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.