_New Prospects--Description of Hare's House--The Murder of Abigail
Simpson, the Old Woman from Gilmerton--The Two Sick Men._
The success of their first transaction with the doctors developed new
feelings in the hearts of Burke and Hare, and their two female companions.
Their minds, unconsciously, had been undergoing a degrading process, and
the action they had taken with regard to the old pensioners body opened up
the way to them into a more complete state of moral turpitude. They
thought they saw in this new traffic, if they could by any means obtain
possession of the remains of their fellow-creatures, an easier method of
attaining a comfortable livelihood than any they had yet tried, even
though it should involve the committal of murder; for they seemed fatally
blind to the consequences which it was certain such a course as they
contemplated would in all probability bring to them. Their argument, it
may be assumed, was that if they got bodies to sell, no matter how, they
would be able to throw off suspicion; and instead of doing what others
then did, go to the churchyards and plunder them of their ghastly
contents, they took for their motto the significant question Burke put to
the student when he was negotiating for the sale of Donald's
body--"Wouldn't you give a pound more for a fresh wun?" It was perhaps the
case that they did not make up any definite plan of operations for the
future; but it is beyond doubt that the outline of the plan they
ultimately adopted was suggested by the conversation in Knox's rooms,
while the details, in respect of the individual members, may have been
worked out as occasion presented--each act leading on to the next until
the last foul crime was committed.
Before beginning the horrid record, it will be well to give a description
of the scene of the enactment of most of the crimes--Log's lodging-house,
in Tanner's Close:--
"The entry from the street," says Leighton, "begins with a descent of a
few steps, and is dark from the superincumbent land. On proceeding
downwards, you came--for the house, which was razed for shame, is no
longer to be seen--to a smallish self-contained dwelling of one flat, and
consisting of three apartments. One passing down the close might, with an
observant eye, have seen into the front room; but this disadvantage was
compensated by the house being disjoined from other dwellings, and a
ticket, 'Beds to let,' as an invitation to vagrants, so many of whom were
destined never to come out alive, distinguished it still more. The outer
apartment was large, occupied all round by these structures called beds,
composed of knocked-up fir stumps, and covered with a few gray sheets and
brown blankets, among which the squalid wanderer sought rest, and the
profligate snored out his debauch under the weight of nightmare. Another
room opening from this was also comparatively large, and furnished much in
the same manner. In place of any concealment being practised, so far
impossible, indeed, in the case of a public lodging-house, the door stood
generally open, and, as we have said, the windows were overlooked by the
passengers up and down; but as the spider's net is spread open while his
small keep is a secret hole, so here there was a small apartment, or
rather closet, the window of which looked upon a pig-stye and a dead-wall,
and into which, as we know, were introduced those unhappy beings destined
to death. The very character of the house, the continued scene of roused
passions, saved it from that observation which is directed towards
temporary tumults, so that no surprise could have been excited by cries of
suffering issuing from such a place, even if they could have been heard
from the interior den; and that was still more impossible, from the
extraordinary mode of extinguishing life adopted by the wary and yet
unwary colleagues. In this inner apartment Burke used to work when he did
work, which, always seldom, soon came to be rare, and eventually
relinquished for other wages."
In this place Donald the pensioner died, and here it was that the most
terrible series of modern tragedies was committed. The plan having been
agreed upon by the two confederates--it is doubtful if the two women had
anything to do with its formation--Hare began by prowling about the
streets to see if he could fall in with any person who would make a likely
subject upon whom they could practice. For a time he was unsuccessful, but
at length an opportunity arrived. This was, according to Burke's
confession of the 3rd January, 1829, early in the spring of 1828, and,
according to the one published in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, on the
11th February. Leighton, however, says it was one afternoon in December
1827, though he gives no other reason for differing from Burke, though in
this instance the criminal does not speak generally, but with absolute
definiteness. Whichever month it was, the fact is certain that one
afternoon Hare met an old woman the worse of drink in the Grassmarket.
This was Abigail Simpson, belonging to Gilmerton, a village on the
outskirts of Edinburgh, who had come into the city to obtain the pension
granted her by a gentleman in the New Town--Sir John Hope, it has been
suggested--who gave her one-and-sixpence a week, and a can of kitchen-fee.
Her call had been made, and some of the money she had apparently spent in
drink, for she was under the influence of it when she met Hare. He thought
she looked a fitting subject. She was old and weakly, and the little
strength of mind and body left her by her potations could surely be
overcome very easily if she were once in a suitable place for the
commission of his shocking design. Hare spoke to her, professing that he
had seen her before; and she, garrulous and doted, readily entered into
conversation with him. Speedily they became fast friends, and he easily
persuaded her to accompany him to his house, where they would have a
"dram" together in honour of their happy meeting. Once in the house, Mrs.
Simpson was treated with overflowing kindness. She was introduced to Burke
as an old friend, and the whisky was placed before her. She and the others
partook of the liquor, though it is probable that her entertainers were
more circumspect than she was in her libations. Highly pleased with her
reception she told all about herself and her affairs, and of how she had a
fine young daughter at home, who was both good and beautiful. Hare said he
was a bachelor, and he spoke to the old woman of marrying her daughter, so
that they would have all the money among them. When the supply of drink
was finished, Mrs. Hare bought the can of kitchen-fee from Mrs. Simpson
for one-and-sixpence, and this money was also expended in the purchase of
more whisky for the use of the company. The fun became fast and furious.
The old woman crooned some of the songs of her youth, and Burke, who, as
it has already been seen, was himself something of a musician, contributed
his share to the harmony of the evening. It was proposed that Mrs. Simpson
should not go home that night, and to this she readily assented, for, as
the _Courant_ confession of Burke puts it, "she was so drunk she could not
go home." This was their chance, but somehow or other it was not taken
advantage of--perhaps it was because they were not, "old hands at the
trade," and they lacked sufficient courage at the time to carry out their
evil intentions against the old woman; just as likely they were too much
intoxicated themselves to commit the crime; possibly they were joined by
other lodgers, before whom they could not act. Be that as it may, the poor
victim lay the last night of her life in a state of thorough intoxication.
When morning came, she was sick and vomiting, and cried to be taken home
to her daughter. Her entertainers expressed the utmost sympathy for her
condition, and in their brutal "kindness" they gave her some porter and
whisky, which quickly made her again helplessly drunk. The time had now
arrived. The house was quiet, and the courage of the two men was
sufficient for the deed they contemplated. Hare placed his hand over her
mouth and nose to stop her breathing, and Burke laid himself across her
body in order to prevent her making any disturbance. Resistance there was
really none. The woman was beyond resistance, and any noise she might have
been able to make was stiffled by the method adopted to compass her death.
In a few minutes she was dead, and the men lifted the body out of the bed,
undressed it, and bundled it up in a chest. Hare took away the clothing,
among which was a drab mantle, and a white-grounded cotton shawl with blue
spots, with the intention of putting it in the canal. One of the men
afterwards informed Dr. Knox's students that they had another subject to
give them, and it was agreed that a porter from Surgeon's Square should
meet them at the back of the Castle in the evening. Burke and Hare carried
the chest, with its ghastly contents, to the meeting place, and thence the
porter assisted them with it to the rooms. "Dr. Knox," says Burke, "came
in when they were there; the body was cold and stiff. Dr. Knox approved of
its being so fresh, but did not ask any questions." The price paid the
murderers for the corpse of old Abigail Simpson, of Gilmerton, was ten
pounds.
The work of wholesale murder was now fairly begun, and the conspirators
had gained confidence by the success of their first effort. There were no
qualms of conscience--if there were they were speedily drowned in
drink--strong enough to stop them in the course upon which they had so
rapidly entered. The fear of discovery had passed away when they saw how
easily and quietly they could work, and the desire for more victims
became--shall we charitably say?--a mania.
The next unfortunate who fell into their foul clutches was a miller known
to Burke simply as "Joseph." The man was related by marriage to one of the
partners of the Carron Iron Company, then the principal ironfounding firm
in Scotland, and at one time had himself been in possession of a decent
competency. He had, however, lost his money, and was so reduced that he
had to reside in Hare's house in Tanner's Close. Joseph, while lodging
there, became very ill, and the report went forth that the malady by which
he was attacked was an infectious fever. Hare and his wife were alarmed
lest the rumour should damage the reputation of their house, and keep
lodgers away. It was accordingly agreed that Joseph should be put out of
the way as quickly as possible, and that by the remedy they had applied so
successfully in the case of Mrs. Simpson. Burke laid a small pillow over
the sick man's mouth, and Hare lay across the body to keep down his arms
and legs. Death ensued as a matter of course, and the body was sold in
Surgeon's Square for ten pounds. It does certainly seem strange that such
a set of circumstances should lead up to the murder of the miller, and
having in view the line of conduct these two men had now adopted, it is
more than probable that the report of Joseph lying ill of fever was
circulated by them to avert suspicion at his disappearance, and render his
death from apparently natural causes more probable.
Another case very similar to this one, but in all likelihood distinct from
it, is mentioned in one of the confessions of Burke, which, though not to
be depended upon absolutely, must be assumed to be accurate in their main
features. In the _Courant_ confession the condemned man mentions the
murder of an Englishman as having followed that of Mrs. Simpson; though in
the document prepared by the Sheriff-Clerk the case of Joseph the miller
is given in its place. The victim in this other instance was a native of
Cheshire, also a lodger in Hare's house, who was ill with jaundice at the
time the tragedy with Abigail Simpson was being enacted. He was a very
tall man, about forty years of age, and found a livelihood by selling
"spunks," or matches, on the streets of Edinburgh. His death was caused
by the efficient plan now adopted by Burke and Hare, who obtained the
customary ten pounds from Dr. Knox for the body, and no questions asked.
As indicative, however, of the untrustworthiness of these confessions, it
is interesting to notice at this point that while in the document
published in the _Courant_, and attested as correct by Burke's own
signature, the murder of the Englishman is placed in point of time after
that of Simpson; yet, in the official confession, emitted fully a
fortnight earlier, the commission of the crime is stated to have occurred
in May, and as the fourth on the terrible list. It is nevertheless to be
feared that although there may be some doubt as to the exact dates when
some of the murders were committed, Burke did not make full confession of
the various acts of wanton sacrifice of human life in which he had been
engaged, perhaps, unfortunately, because they were so numerous, and were
done in such a short space of time, that his memory could not carry every
individual case and its proper details.