Among the smugglers that abounded all along the coast of Scotland was one Andrew Wilson, a man possessed of so much strength, courage, and cunning, that he did not hesitate to conduct the most desperate enterprises. He frequently managed to escape the king's officers; but they watched him so closely that they were able to seize all the wares he smuggled into the country and completely ruined him. He, like many others, could not see the justice of taxation, and looked upon himself as a man deprived of his honest dues, and resolved to get back what he could, in one way or another, from the government. So, hearing that a tax collector had come to the town, with a considerable sum of public money, Wilson decided to seize him and take from him just the amount of which he had been deprived. He associated himself for this purpose with a young man named Robertson and two others, who, after carefully watching the movements of the collector, broke into the house where he lodged, and entered his apartment. As soon as the collector beheld three armed men,—for Robertson, the fourth, kept watch at the house-door,—he suspected that his life was in danger, and jumped out of the window in his night-shirt. The plunderers then helped themselves to two hundred pounds; but no sooner had they made their escape than one of the accomplices gave the alarm; the military were called in, Wilson and Robertson were caught with the money concealed about their persons; both were tried and condemned to death. As public sympathy was always with smugglers, and they were generally regarded by the country people along the coast as brave, worthy traders, this sentence was considered too severe. On the other hand, the act had been so audacious that it was thought proper to make an example of the culprits. When it seemed certain that sentence of death was really to be executed, files and other implements were conveyed secretly to the prisoners to enable them to escape. Thus provided, they cut through a bar of one of the prison windows, and might have got off, had it not been for Wilson's obstinacy. Robertson was a young, slender man, and knew that he could pass through the opening, when he proposed to enlarge it from the outside, to enable Wilson, who was very fat, to pass also. Wilson insisted on going first; but all the pushing and squeezing in the world availed nothing, and the poor man stuck fast half way, without being able to advance or recede. In this plight he was discovered by the jailer, who took the necessary precautions to prevent the recurrence of such an attempt. Robertson did not once reproach his companion; but Wilson was greatly distressed, because he knew that but for him Robertson would not have got into trouble at all, and that he had injured him a second time by not permitting him to pass through the window first, when he might have escaped. So his whole thought was turned towards devising some means for the rescue of the young man, for he cared nothing about his own fate.
Next to the Edinburgh city jail was a church, to which criminals under sentence of death were led by a strong guard on the Sunday previous to their execution. Wilson and Robertson, each between two soldiers of the City Guard, sat in the pew set apart for persons in their unfortunate situation on a certain Sunday, while the officiating clergyman preached an affecting sermon, part of which was ad#-dressed to the prisoners. Robertson wept, but Wilson's countenance bore a look of fixed determination, and his thoughts seemed far away. The congregation glanced towards the two men, but their suspicion was not excited by anything they saw; on the contrary, compassion was aroused, and after the benediction had been pronounced, many lingered to take a last look, as they supposed, at the unfortunate criminals. Suddenly Wilson seized two of the soldiers, one with each hand, called to his companion, "Run, Geordie, run!" threw himself on the third, and fastened his teeth in the collar of his coat. For an instant Robertson was so taken aback that he did not stir, but the cry of "Run, run!" that arose from every part of the church recalled him to himself; so he shook off the grasp of the fourth soldier, jumped over the pew-railing, and disappeared through the church door, the crowd making way for him, and covering his retreat. From that time the practice of taking culprits to church has been discontinued.
Now Wilson was looked upon as a hero, and it was whispered that the mob of Edinburgh, who always favored such offenders, would help him to escape also. Murmurs to this effect reached the ears of the magistrates, who ordered John Porteous to be at the place of execution with the City Guard at the time appointed for Wilson to expiate his crime. This defence not being deemed sufficient, a regular infantry regiment besides was drawn up on the principal streets of the city, to intimidate the people in case they purposed any interference with the officers of justice.
John Porteous became most indignant at this arrangement, for he was jealous of the sound of any drums besides his own within the city limits. He could not vent his ill-humor on the magistrates, but resolved to do so on poor Wilson, whom he ordered to be manacled as soon as he was delivered over to his charge by the prison keeper. This was done to prevent any possibility of escape, but the handcuffs were too small for the wrists of so powerful a man as Wilson, so the captain forced them on with his own hands until they clasped, and tortured the criminal dreadfully. Wilson remonstrated against such barbarity, and declared that the pain distracted his thoughts from their proper course at such a solemn moment.
"It signifies little," replied Captain Porteous; "your pain will soon be at an end."
"Your cruelty is great," answered the sufferer. "You know not how soon you yourself may have occasion to ask the mercy which you are now refusing to a fellow-creature. May God forgive you."
As these words were repeated among the crowd, compassion for Wilson was increased with a proportionate degree of indignation against Porteous, who was much disliked by the common people. When the criminal arrived at the Grass-market, the place of execution, the multitude attempted no violence, and the sentence of the law was fulfilled in due form. No sooner was life extinct than by a sudden impulse, angry murmurs filled the air, which increased to whoops, howls, and yells, while the mob pressed forward and threw stones at Porteous and his men. One young man with a cap slouched over his face jumped upon the scaffold and cut down the body dangling there, while others approached to carry it off. This excited the fury of Captain Porteous, who snatched a musket from one of his soldiers, gave the order to fire, and set the example by shooting a man dead on the spot. Six or seven others were slain, and a great many were wounded. This was an unjustifiable act of violence on the part of a man whose duty it was to preserve peace and order, and he recognized it as such when his rage had subsided.
On his return to the guard-house Porteous dismissed his men, and went to make his report of the day's proceedings to the magistrates, glossing over his own part in them as much as possible. The public indignation was great, and before it had time to cool Captain Porteous was brought up for trial before the High Court of Justiciary. There was so much conflicting evidence that the jury had a long and tedious task; but at the end their verdict was such that the captain was condemned to be hanged on September 8, and all his movable property confiscated to the crown, according to the Scottish law in cases of wilful murder.
On the day appointed for the execution, Grass-market was crowded almost to suffocation, and every window of the surrounding tenement-houses was filled with spectators. Few words were spoken, but there was an expression in men's faces that showed determination as they watched for the approach of the criminal with a feeling of triumphant revenge. Had the captain appeared upon the scaffold some sympathy might have been awakened in his behalf, but the longer the delay the greater became the animosity against him. Among the magistrates and the better class of the Scotch people Porteous had been a favorite officer, for he had proved himself a reliable man in cases of emergency, and it was argued that on the occasion of the Wilson execution his conduct might have been caused by an imprudent excess of zeal. So a petition, signed by a vast number of the nobility and gentry, was sent to Queen Caroline, asking her to exercise the mercy of the crown in the captain's behalf.
Just at the last moment, when all preparations for the execution had been completed, a reprieve, granting a respite of six weeks, arrived with the queen regent's signature. The news, which the magistrates almost feared to communicate, was at length announced, and spread like lightning among the crowd.