Chapter VI: Part 6

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.

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.