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.