The work had been conducted with so much impunity, however, that the prime movers in this dreadful conspiracy against human life had made arrangements for the extension of their operations. They found a ready market for their goods, and when they took a body to Surgeon’s Square they were always encouraged to bring more. Their efforts in the cause of science were thus appreciated by the scientists themselves, and it matters little whether these scientists were aware of the diabolical means their favourite merchants used to obtain possession of the bodies they brought for their use. To rob a churchyard of its ghastly contents was as much a crime, though it was certainly not so serious, against the laws of the country and the public sense of morality, as the murder of a fellow-creature for his mortal remains. And then Burke and Hare found their work comparatively easy, and very remunerative, though perhaps a little risky. It was much easier than the cobbling of boots and shoes, or travelling about the country as a pedlar. They enjoyed themselves looking for victims, and the process of getting one into a fit state for “disposal” was quite suited to their tastes. When it came to the point—when the person to whom so much attention was paid was stupid and helpless—there was, as a rule, little to be done. Burke described the method very simply in his Courant confession:—“When they kept the mouth and the nose shut a very few minutes, they [the victims] could make no resistance, but would convulse and make a rumbling noise in their bellies for some time; after they ceased crying and making resistance, they [the murderers] left them to die by themselves; but their bodies would often move afterwards, and for some time they would have long breathings before life went away.” And every one can re-echo the sentiment of the remark by Burke, made almost in presence of that death he had so often invoked on others:—“It was God’s providence that put a stop to their murdering career, or he did not know how far they might have gone with it, even to attack people on the streets.” All these circumstances, then, added to the freedom from suspicion which Burke and Hare hitherto enjoyed, render it not at all surprising that these desperate men should have laid their plans for an extension of their business. Burke and another man, with whom they had arranged, were to go to Glasgow or Ireland, and “try the same there,” forwarding the subjects to Hare in Edinburgh, who was to dispose of them to Dr. Knox. The “other man” was popularly believed to be David Paterson, Dr. Knox’s porter, and he was openly charged in the public prints of the time with being in complicity with Burke and Hare, although he strenuously denied it. But more of that at the proper time. The contract with Dr. Knox, also, was highly satisfactory. They were to receive ten pounds in winter and eight pounds in summer for as many subjects as they could supply. This scheme, however, was not carried into effect, for the end came suddenly.
The last of the West Port tragedies was the murder of Mary Campbell or Docherty, an old Irishwoman who had come to Edinburgh to look for her son. On the morning of the 31st October—the Friday of the Sacrament week—Burke was in Rymer’s grocery store near his own close-mouth, talking to the shop-boy while he sipped a tumbler of liquor. As he was doing this an old woman entered the shop, and asked for assistance. Burke, ever on the outlook, saw the poor beggar was in every way suitable for his purpose—she was an old and frail stranger who would never be missed because she was not known, and her very frailty would make her a sure and easy victim. He soon got into conversation with her, asked her name, and what part of Ireland she came from. She answered him readily, and he, having thus got the cue, said she must be some relation of his mother, whose name was also Docherty, and out of what appeared to be pure friendliness—out of a feeling of patriotism or kinship—he invited her to his house to partake of breakfast with him. The poor woman was thus offered what she most needed, and delighted to find she had met a friend, she accompanied him to the house once occupied by Broggan, but which, since that person had left the city, had been tenanted by Burke and Helen M‘Dougal. Mrs. Docherty was made welcome by M‘Dougal, who seemed to understand everything. Burke set the breakfast, but the stranger would not touch it until noon, as it was Friday. Leaving Helen M‘Dougal to look to the comfort of their guest, Burke went in search of Hare, whom he found in Rymer’s public house. They had a gill of whisky together, and Burke then told his colleague that he had at home “a good shot to take to the doctors.” Hare, of course, was ready to participate in the work, and went with his colleague. By the time they arrived at the house they found that M‘Dougal and the old woman had, after their breakfast, set about cleaning up the room, and had everything as neat and tidy as the ill-furnished, tumble-down structure could well be. Burke again visited Rymer’s for some provisions, and preparations were made for a night’s junketting, to be followed by the usual tragedy.
But there was a serious difficulty in the way, and that must be got rid of before anything further was done. At that time there were lodging with Burke an old soldier named James Gray and his wife. The man was a native of the Grassmarket, who, after an attempt to learn his trade as a jeweller, had enlisted in the Elgin Fencibles, transferring afterwards to the 72nd Regiment, and who had returned with his wife to Edinburgh after an absence of about seventeen years. He met Burke in the High Street about a fortnight before the affair with Mrs. Docherty, and had lodged with him for nearly a week. The difficulty, therefore, was to get this couple out of the house without creating suspicion, for they could not be trusted. Burke explained to them that he had discovered the old woman was a relation of his mother, and certainly the animated conversation carried on in Irish by him and the woman seemed to confirm the statement that some relationship, however distant, existed between them. Of course it would not do for Mrs. Docherty to seek accommodation anywhere else than in her relation’s house, and it would be a matter of obligement if Mr. and Mrs. Gray would find quarters in some other place for a night or two. Gray and his wife readily acquiesced in the suggestion, and Burke went out to look after lodgings for them. These were easily obtained in Hare’s house, and the unwelcome couple, towards evening, left for their new abode. Thus far the arrangements had worked admirably, and now that the way was clear the tragedy could begin at once.
In the evening Mrs. Hare joined the company, and the fun began. The whisky circulated rapidly, Burke indulged his musical tastes by singing his favourite songs, and the old woman crooned over some of the Irish ballads she had learned in her youth. Dancing, too, was engaged in; and once or twice visits were paid to the house of a neighbour, where the revelry was continued, and where Docherty hurt her foot when endeavouring to emulate the sprightliness of her more youthful companions. As the night wore on they kept more to their own house. The neighbours, between ten and eleven o’clock, heard a great disturbance proceeding from Burke’s dwelling, and some of them, though used to the sounds of drunken riot from that quarter, had the curiosity to look through the keyhole of the door to see what was going on. One of them, a woman, saw—or thought she saw—Helen M‘Dougal holding a bottle to the mouth of Docherty, pouring the whisky down her throat. After a while the disturbance ceased, but not for long. About eleven o’clock Hare quarrelled with Burke, and the dispute could only be settled by an appeal to blows. Whether this was a real quarrel or not it would be difficult to say, for, though Burke himself declared “it was a real scuffle,” it has been pointed out as a suspicious circumstance that this “quarrel” is in a sense the counterpart of the one that took place between Burke and M‘Dougal immediately before the murder of Mary Paterson. While the two men were fighting, Mrs. Docherty, tipsy though she was, tried to interfere. She rose from the stool on which she had been sitting by the fireside, and asked Burke to sit down, as she did not wish to see him abused. The fight, however, still continued, and Hare, whether by design or not, knocked the old woman over a stool. She fell heavily, and, owing to the amount of drink she had taken, was unable to rise. Whenever this had been done the fighting ceased, Mrs. Hare and Helen M‘Dougal slipped out of the house, and Burke and Hare set to work on the prostrate, helpless woman. It was after the old method, but a fatal mistake was made. One of them grasped her violently by the throat, leaving the mark of the undue pressure. Soon the woman was dead. Burke undressed the body, doubled it up, and laid it among a quantity of straw beside the bed. The women then returned to the room, and Burke went to see Paterson, Dr. Knox’s porter, brought him to the house, and, pointing to the place where the body lay, told him that there was a subject which would be ready for him in the morning. When Paterson left, the four human fiends resumed their debauch, and for the last time together they spent a riotous night. The murder was committed between eleven and twelve o’clock on Hallowe’en night; and they brought in the month of November with heavy drinking. About midnight they were joined in their cups by a young fellow named Broggan, a son of the man to whom the house had once belonged, and who, as we have seen, was bought off when the first murder—that of M‘Dougal’s cousin, was committed in it. At last, when the morning was far advanced, they were all overcome by sleep, and the party lay down to rest, with the body of the murdered woman beside them.
CHAPTER XVI.
An Ill Excuse—Strange Behaviour—Discovery—The Threat—Unavailing Arguments—The Last Bargain.
About nine o’clock on the morning of Saturday, the 1st of November, Burke went round at Hare’s house to see about his lodgers, who had been forced to change their quarters for the night. He was anxious to know how they had rested, and having offered Gray a “dram of spirits,” he invited the family along to his own home to have breakfast. This they were not loath to do, as there was no prospect of them readily obtaining their food in their temporary lodgings. When they entered Burke’s house they found there Mrs. Law and Mrs. Connoway, two neighbours, Broggan, and Helen M‘Dougal. They naturally missed the woman for whom they had been shifted, and Mrs. Gray asked M‘Dougal where the “little old woman” had gone. The reply was that Mrs. Docherty had grown very impudent to Burke, perhaps through having taken too much liquor, and they had found it necessary to put her out. Breakfast was served without further ado, and then Mrs. Gray set about the dressing of her child. Burke was behaving in a very curious manner, for he had the whisky bottle in his hand, and was throwing some of the contents under the bed, on the bed, and up to the roof of the apartment, at times put a little on his breast, and occasionally took a sip internally. His explanation of this remarkable proceeding was that he wished the bottle “toom,” that he might again have it filled. Mrs. Gray, it would seem, was taking a smoke, and had a pipe in her mouth when she was looking for her child’s stocking. In the course of her search she went to the corner of the room where the body of Docherty was lying covered with straw, but Burke called to her to keep out of there; and when she made to go beneath the bed to get some potatoes he asked her what she was doing there with a lighted pipe. He offered to look after them himself, but Mrs. Gray dispensed with his help, and collected the potatoes without having disturbed anything. All these circumstances created a suspicion in the woman’s mind that something was wrong; but later in the day that surmise was strengthened by Burke, when about to go out, telling Broggan to sit on a chair which was near the straw, until he returned. Broggan either did not know of the mystery underneath the straw, or did not care, for Burke was not long away until he went out also. M‘Dougal left the house too, and Mrs. Gray had then an opportunity of clearing up the suspicions she had formed. The straw in the corner had appeared to be the great object of attention, and she went direct there. She lifted the straw, and the first thing she caught hold of was the arm of a dead woman. Gray himself went over, and there they saw the naked body of the old Irishwoman who had been brought into the house by Burke the day before. The man lifted the head by the hair, and saw there was blood about the mouth and the ears. The horrified couple hastily threw the straw over the corpse, and collected what property they had in the house in order to leave it immediately. Gray went out first, leaving his wife to complete their packing arrangements. On the stair he met Helen M‘Dougal, and asked her what that was she had in the house. The woman made a feeble pretence at ignorance, but when Gray said to her, “I suppose you know very well what it is,” she dropped on her knees, and implored him not to say anything of what she had seen, and offered him five or six shillings to put him over till Monday. She urged that the woman’s death had been caused by her having taken an overdose of drink—alcoholic poisoning is now the respectable name for it—and tried to make the man believe that the incident was such as might occur in anybody’s house. Finding this line of explanation thrown away upon him, she tried another which she seemed to think more powerful. In her intense anxiety for concealment, she told him there never would be a week after that but what he might be worth ten pounds. It seemed to suggest itself to her that Gray, by such promises, might be induced to join their murdering gang. He, however, replied that his conscience would not allow him to remain silent. Just as M‘Dougal left Gray to enter the house, Mrs. Gray came out, and the two women met. Mrs. Gray turned back, and asked M‘Dougal about the body among the straw; but the reply was similar to that given to Gray himself. The unfortunate creature offered the same inducements, but all to no effect, as Mrs. Gray exclaimed with unction—“God forbid that I should be worth money with dead people!” M‘Dougal, seeing the end was near, cried out, “My God, I cannot help it!” to which Mrs. Gray replied, “You surely can help it, or you would not stay in the house.” The husband and wife then left the place together, followed by M‘Dougal, and when in the street they were met by Mrs. Hare, who asked them what they were making a noise about, and told them to go into the house and settle their disputes there. The two women invited Gray and his wife into a neighbouring public house, and there, over a round of liquor, they plied them with arguments and entreaties to keep silence as to what they had seen, and the benefit would be ultimately theirs. But all to no purpose. Gray was obdurate, and his wife supported him in his intention to inform the authorities of what they had reason to believe was a foul murder. Finding they were simply wasting their time, Mrs. Hare and M‘Dougal, in a state of great anxiety, hurriedly left the place, as if to prepare for flight; and Gray made his way to the police office to lodge the information.
In the meantime, Burke and Hare were busy making arrangements for the removal of the body to Dr. Knox’s premises. They applied at the rooms in Surgeon’s Square for a box in which to put it for safe conveyance, but they could not be supplied with one; and later on, between five and six o’clock in the evening, Burke purchased an empty tea-chest in Rymer’s shop. He had engaged John M‘Culloch, a street porter, to call at the house for a box, and before this man arrived the two colleagues had wrapped the body of Docherty in a sheet, placed it in the box among some straw, and roped down the lid. Whether they knew of the discovery by Gray, and his subsequent threat, is uncertain: that they did not is probable from the manner in which they went about the work of removing the corpse. When everything was ready, M‘Culloch was called in, and told to carry it to the place to which they would take him. As the porter was raising the box on to his back he saw some long hair hanging out of a crevice in the lid, and, having probably been in the service of resurrectionists before, he endeavoured to press it inside. This done, he went on his way with his burden, the two men who employed him walking by his side. Mrs. Hare and Helen M‘Dougal, apparently beside themselves with excitement, had been near all the time, and followed some distance behind. It was now well on in the evening, and after the box and its contents were placed in the cellar at Surgeon’s Square, Burke, Hare, and M‘Culloch, accompanied by Paterson, “the keeper of Knox’s museum,” and still followed by the women, walked to Newington, where Paterson received from the doctor five pounds in part payment for the body. In a public-house in the vicinity the division was made. Knox’s man handed M‘Culloch five shillings for his services as porter, and Burke and Hare each received two pounds seven shillings and sixpence; but on Monday, it was understood, when the doctor would have had time to examine the body, they were to receive other five pounds, making ten pounds in all.
The end had now come; the murdering career of these terrible beings was closed. They seemed to feel that it could last no longer; their whole manner of working on that Saturday indicated impending discovery, and helped towards it.