This completed the case for the prosecution, and a most humane and able address having been delivered to the jury by Lord Meadowbank, at half-past eight o’clock in the evening, they retired to consider their verdict. During the period of their absence, which extended to fifty minutes, the most breathless anxiety was exhibited as to the result of the trial, and upon their re-entering the court, an eager silence prevailed amongst the persons assembled. The verdict consigned Burke to an ignominious fate by a declaration of his guilt; but the jury, contrary to all expectation, declared, that as to Mrs. M‘Dougal, the offence alleged was “not proven,” a finding which relieved her from all immediate consequences upon the indictment.
Lord Meadowbank immediately passed the sentence of death upon Burke, and ordered him to be hanged on the 28th January, 1830, and his body to be delivered over to the surgeons for dissection.
He and his fellow prisoner, M‘Dougal, were then immediately conveyed to the lock-up house attached to the court, where they met Hare and his wife, who, although they had been examined as witnesses, were detained to answer any charge which might be preferred against them. Hare, on his way to this place from the court, had been seized with a sudden fit of fiendish and malignant exultation at his own supposed escape from punishment, and at the success of his schemes to bring the neck of his fellow-murderers into the noose, which had not ceased when Burke and M‘Dougal were introduced. His spirits somewhat fell, however, when he learned that he was to be conveyed to Calton-hill jail, with his wife, to await the result of the deliberations of the legal authorities, as to his prosecution upon certain charges of murder, of which there was no doubt he had been guilty, and upon his entrance to that prison the most direful forebodings appeared to fill his mind with apprehension. His wife was a fitting comrade for such a husband. While giving her evidence she had in her arms a child, ill of hooping-cough, and altogether the picture of abject misery, wretchedness, and disease; but instead of treating it with that maternal tenderness which even the tigress shows for her whelps, she seemed to regard it with aversion and hatred, shaking and squeezing it, whenever the cough seized it, with the expression of a fury in her countenance.
On the succeeding Friday, Mrs. M‘Dougal, who had been allowed to remain so long in custody from motives of humanity only, fears being entertained that if she were to go at large, her life would be sacrificed to the vengeance of the mob, was discharged, and forthwith proceeded to her old abode, the scene of so many horrible transactions. On the next day she ventured out to a neighbouring liquor-shop to purchase whiskey, but she was instantly recognised,—the spirit was refused her, and the mob gaining intelligence as to who she was, she was compelled to fly for her life. Fortunately for her, the police interfered, and conducted her again to the prison, thereby saving her from violence; but there can be little doubt that, but for this fortunate intervention in her behalf, she would have fallen a victim to the vengeance of the justly indignant populace.
In the mean time Burke had become scarcely less communicative than Hare had previously been. He made no denial of the truth of the statements which had been made by that wretch, and confirmed the horrid tale related by him, by declaring that he had sold as many as thirty or forty subjects to the surgeons, although he subsequently admitted, like his companion, that he had never once been concerned as a resurrectionist; a confession from which nothing could be inferred but that he had been a party to as many murders as he had sold dead bodies. Nor was this declaration, horrible as it was, without corroboration. The appearances of the den which he inhabited—its loneliness marking it as a fit stage for the enactment of such tragedies; the various articles found in it; the frequent disappearance of persons of the lower orders, and of women of an unfortunate class, for whom, abandoned as they were by the friends and relations whom they had dishonoured, and excluded from all notice and regard by the virtuous part of the community, no person cared to inquire; were circumstances, all of which tended to impress the public mind with a firm belief of the truth of the dreadful suspicions which were raised by the prisoner’s unsatisfactory but most frightful admissions.
The conclusion to which these circumstances lead is as obvious as it is appalling; and to strengthen it we shall here introduce a statement which was published at the time, and which may be relied on. About six months previously to these transactions, the body of a female was offered for sale by some miscreants, probably of Burke’s gang, to the assistant of a most respectable teacher of anatomy in Edinburgh. The ruffians offering it were not known to him, and were not resurrection-men; but as a subject was required, he said he would take it if it suited him when he examined it, and asked when they could bring the body. They replied that they had it now, and that they would bring it to the dissecting-room in the evening, between nine and ten o’clock. At the appointed hour, accordingly, they made their appearance, accompanied by a porter, with the body in a sack. It was taken in, of course, and turned out of the sack, when it proved to be the body of a female, as had been stated by the ruffians—a woman of the town in her clothes, and with her shoes and stockings on. The assistant was startled, and proceeded at once to examine the body, when he found an enormous fracture in the back part of the head, and a large portion of the skull driven in, as if by a blow from the blunt part of a hatchet, or some such weapon. On making this discovery, he instantly exclaimed, “You villains, where and how did you get this body?” To which one replied, with great apparent sang-froid, that it was the body of a woman who had been “popped in a row (murdered in a brawl) in Halkerston’s Wynd,” and that if he did not choose to take it another would. The assistant then suggested that they should wait till he sent for his principal, his intention being to have them detained; but not relishing this proposal, the ruffians (three in number, besides the porter) immediately withdrew with their horrid cargo, and, doubtless, soon found a less scrupulous purchaser. Statements of a similar character were subsequently made in many of the Scotch journals, and there appears to be too good reason to suppose that they were perfectly true.
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 each of them had his allotted part in the bloody drama. Hare was a rude ruffian, with all the outward appearances of his nature—drunken, ferocious, and profligate; and far likelier to repel than to ensnare any one by a specious show, which he was quite incapable of putting on. 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 did 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 co-partnery; 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 demeanor: 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 never heard along 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 no doubt, 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.
We have already mentioned the full statements made by Hare, as to the horrid traffic in which he had been engaged, which were not published in the form in which they fell from the lips of this diabolical ruffian. Some portions of them, however, escaped and found their way into the public papers; and regretting our inability to lay before our readers the whole of his history of this terrible case, we shall present to them so much of his story as we have been able to learn:—
The first murder which he charged against Burke, although it is surmised that several had been committed before that time, was that of a girl named 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 the next morning, when they went to the house of one Swanstoun, to procure spirits. Here they were met 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 his brother Constantine Burke’s house, in the Canongate. This man was a scavenger, and went out at his usual hour to 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, 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. She came back in the afternoon in search of her, and received the same answer. By this time she was murdered. 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 eight pounds. The appearance of this body, which was quite fresh—which had not even begun to grow stiff—of which the face was settled and pleasant, without any expression of pain—awakened suspicions: and Burke was closely 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.
We have already alluded to the murder of an idiot. His name was James Wilson; but he was more commonly known by the appellation of “Daft Jamie.” The circumstances attending his assassination were even, if possible, more revolting than those of the women Campbell or Paterson. The appearance of this creature showed at once the imbecility of his mind, and was such that he was universally regarded with a feeling of tenderness and sympathy. He was quite harmless and kind-hearted; and was on this account generally liked, and well treated; and there were certain houses where he was admitted as a familiar guest, and kindly entertained. It is probable that he had been for some time watched by this gang of murderers, and marked out as one that might be easily taken off without exciting suspicion. Accident unfortunately threw him in their way. He was met by Burke at nine o’clock one morning, in the beginning of October 1828, wandering about in his usual manner in the Grass-market. 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 affection for him, and having procured liquor, they pressed it upon him. He at first decidedly refused, but they so far wrought upon his good nature by their assumed kindness, that they induced him to join them in their cups, and they plied him so effectually, that he was soon overpowered, and lying 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 for 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 the delay, and anxious 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 either one of the 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. 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. In the course of this contest, the unhappy object of this dreadful violence contrived to lay hold of Burke with his teeth, and to inflict on him a wound which occasioned a cancer, that would in all probability have shortened his days, even if he had escaped the vengeance of the law. None were present at this murder, which was completed before mid-day, except the two ruffians themselves; but the body was recognised in the dissecting-room by one of the students.