CHAPTER XXV.
Burke’s Behaviour in Prison—Liberation of M‘Dougal, and the Consequent Riot—Visitors at Burke’s House in the West Port—Burke’s Idea of the Obligations of Dr. Knox—His Confessions.
All through the trial Burke had seemed callous and indifferent, but when he was removed from the court-room to the lock-up he was considerably agitated. He threw himself on his knees on the floor of his cell and prayed to God, to whom he had long been a stranger, and to whose mercy the judge had so earnestly commended him. After this he appeared to be considerably relieved, and during the rest of the day he was comparatively cheerful. He spoke a good deal to the policeman who was beside him, and said he was pleased at the acquittal of M‘Dougal. Without any hesitation he conversed freely about the murder of Docherty, who, he said, was not murdered by him in the way described by Hare. That individual was himself the murderer, though, he admitted, he had held the unfortunate woman’s hands to prevent her from struggling. The policeman was a fair type of the public, as a question he put to Burke amply proved. He told Burke that he wondered above all things how he could imbrue his hands in the blood of Daft Jamie. That Burke was in a state of semi-delirium is shown by his answer—as he hoped to meet with mercy at the throne of grace, his hand was not concerned in that murder; Hare and his wife were the sole perpetrators of it, though he had decoyed the poor simpleton into their house. That his mind was in a strange state he admitted by adding, that after he was more composed he would make disclosures that would implicate several others besides Hare and his wife in crimes similar to that for which he was condemned; and if he could make sure of the hanging of Hare, he would die happy. How did he feel when pursuing his horrible vocation? was the next query of the constable. In his waking moments he had no feeling, for he drank to deaden conscience, but when he slept he had frightful dreams. He also expressed a wish that one of his counsel should call on him that he might furnish him with notes of his life and adventures, as he desired his history to be published, whether for notoriety or as a warning to others, he did not say. In the course of that evening he read two chapters of the Bible, and afterwards retired to rest. His sleep, however, was not peaceful. He awoke in a frantic state every now and then; but after a short time he became more composed, and fell asleep again.
At two o’clock on Friday morning he was removed quietly in a coach to the Calton Hill Prison, and placed in the condemned cell. Here the frenzy under which he had been labouring since his condemnation took another turn. He threw aside the semi-religious feeling which seemed to sway his mind the day before, and turned fiercely to the jailor—for there was always one beside him, as, before his trial, he had threatened self-destruction—and said: “This is a d——d cold place you have brought me till.” The thirst for vengeance against Hare was still strong in him. He sat thinking over their connection, and broke out every now and again into curses against his one-time associate. Hare, he declared, was more guilty than he was. “Hare,” he said, “murdered the first woman. He persuaded me to join him, and now he has murdered me; and I will regret to the last hour of my existence that he did not share the same fate.” An officer said to him, “I think I could never wish to see that man forgiven who could murder that poor, harmless, good-natured idiot, Daft Jamie.” Burke replied with fierce earnestness:—“My days are numbered. I am soon to die by the hands of man. I have no more to fear, and can have no interest in telling a lie, and I declare that I am as innocent of Daft Jamie’s blood as you are. He was taken into Hare’s house and murdered by him and his wife. To be sure I was guilty so far, as I assisted to carry his body to Dr. Knox, and got a share of the money.” Later in the day, he dropped into the frame of mind in which he was after his sentence, and willingly acknowledged to his jailors that he was guilty, though beyond that he declined to satisfy their curiosity. As the evening advanced he asked if he would be allowed to pray. There was, of course, no objection, and again he petitioned the Almighty for forgiveness, and specially mentioned Helen M‘Dougal, that her heart might be touched and turned from evil.
This was the night on which M‘Dougal was liberated. It was feared that the infuriated mob that paced the streets of the city after the close of the trial would tear her to pieces, and she had, as a matter of safety, been detained in the lock-up. Immediately on her liberation, she returned to her house in the West Port, and remained there unmolested until the next night. Then she went out to a shop in the neighbourhood for the purpose of purchasing some whisky—Burke’s prayer had not yet been answered. The shop-keeper refused to supply her, and on her way home she was noticed by a number of boys, who, recognising her, raised the cry—“There’s M‘Dougal.” Speedily a crowd assembled—a rough, tumultous crowd, strongly under the sway of Judge Lynch. Fortunately for her, the police came to her rescue, and, again for safety, took her to the watch-house in Wester Portsburgh. The infuriated mob endeavoured to prevent this, and sought to tear the woman from the grasp of the officers in order that they might execute summary justice upon her; but her guardians drew their staves, and by laying about them in a determined manner, attained their purpose. At last the watch-house was reached, but still M‘Dougal was not safe. The crowd, which had grown to huge dimensions, attacked the place from every side, smashed the windows, and seemed so determined to gain admittance and work their will upon the unfortunate woman, that the officers, judging themselves unable to make sufficient stand, had her dressed in men’s clothes, and she escaped by a back window unobserved. A show of resistance was made for a short time to allow M‘Dougal to reach a place of safety, and then it was announced to the mob that she was being detained in order to give evidence against Hare. This pacified the passions of the people, for they were willing she should escape in the meantime if there was any chance of making sure that Hare would be punished, and they quietly dispersed. M‘Dougal, though out of the office, was still under police protection, and on Sunday, 28th December, she was accompanied outside the city, on her way to Stirlingshire, with, it was stated, between ten and twelve pounds in her possession.
Up till the Friday night following the trial, the house occupied by Burke and M‘Dougal, in the West Port, was visited by great crowds of people, who wished, out of curiosity, to see the place where such foul crimes had been perpetrated. On that night, however, the person who had the key gave it up to the landlord, as he wished to escape the imputation cast upon him by some, that he had been making money by showing it off. On the following Sunday, also, the street was crowded by well-dressed people, all attracted to the scene by its evil reputation. Here is the description given by one of the Edinburgh newspapers of that period, of the houses occupied by Burke and his accomplice:—“The immediate entrance to it [Burke’s house] is appropriate—namely, through a dark passage, where the women stood while the murder of the Irish woman was being perpetrated. The dwelling is one small room, an oblong square, which presents the exact appearance it had when the culprits were apprehended. There is still the straw at the foot of the bed, in which the murdered woman was concealed. Altogether, it has an air of the most squalid poverty and want of arrangement. On the floor is a quantity of wretched old shoes, of all sizes, meant by Burke, perhaps, to indicate his being a cobbler; but they are so wretchedly worn, that we cannot suppose they were left with him to be mended, or that he designed to improve their appearance, for the purpose of selling them. We incline to think that they belonged to some of his victims. The dwelling is most conveniently situate for the murderous trade he pursued—there being many obscure approaches to it from different directions. Hare’s dwelling, also, has attracted many visitors. Its appearance is equally deplorable with that of Burke. It is on the ground-floor, consists of two apartments, and overlooks a gloomy close. Beside it is a sort of stable, used by Hare as a pig-stye, and secured with a large padlock. In this it is believed Hare and Burke committed many of their butcheries; and here, we are inclined to think, Daft Jamie encountered his fate.”
But to return to Burke in the condemned cell. As the time passed on, his mind appeared to be agitated for brief intervals, though in general he seemed resigned to the fate his crimes so richly deserved. On one occasion he broke out in a curious manner. He had been sitting quietly, apparently thinking over his past life, and of the near approach of its end, when he startled his attendant by saying—
“I think I am entitled, and ought to get that five pounds from Dr. Knox which is still unpaid on the body of Docherty.”
“Why, Dr. Knox lost by the transaction, as the body was taken from him,” was the reply of the amazed warder.