, that the other incidents of his life, and his general
character as a man, are liable to be altogether overlooked. In viewing
his character, however, with a philosophic eye, the whole mental
qualities manifested by him in the different situations in which he was
placed, must be taken into account.

Burke was born in the parish of Orrey, county of Tyrone, in Ireland,
in the spring of 1792. When at school, he was distinguished as an apt
scholar--a cleanly, active, good-looking boy; and though his parents
were strict Catholics, he was taken into the service of a Presbyterian
clergyman, in whose house he resided for a considerable time. He
was recommended by the minister to a gentleman in Straban, in whose
employment he remained for several years.

He subsequently tried the trade of a baker, at which he continued
only for five months. He thereafter became a linen-weaver, but soon
got disgusted with the close application that was essential to earn a
livelihood at that poorly-paid, irksome employment, and he enlisted in
the Donegal militia. He was selected by an officer as his servant, and
we are told that he demeaned himself with fidelity and propriety. While
in the army, he married a woman in Ballinha, in the county of Mayo, and
after seven years’ service, the regiment was disbanded, and he went
home to his wife. He shortly afterwards obtained the situation of groom
and body-servant to a gentleman in that vicinity, with whom he remained
three years.

He subsequently came to work at the Union Canal in Scotland, and
there formed an acquaintance with the woman M‘Dougal, who became
remarkably fond of him, deserted her paternal roof for his society,
and attached herself to him, partaking of his various fortunes during
the last ten years of his life. It is mentioned that Burke treated
her with kindness, and acknowledged her as his wife; and that she was
passionately fond of him in return.

Being reduced to much wretchedness and poverty, Burke and M‘Dougal
lodged for a few nights in Hare’s house, and during his stay, a
fellow-lodger died, whose body was sold by Hare and Burke for
dissection. At this point, his career of villany commenced. The price
of the body being expended, Burke decoyed a woman into Hare’s den and
murdered her, and sold her body. He and Hare repeated similar tragedies
twelve or thirteen times during the course of a year, till at last they
were detected.

Nothing can exceed the intense selfishness, cold-blooded cruelty,
and calculating villany of these transactions; and if the organs of
Selfishness and Destructiveness be not found in Burke, it would be as
anomalous as if no organs were found for the better qualities which he
had previously displayed.

Phrenology is the only science of mind which contains elements and
principles capable of accounting for such a character as that before
us; and it does so in a striking manner. We have seen a measurement and
development of the head of Burke, taken by an experienced Phrenologist
from the living head; also a very accurate cast of the head with the
hair shaven, taken by Mr. Joseph after the execution; and we have
conversed with a medical gentleman who saw the brain dissected. The
head was rather above than below the middle size. The middle lobe
of the brain, in which are situated the organs of Destructiveness,
Secretiveness and Acqusitiveness, was very large; at Destructiveness,
in particular, the skull presented a distinct swell, and the bone was
remarkably thin. The cerebellum, or organ of Amativeness, was large,
and Burke stated that, in some respects, his ruin was to be attributed
to the abuses of this propensity, because it had led him into habits
which terminated in his greatest crimes. The organs of Self-esteem
and Firmness were also largely developed. It is mentioned in all the
Phrenological works, that Self-Esteem and Acqusitiveness are the grand
elements of Selfishness. The anterior lobe, or that in which the
intellect is placed, although small in proportion to the middle lobe,
was still fairly developed, especially in the lower region, which is
connected with the perceptive faculties. In accordance with this fact,
Burke displayed acuteness and readiness of understanding. He could
read and write with facility, and his conversation was pertinent and
ready. The upper part of the forehead, connected with the reflecting
organs, was deficient. The organ of Ideality, which gives refinement
and elevation, was exceedingly small; that of Wonder, which prompts to
admiration, is also deficient; and the organ of Wit is small.

Here we find the organs, which, when abused, lead to selfishness,
cruelty, cunning, and determination, all large; but we have still
to account for the faculties which enabled him to act a better part
in life. Accordingly, Combativeness is considerably inferior to
Destructiveness in size, and Cautiousness is large. These, acting in
combination with great Firmness and Secretiveness, would give him
command of temper; and, accordingly, it is mentioned that he was by
no means of a quarrelsome disposition, but when once roused into a
passion, he became altogether ungovernable; deaf to reason and utterly
reckless, he raged like a fury, and to tame him was no easy task;
that is to say, when his large Destructiveness was excited to such an
extent that it broke through the restraints of his other faculties,
his passion was elevated into perfect madness. Farther, looking at the
coronal surface of the brain--the seat of the moral sentiments--we find
it narrow in the anterior portion, but tolerably well elevated; that is
to say, the organ of Benevolence, although not at all equal in size
to the organs of the animal propensities before mentioned, is fairly
developed. Veneration and Hope are also full; while Conscientiousness
is, in Phrenological language, “rather full,” or, in common speech,
not remarkably deficient. Love of Approbation also is full. In these
faculties, we find the elements of the morality which he manifested
in the early part of his life; and also an explanation of the fact,
remarked by all who saw him, that he possessed a mildness of aspect and
suavity of manner, which seemed in inexplicable contradiction with his
cold-blooded ferocity. If there had been no kindness at all in Burke’s
nature, this expression would have been an effect without a cause.

The organ of Imitation is well developed; and it is mentioned in the
Phrenological works that Secretiveness (which in him is likewise
large,) in combination with Imitation, produces the power of _acting_,
or simulation. It is curious to observe that Burke possessed this
talent to a considerable extent. He stated that he was fond of the
theatre, and occasionally represented again the acting which he had
seen. _He_ also, and not Hare, was the _decoyer_, who, by pretended
kindness, fawning, and flattery, or by _acting_ the _semblance_ of a
friend, inveigled the victims into the den. This quality enabled him
also to _act a part_ in his interviews with the various individuals who
visited him in jail. He showed considerable tact in adapting himself to
the person who addressed him; and from the same cause it was sometimes
difficult to discover when he was serious and when only feigning. His
great Self-Esteem, Firmness, Cautiousness, and Secretiveness, produced
that self-command and unshaken composure which never forsook him during
his trial and execution.

One of the most striking tests of the degree in which the moral
sentiments are possessed by a criminal, is the impression which
his crimes make upon his own conscience when the deeds have been
committed. In John Bellingham, who murdered Mr. Percival, the organ of
Destructiveness is very large, while that of Benevolence is exceedingly
deficient; and Bellingham could never be brought to perceive the
cruelty and atrocity of the murder. Burke, in whom Benevolence is
better developed, stated, that “for a long time after he had murdered
his first victim, he found it utterly impossible to banish for a single
hour the recollection of the fatal struggle--the screams of distress
and despair--the agonizing groans--and all the realities of the
dreadful deed. At night, the bloody tragedy, accompanied by frightful
visions of supernatural beings, tormented him in his dreams. For a long
time he shuddered at the thought of being alone in the dark, and during
the night he kept a light constantly burning by his bed-side.” Even to
the last, he could not entirely overcome the repugnance of his moral
nature to murder, but mentioned that he found it necessary to deaden
his sensibilities with whisky, leaving only so great a glimmering of
sense as to be conscious of what he was doing. He positively asserted
that he could not have committed murder when perfectly sober.

Burke was considerably muscular, and in the cast with the hair shaven,
taken after death, the measurement of destructiveness is two-eighths of
an inch larger than the measurement taken during life, which must be
abated in the estimate of the organ.

       *       *       *       *       *

We confess that we do not possess enough of science to enable us
either to vindicate or refute the reasoning contained in the above
developments. It is understood that a gentleman who has already
distinguished himself as an opponent of Phrenology, is to appear
again as an impugner of the doctrine given forth in the above
description, and questionless he will be replied to by the amateurs
of the science. One thing must be apparent in the above account, that
while Phrenology is pompously announced as “the only science of mind
which contains elements and principles capable of accounting for such
a character as that before us,” the utmost that is attempted is to
give a Phrenological description of the head, and to explain some
traits of the character of Burke, and to endeavour to reconcile some
discrepancies in the development, which seem not only inconsistent
with each other, but which, taken in connection with his character and
actions, would appear to any one but a Phrenologist to be positive
contradictions.

It does not appear in this instance at least, that Phrenology possesses
any peculiar aptitude in accounting for such a character; as the
knowledge that a man may commit atrocious crimes and bear a different
semblance to the world; that he may be actuated by a powerful motive
at one time which gives place to another at a different season, and
that again yielding to a third, is a fact that was sufficiently known
before the science was promulgated, and would have been as intelligible
as Phrenology has made it though we had never heard of the science,
and merely telling us that such and such protuberances on the skull
denote such and such faculties, does not at all account for the
character. Many ignorant people also who cannot “view his character
with a philosophic eye,” might inform us, that frequently a man does
not get desperately wicked all at once, and that there is nothing very
uncommon in a person behaving tolerably well for a length of time, and
afterwards abandoning himself to the most profligate courses, neither
is it unusual with an ignorant man, when once roused into a passion, to
become “altogether ungovernable.” We have seen such a thing occur where
“large destructiveness” was never exhibited nor suspected.

The learned Phrenologist then goes on to reconcile what has usually
been accounted incompatible qualities, his “full Benevolence and
large Destructiveness.” It is rather too much to assume that the
existence of the affection benevolence is sufficiently proved, even for
phrenological purposes, by quoting the story that Burke himself told
of his horror after committing the first murder. Surely, though this
tale was implicitly credited, the mere fact of a murderer’s slumbers
being haunted with the image of his victim for a brief space, cannot
prove the existence of benevolence; but we shrewdly surmise that the
whole is a fiction of Burke’s, and that he narrated it at a time
when the well developed organ of Imitation, combined with his large
Secretiveness, was excited to such a degree as to produce _acting_
or simulation, and that it furnishes an illustration of “the tact he
showed in adapting himself to the person who addressed him.” We happen
to know that he spoke quite freely about this as well as his other
murders; that he went about it in the most cool and heartless manner;
that the two monsters not only enticed the poor old woman into the
house, and allured her with a show of kindness, but that they actually,
in this their first essay, when they were just about to perpetrate
it, jested upon the subject. Hare asking Burke “to go _ben_ and
see how his mother-in-law was this morning,” surely then was the time
for benevolence to exhibit itself, but we presume that his “large
Destructiveness was excited to such an extent, that it broke through
the restraints of his other faculties,” and forced him to suffocate a
helpless and infirm female, without even the miserable palliation of
having previously intoxicated himself for the purpose, and on the next
opportunity they could discover to perform the same bloody tragedy,
without being ever troubled with compunction or remorse, until his
organ of Imitation, in combination with Secretiveness, produced the
power of _acting, or simulation_, in the condemned cell in the
Calton-hill Jail.

We suppose that this _acting or simulation_, of which so much is made
by the eminent Phrenologist, means neither more nor less than that
he was an accomplished liar, and that faculty seems to have been in
full operation when he averred, “that he could never entirely overcome
the repugnance of his moral nature to murder, but that he found it
necessary to deaden his sensibilities with whisky, leaving only so
great a glimmering of sense as to be conscious of what he was doing.”
“His moral nature” must have been of a very accommodating description,
if it could without repugnance allow him to prowl about continually
literally seeking whom he might devour, and “by pretended kindness,
fawning and flattery, or by acting the semblance of a friend, to
inveigle the victims into the den,” and when there, to entertain them
with a show of kindness and hospitality, and then prompt him “to
deaden his sensibilities with whisky” before it could permit him to
complete the scene. But perhaps it was his benevolence that induced
him to behave in this kind manner until the whisky should excite his
destructiveness at the moment that the sacrifice was prepared.

But the truth is that there was neither “ungovernable fury” nor
intoxication to excuse or account for his murders; they were all
committed in cold blood, and without one palliating circumstance; and
although he might have been drunk when some of them were concluded, he
was generally sober during the preparatory process of kidnapping, and
instigating them to drink.

He was continually drunk, because from his seldom working he had
leisure for drinking, and an abundant supply of money, and with these
he would have indulged in the same vice although there had been no
reason for “deadening his sensibilities.”

The smallness of the organ of Wit is in direct opposition to
the notoriety for humour and drollery he had acquired among his
acquaintance.

While we allow that Burke was not such a reprobate all his life, as
he was towards the close of it, we question whether he ever possessed
much of “the elements of morality,” even in his youth. An account has
been adopted which gives some colour to the opinion that his morality
was purer than the actual fact would warrant us to allow. We have
already stated in a former number, that he served only one gentleman
before entering the militia. This is on his own authority, and we
believe also, from the same source, he was never either a baker or a
weaver, so far from being three years a groom after his discharge from
the Donegal militia, he did not remain one year in Ireland, which the
dates will abundantly testify. He first proved unfaithful to his wife,
and as we have seen, afterwards deserted her and his children, on
discovering that his father-in-law properly appreciated the selfishness
and worthlessness of his character, and refused to trust him too far.
His living in adultery with the woman M‘Dougal, does not display great
attainments in morality, as in like manner, his unfaithfulness even to
her, and frequent brutal usage of her, cannot exhibit his benevolence
in a very favourable light. It is altogether too much to elevate this
unnatural and anomalous monster into a being possessing some of the
best and noblest attributes of humanity, merely that the dogmas of a
favourite pursuit should be supported. We opine, that the lauders of
the immaculate science must content themselves with the fame it has
acquired from the developments of former murderers, or alter the whole
systems of metaphysics heretofore received, should they not be able to
discover a new designation for the bumps they may find on a murderer’s
cranium.




                       PROCEEDINGS AGAINST HARE.

After the trial and conviction of Burke, some very interesting
proceedings were instituted by the mother and sister of James Wilson
or Daft Jamie, the object of which was to bring him to trial for his
participation in the murder of their relative. These proceedings have
issued in the liberation of Hare after an argument and determination in
the High Court of Justiciary. This question has been regarded by some
persons as really of no material importance, because whatever might
have been the issue of it, means would have been adopted by the public
authorities for obtaining a pardon for Hare if he had been found guilty
under the contemplated prosecution. This circumstance does not, in our
apprehension, lessen the importance of the question, inasmuch as the
conviction and punishment of any single criminal, however atrocious,
is a matter of trivial moment when compared with the great and
constitutional principles of law which constitute the code of our
criminal jurisprudence. Viewing these proceedings therefore in this
light, there has rarely, if ever, been a question raised in our Courts
of Law, involving principles of more paramount interest, as it relates,
on the one hand, to the rights and powers of the Public Prosecutor,
which are, in other words, the rights and powers of the public; and
on the other hand, the rights and privileges of individuals aggrieved
by the perpetration of crimes, which affect their property and their
feelings. It became a matter of serious concernment to have it clearly
and well decided by the highest legal authorities, what are the extent
and limits of the Lord Advocate’s powers as Public Prosecutor, to enter
into compacts with associates in crime, whereby he may afford them an
immunity from punishment for participation in crimes, on condition of
their affording such evidence as may be requisite for the discovery and
punishment of offences, in cases, which from their very nature, can
neither be traced out nor established to conviction of the delinquents,
without such information and evidence; and how far such compacts may be
carried, without infringing the privileges of private parties, who are
by law entitled to sue in their own name, and for their own interests,
for redress of their individual wrongs? This is the question which has
been raised in the present instance, and which has now been solemnly
decided by the Supreme Criminal Court of this country.

  [Illustration: WILLIAM HARE,
  as he appeared in the witness-box, taken in Court.

  _Published by Thomas Ireland Jun^r. Edinburgh._]

The proceedings referred to originated in an application for Hare, to
the Sheriff of Edinburgh, on the 20th of Jan. 1829. His petition was to
the following effect:--

That of this date (November 10, 1828) he was apprehended on a warrant
of the Sheriff-Substitute, granted on the application of the Procurator
Fiscal of the county, and was committed to the jail of Edinburgh a
prisoner, on a charge of murder: That the petitioner was examined
before the Sheriff-Substitute of the county in relation to various
acts of murder alleged, or suspected to have been committed by William
Burke, then in custody, and other persons: That in the course of these
examinations, the petitioner was assured by the Public Prosecutor, that
if he made a full disclosure of all he knew relative to the several
alleged murders which formed the subject of inquiry, no criminal
proceedings would be instituted against the petitioner himself in
relation thereto, whatever might be the circumstances of suspicion
or apparent participation or guiltiness appearing against him: That
the petitioner was examined as a witness, and without the caution and
warning which it is the duty of the Judge-examinator to give to a
party accused, every time he is brought up for examination; and the
petitioner made a full and true disclosure of all he knew, and gave
every information he possessed, in relation to all the alleged murders
as to which he was examined; and this he did under the assurance of
personal and individual safety: That one of the alleged murders, as to
which the petitioner was so examined, was that of a person described
as James Wilson, commonly known by the name of Daft Jamie; and in
relation to that matter, as well as in relation to all the others, the
petitioner made a full and true statement, and gave every information
he possessed, whether relative to the alleged act of murder itself,
or the means of obtaining or tracing any circumstances of evidence in
relation thereto; and all this he did, relying on the assurance of
personal and individual safety above mentioned, and the compact and
transaction thence arising: That, in consequence of the statement and
information thus elicited from, and procured through the petitioner,
the said William Burke was indicted to stand trial before the High
Court of Justiciary in the month of December last, on a libel setting
forth three charges of murder, as to all of which the petitioner had
been precognosced as aforesaid: That one of these three charges was the
foresaid alleged murder of James Wilson, alias Daft Jamie: That the
petitioner was included in the list of witnesses for the prosecution,
annexed to the said libel; and he was cited to attend as a witness for
the prosecution, in relation to all the charges therein contained. The
libel was found relevant to infer the pains of law; and the Public
Prosecutor having proceeded to lead evidence against William Burke,
and another prisoner, as to one of the charges, (being the murder of
Mary Docherty), the petitioner was called in, sworn, and examined as
a witness for the prosecution. On that occasion the petitioner stated
many things in evidence which he would not have stated, and could not
have been required to state, but for the perfect assurance of personal
security given him by the Public Prosecutor, not only as to the murder
of Mary Docherty, but likewise from any prosecution as to the murders
charged in that indictment, and which was laid down and confirmed
from the Bench on the said trial. It was then stated from the chair
of the Court, as the decided opinion of the whole Bench present, that
the petitioner was fully protected by law against either trial or
punishment for any of the charges contained in that indictment: That
notwithstanding the compact with the Public Prosecutor, under which the
petitioner was induced to make disclosures of great importance to the
public interest, and to the administration of justice, but which were
calculated to involve himself in circumstances of suspicion and hazard,
in which he could not otherwise have been involved; and notwithstanding
the assurance of personal safety held out to the petitioner from
the bench, criminal proceedings have, within these few days, been
instituted against the petitioner, at the instance of Janet Wilson
alleged sister, and Janet Wilson alleged mother, of the said James
Wilson, _alias_ Daft Jamie, but who, the petitioner is informed,
and has reason to believe, do not truly possess these characters, and
have produced no evidence thereof; and he has been examined before the
Sheriff-Substitute as a party accused of that offence, and is now a
_close prisoner_ in the jail of Edinburgh, committed for further
examination as to that charge of murder: That, under the circumstances
above detailed, the petitioner is advised that the proceedings thus
instituted against him are incompetent, irregular, oppressive, and
illegal; and that the warrant on which he is committed at the instance
of the said Janet Wilson is illegal, and that he is entitled to
immediate liberation: That the petitioner has been informed, that the
said Janet Wilson, alleged mother, and Janet Wilson, alleged sister,
have applied for and obtained the authority of your Lordship to lead
a precognition and examine witnesses as to the petitioner’s alleged
guiltiness of the said charge. And that an _ex parte_ examination
of witnesses is actually going on under the authority and force of your
Lordship’s power and compulsitor, in absence of the petitioner, who
is shut up a _close prisoner_ as aforesaid. The petitioner has
been advised that this proceeding also is incompetent, irregular, and
illegal, and highly oppressive and injurious.

The petitioner prayed the Sheriff, _inter alia_, to recall the
warrant on which the petitioner is committed, and to ordain him to be
set at liberty; also to put a stop to the foresaid precognition or
examination of witnesses, and to ordain the same, in so far as it has
already proceeded, to be delivered to the clerk of Court.

Upon which the Sheriff pronounced an order for service immediately on
Mr. George Monro, solicitor, Supreme Courts, agent for Janet Wilson;
and appoints to-morrow, at two o’clock afternoon, for hearing counsel
or agents for the petitioner, and for Janet Wilson in the Sheriff’s
Office; and, in the mean time, sists farther proceedings in the
precognition at the instance of the said Janet Wilson.

The case was accordingly heard by the Sheriff, when Mr. Jeffrey opposed
the liberation, and Mr. M‘Neill supported the petition. After hearing
counsel,

The SHERIFF said, this is a new point. I have always understood the
right of the private party to be as great as that of the Public
Prosecutor. I do not think the private party is prevented from
investigating by any guarantee given by the Public Prosecutor; and
therefore refuse the petition for Hare, reserving his right to apply
to the Court of Justiciary, for which purpose I shall sist proceedings
for two days. The question is new and delicate, but I see no reason for
stopping proceedings.

Mr. MILLER then stated that the respondent’s agent had got authority
from the Lord Provost to examine Burke, but just as he was about to
enter the prison, a note was put into his hand by the Governor from
the Magistrates, stating that until the judgment of the Sheriff was
known, access could not be given. The urgency of the case, and the
inapplicability of the objections to his examination were represented,
and the Sheriff thought proper to provide for Burke’s examination by a
note to his interlocutor, which was as follows:

“_Edinburgh, 21st January 1829._--The Sheriff having resumed the
consideration of the petition for William Hare, and having heard
counsel for William Hare and the respondents, Janet Wilson, senior and
junior: 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
proceedings _in the precognition before the Sheriff_, at the instance
of the respondents, till Friday night at seven o’clock, in order that
William Hare may have an opportunity of applying to the Court of
Justiciary.”

“_Note._--The application which has been made to the Lord Provost for
liberty to see Burke, by the private prosecutors, is not before us, but
remains to be disposed of by the Lord Provost.”

This judgment of the Sheriff was brought under review of the Court of
Justiciary by a bill of advocation, and of suspension and liberation
for Hare, which came on for discussion before the Court on the 26th of
the same month, when

The LORD JUSTICE CLERK said,--After having heard the counsel, I have
now to state, that the Court have resolved, before giving their
opinions, in the first place to make an order on the Lord Advocate
to make any answer to this bill that he may see necessary. The Court
desire to decide this question in the gravest manner, after seeing
informations; and the counsel will make arrangements for giving them in
as speedily as possible.

Informations were then ordered to be lodged on Saturday following.

In obedience to this order of Court, answers for the Lord Advocate,
and Informations for Hare and the relatives of Wilson were accordingly
lodged; and their Lordships, on the 2d February, proceeded to pronounce
judgment on the very nice and important points of law embraced in the
discussion.

The Lord Advocate’s Answer is as follows:

The Respondent has not failed to observe the guarded terms in which
this order is conceived, calling upon him only to give such information
as he shall deem proper, and thus relieving him from the necessity of
questioning the power, even of this Court, to require, in this shape,
a disclosure of the grounds on which the Public Prosecutor has been
guided in the exercise of his official discretion. Influenced, however,
by those feelings of respect which the respondent has ever endeavoured
to evince towards this High Court, he readily submits the following
statement, in deference to their wishes, on so extraordinary a case.

The murder of Mary Docherty took place on the night of Friday the 31st
October last; and on the evening of the following day, William Burke,
Helen M‘Dougal, William Hare, and Margaret Laird, his wife, were taken
into custody. On Monday the 3d of November, Burke and M‘Dougal were
examined before the Sheriff. These persons, as your Lordships have had
occasion to know, denied all accession to the crime.

On the 4th of November, William Hare and Margaret Laird were examined
by the Sheriff. In the declarations then emitted by them, they both
positively denied all accession to the murder, and stated that Docherty
had not received any violence from any person in their presence.

Hare and his wife were again examined by the Sheriff on the 10th of
November.

They were a _third_ time examined on the 19th of November.

At these examinations they firmly persevered in their former denial.

The precognition having been completed, was laid before the respondent,
in order to be finally disposed of. A month had now elapsed since the
date of the murder; during which period the four prisoners had been
kept separately from each other, but no disclosure had been made by any
of them, either as to the alleged murder, or as to the participation
of any of the persons accused, in offering violence to the deceased.
After repeated and most anxious consideration of this extraordinary
case, it appeared to the respondent that the evidence, including the
examination of medical gentlemen, was defective, both as to the fact of
Docherty having been murdered, and as to who was the perpetrator of the
deed. Conceiving it of the greatest importance, for the satisfaction
and security of the public, that a conviction should be _ensured_, the
respondent did not feel justified in hazarding a trial, on evidence
which appeared to him to be thus defective. He well knew, from long
experience, how scrupulous a Scottish Jury uniformly is, in finding
a verdict of guilty where a capital punishment is to follow; and he
deemed it hopeless to look for a conviction, where the fact of a murder
having been committed was not put beyond the possibility of question.

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. Another consideration of still greater importance
rendered this course indispensable.

Some circumstances about this time transpired, which led the respondent
to dread, that at least one other case of a similar description had
occurred. In such circumstances he felt it to be his imperative
duty, not to rest satisfied without having the matter probed to the
bottom; and that he should, for the sake of the public interest,
have it ascertained what crimes of this revolting description had
really been committed--who were concerned in them--whether the whole
persons engaged in such transactions had been taken into custody, or
if other gangs remained, whose practices might continue to endanger
human life. Compared with such knowledge, even a conviction for the
murder of Docherty appeared immaterial. But such information could
not be obtained by bringing to trial all the four persons accused. A
conviction might lead to their punishment, but it could not secure such
a disclosure.

After deliberately weighing all these matters it appeared to the
respondent then, as it does to him now, that in the exercise of a
sound discretion, and in the performance of his public duty, embracing
equally the interest of the community at large, and of the relatives of
injured parties, he had no choice left but to follow that course he had
adopted.

The only matter for deliberation regarded which of the four should be
selected as witnesses.

M‘Dougal positively refused to give any information.

The choice, therefore, rested between Hare and Burke; and from the
information which the respondent possessed, it appeared to him then, as
it does now, that Burke was the principal party, against whom it was
the respondent’s duty to proceed. Hare was therefore chosen, and his
wife was taken because he could not bear evidence against her.

This course having been resolved upon, an overture was made to Hare
by the authority of the respondent, with the view to his becoming a
witness, and the proposal which was so made to him--(and which did
not proceed from him)--was accepted. He was in consequence brought to
the Sheriff’s office on the 1st of December for examination, when, by
the authority of the respondent, he received an assurance from 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 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 instance, 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.

In consequence of this assurance, Hare emitted a declaration, detailing
the circumstances connected with the murder of Mary Docherty, and with
similar crimes, in which Burke had been engaged. Of these, the murder
of James Wilson, and of Mary Paterson or Mitchell, were two; and it was
from the facts which Hare so detailed, that evidence was obtained from
unexceptionable witnesses, of such a nature as enabled the respondent
to bring forward those two murders as substantive acts in the same
indictment which charged Burke with the murder of Mary Docherty. By
this proceeding, the respondent conceived that he had fully satisfied
not only the ends of public justice, but the rights and feelings of all
those who were connected with the unfortunate individuals thus referred
to.

In the indictment, William Hare and his wife were inserted in the
list of witnesses, along with all those persons whose evidence the
respondent had been able to obtain in consequence of the disclosures
which Hare had made. When the respondent entered the Court on the day
of trial, it was his full intention to examine Hare and his wife as
to each of the three murders set forth in the indictment. How he was
prevented from so doing the Court is already aware. Had Burke been
acquitted of Docherty’s murder, the respondent must, in the discharge
of his duty, have proceeded to try him on the other two charges; and in
proof of both, Hare and his wife must have been examined as witnesses.
As it was, they were both adduced on the trial, and it was from the
information obtained from Hare, on the assurance of immunity, that the
respondent conceives he was enabled to secure a conviction.

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.

In regard to the crimes so disclosed, whether they were included in
the indictment against Burke or not, the respondent having, in the
conscientious discharge of his duty, authorised the assurance to be
given which has now been stated, apprehends that he is legally barred
from prosecuting either of those persons at his instance, and he will
not make any such attempt. He need not add that he should strongly feel
such a proceeding, upon his part, as dishonourable in itself, unworthy
of his office, and highly injurious to the administration of justice.

Having thus, in compliance with the order of your Lordships, given such
information to the Court as he has deemed proper, in regard to the
situation in which the Public Prosecutor stands, in reference to the
murders set forth in the bill of advocation, the respondent has only
to add, that, upon perusing the said bill, he finds no statement in it
which requires any answer on his part.

The information put in for Hare states that the question now to be
resolved is, Whether the informant (Hare) is protected from farther
criminal process in order to punishment, for the murder of James Wilson
_alias_ Daft Jamie? It then narrates the facts and circumstances
which have given rise to the question, and states the legal grounds
on which Hare rests his application to the Court for liberation from
prison, and at great length proceeds to submit the grounds of his plea,
and concludes thus:--

The principles of law, and the direct and recent authority now stated
are sufficient, it is submitted, to govern this case.

Even if the principle of law and the authority referred to had been
less plain and satisfactory than they are, the informant might, with
great confidence, have rested his case on the principles of “humanity,
justice, and policy,” which are said, on the other side, to be at the
foundation of the rule of law which secures protection to a witness
_socius criminis_, and which, indeed, pervade, and are interwoven
with, every part of the criminal law of Scotland, and may legally be
appealed to in the absence of any other guide. Every thing adverse
to these principles, and certainly every _novelty_ adverse to them,
must be repugnant to the spirit of the law. The proceedings which the
informant now resists are of this character; while the prayer he has
preferred to your Lordships is plainly in unison with those great
principles which are at the foundation of our criminal code, and are
intermingled with the administration of it. Your Lordships have before
you the case of a prisoner who has had the misfortune to be accused
by the Public Prosecutor of acts of murder, of which he may have been
innocent or guilty. Let it be taken either way. Suppose him to be,
as his adversaries describe him, a delinquent polluted by crimes of
the blackest die--one of a fraternity who conspired against the lives
of the lieges, and who carried on the work of blood with a secrecy
and a success which the firmest cannot hear without trembling, or the
hardiest without horror--let the prosecutors describe his character
and his crimes in any language they please--still, in his case, as in
every other, justice must be observed, and the law must be administered
in the spirit of humanity, and with a view to future consequences.
If he has really been a member of such a conspiracy as is alleged,
the greater is the benefit which he has conferred upon the public,
by laying open all the hidden acts and secret ramifications of that
confederacy, and the greater the danger to which, in the event of
trial, he has exposed himself by giving any information or any evidence
whatever in regard to any of its transactions and deeds. But he made
a compact with the representative of the interests of the public;
and he has given to the public, by their representative, the benefit
of all his knowledge of these transactions, in consideration of the
community having released him from all claim for punishment. This
compact having been acted upon--every information which the informant
possessed having been drawn from him--he having been publicly called
upon to appear as a witness in regard to the very murder now under
consideration--he having been placed in the witness-box, and having
publicly given evidence in relation to a part of those proceedings to
which he is said to have been accessary, and having thereby publicly
connected himself with the chief actor, whose conviction he ensured;
and having exposed the system, and laid open the sources of evidence,
and thus furnished the means of bringing himself to trial, if that
were competent--borne down with difficulties and surrounded by perils,
by which he would not otherwise have been environed--the strength of
his defence impaired or taken away--is it consistent with humanity, or
justice, or policy, that two individual members of the community, who
all the while lay by without giving notice of such intention, should
now come forward, to violate public faith, and to turn the information
given for the benefit of the public against the life of him who gave
it, in reliance on the compact he had entered into with the Public
Prosecutor? Every principle of humanity, of justice, and of policy,
is opposed to such a proceeding. There is no precedent--there is no
authority for such a proceeding. The informant acted in the belief
that he had secured his protection. The Public Prosecutor acted in the
belief that he was entitled to secure, and had secured to him, that
protection, and had done so for the ultimate benefit of the public, in
securing the conviction and punishment of an offender. If both parties
erred in their notions of the law, they erred in common with a quorum
of your Lordships’ number, discharging the most important duty of the
Supreme Criminal Court. If the law is now, for the first time, to be
declared against that understanding and opinion, let the operation of
this new declaration be confined to _future_ cases--but let not this
new state of things--this alteration of a deliberate judgment of the
Supreme Court, operate to the prejudice and injury of the informant,
when matters are, in respect to him, no longer entire. To do otherwise
would be productive of no good object. The ends of justice would not be
thereby promoted. The _public faith would be broken_, and, above all,
the informant _could not now have a fair trial_. These considerations
give him a sufficient claim to the interposition of your Lordships to
prevent further proceedings against him.

The Information given in for the relatives of James Wilson is also of
great length. It is there stated--

1. That the right of the private party to prosecute is not controllable
by the Public Prosecutor, and is independent of him.

The prosecutors state this as a fundamental and constitutional
principle in the criminal jurisprudence of Scotland. It is not an
antiquated right, as stated by the counsel for the prisoner, but is
recognised by the latest authorities, and is consistent with the most
fundamental principles of our practice. There can therefore be no
question as to the title of the prosecutors. They state themselves to
be “the nearest kinsmen of the deceased, demanding the vengeance of the
law on the body of the culprit if he is found to be a murderer.”

Legally speaking, there are only two situations in which a prisoner can
actually plead indemnity in bar of trial, viz. Previous acquittal by a
Jury, or remission by the Crown. These are the two constitutional modes
of freeing an accused party from the consequences of alleged crime, and
either of them is an effectual bar to trial, whether at the instance
of the Public Prosecutor or of the private party. But the point which
the prosecutors are anxious to establish is this, 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 his
right of calling upon him 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 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. The assertion
of the prosecutors, however is, that their legal right to investigate
the circumstances attending the death of their near relation, and
to indict the accused party, if they shall find sufficient ground to
do so, cannot be interfered with by the proceedings of the Public
Prosecutor, in circumstances over which they have no control. They say,
that this doctrine must be held, because it flows as a necessary and
irrefragable consequence from the constitutional right of prosecution,
which has been proved to exist. If the right be in the private party,
how can it be wrested from them, by the communications which pass
between the criminal and a third party over whom they have no control,
but to whom, on the other hand, the law gives no power of depriving
them of that right of demanding justice and vengeance which it has
vested in them?

In point of form, indeed, it is required that the Lord Advocate
should grant his concourse to a prosecution before the High Court
of Justiciary. But this form is established, not for the purpose of
showing that his permission to prosecute is necessary, but for the
purpose of showing that there is a public injury to be vindicated as
well as a private party to be satisfied. Accordingly, the Lord Advocate
has no right to refuse his concourse. If he should refuse, he can be
compelled to grant it, for this very reason, that it is not _in
arbitrio_ of him to deprive the private party of his legal right.
The law was so stated by Lord Alemore, on the complaint of Sir John
Gordon against his Majesty’s Advocate, June the 21st 1766, and the same
doctrine is laid down by our authorities.--[Here quotations in support
of the above doctrine are introduced from Burnet, p. 300; and from
Hume, vol. ii. p. 123.]

The Prosecutors pleaded, II. That the _socius criminis_ is only
protected by the indulgence of the Court with regard to the particular
crime as to which he gives evidence.

Formerly a _socius criminis_ was not received as an evidence in
the criminal Courts of this country, because of the interest which
he was supposed to have in establishing the guilt of the individual
accused, and thus freeing himself from the imputation of the crime;
and the practice which has lately crept in of affording an indemnity
to the witness, for the crime as to which he has given evidence, does
not appear to have been recognised until subsequent to the case of
Jameson in 1770. In the case, accordingly, of Macdonald and Jameson
in August 1770, when the objection of a witness having been _socius
criminis_ was fully debated, the Prosecutor in answer did not say
that the witness, by being examined, would thereby be exempted from
prosecution, but only that he might hope for impunity; while the usage,
at that time, of granting special pardon, to accomplices for enabling
them to give evidence, confirms what has been stated. At what period a
different rule came to prevail does not appear. Baron Hume conceives
that the practice may have commenced from the rule introduced by 21st
Geo. II. cap. 25, as to a particular offence.

The doctrine maintained on the part of the prisoner is, that he is
relieved, not only from the consequences attaching to his participation
in the crime as to which he has been examined, but also as to others,
in regard to which the same parties may have been implicated, but which
have not been the subject of trial. This argument extends the doctrine
of indemnity much farther than it has yet been carried. For the
question underwent grave discussion, and the practice, as then followed
by Public Prosecutors and recognised by the Bench, is distinctly
stated by the Learned Judges in the case of Downie, who was tried
for high treason in the year 1794. The discussion arose upon certain
questions being put to a witness of the name of Aitcheson, tending
to criminate himself. The danger had been pointed out by the Counsel
for the prisoner, to which the course of the examination might lead,
as the witness might confess that which was sufficient to convict him
of the crime of treason. The doctrine laid down by the whole of these
Learned Judges is this, that for what the individual told the Court as
a witness, he could not afterwards be questioned; but they distinctly
state, that if the witness, after being put into the box, refuses to
answer, he would not have been entitled to any protection.

[The information then goes on to narrate the trial of Burke, the
circumstances of which are already well known: after which it proceeds
to the examination of the suspender, Hare, as a witness on the trial.]
After administering the oath to the prisoner, who was brought forward
as a witness upon the trial alluded to, Lord Meadowbank stated to him,
“Now we observe that you are at present a prisoner in the Tolbooth
of Edinburgh, and from what we know, the Court understands that you
must have had some concern in the transaction now under investigation.
It is therefore my duty to inform you, that whatever share you might
have had in that transaction, if you speak the truth, you can never
afterwards be questioned in a Court of Law.” Lord Justice Clerk--“You
will understand, that you are called here as a witness regarding the
death of an elderly woman of the name of Campbell or M‘Gonegal.”
“You understand, that it is only with regard to her that you are now
to speak?” To this question, the witness replied by asking, “T’ould
woman, Sir?” Lord Justice Clerk, “Yes.” But what is perhaps of still
greater importance, it will appear that he was not permitted to
answer questions which might otherwise have been of importance to the
individual then upon trial, upon the ground that he would not be
protected upon so doing.

From all which these facts are indisputably established, viz. 1st, That
the witness was examined as to no other murder than that of Docherty
or Campbell. And 2dly, That he was distinctly warned that he was not
bound to answer any question with regard to the other murders contained
in the indictment, because as to any other murder except that under
investigation, he was not protected by the Court.

The present question therefore stands thus: Hitherto a witness has only
been protected from trial for the particular crime as to which he has
given evidence. The prisoner has given none as to the crime of which he
is now accused, and therefore he has not been placed in that situation
which entitles him to the protection of the Court.

       *       *       *       *       *

When the Court met on 2d February, the Bill of Advocation for Hare
against the nearest of kin of James Wilson was called.

Mr. Jeffrey, addressing the Court, said, their Lordships would not
suppose that he had any notion of resuming the argument, but the
case was brought to such a point that he might be indulged in making
one remark. It was maintained on the part of the suspender, that the
Public Prosecutor was entitled to make a compact, to which compact
their Lordships were bound to give effect; that their Lordships had
no discretion, but that it rested entirely with the Lord Advocate to
enter into any compact, and to extend immunity to any number of cases
without the control of the Judge; in short, that the Lord Advocate
possessed the uncontrolled power of exercising the Royal Prerogative;
and this he might do, not merely with respect to the particular crime
as to which a _socius criminis_ was to be used as a witness, but
might extend it to all other crimes of which he may have been guilty.
Whenever the Lord Advocate stipulated an immunity, it seemed to be
maintained that a sufferer by housebreaking, fire-raising, or other
crimes, was to be deprived of his right as a private party to prosecute
the guilty perpetrator of the wrong, and that the Lord Advocate had
a power to enter into a compact by which he could grant immunity for
offences past and future, known or unknown. Such a prerogative would
be investing the Public Prosecutor with a power of pardon, which only
belonged to the Crown, and this too without a tittle of authority, and
totally different from judicial authority, amounting to an assumption
of the prerogatives of Parliament.

Mr. M‘Neill stated that he had no observations to make.

Lord Gillies expressed his thanks to the Learned Gentlemen who had
argued this case. The papers were drawn with much care, and with an
ability and promptness which did them the highest honour. His Lordship
then alluded to the form in which the case came before the Court, and
the prayer of the Bill, and stated the question to be, Whether they
were to affirm the judgment of the Sheriff and refuse the prayer of
the petition to that Judge for liberation, or to grant it and liberate
the prisoner Hare? His Lordship considered the question of law to be
an undecided and open question. The facts which gave rise to it were
but too well known. They were of the most atrocious character--murders
committed, not from the ordinary motive of revenge, or of robbery,
or to escape from the punishment of other offences,--but its object
was indiscriminate murder for dissection, and cold-blooded traffic,
rendering the crime profitable in proportion to the number of its
victims. These atrocities seem to have attracted the notice of the
Lord Advocate, whose conduct, in all these proceedings, he considered
highly meritorious. We were all much indebted to that high officer
for the wisdom and prudence with which he had conducted the business.
There can be no doubt that the same feelings and wishes existed in
his Lordship’s mind as in that of every other man; and his Lordship
thought that if he could obtain the punishment of two, or even one of
the murderers, a great service would be rendered to the public. The
result too fully justified his Lordship’s measures. It became necessary
to collect evidence of these crimes, and a body of it had been
collected--such as could not, perhaps, be obtained in any other part
of the world; and what would the consequences have been if such crimes
had escaped altogether without punishment? It was for this purpose that
he caused the proposition to be made to Hare, which was stated in his
Lordship’s answer. And Lord Gillies expressed his entire approbation
of his Lordship’s conduct. The Lord Advocate gave his assurance of
pardon. That assurance was properly given. He had a power to promise
remission, and Hare was entitled to ask and bargain for it; and no man
can look into the case without being satisfied that Hare was entitled
to a remission for the important information which he had afforded to
the Public Prosecutor. On this very information the indictment against
Burke was raised, accusing him of three different acts of murder.
Annexed to that indictment Hare’s name was in the list of witnesses,
and he might have been examined on any one or all of the three charges.
The Court pronounced an interlocutor, limiting the trial to one of
these--the murder of Docherty. The only information Lord Gillies had
as to the trial was derived from the papers, and these referred to
opinions delivered at the trial, on which he could not venture to offer
an opinion, as he was not present. But in the information for Hare,
there was an explanation which was not satisfactory, of the opinions
which were said to be contradictory. Those opinions must have had an
effect upon the witness Hare in giving his evidence, and persons in
his situation were not to be supposed qualified to judge of the law.
The impressions, therefore, made on Hare by those opinions were more
important than the abstract law, as they must have regulated him in
giving his testimony, in as far as his belief that he was safe was
concerned. He would, therefore, without reference to what had passed
at the trial, express his own opinion whether or not the Court was
entitled and empowered by law to quash the proceedings in consequence
of what took place at the examination on the trial? His Lordship held
the right of a private party to prosecute for murder undoubted. The
information for Hare says it is an antiquated privilege. It was not
antiquated. He had himself been counsel in a case from Aberdeen; and
there were many cases of trial for forgery at the instance of Banks.
In Captain Macdonoch’s case from Aberdeen there was no objection
hinted at, either by counsel or the bench. It was a sacred right, as
much so as if exercised at the instance of the Lord Advocate. There
are not many cases of trial for assythment; and none are noticed in
the informations. It is due in three contingencies--when remission is
before trial--when the accused is tried by a Court Martial--and when
he is fugitate or outlawed. His Lordship would not say if in any other
case assythment might be found due. What prevents the relatives of the
poor lad Wilson from sueing? The same principles apply in this case
as if the person murdered had been the highest in the land. Are his
relatives to be controlled by the Public Prosecutor? Though Hare was
admitted as witness on the trial for Docherty’s murder, and promised
an immunity for his participation in it, the Lord Advocate can neither
defeat nor control the right of prosecution in Wilson’s relatives,
nor unless in a case where the witness promised an immunity has been
actually examined and borne testimony. If a prosecution at the instance
of the Public Prosecutor for murder is followed by death, that is
conclusive, and shuts out process at the instance of a private party.
If there is a remission, assythment is competent; and if there be an
acquittal, there can be no process. There is nothing of this kind in
the present case. His Lordship stated that the avowed object was to
bring Hare to trial--that the right to do so was clear, and he did not
know if the Court had any legal right to prevent it or to defeat it.
The practical result was important, as Hare would not suffer death. He
reprobated the plea that this case should be decided on principles of
humanity, justice, and policy. It was not what judges held to be such
principles--but what the law lays down that is to regulate them. The
true question is, Whether the Court has power to prevent the trial; and
he was satisfied that neither the law nor the constitution authorised
it. He went into a view of the history of the law upon the subject of
admitting _socii criminis_, and referred to the Act 21, Geo. II. c. 31,
as for the first time introducing what was previously unknown in our
law. He considered that act as a resting place in the progress of the
law upon the subject--and the only satisfactory one--and it was given
under limitations. It was afterwards extended, and he was not sure if
it was well and wisely done. His Lordship then referred to cases since
that time, and, after other illustrations, concluded by expressing his
opinion that the bill should be refused, and the investigations allowed
to proceed.

Lord PITMILLY approved of the manner in which the case had been
conducted. He did not consider it necessary to take notice of
the proceedings at examination on the trial, of which there is
no authenticated record. The question was, whether they were to
stop proceedings or not--and he could not concur in Lord Gillies’s
views. As there were two ways to the same object, and as he had the
consolation to think that the practical result would be the same as
to the individual concerned, he should have been happy if he could
have concurred; but there was a principle involved which prevented him
from doing so. His Lordship took a view of the practice with regard to
_socius criminis_ in reference to the Public Prosecutor and to private
parties; and stated that the old law of this country excluded them. The
law of England admitted them from the first; but more recently our late
decisions and practice admitted them in every case. Such a system could
only be introduced gradually. His Lordship differed from Lord Gillies
in his view of the act Geo. II. c. 34, which introduced a particular
rule of law for a special case. It was not a general act, and laid down
no general rule, but rather an exception. The 20th section enacted a
rule different from that in 31, and the act could not be considered as
a resting place in the history of the law as to _socii_. His Lordship
then went into a review of the cases applicable to this point, and
the principle laid down in the case of Smith and Brodie had now been
uniformly acted upon for a period of upwards of forty years. The Lord
Advocate’s statement was highly satisfactory, and every one must agree
in approving of the whole course of his proceedings. His Lordship could
not, after procuring all the information which Hare afforded on the
faith of the promised immunity, turn round and proceed against him,
because he had not been examined on the two cases not brought to trial.
He next considered the right of the private party, and held that if it
was competent to proceed against Hare in the case of Wilson, it was
equally competent to proceed against him in the case of Docherty, at
the instance of private parties; yet it is admitted, that in the case
of Docherty the right of the private party is controlled, and must be
controlled. After a variety of other illustrations, which we regret our
limits will not allow us to repeat, in support of these doctrines, Lord
Pitmilly concluded by saying, that the purity and integrity of the law
and the faith of the Public Prosecutor, which, for the public good,
must not be broken, required that the liberation of the prisoner should
be granted, and the proceedings against him stopped. He felt most
intensely for the relatives of James Wilson--he sympathised with the
public in their feelings of detestation upon the subject of the murders
which had led to these discussions--but he felt more for the honour of
the country, which was bound to vindicate the faith of a great public
officer acting for the public welfare.

Lord MEADOWBANK considered this a very important case as regarded
the consistency of the Court, and also as it affects the First Law
Officer of the Crown--and if he were under the necessity of refusing to
discharge the warrant of commitment against Hare, it would be to him a
subject of humiliation and endless regret. His Lordship differed from
his brethren, who considered the admissibility of a _socius criminis_
as of modern introduction into the law of Scotland. He referred to the
authority of Lord Hailes, and the trials of Lord Morton, and the Gowrie
conspirators, to show that _socii_ were received as witnesses of old,
and that remissions had been given for the purpose of obtaining their
evidence. His Lordship went into an eloquent and learned illustration
of the antiquities of our criminal law in the days of the Justiciar,
and previous to the time that the Lord Advocate was invested with
his present power, and maintained that at no period in the law of
Scotland has a private prosecutor ever enjoyed the power of sueing a
criminal without being subject to control by the Public Prosecutor and
the Court; and he held that when the king created the Lord Advocate
Public Prosecutor, he also must be held to have invested him with all
the powers necessary for explicating the duties of his office. Among
these the power of remission of offences for the purpose of obtaining
information essential to the public welfare must have been transferred.
There never had been a prosecution of a _socius criminis_ at any
period in the history of the Court when he had obtained the promise of
indemnity from the Lord Advocate, and given information and evidence.
His Lordship was therefore for quashing the proceedings.

Lord MACKENZIE said, although he had been anticipated in what he had
to offer on this subject, he considered it his duty to express his
opinion. As to the matter of form, he was of opinion that Hare was
competently before the Court--and it was necessary to decide whether
he had a sufficient protection by the compact with the Lord Advocate
against farther proceedings. He held that the calling of a witness
who was a _socius_ gives an implied protection, and this he held to
be fixed by the cases of Brodie and Smith, followed by all the cases
ever since. He considered that Hare had this protection both for the
case of Docherty and Wilson. The course of the Lord Advocate had been
most wise and expedient; and this wretched man, Hare, had acquired an
immunity in all the three cases, in consequence of the promise held out
to him. Considering the evidence adduced on the trial of Burke, it was
impossible to contemplate Hare’s escape without pain; but he must not
die by a perversion of the law, which would shake all confidence in the
fair and steady administration of justice.

Lord ALLOWAY concurred in the views of Lord Gillies, and expressed his
opinion at considerable length. He applauded the Lord Advocate, who
had acted in a manner worthy of himself, and of the high office which
he held. His conduct had been distinguished for wisdom and firmness,
and he had not a doubt that the Lord Advocate was bound to go to the
Crown for a remission to Hare. The Crown, he held, was the only source
of mercy. His Lordship could not approve of any authorities drawn
from the practice of periods in our history which were a disgrace
and abomination--and he could not think of resting any of our law
on precedents drawn from the trials of Lord Morton and the Gowrie
conspirators. He heard that the trial on which Hare was examined was
only on the case of Docherty, not of Wilson; and if it was not the
case of Wilson, his examination in the other case afforded him no
protection. All other cases except Docherty’s were excluded, and there
was no other before the Jury. The Statute of Geo. II. was _in viridi
observantia_. His Lordship was for refusing the Bill.

The LORD JUSTICE CLERK said, that considering this case as one of very
great importance, he had prepared his opinion upon it with great care
and anxiety, and as he had dictated it, he would now read it without
any apology. After some preliminary remarks, that opinion was expressed
in the following terms:--“From the statement of the Lord Advocate, it
is placed beyond all doubt, that, with a view to the public interest
alone, he resorted to the course therein detailed, and considering the
atrocious, extraordinary, and unexampled nature of the crimes to which
his attention had been called, the infinite importance of avoiding
the risk of the escape from punishment of all who _then_ appeared
implicated in these crimes, and the immense advantage of a public
example from a conviction, he did exercise a wise and sound discretion
in betaking himself to the evidence of Hare and his wife, and giving
the assurance stated in his answers. It moreover appears to me, that
the propriety and wisdom of the conduct of the Public Prosecutor in
regard to the important and delicate duty he had to perform, have been
most fully evinced by the result of the trial and conviction of William
Burke. If instead of following the course he did, he had indicted
Hare and his wife along with the other prisoners for the murder of
Docherty, (the Public Prosecutor having _then_, according to his own
statement, no sufficient information regarding the murders of Wilson
and Paterson) and had failed to obtain a verdict, against the certainty
of which not being the case no one will venture to give an opinion;
it may be considered what would then have been the feeling of the
public in regard to such a proceeding. Keeping the above circumstances
in view, and attending particularly to the nature and structure of
the indictment exhibited against Burke and M‘Dougal, charging the
single crime of murder, in the three specific acts of Mary Paterson,
James Wilson, and Mrs. Docherty or Campbell, all alleged to have been
perpetrated in the same way and with the same _intent_, viz. for the
sale of the bodies for dissection,--in the list of witnesses subjoined
to which Hare and his wife were included--the interlocutor of the Court
finding the _whole_ indictment relevant to infer the pains of law,
but upon the motion of the prisoners, allowing the separation of the
charges, and the trial then to proceed as to the murder of Docherty
alone--the subsequent direction, at the desire of the prisoners,
given to Hare, to confine his statement to the case of Docherty--the
examination which he then underwent, both for the prosecution and the
prisoners, is to be carefully attended to.”

[His Lordship then took a most comprehensive and detailed view of the
law applicable to the case, which our limits will not permit us to give
at length, but the conclusion of it is so important that we must give
it to the public, as it affords explanations, which it is desirable
that every individual should be acquainted with in a case that has
excited so deep an interest.]

“If then, the prisoner Hare is legally exempted from all prosecution
at the instance of the Public Prosecutor for any accession he may have
had to the three acts of murder charged in the indictment against
Burke and M‘Dougal, there seems no ground in law for maintaining
that he may still be prosecuted at the instance of the relations of
either of the three parties alleged to have been murdered. As to the
_speciality_ attempted to be founded on as to his not having been
examined with regard to the actual murder of James Wilson, it has
already been sufficiently adverted to, in reference to the supposition
of the Lord Advocate attempting to prosecute for that offence. The
nature of the indictment--the interlocutor finding the whole charges
relevant--and the almost identity of the modes of slaughter and intent
with which the three acts were perpetrated, and the general nature of
Hare’s evidence--have already been pointed out as demonstrating that
without a total departure from the fairness and justness that must
ever characterize judicial procedure, it is impossible to deny that
Hare did mix himself up with matter that had the closest affinity to
the other acts, the trial of which did not proceed at the time. It
is farther to be recollected that, in the list of witnesses, there
stand included various persons connected with the death of Wilson, the
discovery of whom, we have the assurance of the Public Prosecutor,
was made through the information of Hare alone, who did also make
such disclosures as led to the framing of that and the other charge
in the indictment. It is utterly impossible, therefore, to view Hare
as a person who had not spoken out or given _any evidence_, relative
to the crime for which he is now attempted to be tried. He can by no
possibility be replaced in the situation in which he formerly stood.
_Things are no longer entire with regard to him_, as has been justly
said. The public has derived the benefit that was expected from his
evidence, by the conviction and execution of this guilty associate;
and _the public faith that was pledged to him in the face of the
country_, and confirmed by the intervention of the authority of this
Court _must be preserved inviolate_. Such is the deliberate opinion
that I have formed, after the most careful and anxious consideration
of all that has been urged, both in speaking and in writing, upon
this important question, and a careful review of the authorities that
appeared to bear upon it. _The same opinion I formerly delivered in
a most important stage of the trial of Burke and M‘Dougal, with the
concurrence of my brothers who were then sitting with me._ I am free
however to admit, that notwithstanding this circumstance, it was my
bounden duty to re-consider that opinion with all due attention to
the able and elaborate argument that was offered against it by the
respondents’ counsel. I cannot, however, agree with them that the
opinion to which they objected, and were well entitled to object, was
one of an _obiter_, or passing nature, and not to be considered of
importance at this stage of the trial when it was pronounced. It was,
on the contrary, delivered to the Jury, as the opinion of the Court,
upon an objection urged in point of law, in the most earnest manner
by the counsel for the prisoners, and which, if well-founded, must
have gone to the destruction of the credit of the accomplices who
had given evidence. There can be no part of the duty of the Judge who
presides at a criminal trial more sacred than that of expounding the
law to a Jury, in reference to such an objection; and it is necessary,
therefore, that the opinion of the Court should be given in the most
unequivocal terms. It was accordingly given to the purport and effect
that is stated in the printed trial. As no man can say what effect that
statement of the law had upon the minds of the Jury,--as it may in fact
have led them to give such credit to Hare and his wife, as actually
brought about their verdict against Burke, and consequently that his
fate had been decided by it, I have no hesitation in declaring, that if
I had, upon reflection, been convinced that I had committed an error,
and delivered an erroneous opinion in law to the Jury, I should have
felt it to be my bounden duty, without the least regard to popular
feeling or clamour, to have made such a representation to the Secretary
of State, as might have led to an alteration of the sentence of the law
upon Burke. The opinion, however, which I did deliver, in my charge to
the Jury, so far from being shaken, has been strengthened and confirmed
by all that I have since heard or read upon the subject. I shall only
add, that if the objection to the credit of the accomplices, upon the
ground of their being actually liable to be tried for the two acts of
murder contained in the indictment, the trial of which had that day
merely been postponed, had been taken, as it ought to have been, when
Hare and his wife were offered as witnesses, the point would have been
fully argued, and solemnly determined by the Court. But as it was
withheld till the addresses to the Jury, every one knows that it could
not otherwise have been disposed of than by delivering an opinion upon
it to the Jury. I have but one word more to add with regard to the
supposed inconsistency between the opinions expressed by myself and my
brothers, in regard to a question proposed to be put to Hare, and that
which I delivered to the Jury. I must beg leave, however, to say, that
when the real _res gestae_ are attended to, no such inconsistency can
be found. I find from my notes, that the argument of the counsel “was
raised upon the question, _if Hare ever was concerned in the commission
of other murders_?” Upon the competency of that question, the opinions
of the Court were delivered, and those opinions must necessarily be
viewed as having reference to the question actually proposed, and the
injunction which the pannels’ own counsel had themselves desired should
be given to Hare, to confine himself to the case of Docherty. And I
well recollect of putting it to the counsel, that the witness must be
fairly dealt with, and of having stated, that if asked in regard to
the cases of Wilson and Paterson, his whole statement must be given,
whatever the consequences might be. When the examination was resumed,
I do not find that _the question is put in the precise terms on which
it had been argued_; and it was only at a later period that Hare was
asked, _if there was a murder committed in his house in October last_?
but as to which the opinion of the Court was not delivered. Whatever
shade of difference may therefore appear in the opinions regarding
these questions, and that which was advisedly delivered in the charge
to the Jury, and I am by no means surprised it has so struck some of
your Lordships, must fairly be ascribed, either to the imperfections
of the report of the trial, or to the course of proceeding that was
adopted at the suggestion of the counsel for the prisoners. I am, upon
the whole, of opinion, that the prayer of the prisoner’s bill ought to
be granted, and that it would be directly contrary to the established
practice of this Court, and the principles of our law, merely to
suspend the proceedings against him, in order that a pardon should be
obtained for his concern in the offences charged in the indictment,
upon which he was examined as a witness. Such would be the course
adopted by the judges of England; but, respecting as I do, that law and
its institutions, I do not, as a Scottish judge, feel myself warranted
to follow it on the present occasion. My opinion is, that it would be
equally incompetent to the first officer of the crown, as it is to the
private parties now before us, to institute any criminal procedure
against Hare, steeped in guilt although he be, in reference to the acts
contained in the indictment against Burke, and I can allow that opinion
in no degree to be influenced, _civium ardore prava jubentium_.”

An interlocutor was then pronounced, passing the bill of advocation,
(thereby reversing the decision of the Sheriff), ordaining the
Magistrates and keepers of the jail of Edinburgh to liberate the
prisoner Hare from confinement, quashing the proceedings which had been
instituted with a view to bring Hare to trial at the instance of James
Wilson’s nearest of kin, and ordaining the precognitions already taken
for that purpose to be cancelled.

Thus, in as far as Hare is concerned, these prosecutions connected
with the late murders are closed; and whatever may be the opinions
entertained out of doors with respect to the conflicting views of
the Judges upon the law of the case, it must be satisfactory to the
country to find, that although differing materially on many points
in the discussion, the Court were unanimous in approving most warmly
and decidedly of the Lord Advocate’s proceedings. And, however deeply
every virtuous man may lament that a wretch, who is so covered over
with crimes, should escape the hands of justice, this feeling ought
to be controlled by the recollection that even the guilty must not
suffer by stretches of the law, which might also be perverted in other
cases, to the ruin of the innocent--that, without the information
which Hare has afforded, not even one of the horrid crew of murderers
would have been convicted, or the means afforded of checking a hideous
system of murder--and that, by the course which the Public Prosecutor
has pursued, in giving one man immunity from punishment for such
information, a great benefit has been conferred upon society, for
which his Lordship is entitled to the gratitude of his country. As
to Hare himself, he is morally, and in the eyes of all mankind, a
self-convicted murderer. He is liberated for the present from the jail
and the gibbet--but he goes forth an outcast on the world, with a brand
on his forehead, that can never be effaced. Wherever his name is heard
by him, he will hear it amidst the execrations of mankind. His doom
hereafter it is not for man to anticipate.

The delivery of their Lordships’ opinions in this interesting case
occupied the Court upwards of seven hours. The Court-room was crowded
during the whole time.

In the former part of this account, we announced that some particulars
of the lives of each of the prominent actors in the black dramas should
be given. The press of matter that has since occurred, has hitherto
prevented this, but we now proceed to redeem our pledge, in so far as
one of them is concerned, by briefly mentioning such things as have
come to our knowledge respecting the notorious




                             WILLIAM HARE.

This villain’s character apparently has presented few traits which
could interest any one previous to his great crimes. It may be judged
of by picturing the _beau ideal_ of a drunken, ferocious, and stupid
profligate. What few incidents have occurred in his miserable life, if
such there were, would also have been lost, by the insuperable aversion
every one previously acquainted with him seems to have in avowing even
a casual connection. While the acquaintance of Burke has been claimed
by many, and his habits and manners freely dwelt upon, all have shrunk
from an avowal of such an intimacy with his fellow monster, as would
justify them in depicting his character. After it was discovered that
Burke had, before his crimes, displayed some of the attributes of
humanity, and had borne a very different character from what his real
one turned out to be, it was assumed, that he had been made a tool of
by Hare, and that he was the tempter and arch-fiend who had lured him
on to his destruction, and instructed him in the hellish arts; and
Burke’s language favoured the idea. But Hare has since exhibited, along
with his hardened indifference and callousness, such a mental apathy,
such gross and unconceivable stolidity in his conduct and estimation of
his crimes, as to force us to the conclusion, that, however inclined
he might be to reach the climax of atrocity, he was not capable of
leading or directing any one, far less Burke, or initiating him in the
barbarous trade.

In corroboration of this we may mention, that a celebrated literary
professor of our University, it is understood, visited both of the
murderers when in jail, and gave, as his opinion, that in comparison
with Burke, Hare was a perfect fool, and that he was convinced that he
could never be his instructor.

He describes Burke to have been a very intelligent man, and one whose
conversation would give a great idea of candour and open-heartedness,
though his conduct displayed nothing like remorse or contrition. On
the contrary, he seemed happy that the Professor’s knowledge of
Innerleithen enabled him to talk of the kindness and charity towards
him of several individuals there. He talked of them so as to lead
the learned gentleman to remark, that “he understood perfectly well
what charity was though he did not practise it.” Hare’s behaviour
and conversation were perfectly different. He seemed not to possess
the slightest moral perception of the enormity of his conduct, and
described his guilty compeer as one of the best men in the world, who
would part any thing he had in the world with a beggar. His aspect
did not belie him; well might Mr. Cockburn describe him as a “squalid
wretch;” we scarcely ever saw a more disgusting specimen of human
nature, and both in his physical and moral conformation the brute
seemed to vie with the man for the ascendency. A continual idiotic
though diabolical laugh appeared to be upon his countenance, such as
might be imagined to characterize the lowest grade of fiends.

He is a native of Ireland, and was born in the neighbourhood of
Londonderry, and after working at country work there he came to
Scotland and engaged as a common labourer upon the Union Canal, and for
some time assisted in unloading Mr. Dawson’s coal-boats. There he fell
in with Log the former husband of his notorious wife, and subsequently
came to lodge in his house. After the work at the canal was finished
he took up the trade of a travelling huxter, and with an old horse and
cart went about the country selling fish, and sometimes crockery-ware,
which he gave in exchange for old iron, &c. and sold it again to the
dealers in Edinburgh. He used also to go about with a _hurley_ selling
articles. Before Log’s death he had left his house in Tanner’s Close,
but returned again after this event, and assumed the privileges of the
master of the house, although Mrs. Log never was called by his name. He
then became a perfect pest to the inhabitants of the West Port, from
his debauched dissolute habits and reckless brutality. His conduct
would justify the oft-repeated allegation of an Irishman’s addiction
to fighting, as he was continually in a brawl. He never failed to
pick a quarrel upon any opportunity that offered, and an individual
looking at him was sufficient apology for a challenge to the combat.
Though a sorry pugilist, he was never tired until fairly disabled; and
the many drubbings he received, could not cure him of his pugnacious
propensities. If no adversary presented himself out of doors, he was
always sure of one within, and his wife and he were perpetually engaged
in conflicts. Though almost always intoxicated herself, his drunkenness
incited frequent attacks from her. Any of the neighbours would desire
a boy “to go and tell _Lucky Log_ that _Willie Hare_ was on the street
drunk,” and a fight immediately ensued upon their rencontre.

In our account of the murders, we have already noticed the share that
he had in them, as well as his conduct upon the trial and immediately
subsequent to it, and it is unnecessary to repeat it here; we will
confine ourselves therefore, to some farther notice of his deportment
while in jail, and his adventures after liberation. At first, after
Burke’s conviction, he imagined that his detention was for the purpose
of protecting him, and was very easy and not at all troubled with
compunction; but after his confinement was extended to a period far
beyond what was necessary for immediate protection, he began to become
uneasy, which was increased when inquiries about the murders were
renewed. His behaviour indicated most unbecoming levity, as well as
imbecility. He apparently was incapable of comprehending any thing of
moral rectitude.

On the last Sabbath of Burke’s life, and when his own case was pending
in the courts, he is said to have displayed the only symptoms of
feeling that he had suffered to escape him. It was during the discourse
of the Rev. Mr. Porteous, which, contrary to his usual custom, he
listened attentively to, and appeared affected when pointed allusion
was made to his compeer.

On the 2d February, and probably within half an hour of the time
when the wretch would have been liberated, in consequence of the
judgment of the High Court of Justiciary, on his bill of advocation,
suspension, and liberation, a detainer was lodged against him at the
instance of the mother and sister of Daft Jamie, proceeding upon a
petition setting forth that the petitioners had a claim of assythment
against Hare on account of the murder of their near relative; that the
sum of five hundred pounds, or such other sum as might be modified,
was due to them by Hare on that head, and that, as the said William
Hare, a foreigner, was _in meditatione fugae_, and about to withdraw
himself forth of the kingdom with a view to disappoint their just
claim; wherefore a warrant was prayed for to take him into custody, to
bring him before the Sheriff for examination, and to take him bound
in caution _judicio sisti et judicatum solvi_. The petitioners having
taken the usual oath, Hare was consequently detained, and eight o’clock
the same evening was fixed for his examination. Accordingly, a little
after the hour appointed he was brought into an apartment of the jail
for examination, and a number of interrogatories were put to him; but
he preserved an obstinate silence in regard to all of them, except the
first, we believe, which related in some way to the murder of Jamie,
and in reference to which he growled out that he would say no more
about it. Several witnesses to whom he had communicated his intention,
after getting out of jail, to quit this country and return to Ireland,
were then called and examined. Among these was a prisoner of the name
of Lindsay, a brisk fellow, with a black scratch wig on the top of his
head, who proved distinctly that Hare meant to leave Scotland and
withdraw to some part of Ireland; and having finished his deposition,
volunteered his unqualified testimony in favour not only of Hare but
also of Burke. This fellow, whose misfortune as well as fault it is
to be alimented and housed at the public expense, and who is not yet
a man of _tried_ character, although it will soon, we understand, be
put to the test, observed that he knew both Burke and Hare well; that
in particular he had slept for a considerable time with the former
before his trial; and that he was decidedly of opinion they were _the
best Irishmen he ever knew_: from which we would charitably infer
that his acquaintance has been rather limited and somewhat select.
Several turnkeys gave evidence to the same effect with this _youth_
as to the expressed intentions of Hare; and ultimately the Sheriff
granted warrant for the incarceration of the latter, until he should
give caution _judicio sisti_. When Hare discovered the turn things
were taking, he recovered the use of his speech, and said twice or
three times, “Ye’re no giving me justice; I’m sure, gentlemen, ye’re
no giving me justice.” Observing him getting the better of the caution
he had previously observed, several questions were put to him, without
however eliciting any satisfactory answers. “What would you do if you
were to get out of jail?” “I do not know; I must do something; I have
no money.” “Do you consider yourself in danger from the mob?” He gave
no audible answer to this question, though he seemed to be muttering
something. “Would you consider yourself safe in Edinburgh?” “No, I
would not consider myself safe in Edinburgh.” “Would you consider
yourself safe in any other part of this country?” “My mind and heart
tell me that I ought to be safe?” This answer excited some surprise,
for had it been competent to prove any thing except his expressed
intentions to quit the country upon his liberation, witnesses might
have been easily produced to whom he had admitted the murder, from
all prosecution for which he is now for ever free. The appearance of
Hare upon this occasion was more than usually hideous and forbidding.
The “squalid wretch” of the witness-box will not soon be forgotten
by those who happened to see him there; but on Monday night he was
incomparably more gruesome and growlish; for in order to facilitate the
operations of some Phrenologists, who had just finished taking a cast
of his head, his hair had been mown down to the very sconce, with the
exception of a fringe bordering the scalp all round, thus blending in
his appearance the ludicrous with the horrid in a way and manner that
defies all description. His behaviour, however, was rather dogged and
cautious than impudent or forward. When he first entered the apartment,
he seemed very much at his ease; but when he came to understand,
after repeated explanations, the object of the proceedings, he grew
exceedingly restless and fidgetty, neither his “mind or heart telling
him” that farther imprisonment was likely to prove either convenient or
salutary. Upon the whole, however, he is certainly one of the coolest
and most collected villains that ever lived; and we are convinced that
the only consideration which gave him a moment’s uneasiness is an
accidental vision of the gallows flitting across his imagination. To
this favour, indeed, we have little doubt that he will ultimately come.

       *       *       *       *       *

The following admirable description from the graphic pen of John
M‘Diarmid, Esq. editor of the Dumfries and Galloway Courier, a
gentleman to whom literature is much indebted, furnishes every
particular that can be required of Hare’s proceedings after his
liberation from the Calton-hill Jail.

We were roused from our bed on the morning of Friday the 6th of
February, by a messenger who stated that the miscreant Hare had arrived
in Dumfries. At first we could hardly credit the intelligence, after
what we had seen stated in the Edinburgh papers; but on repairing to
the coach office at the King’s Arms Inn, a little after eight o’clock,
we discovered that the news was too true. By this time a considerable
crowd had collected, and every moment added to its density. On being
admitted to the hateful presence of the man, we found him, as was
natural, exceedingly reserved on certain points, but sufficiently
communicative regarding others--particularly the means employed, as
he alleged, by certain authorities, to facilitate his escape to his
native country. At a little past eight on Thursday night, while a very
different impression prevailed in Edinburgh, he was released from
his cell in the Calton-hill Jail, and after being muffled in an old
camlet cloak, walked in company with the head Turnkey, as far as the
Post-Office on Waterloo Bridge, without meeting with the slightest
molestation. At this point his companion called a coach, and conveyed
him to Newington, where the two waited till the mail came up. The
guard’s edition of the story varies thus far--that he took up an
unknown passenger in Nicolson Street, and was ordered to blow the horn
there. But the difference is immaterial, and might easily arise from
Hare’s state of mind, and ignorance of the ever shifting localities
of Edinburgh. Be this as it may, he got safely seated on the top of
the mail, without challenge, and without suspicion. In the way-bill
he figured as a Mr. Black,--not an inappropriate name--and the tall
man who came to see him off, exclaimed, when the guard said “all’s
right,”--“good bye Mr. Black, and I wish you well home!” At Noblehouse,
the second stage on the Edinburgh road, twenty minutes are allowed for
supper, and when the inside passengers alighted and went into the Inn,
Hare was infatuated enough to follow their example. At first, however,
he sat down near the door, behind backs, with his hat on, and his cloak
closely muffled about him. But this backwardness was ascribed to his
modesty, and one of the passengers, by way of encouraging him, asked if
he was not perishing with cold. Hare replied in the affirmative, and
then moving forward, took off his hat and commenced toasting his paws
at the fire--a piece of indiscretion that can only be accounted for by
his imbecility of character. And little indeed was the wretch aware
that Mr. Sandford, advocate, one of the counsel employed against him
in the prosecution at the instance of Daft Jamie’s relations, was then
standing almost at his elbow. A single glance served all the purposes
of the fullest recognition, and as Hare naively enough remarked, “he
shook his head at me,”--we suppose it was a shake after the fashion
of the ghost in Macbeth, and that the wretch was so well aware of its
significancy, that he felt his blood freezing in its course, and that
his hair, if the phrenologists had left any remaining, would have
bristled “like quills upon the fretted porcupine.” When the guard blew
his horn, the associate of Burke managed to be first at the coach door,
and as there happened to be one vacant seat, was allowed to go inside.
But Mr. S. on coming forward, immediately discovered what had taken
place, and although something was said about the coldness of the night,
determinedly exclaimed, “take that fellow out.” Again, therefore, he
was transferred to the top, and then Mr. S. to explain perhaps his
seeming harshness, revealed to his fellow travellers--(two of our own
townsmen)--a secret which we devoutly wish he had kept. News, whether
good or bad, partake of the diffusive nature of light, and at Beattock,
the guard, and even the driver, became as learned as others, though not
half so close. Still as the hour was early, the night dark, and the
inmates asleep, no disturbance of any kind occurred until the tocsin
was sounded in this town. Each of our townsmen had a servant in waiting
to receive his luggage, and the moment Jack and Bill, Tom or Peter,
received a hint, the news flew like wild-fire in every direction. We
have already spoken of the crowd that had assembled shortly after
eight o’clock, and by ten it had become perfectly overwhelming. Nearly
the whole of the High Street was one continued mass of people, so
closely wedged, that you might have almost walked over their heads,
while Buccleuch Street was much in the same state; and to express
much in few words, the one, as far as numbers went, reminded us of a
great fair when the country empties itself of its population, and the
other of what takes place at an execution. The numbers of the people
are variously estimated, but the best judges are of opinion that
they could not be under 8,000. As it was known that Hare was bound
to Portpatrick, the mob every where evinced the greatest anxiety to
see him pass and pay their respects to him in their _own way_. But in
the interim of more than four hours, that elapses between the arrival
of the Edinburgh, and departure of the Galloway or Portpatrick mail,
hundreds if not thousands were admitted to see him; and if poll-tax
had been levied during the day, from the multitudinous visitors to the
wild beast, a large fund might have been raised for the purposes of
charity, though we question whether the poorest person in town would
have pocketed a farthing so ignominiously come by. The Edinburgh mail
arrived about twenty minutes before seven, and as the crowd were soon
on the _qui vive_, it became necessary to secrete Hare in the tap-room
attached to the King’s Arms. Here, from the first, he was surrounded
by a knot of drivers and other persons, and as ale was handed to
him, he commenced clattering to all and sundry, and drinking absurd
toasts--such as, “bad luck to bad fortune.” At this time he appeared
to be the worse of liquor; and when interrogated as to his personal
identity, he replied that he was indeed the man, and that “there was
no use of denying it now;” but all questions regarding his crimes he
evaded, by stating that “he had said enough before”--“had done his duty
in Edinburgh,” &c. &c. To have pressed him on such points would have
been the height of folly, for even if he had been disposed to speak
out, no reliance could have been placed in his statements; and just as
ill-timed, in our opinion, were the threatenings addressed, and the
reproaches showered upon him by a variety of persons. Betwixt nine and
ten o’clock an intelligent gentleman visited Hare, and shortly after
he was taken into a closet off the tap-room, and left in the presence
of three individuals. After various questions, touching chiefly his
early history, in the course of which he stated that he had almost no
money, and had tasted no food from the time he had left the prison, the
gentleman alluded to gave him a sovereign, and this piece of kindness
seemed to surprise him so much that he actually burst into tears,
though his bearing had been sufficiently unflinching before. When this
visitor retired, those without forced the door, and crowded the closet
to suffocation. In an instant Hare was nosed, and squeezed into the
smallest possible corner, and strongly reminded us of a hunted fox
when he stops short, turns round, shows his teeth, though unable to
fly, and vainly attempts to keep the jowlers at bay. In the absence of
the police, his situation was far from being free from danger; and
amidst a dreadful torrent of other imprecations “Burke him! Burke him!”
resounded so loudly, that we actually believed he would be murdered on
the spot. One old woman--the only one in the crowd--was particularly
emphatic and ferocious in her gestures, and seemed anxious to get
forward to strike “the villain” with the butt-end of a dirty ragged
umbrella. But she could not make her way through the crowd; and lucky
it was for the object of her abhorrence; for mischief, like fire, needs
only a beginning, and if but one individual had set an example of
violence, we believe it would have been very generally followed. When
the police arrived, the room was cleared, and Hare re-conveyed to the
tap-room, where crowds continued to visit him, almost up to the hour,
(eleven o’clock) when the Galloway mail was expected to start. With
a view to this, the inn yard was cleared not without difficulty, the
horses put to, and the coach brought out; but the mob, who, Argus-like,
and with far more than _his_ eyes, anxiously watched every opportunity,
had previously taken their plans almost by instinct, and their aspect
appeared so truly threatening, that it was impossible to drive the mail
along the High Street, if Hare was either out or inside, with safety
to any person connected with it. In these circumstances, and while two
passengers were sent forward a few miles in gigs, the coach started
perfectly empty, if we except the guard and driver, and one of Bailie
Fraser’s sons, who seemed anxious to protect his father’s property.
The crowd opened and recoiled so far, and the tremendous rush--the
appalling waves on waves of people--far exceeded in magnitude and
intensity, any thing we ever witnessed in Dumfries before. When near
the post-office, the coach was surrounded, the doors opened, and the
interior exposed; and though this proceeding served to allay suspicion,
the cry soon resounded far and wide that the miscreant, who was known
to be a small man, had managed to squeeze himself into the boot. We
have said that the mob had concocted a plan, and from all we can learn,
their resolution was, to stop the mail at the middle of the bridge,
and precipitate Hare over its goodly parapet into the river. Failing
this, they had fully determined to way-lay the coach at Cassylands
toll-bar, and subject him to some other species of punishment; and in
proof of this, we need only state, that they had forcibly barricaded
the gates. But when it became obvious that Hare was neither in nor on
the mail, the guard and driver were allowed to proceed; and we here
mention, that Mr. Fraser, jun. while returning home on foot, was hooted
and threatened, merely from having been upon the top of the mail. Even
those who interfered in his behalf, were exposed to a shower of mud,
and ourselves among others, was so honoured for daring to take the part
of an unoffending citizen. But that is a matter of no moment, otherwise
we could tell a number of similar tales. Hare, as we have said, was
not allowed to go by the mail, and when that fact became generally
known, group after group continued to visit the monster’s den, though
policemen with their staves guarded the mouth of the King’s Arms Entry,
kept the mob at bay, and only admitted whom they pleased. By these
successive visitors, he was forced to sit or stand in all positions,
and cool, and insensate, and apathetic as he seems, he was occasionally
almost frightened out of his wits. Abuse of every kind was plentifully
heaped on him, as the only fitting incense that could meet his ear; and
one woman, it is said, seized him by the collar, and nearly strangled
him; while a sturdy ostler who happened to be present, though perhaps
not at the same moment, addressed him in these emphatic words--“Whaur
are ye gaun, or whaur can ye gang to?--Hell’s ower good for the like
o’ you--the very deevils, for fear o’ mischief, wadna daur to let ye
in; and as for heeven that’s entirely out o’ the question.” Another man
told him that he should never rise off his knees, and many that “he
should hang himsel’ on the first tree he cam’ to.” On one occasion he
was menaced by a mere boy, while others urged him on and took his part,
and at this time he became so much irritated that he told them “to come
on and give him fair play.” A second time when pressed beyond what he
could bear, he took up his bundle and walked to the door, determined,
as he said, to let the mob “tak’ their will o’ him.” In this effort,
he was checked by a medical man; but it would be endless to repeat all
that occurred while Hare remained a prisoner in the tap-room.

During the whole forenoon Mr. Fraser was apprehensive for the safety
of his premises, and naturally anxious to eject the culprit who had
rendered them so obnoxious. In fact, the whole town was so completely
convulsed, that it was impossible to tell what would happen next, and
in these circumstances, and after due deliberation, on the part of our
magistrates, who had a very onerous duty to perform, an expedient was
hit on and successfully executed, though the chances seemed ten to
one against it. Betwixt two and three o’clock, a chaise and pair were
brought to the door of the King’s Arms Inn, a trunk buckled on, and a
great fuss made; and while these means were employed as a decoy-duck,
another chaise was got ready almost at the bottom of the back entry,
and completely excluded from the view of the mob, if we except a posse
of idle boys. The next step was to direct Hare to clamber or rather
jump out of the window of his prison, and crouch like a cat along the
wall facing the stables, so as to escape observation. This part of his
task was well executed, and the moment he got to the bottom and jumped
into the chaise, the doors were closed and the postilion ordered to
drive like Jehu. And rarely has a better use been made of the whip; and
never perhaps, in the memory of man, did a chaise rattle so furiously
along the streets of Dumfries. To pass Mr. Rankine’s, and round the
corner at Mrs. Richardson’s brewery, was literally the work of a few
moments, and here the turn was taken so sharply, that the chaise ran
for some time on two wheels, and had very nearly been overturned. Had
it really upset, Hare, to a certainty, would have been torn to pieces;
but the driver knew that he was engaged in a very perilous service, and
proceeded onwards at a prodigious pace, lashing right and left all the
while. The mob by this time had become suspicious that a manœuvre of
some kind was in the act of being executed, and as the chaise-driver
had a considerable round to make, they moved in a twinkling, and in
prodigious masses, with the view of intercepting him about the middle
of the Sands. The rush down Bank Street baffles all description, and
can only be compared to the letting out of waters, or rather to the
descent of a mighty cataract. Even from the opposite side of the river,
numbers, when they witnessed the speed of the chaise, immediately
suspected what had taken place, and rushed with such fury across the
Old Bridge, that the driver ran the greatest possible risk of being
outflanked and surrounded on every side; and nothing, in fact, but the
mettle of his steeds, and the willing arm that urged them forward,
saved his passenger from instant death, and himself, perhaps, from
a terrible sousing. At every little interval he was intercepted and
threatened; and though Hare endeavoured to keep up the near pannel,
and also cowered down to be out of harm’s way, three stone were thrown
at, and entered the chaise--one of them heavy enough to have knocked
his brains out. “Stop! stop! let the murderer out!” were shouted by a
hundred voices at once; and while some stood still from inability to
run, others immediately supplied their places, and closed up almost
with the speed of thought, nearly the whole wake of the careering
vehicle. As an impression prevailed that the driver meant to gallop
out the Galloway road, there was a general rush to the western angle
of the New Bridge, and this mistake operated as a diversion in his
favour. Nor were the few moments gained mis-employed. The sharp corner
of Dr. Wood’s laboratory was cleared almost at a single bound, and as
he had then a broad street before him, nothing could well exceed the
fury with which he drove up to the jail door. Mr. Hunter had previously
received his clue, and though a strong chain was placed behind the
door, an opening was left to admit the fugitive; and into this gulph
he leapt, hop-step-and-jump--a thousand times more happy to get into
prison than the majority of criminals are to get out of it! His escape
enraged the mob greatly, and the scene of action must now be shifted
from the King’s Arms Inn to the neighbourhood of the jail. As their
numbers increased, they laid regular siege to this place of safety,
preventing all ingress or egress excepting at considerable personal
risk. From four to eight o’clock nothing but clamour and rioting were
heard; and at night fall they smashed and extinguished the nearest gas
lamps, for reasons that may be easily enough conceived. The ponderous
knocker of a most ponderous door was wrenched from its socket by main
force, and successive showers of stones thrown with such violence
into the court-yard, that the chimney cans of some of the buildings
were broken. For want of a better battering-ram, the same means were
tried to force the entrance to the jail, and the rebound of the stones
was so loud, incessant, and long continued, that the inhabitants
of Buccleuch Street were under the greatest apprehensions for the
safety of their dwellings. Though the militia staff and police exerted
themselves to the utmost, their numbers were inadequate to preserve
proper order; and it was not till near eight o’clock, when a hundred
special constables were sworn in, and appeared armed with batons on
the spot, that the peace of the town was re-assured. Previous to this,
nearly the whole front windows of the court-house were smashed, as well
as a few in an adjoining building, though that, we believe, occurred
by accident. By some, too, it was proposed to pay a similar compliment
to every doctor in town, and by others to provide tar barrels and
peats for the purpose of firing the doors of the jail. Indeed, from
what we have heard, it seems nearly certain that the latter scheme
would have been carried into execution, and that nothing prevented
the jail from being partially burnt and sacked, but the swearing in
of the special constables--a measure that should have been adopted
some hours earlier. In spite of the noise occasioned by the uproar and
ceaseless hum of human voices, Hare was in bed and sound asleep; and
we dare say our authorities were a good deal puzzled what to do with
him, and very heartily banned the cause that had led him to pollute
Dumfries with his hateful presence. During the whole day, business
had been interrupted, if not suspended, and it was feared, if he
remained overnight, that the scenes of Friday would be renewed and
aggravated, by large importations of persons from the country. Still
so long as the streets leading to the jail, and other parts of the
town were in a state of commotion, it seemed next to impossible to get
out of the way, and if the mob had remained firm to their purpose of
keeping vigilant watch and ward, we know not what would have been the
final result. But as the night waxed their resolution cooled, and at
one o’clock on Saturday morning not a single individual was seen in
Buccleuch Street beyond those on official duty. As the opportunity was
too good to be lost, Hare was roused from his troubled slumbers, and
ordered to prepare for his immediate departure. While putting on his
clothes he trembled violently, and inquired eagerly for his cloak and
bundle. But as these articles were not at hand, he was told that he
must go without them, and thank his stars into the bargain that he had
a prospect of escaping with whole bones. As the whole population of
Galloway were in arms, and as the mail had been surrounded and searched
on Friday at Crocketford toll-bar, and probably at every other stage
betwixt Dumfries and Portpatrick, it was in vain to escort him across
the bridge; and in these circumstances he was recommended to take
another route. He at once consented, and after being guided to Hood’s
loaning by two militia-men and a Sheriff’s officer, and fairly put on
the Annan road, he was left to his own reflections and resources. At
three o’clock he was seen by a boy passing Dodbeck, and must have been
beyond the Border by the break of day, though a report was circulated
on Saturday and Sunday, that he had been discovered at Annan and stoned
to death. But this mistake was corrected yesterday by the driver of the
mail, who reported that he saw him at a quarter past five on Saturday
evening, sitting beside two stone-breakers on the public road, within
half a mile of Carlisle. As the coach passed he held down his head, but
the driver recognised him, notwithstanding, as well as a gentleman who
was on the top of the mail. The news soon spread, and as a number of
persons went to see him, he was told he would be murdered if he went
into Carlisle; and although he appeared completely “done up,” he turned
off by the Newcastle road, and doubtless made his bed in the open
fields.

Since writing the above, we have learnt that Hare was seen on Sunday
morning last, at a small village about two miles beyond Carlisle.
During the preceding night, he had slept, as is believed, in an
out-house, and seemed to be moving onwards trusting to circumstances,
and without any fixed purpose, if we except the wretched one of
prolonging, as long as possible, his miserable life. In England he
is certainly much safer than in Scotland, particularly since the
publication of Burke’s confession; but still it is hardly possible,
and certainly not desirable that a wretch such as he is--steeped to
the very chin in blood--should find a permanent resting place for the
sole of his foot in any part of the British dominions. While a late
great fugitive found only foes in the officers of justice, almost
every man is naturally and irresistibly the enemy of Hare; and,
perhaps, since the days of our first parents, there never existed a
human being, of whom it could be said with less justice, “the world
is all before him, where to choose his place of rest.” Like the first
murderer, he bears a mark about him, which even those who run may
read; and seared and ossified as his conscience may be, there is a
worm gnawing at it, that will never die; and we fondly hope, that the
intense moral loathing--the universal execration--the curses deep
as well as loud--excited by crimes, which make humanity turn pale,
will have more effect than a hundred acts of Parliament, in blotting
out similar crimes from our calendar, and restoring Scotland to its
wonted propriety. Still we rejoice that our Magistrates were firm
and enlightened enough to prevent any thing like personal violence
from being offered to the miscreant in this town; a feeling which, if
necessary, we could justify on a thousand and one grounds. It has been
often said that most of the horrors of the French Revolution might be
ascribed to the first deliberate murder which the populace were allowed
and encouraged to perpetrate, and that ever after they appeared to be
as insatiable in their thirst for vengeance, as the lion is that has
once lapped human blood. If Providence, when he interfered specially
in the affairs of the world, left Cain to wander homeless on the face
of the earth, why may not Hare be subjected to the same species of
punishment? and without wishing to refine too far, we may say, as the
Roman said long ago, “every thing must bow to the majesty of the law;
and that from the weightiest circumstance down to the smallest, there
is a medium course--a middle path--beyond which no rectitude can exist.”




                        HARE’S APPEARANCE, &c.

We believe we speak within bounds, when we say, that scarcely an
individual among the thousands who visited Hare here, could have
identified him from the descriptions given in the Edinburgh papers;
and still less from the caricatures in the shape of wooden blocks or
cuts, which, when daubed over with printer’s ink, were palmed on the
public as excellent likenesses.[6] Close confinement may have made him
thinner, and terror and reflection more subdued; but his features,
of course, remain unaltered; and in place of the _goulishness_,
_squalor_, and _ferocity_, upon which the changes have been
wrung so long, the people in this quarter could only recognise the
contrary characteristics of apathy, vacancy, and mental imbecility.
His eyes are watery, curiously shaped, and have certainly a
peculiarity about them, which seems to hover betwixt leering and
squinting; the forehead is low, as in all murderers; combativeness is
large--destructiveness middling; the nose, mouth, and chin, very vulgar
and common-place; and his countenance, on the whole, though it may
betray more or less of what we may call a sinister dash of expression,
indicates anything but intense ferociousness. The common remark was,
that “he was a poor silly-looking body;” and nothing can better
describe his appearance; for though Hare is certainly no beauty, every
one has seen hundreds of uglier men. He can neither read nor write,
and his mind, in other respects, is just as untutored as an Esquimaux
Indian’s. What is called the moral sense, seems in him to stand below
_zero_; and in this opinion we are borne out by all the medical
gentlemen who had an opportunity of seeing and conversing with him
here. He is five feet six inches high, and weighed, he says, at one
time, 10 stones. When his venerable, and we understand, respectable
mother, visited Edinburgh about a fortnight after he was apprehended,
she stated that he was about twenty-five years of age, and this part
of his personal history he seems only to know on her authority. He is
a native of Armagh, though he refused to tell the particular parish.
His father, who is dead, was a Protestant; his mother is a Catholic;
and though he never cared much about the matter, and either could
not, or would not give the name of the priest he attended, he seems
inclined to prefer his mother’s religion. He has two brothers and two
sisters alive. He came to Scotland ten years ago, and after landing at
Workington, travelled to Newcastle, &c. He worked seven years with Mr.
Dawson, at the canal boats, Edinburgh, and two years with Mr. Johnston,
quarryman. He married more than two years ago, and has two children.
His wife, he says, was lately in Glasgow, and got somebody to write
a letter to the governor of the jail, stating particulars “which are
nobody’s business,” and suggesting an arrangement for meeting her
husband in some part of Ireland. With regard to Burke, his statements
were so loose and contradictory, that we question whether any one heard
him say the same thing twice over. Sometimes he denied, and sometimes
admitted that he had seen his confession; sometimes hinted that the
whole truth was not yet known, and at others that far more had been
said than was true. To one person he averred that he had only witnessed
two murders; and he was only, perhaps, consistent in this, that he
seemed uniformly willing to blacken his associate, and whitewash
himself. Burke’s statement that his female associate had no knowledge
of the murders committed, goes far to damage his whole testimony,
and if both assassins had been confessed and gibbetted, we question
whether the truth could have been got at between them; and though we
think it right to give the above particulars, we would not, for our own
parts, believe a single word that Hare says, where the circumstance
he speaks to is at all material, if unsupported by other evidence. To
one gentleman who pressed him pretty closely, he positively declared
that he believed that even Paterson himself was ignorant of the manner
in which _they_ (meaning, of course, Burke and himself), came by
so many subjects. A great number of persons were certain that they
had seen Hare before, and one or two farmers insisted that he had
worked as a reaper on their lands. But he denied ever having been in
Dumfries-shire or Galloway, and it seems probable that this is the real
truth, otherwise it is very difficult to explain why he did not leave
the mail at Albany Place and proceed to Portpatrick quietly on foot,
before the hue and cry was raised here. To one of the individuals who
saw him out of town, and who strove to open his eyes to the enormity of
his guilt, he remarked, as soon as he could speak from terror, “this
has been a terrible day for me.” “Yes,” said the other, “more terrible
than any day I ever witnessed in Dumfries, and all owing to your own
character.” To this he seemed to assent, and added emphatically, “I see
it now.” Again the other enforced the great duty of repentance, and
found him, for the moment, apparently penitent, though he soon recurred
to his worldly prospects, and said, “it’s of no use going to my own
country--or indeed anywhere.” On this his guide advised him to try and
get to the South, and inlist as a private in some of the regiments
of the East India Company. His answer was, “God knows what I will
do, though I must do something.” And here he went on his way, after
offering to shake hands with the officers, and thanking them for seeing
him out of town.

       *       *       *       *       *

Hare has not been heard of since the morning of Sunday the 8th Feb. It
is probable that he has found his way to Liverpool, where a passage to
Dublin could be readily procured, or that he has embarked at one of
the Cumberland ports. By this time he may be in Ireland, where he can
hide his guilty head with less fear of detection. We may hope that his
presence will never again pollute our soil.




                     CONFESSIONS OF WILLIAM BURKE.

That our readers may not be disappointed, we print entire the
confessions of Burke as received by the Sheriff, as well as the more
complete one obtained by the Courant newspaper. The account of his
crimes contained in our memoir was so full and correct, that these
might almost have been spared; but even at the risk of incurring the
charge of repetition, we present whatever possesses interest.


             LETTER FROM THE SHERIFF TO THE RIGHT HON. THE
                             LORD PROVOST.

                    _Sheriff’s Office, Edinburgh, Feb. 5, 1829._

    MY LORD PROVOST,

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, been directed to place those Confessions in your
Lordship’s hands, with a view to their being given to the public, at
such time, and in such a manner as you may deem most advisable.

Your Lordship is already aware that the first of these Confessions was
taken by the Sheriff-Substitute, on the 3d day of January last, in
consequence of Burke having intimated a wish to that effect. The second
was taken on the 22d of the same month, a few days before Burke’s
execution; and in order to give it every degree of authenticity, Mr.
Reid, a Roman Catholic Priest, who had been in regular attendance on
Burke, was requested to be present.

It may be satisfactory to your Lordship to know, that in the
information which Hare gave to the Sheriff on the 1st of December last,
(while he imputed to Burke that active part in those 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.

In concluding, I need hardly suggest to your Lordship the propriety of
not making those Confessions public, until such time as you are assured
that Hare has been actually liberated from Jail. I have the honour to
be, My Lord, your Lordship’s most obedient humble servant,

                                                       AD. DUFF.

    _The Right Hon. the Lord Provost, &c. &c._




              OFFICIAL CONFESSIONS OF BURKE IN THE JAIL.

   Present, Mr. George Tait, Sheriff-Substitute; Mr. Archibald
   Scott, Procurator-Fiscal; Mr. Richard J. Moxey, Assistant
   Sheriff Clerk.

                                      _Edinburgh, 3d Jan. 1829._

Compeared William Burke, at present under sentence of death in the
gaol 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 L. 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
into 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 any thing 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, Surgeons’ 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
Surgeons’ 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 men
asked no questions as to that, and the declarant and Hare, at their
desire, took off the shirt, and got L.7, 10s. Dr. Knox came in after
the shirt was taken off, and looked at the body, and proposed they
should get L.7, 10s. and authorised Jones to settle with them; and he
asked no questions as to how the body had been obtained. Hare got L.4,
5s., and the declarant got L.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 more 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 chest, 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 on that account 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
farther 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.

Soon afterwards a cinder woman came to the house as a lodger, as he
believes, and she got drink from Hare and the declarant, and became
tipsy, and she was half asleep, 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 farther
particulars of the case, or whether any other person was present or
knew of it.

That about this time he went to live in Brogan’s house, and a woman,
named Margaret Haldane, daughter of the woman Haldane before mentioned,
and whose sister is married to Clark, a tinsmith in the High Street,
came into the house, but declarant does not remember for what purpose;
and she got drink, and was disposed of in the same manner: That Hare
was not present, and neither Brogan 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
recollect 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 Brogan’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 went both 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 same time Hare’s
wife called out, never to mind, because the 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 Helen M‘Dougal and Hare’s wife were no way concerned in
any of the murders, and neither of them knew of any thing 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.

                                                      WM. BURKE.
                                                      G. TAIT.

       *       *       *       *       *

   Present, Mr. Geo. Tait, Sheriff-Substitute; Mr. Archibald
   Scott, Procurator-Fiscal; Mr. Richard J. Moxey,
   Assistant-Sheriff-Clerk; the Rev. Wm. Reid, Roman Catholic
   Priest.

                                     _Edinburgh, 22d Jan. 1829._

Compeared William Burke, at present under sentence of death in the
Gaol of Edinburgh, and his declaration, of date the 3d current, being
read over to him, he adheres thereto. Declares farther, 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 never was 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 any where 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 instruments 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 doorkeeper, knew. And
this he declares to be truth.

                                                      WM. BURKE.
                                                      G. TAIT.

       *       *       *       *       *

   _The following is another Confession, as dictated and carefully
   revised by WILLIAM BURKE. The words printed in Italics were
   added in the Manuscript by himself._

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
Surgeons’ Square, and got ten pounds for her. She had on a drab mantle,
a white grounded cotton shawl and small 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 English man, 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 ten pounds._

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 L.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 Margaret 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 L.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-room; 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 scissars 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 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
Surgeons’ 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 L.16 for them both. Hare was taken in
by the horse he bought that refused drawing the corpse to Surgeons’
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 Surgeons’ Square. They got L.10 for him.

Burke and Helen M‘Dougal were on a visit seeing their friends near
Falkirk. This was at 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 L.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, Surgeons’ Square, and sold for L.10.

Andrew Williamson, a policeman, and his neighbour, were dragging a
drunk woman to the West Port Watchhouse. 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
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 Surgeons’ Square, and
got L.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
standing 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 the box away 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 chest that Hare kept clothes into; and they carried
him to Dr. Knox’s in Surgeons’ Square that afternoon, and got L.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 L.1, 10s. each, as he was back in his rent, to
pay for it, and he left Edinburgh a few days after. They then carried
her to Surgeons’ Square as soon as Broggan went out of the house, and
got L.10 for her. Hare was cautioner for Broggan’s rent, being L.3, and
Hare and Burke gave him that sum. Broggan went off in a few days, and
the rent is not paid yet.[7] 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 in 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, in the forenoon, himself. Hare had no hand in it. She was taken
to Dr. Knox’s in the afternoon in a tea-box, and L.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 day
time. She then went to bed. Mrs. Broggan was out at the time. Hare and
Burke murdered her the same way 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 L.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 his 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 the 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 the 12th February till 1st November
1828; but he thinks Dr. Knox will know by the dates of paying him the
money for them. He never was concerned with any other person but Hare
in those matters, and was never a resurrection man, 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 and Hare’s
wife were not present when those murders were committed; they 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 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 be as well hanged for a sheep as
a lamb. They made it their business to look out for persons to decoy
into their houses 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 L.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 L.10, Hare got L.6 and
Burke got only L.4; but Burke did not give her the L.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 L.10
in winter and L.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 tan-yard, and
put a sheet over the bark, and it was buried in the West Church Yard.
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 No. 10, Dr. Knox’s, in
Surgeons’ Square, and he would take it from them, which they did. They
got L.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 worked as a
weaver for 18 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 about 10 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 not
proven, and Burke found guilty, and sentenced to suffer death on the
28th January.

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 L.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.

  [Illustration: FAC-SIMILE OF BURKE’S HAND-WRITING.]

Enough has been said of the two principal actors in the horrid
proceedings. The memory of Burke may be left to that infamy which his
unparalleled atrocities merits, when his deeds are recollected, and
Hare may be allowed to seek some corner of the world where he may skulk
unknown until his miserable existence be terminated. It remains for
us only to notice briefly the two subordinate agents who, by their
connection with the principal culprits, and participation in their
crimes, have gained such an unenviable degree of notoriety. Of these,
the first is




                            HELEN M‘DOUGAL.

She is a native of the small village of Maddiston, in the parish of
Muiravonside, and county of Stirling, where she resided in her early
life. Her maiden name was Dougal. Her character does not appear to
have been good at any time, and her conduct speedily dissipated any
doubts that might have existed upon the subject. At an early period of
her life she formed an unlawful connection with a man who resided in
the same village, to whom she bore a child during the lifetime of his
wife. After her death, their intercourse continued; and after a short
interval, they cohabited publicly together, she bearing his name of
M‘Dougal, and passing for his wife. At this period they came to reside
in Leith, where M‘Dougal followed his occupation of a sawer, until he
took the typhus fever at the time that that disease first raged so
fearfully in Edinburgh. He became a patient in the hospital opened in
Queensberry-house, where he died. His partner, upon his decease, again
returned to her native village, and father’s house. Shortly after her
return she met with Burke, who was a labourer on the Canal, when their
adulterous intercourse commenced, and in about a year from their first
acquaintance, they agreed to live together as man and wife. From that
time up to his apprehension, she followed his fortunes, and adhered to
him in all his wanderings.

Wherever they resided, her character seems to have been the same. In
Edinburgh, Leith, Peebles, and Pennycuik, she was distinguished for her
drunken dissolute habits, and was universally disliked, and considered
unworthy even of Burke. Notwithstanding their many quarrels, in which
she was frequently the aggressor, she seems to have cherished an ardent
effection towards him, and at the termination of his career, to have
felt sincerely upon the subject of his unhappy fate. Her own condition,
indeed, is not less pitiable, although a Jury has been found who could
return a verdict of “not proven” that she was a participator in the
murder for which he has suffered death, notwithstanding her being
present and aiding him in the stratagems which preceded, and the sale
of the murdered body, she is guilty in the eyes of God and man, and
is doomed to wander on the face of the earth an outcast from human
charities, and an opprobrium to human nature. It would almost have
been charity to have convicted her along with Burke. Her wretched life
is precariously preserved under miseries more horrible than hanging
would have been. It was predicted upon her enlargement, that she would
realize the fable of the wandering jew, and it seems to have been
hitherto fulfilled to the letter. Hunted about from place to place,
without being able to find a temporary refuge from her tormentors, she
has discovered no person who would maintain social intercourse with
her; but, on the contrary, her detection was certainly followed by
every species of ill usage and annoyance. We have already adverted to
the reception she met with upon her visiting her old haunts in the West
Port, and it has only been a sample of what awaited her whenever she
went. The next place that she essayed was her father’s residence in the
village of Redding in Stirlingshire; here she experienced a similar
reception, and was obliged to save herself by a precipitate retreat.
She has since made various attempts to discover a resting place with a
like effect. She has hitherto been recognised wherever she went, and
the summary vengeance of the mob exercised upon her. By the latest
accounts we find that she has appeared at Newcastle, where again she
has been rescued from an infuriated populace by the police officers,
who afforded her temporary protection and shelter in the prison. Their
sympathy, however, does not appear to extend beyond this, and she was
as speedily as convenient escorted by constables to the “blue stone,”
the boundary of the counties of Northumberland and Durham, and there
transferred to the safe conduct of the functionaries of the latter
county, for what purpose further than to get rid of the “accursed
thing” does not appear.




                        MARGARET LAIRD OR HARE.

This other virago seems to have been accounted if possible still more
depraved than M‘Dougal, and to have possessed all the essentials
of that disgusting character, a brutal and abandoned woman. She is
a native of Ireland and accompanied her first husband Log to this
country. Log bore the character of a decent hard-working man, while
she was chiefly remarkable for her masculine and bold habits. Log was
a sort of undertaker on the Union Canal, engaging with the contractor
to cut small pieces upon the line, and for some time worked at it with
a detachment of his countrymen in the neighbourhood of Winchburgh,
where his wife worked along with them in the capacity of a labourer,
with a man’s coat on, wheeling a barrowfull of rubbish as stoutly as
any of her fellow-workmen. At that time they inhabited a temporary hut
on the banks of the canal, and whatever her conduct afterwards proved
she then exhibited no want of industry. At the conclusion of the work
Log settled in Edinburgh and still industriously pursued his course,
selling articles about the street and keeping a lodging-house for
vagrants. Upon his death this property devolved upon his widow, and she
conducted the establishment. She cohabited with one of the lodgers who
is described to have been a young and well-looking man, but he quickly
broke up their intercourse and left her, when her connection with Hare
commenced.

  [Illustration: MARGARET LAIRD or HARE.
  as she appeared in the witness-box,
  taken in Court.

  _Published by Thomas Ireland Jun^r. Edinburgh._]

In an eastern tale, we read of a woman forsaking her husband’s
society to keep company with a “_goule_,” with whom she feasted in a
burying-ground upon dead bodies. Mrs. Hare appears to have had similar
propensities. Her brutal husband, in savageness of disposition, as
well as appearance, furnishes an apt illustration of the _goule_;
while the horrible means of livelihood he adopted, is not a bad
prototype of the revolting banquet of the Oriental monsters. Her
whole conduct now became utterly debauched; she was continually in
a state of intoxication, and presented at all times the slatternly
ferocious aspect of a confirmed and regardless drunkard. Hare and she
are surmised to have used foul means in disposing of a child to which
she gave birth about the commencement of their intercourse; perhaps
her subsequent bad odour may have contributed to this opinion. It is
certain, however, that the child, if not murdered, perished through
want of proper care and attention. The body was put into a box, and
buried in the waste ground at the bottom of Tanner’s close. It is
surprising that the wretched infant who still survives all the hard
usage it has experienced, did not fall a victim in the same way. Her
slovenly and careless conduct extended even to this youngest of her
offspring, and she is described as carrying it about more like a cat or
a dog than an infant. Even after her connection with Hare, she usually
went by her former name of Log, to which was appended the familiar
title of “_Lucky_,” and the nature of her affinity to Hare was better
indicated by their indulging in the connubial luxuries of scolding and
fighting, than by any manifestations of affection or regard.

During her confinement in the jail, she kept herself generally retired,
remaining principally in the day-room of the ward tending her sick
baby, and conducted herself in a peaceable manner.

She was recognised by the populace almost immediately upon her release,
and a crowd speedily collected round her. It was a wet, snowy day, and
she was unmercifully pelted with snow-balls, mud, and stones, and had
some commiseration not been felt for the child which she carried, she
would in all probability have fallen a victim to the violence of the
mob. She was rescued by the police, and conveyed to the Police-office,
where she found shelter and protection. In a few days, she wandered
away to Glasgow, where the following account, abridged from the Glasgow
Chronicle, will show that her treatment was no better:--

The celebrated Mrs. Hare was this afternoon rescued from the hands
of an infuriated populace by the Calton Police, and, for protection,
confined in one of the cells. She had left Edinburgh Gaol a fortnight
ago, with an infant child, and has since been wandering about the
country. She stated that she had lodged in this neighbourhood four
nights, with her child, and “her bit duds,” without those with whom
she lodged knowing who she was, and she was in hopes of quitting
this vicinity without detection. For this purpose she remained in
her lodging all day, but occasionally, early in the morning, or at
twilight, she ventured the length of the Broomielaw, in hopes of being
able to procure an immediate passage to Ireland, but had hitherto been
disappointed. She had gone out this morning with the same object,
and when returning, a woman who, she says, was drunk, recognised her
in Clyde Street, and repeatedly shouted--“Hare’s wife--Burke her!”
and threw a large stone at her. A crowd soon gathered, who heaped
every indignity upon her, and with her child she was pursued into
Calton, where she was experiencing very rough treatment, when she
was rescued by the police. She says she wrought sixteen years ago in
Tureen Street powerloom factory, till she was married to her first
husband. About three years ago she unfortunately fell in with Hare, and
then her misery commenced. She married him, and has since had three
children--one of whom is dead, and another is left behind in Edinburgh.
She describes Hare as devoted to the “devil and laziness.” She admitted
it was needless to deny she knew “something” of the murders, and had a
suspicion of what was going on, but not to the full extent.

Hare was often drunk--their house was a complete hell of iniquity,
and she was often on the point of exposing his hidden conduct--but
was afraid to do so. She left his house three times on account of his
brutal usage. She says she would much rather be killed outright than
suffer what she has done. She did not require to beg, having had a
little money, but she had now scarcely as much as would pay her passage
to Ireland.

She was quite ignorant of what had become of her husband since she
left Edinburgh. She asked if he had been subsequently tried, and
expressed the utmost indifference respecting his fate. She said she was
determined never more to associate with him, or have any thing to do
with him.

It was truly melancholy to see her stretched on the guardbed of
the cell, in tears, with her infant, eleven months old, clasped to
her breast; and, as “the mother of eleven children,” imploring the
protection of the police, and that they would not make “a show of
her.” She occasionally burst into tears while deploring her unhappy
situation, which she ascribed to Hare’s utter profligacy, and said,
all she wished was to get across the Channel, and end her days in some
remote spot in her own country, in retirement and penitence. She has
since left Greenock in the Fingal, Belfast steam packet.

       *       *       *       *       *

The public, in various country towns and villages seem to be absurdly
lawless in their conduct towards any unfortunate individuals in whom
they choose to recognise a resemblance to the miserable outcasts.
Several unfortunate individuals have been subjected to rough treatment
in consequence of some fancied likeness to the murderers, and all
efforts to undeceive their tormentors rendered unavailing by their
determination to execute summary justice upon some one, and their
disinclination to allow the victim to escape out of their hands. This
inordinate desire of working vengeance has sometimes been exhibited
when it was scarcely possible to suppose that the populace could be so
senseless as believe that the veritable culprit was in their hands.

While it was perfectly well known that Hare was detained in close
confinement, possessing the usual complement of members, a poor
itinerant flute blower, who contrives to manage his instrument with
one hand and a stump substituted for the other, was assaulted in
consequence of some idle reports that he was Hare, and it was with
some difficulty that he was rescued. Another unlucky wight was also
mistaken for Hare at Kirkliston a few days back, and maltreated in such
a manner that he is now a patient in the Royal Infirmary. Although he
is directly dissimilar to him in appearance, being a tall dark Scot,
and speaking his mother tongue with a true lowland accent, and we
might add many like instances. Even some rural dignitaries have taken
occasion to adopt summary measures, towards those whose condition
allowed them some pretence to display the vigour of the law. In a
West Country Burgh, the following narrative is given of a search for
M‘Dougal;--“The principal rendezvous of ‘randy gangrel bodies’ was
searched; the whole thirty-six beds were overhauled, but she was
nowhere to be found; the search however warranted the suspicion that
some of the Cadgers who frequented the house had no lawful trade by
which their earnings could equal their expenditure,--marked attention
was drawn to Pig Jock, as it was evident all the rags he took to
Edinburgh, and all the crockery he brought in return, even though
stolen, was not sufficient to pay his weekly bill; and it being
surmised that the keeper of the house was not ignorant of the ways of
his guests, he and Jock have been banished forth of the town.”

There seems really very little _legal_ evidence against poor Jock,
while the landlord’s being made accountable “for the ways of his
guests” is a stretch of despotism scarcely allowable in a very small
township.

Indeed the whole island appears to be “frightened from its propriety,”
and each town vies with another in adding its quota of alarm. The Burke
mania seems destined to exercise as great an influence on the minds of
the poorer classes especially, as almost any other mania on record.
Nearly every city or hamlet throughout the empire has had its tales
of direful attempts at assassination, with their usual accompaniments
of waylaying and pitch plaisters applied to the unfortunate victims,
while the records of the police courts of the metropolis and other
large cities furnish ample testimony of the extent to which the black
catalogue of crimes has excited the fears of the people. From all
accounts, we cannot doubt that some wicked and heartless individuals
have been keeping alive the excitation by their foolish tricks, but we
forbear giving extension to the evil by detailing any of them.

On the afternoon of Thursday the 12th of February, occurred what will
probably prove the last ebullition of popular feeling on this subject
in Edinburgh. It commenced with the dressing on the Calton Hill of
an effigy intended to represent a celebrated anatomist. After this
ceremony was concluded, the figure was paraded through the principal
streets, borne aloft on men’s shoulders, with a placard on the back. A
countless host of men, women, and children, accompanied the procession
to Dr. Knox’s house in Newington, where the effigy was _Burked_
and torn to pieces, and the windows of the house broken. The mob then
attempted to do the same at Surgeons’ Square, but were prevented by the
police, and dispersed, after traversing several streets, and breaking a
number of panes in the College windows, &c.

A gentleman who rode up to Dr. Knox’s house, with the view of
undergoing a surgical operation, was mistaken for him, and had nearly
suffered from the violence of the crowd.

We have already exceeded the limits that we had prescribed, and
still have not been able to touch upon the important subject of the
best means for supplying the anatomical theatres with bodies for
dissection, and we cannot now enter upon it. It is admitted by all
enlightened people, that subjects must and will be procured, and that
severe legislative enactments only tend to increase the difficulty,
and enhance the price. The recent proceedings present a fearful
illustration of this opinion; but out of evil, if properly considered,
good may be extracted; and these transactions will, indeed, have
failed in their effect, should some plan not be devised which, while it
saves the feelings of relatives from outrage, may prevent a recurrence
of such frightful scenes.


                                FINIS.


         EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY A. BALFOUR AND CO. HIGH STREET.

   _The following correspondence has taken place between the
   publisher and Mr. Johnson, law agent for Mr. Swanston, who
   conceives himself aggrieved by a passage in Janet Brown’s
   statement, contained in No. 6. As the best way of giving Mr.
   S.’s justification, we print the letters entire._

               _Edinburgh, 7th February, 1829. 4, Grove Street._

   SIR.--Mr. William Swanston spirit-dealer in the Canongate, feels
   himself much aggrieved by the unwarrantable falsehood under
   which he is represented in the sixth number, page 126, in the
   account which you choose to publish of the West Port Murders.

   Mr. Swanston knowing the statement to be entirely false, must
   necessarily think, that in associating his name in such a manner
   with the late wretched Burke, and singling him out individually
   in this way, must have been done with a malicious intention of
   doing an injury, not only to his character, but to his trade.
   You must have been aware when you published this account, that
   every person in Edinburgh would have shuddered at the very
   thoughts of having, however innocently, exchanged words with
   Burke in his life time; but what must have been your feeling
   when you have represented Mr. Swanston as his companion at
   five o’clock in the morning, and given it again to the public
   as truth. You were bound as a publisher, in justice to every
   individual, to have inquired into the truth or falsehood of the
   statement, and to have asked permission to publish it, supposing
   the statement to have been correct: because, whether true or
   false, must have been a great annoyance to any person possessed
   of any degree of moral feeling.

   Mr. Swanston has therefore instructed me to institute an action
   of damages against you, for reparation for the injury which he
   must sustain in his own feelings and in his business, as well as
   in the eye of the public, who must have an inveterate grudge at
   him, and consequently must shun him in all civil intercourse,
   resulting from such false, injurious, malicious and calumnious
   statement, represented by you as an “authentic and faithful
   history” published by you for your _lucre_.--I am, Sir,
   your most obedient servant,

                                     (Signed)      JOHN JOHNSON.

             Mr. THOMAS IRELAND,
    Bookseller and Publisher, 57, South Bridge Street.

       *       *       *       *       *

                               _Edinburgh, 10th February, 1829._

   SIR,--In consequence of your having taken no notice of my letter
   to you of the 7th instant, on the subject of your late libellous
   publication on Mr. Swanston, I presume you mean to justify the
   fact. I have therefore to intimate to you that the case will
   be forthwith put into a shape of a summons of damages against
   you.--I am, Sir, your most obedient servant.

                                     (Signed)      JOHN JOHNSON.

                 Mr. THOMAS IRELAND, Jun.
    Publisher and Bookseller, 57, South Bridge Street.

       *       *       *       *       *

                            _Edinburgh, 57, South Bridge Street.
                                    February 11, 1829._

   SIR,--I have to apologise to you for not answering sooner your
   letter of the 7th current, complaining of the notice taken of
   Mr. Swanston in the Trial of Burke at present publishing by me.

   In answer to it, and your second of yesterday, I have to state,
   that I am very sorry that Mr. Swanston should feel at all
   injured by what has been said of him, and though my information
   as to what is stated of him was from the best authority,[8]
   still I would not wish in the smallest degree, even by
   implication, to injure his feelings or his character, and I
   shall be ready to insert in the shape of a note, in the number
   about to be published, any statement you and he may wish to
   make, such statement not to be inconsistent with what is due to
   myself in such a matter.

   Your threat of damages is too fanciful to require from me any
   serious answer. I am, Sir, your very obedient servant.

                               (Signed)     THOMAS IRELAND, JUN.

        To JOHN JOHNSON, Esq.
    4, Grove Street, Edinburgh.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                    _Edinburgh, 11th Feb. 1829._

   SIR,--I am favored with your letter of this date, in answer to
   my letters of the 7th and 10th inst. And in answer to it I have
   to inform you that the summons of damages to which I formerly
   alluded is now in the press with the intention of being served
   upon you to-morrow. I shall, however, this moment send for Mr.
   Swanston and shew him your letter; but I conceive that although
   it is very proper to put a note in any new edition which you
   may throw off to the purport you mention, still it will not
   be a whitewasher of the injury which the previous publication
   has already done. With regard to the action of damages, I can
   assure you that the notion of it did not originate with himself,
   but with his acquaintances who first read the publication, and
   pointed out the injurious tendency of it last Saturday, when
   I first wrote you on the subject. He felt the effects of it
   before this, but he did not know a reason then to which he could
   attribute a _____[9]. I am, Sir, your most obedient servant,

                                     (Signed)      JOHN JOHNSON.

             Mr. THOMAS IRELAND, Jun.
    Bookseller and Publisher, 57, South Bridge, Edinburgh.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                    _Edinburgh, 12th Feb. 1829._

   SIR,--With reference to my letter to you last night, I have
   now to inform you that I have since seen Mr. Swanston, to whom
   I read your letter of the 11th inst., and he desires me to
   say, that as you propose no definite pallinode of the injury
   which he has sustained, of which you seem to think lightly, he
   has no farther observation to make, because, were he to make
   any specific proposition, it would be inconsistent with the
   view which you take of the matter, and therefore it is quite
   clear that the parties could not meet each other to the mutual
   satisfaction. I am, Sir, your most obedient servant,

                                          (Signed) JOHN JOHNSON.

         THOMAS IRELAND, Jun. Esq.
    Bookseller, 57, South Bridge, Edinburgh.


       *       *       *       *       *

                                    _Edinburgh, 13th Feb. 1829._

   SIR,--I think it very unnecessary to return any particular reply
   to your two last letters.

   Since you will not condescend to say what would satisfy Mr.
   Swanston, I shall publish in the forthcoming number of the work,
   your first letter of the 7th, and my answer of the 11th.

   If you wish any thing further inserted, you can let me know in
   the course of to-morrow forenoon. I am, Sir, your very obedient
   servant,
                              (Signed)      THOMAS IRELAND, Jun.
       To JOHN JOHNSON, Esq.
    4, Grove Street, Edinburgh.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] The following narration has been taken down from the lips of the
officer who apprehended Burke and his accomplices:--

“On Friday, the 31st of October, a little elderly woman was seen
begging about the West Port: she entered the shop of Mr. Rymer,
adjacent to Burke’s house, for this purpose, when Burke was there
purchasing whisky. He seems to have immediately fixed upon her as
a fit subject for his atrocious purposes, and endeavoured to decoy
her into his power. He asked her name, and what part of Ireland she
came from; and upon receiving her answers, replied that he was from
the same place, and that she must be a relation of his mother, whose
name was Docherty. He then promised to give her breakfast, and they
left the shop together, and were seen to enter Burke’s house. She was
afterwards seen in the house at different times during the day; and two
lodgers, Gray and his wife, were sent to Hare’s house to make room for
her, under the pretence that she was a friend from Ireland. They were
afterwards seen making merry, drinking and dancing in company with Hare
and his wife, first in the house of Ann Connaway, and afterwards in
Burke’s. During the night, a great noise of quarrelling and cries of
murder were heard in Burke’s house; but the neighbours, knowing that
two men and three women were in the house, and having frequently heard
similar uproars, did not think much of it, nor interfere. One of them,
however, had the curiosity to look through the key-hole, when he saw
M‘Dougal holding a bottle to the mouth of Campbell, swearing at her for
not drinking, and pouring the whisky into her mouth. Then all was quiet
for a little. Shortly after, the noise again commenced, which was again
succeeded by silence. At this time, that is, between 11 and 12 o’clock,
it is presumed the horrid deed was perpetrated.

“In the morning, M‘Dougal, who passed for Burke’s wife, accounted for
the absence of Campbell, or ‘the little old woman’ as they called her,
as well as for the noise, by saying that she had, during the night,
made too free with her husband, Burke, and that she had kicked her out
of the house: and this seems to have allayed any suspicions. In the
morning, the lodgers Gray and his wife returned to Burke’s; but upon
Mrs. Gray attempting to search about the bed, and the straw under it
for some articles she had left, she was ordered by Burke with an oath,
‘to keep out from them.’ Burke afterwards left the house, desiring
Broggan a carter who was there to sit on a chair close to the straw
until he returned. Broggan, however, followed him in a short time,
and MacDougal who appeared to be in liquor, started up from the bed
asking for her husband, and afterwards quitted the house, leaving Gray
and his wife sitting in it. Mrs. Gray then commenced searching for
her child’s stockings and cleaning the house, and from the suspicions
which had been excited by Burke’s conduct, she examined the straw and
found the murdered body, which her husband pulled out, and which they
immediately recognised to be that of Campbell. On going up the stair,
they were met by M‘Dougal, whom Gray informed of the body being found.
She affected to pass it off as if the woman had died in consequence of
a drunken frolic, and attempted to bribe them into silence by offering
them the ominous sum of _ten pounds_. She invited Gray and his wife
to take a dram in a neighbouring public-house, where she, along with
Hare’s wife, hurriedly left them, and upon their return to the house,
in two or three minutes, they called the people next door to come in,
as they wished to show them something; but upon examination the body
was gone. They immediately lodged information at the police office, and
a party of policemen were sent, but notwithstanding the most diligent
search that could be made, the body could not be found, nor the parties
implicated. At this time a servant girl who lived near informed them
that she had seen Burke and his wife, Hare and his wife, and the porter
M‘Culloch, going up the stair, the porter carrying a tea-box with the
top stuffed with straw; and that she laid her hand upon it and found
it soft. Upon the return of the policemen, sometime afterwards, Burke
came in, it is supposed to get some things previous to escaping. He
was pointed out by Gray, and immediately seized. He seemed to wish to
laugh it off, under the pretence that it was the lodgers who wished to
do him an ill turn, saying that he defied all Scotland to charge him
with any thing wrong, Mrs. Burke then came in, crying that she heard
the police were after her husband about the old woman, but that it was
all a drunken spree, and used a great many capers and dry laughs. She
was also immediately taken into custody, and both were conveyed to the
police office.

“There was still no tidings of the body, when it was suggested that
the dissecting-rooms should be searched; and Lieutenant Paterson and
Serjeant-major Fisher went on Sunday morning for that purpose. They
were informed by Paterson, Dr. Knox’s man, that they had only received
one body, which was shown them, but from their not having seen Campbell
they could not identify it. Gray and his wife were sent for, who soon
recognised it, and after procuring a warrant it was conveyed to the
police office.

“Early on Sabbath morning instructions were received to apprehend Hare
and his wife, and a party proceeded to his house about eight o’clock,
and were informed that they were both in the house and in bed. Upon
informing them that Captain Stewart wished to speak with them upon
the subject of the body that had been found in Burke’s, Mrs. Hare,
laughing, said, that the Captain and the police had surely very little
to do now to look after a drunken spree like this, repeatedly jeering
and laughing. Hare then said to her that he was at Burke’s and had a
dram or two, and likely they might be attaching some blame to them, but
he did not care for Captain Stewart, and they had better rise and see
what he had to say.--They were both conveyed to the police office, and
immediately lodged in separate cells.”

[2] Several benevolent individuals have interested themselves in the
behalf of Gray and his wife, and as it may be gratifying to the hearts
of many to relieve the virtuous in distress, the publisher of this will
most cheerfully receive subscriptions for Gray’s behoof; and the public
are earnestly intreated to mark their sense of this poor man’s upright
and correct conduct when surrounded with tempters and temptations to
which a less manly and honest nature might have yielded!

[3] As every thing relating to the ruffian Burke, may be interesting
at present, we add the following particulars about him, during his
residence in the parish of Peebles.

He, and Helen M‘Dougal, resided in that burgh in the years 1825 and
1826, and part of 1827.

I find, says our correspondent, that he is a native of Armagh, in the
north of Ireland, that he was a Roman Catholic, was a labourer, and
employed in working on the roads and in cutting drains.

He made considerable pretensions to religion, as I recollect on my
first visit to his house he had one or two religious books lying near
him, which, he said, he read, being at that time confined by a sore
leg. He seemed a man of quiet manners, and, on my questioning him
about his country and profession, there appeared a mystery about him.
Since he has gained a guilty notoriety, I have made inquiries among
his neighbours about his character, and, I am informed, that he was an
inoffensive man, but that he kept suspicious hours. On the Saturday
night and Sabbath days, his house was the scene of riot and drunkenness
with the lowest of his countrymen.

When he left this place, he owed the woman from whom he rented his
room, between forty and fifty shillings. He was then going to the
harvest, and promised to return and pay the rent, which he never did.
On application being made to him afterwards, in Edinburgh, for payment,
he sent word to the woman to meet him at the head of Eddlestone water,
a wild and desolate part of the road leading from this place to
Edinburgh. The meeting was to be at ten o’clock at night, when he would
pay her. Recent disclosures have fully proved for what purpose such a
meeting was to take place.

[4] This is a mistake, it was the body of a man, as will be seen in the
previous memoir.

[5] This also is a mistake, it was Hare who committed the murder alone,
when Burke was in the country.

[6] Mr. M‘D. does not appear to have seen our copperplate engraving,
which is allowed to be an excellent likeness.

[7] Here, in justice to the proprietor of Broggan’s house, we may
correct the mistake committed in page 200. That gentleman never
received the rent, and never applied for it. It is needless to state,
that the inadvertent error conveyed no imputation on him.

[8] The statement regarding Mr. Swanston, was given by Janet Brown, who
was along with Mary Paterson.

[9] A word here not legible in original.



Transcriber’s Note:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been
corrected silently.

2. Page 229: The verb had been omitted in the sentence. The word
“acted” has been inserted silently. (The Police ... (acted) under the
conduct of Captain Stewart and his Lieutenants.)

3. Where appropriate, the original spelling has been retained.

4. Superscripts are represented using the caret character, e.g. D^r. or
X^{xx}.