_Burke's Spiritual Condition--The Erection of the Scaffold--The
Criminals Last Hours--Scene at the Execution--Behaviour of the
People._
The hour for the closing scene of the Burke and Hare tragedy was now
almost come, and Burke, to all appearance, seemed to regard his
approaching fate with composure. He is even reported to have declared that
had a pardon been offered him he would have refused it; but, if the story
is true, it is more likely that the firm conviction that a pardon would
not be granted had as much to do with the remark as any sentiment of
resignation. It was simply a case of bowing before the inevitable. And so
far as the outward affairs of religion were concerned the condemned man
was very attentive, though it could not be said that he looked forward to
eternity with hope, or, if he did, he kept his feelings very much to
himself. A large section of the people, always inclined for dogmatic
discussion on religious matters, found full scope for their critical
powers in the consideration of Burke's spiritual state. The rank and
unbending Calvinists argued that a new spiritual birth was, under the
circumstances, if possible--and on that point they were doubtful--not at
all probable; while the Armenians, with a wider theology, thought in the
words of the Paraphrase:--
"As long as life its term extends,
Hope's blest dominion never ends;
For while the lamp holds on to burn,
The greatest sinner may return."
Theologians, however, could discuss as much as they liked, but it was
never certain whether Burke's spiritual state was such as to give reason
for hope.
The execution, it has already been seen, was fixed to take place on
Wednesday, the 28th January, 1829, and to this event the people had looked
forward with a ghastly satisfaction. Indeed, so high did public feeling
run that the authorities deemed it prudent to remove Burke from Calton
Hill Jail to the lock-up in Liberton's Wynd at four o'clock on the morning
of Tuesday, the 27th January, the day before the execution. This was
absolutely necessary, as, had the removal taken place at a time when the
people were about, or were expecting it, the probability was that, instead
of undergoing a judicial execution, Burke would have been torn to pieces
by an infuriated mob. The long confinement in prison had not changed his
appearance much. He was given a black suit in which to appear on the
scaffold, and this afforded him some consolation. Shortly after noon on
the same day, preparations were begun at the place of execution in the
Lawnmarket. Strong poles were fixed in the street, to support the chain by
which the crowd was to be kept back, and on this occasion the space was
considerably larger than usual. The work progressed, witnessed by a large
crowd, which gradually swelled in size, as the excited people came to see
the erection of the structure that was to work legal vengeance on a hated
murderer. As the night went on, and the work approached completion, the
rain fell heavily, but the crowd, notwithstanding, showed no diminution;
and whenever any important part of the erection was finished they raised
an approving cheer. About half-past ten o'clock the frame of the gibbet
was brought to the spot, and its appearance was the signal for a
tremendous shout. It was quickly put in its place, for the men did their
work with a grim satisfaction, and when all was completed, the crowd, as a
contemporary newspaper put it, "evinced their abhorrence of the monster
Burke, and all concerned in the West Port murders, by three tremendous
cheers; and these were heard as far away as Princes Street." This was
about two o'clock in the morning, and, wet and dismal though it was, those
anxious to see Burke suffer for his crimes were beginning to take up their
places. Closes and stairs were quickly packed by intending sight-seers,
who preferred to remain outside all morning than run the risk of being
disappointed by arriving late. By seven o'clock the vicinity of the
scaffold was occupied by one of the densest crowds until that time
witnessed on the streets of Edinburgh--from 20,000 to 25,000 persons were
calculated to be present--many of the best people in the city being among
them. Every window giving a view of the place of execution had been bought
up some days previous, the price paid varying, according to the excellence
of the view, from five to twenty shillings. "The scene at this time," said
the writer already quoted, "was deeply impressive. No person could without
emotion survey such a vast assemblage, so closely wedged together, gazing
on the fatal apparatus, and waiting in anxious and solemn silence the
arrival of the worst of murderers."
Matters, meanwhile, had been going on quietly inside the prison. Burke
had, during the day, been visited by the Rev. Messrs. Reid and Stewart,
two priests of the Roman Catholic Church, and the Rev. Messrs. Porteous
and Marshall, Protestant ministers, and he received their spiritual
consolations calmly, but without much apparent benefit, though he lamented
his connection with the murders to which he had confessed. He slept
soundly the greater part of that night, and rose about five o'clock on the
Wednesday morning. Shortly after wakening he held up his hands, and
remarked, with an earnestness that struck his attendants, "Oh, that the
hour was come which shall separate me from this world!" This was
thoroughly dramatic, but whether it proceeded from a weariness of this
life and a hope for a better, can never be known. An incident even more
dramatic, but similar in character, occurred shortly afterwards. He had
been placed in irons shortly after his condemnation, and he now expressed
a desire to be freed from them. The men proceeded to knock them off, and
the fetters fell with a "clank" on the floor of the cell. "So may all my
earthly chains fall!" exclaimed Burke. These remarks, whatever his
spiritual condition, showed that he was a man, however debased by a
terrible course of wickedness, of considerable education and natural
refinement. About half past six o'clock the two Catholic clergymen who had
been so attentive to him arrived at the lock-up, and for half an hour he
was closeted with Mr. Reid. Then he entered the keepers room, and sat down
for a short time in an arm-chair by the side of the fire, deeply immersed
in thought--that his meditations were saddening was apparent by the heavy
sighs that came now and then from his breast. He was at last fairly in the
presence of death; but the law was more merciful to him than he had been
to his victims--he was given time to prepare for the awful change, but
they were hurled in the midst of their sins, drunken and unrepentant, into
eternity. Bailies Small and Crichton had meantime entered the jail, and
the two priests commenced the last religious exercises. The condemned man
joined in the devotions with apparent fervour, and he seemed much affected
by the exhortation to "confide in the mercy of God." After that he retired
to an adjoining apartment, but on the way he was met by Williams, the
executioner, who accosted him in an unceremonious manner. Burke waved him
away, remarking, "I am not just ready for you yet," but Williams followed
him, and set about the work of pinioning. The criminal submitted to the
operation without a movement, and simply remarked that his handkerchief
was tied behind. When this was done he accepted a glass of wine which was
offered him, and on putting it to his lips he looked around, and gave his
last toast--"Farewell to all my friends!" For a few minutes he talked with
the Protestant ministers, and then the magistrates, dressed in their
official robes, re-entered the room, with their rods in their hands.
Burke, seeing the end had now come, expressed his gratitude to the
magistrates, and especially to Bailie Small, for their kindness to him,
and also to the prison and lock-up officials. The solemn procession then
formed, and marched out of the jail to the scaffold.
[Illustration: WILLIAM HARE. (From a Sketch taken in Court)]
Burke was supported on either side, as he walked up Liberton's Wynd
towards the Lawnmarket, by the Catholic priests, and he leaned on the arm
of Mr. Reid. The two bailies headed the procession, and whenever they made
their appearance the enormous crowd sent up one loud and simultaneous
shout. The condemned man was affected by this outburst of popular feeling,
and, as if afraid the mob might break through the barriers and tear him to
pieces, he made haste to ascend the scaffold. His appearance there was the
signal for another yell of execration from the multitude. Shouts of "Burke
him," "choke him," "No mercy, hangie," came from all sides; but otherwise
the crowd showed no signs of interfering. They wished to see the
hangman do his duty properly--if he did so, they had no particular desire
to take part in the work. Burke looked round somewhat defiantly, and then
quietly kneeled down by the side of one of the priests, and engaged in
devotional exercises for a few minutes; after which the Rev. Mr. Marshall
offered up a short prayer. This solemn ceremony, however, found small
favour with the spectators--they wished to see the culprit, and the
kneeling kept him out of their view, so they cried out to the persons on
the scaffold, "Stand out of the way," "Turn him round;" and though the
magistrates intimated by signs as well as they could the nature of the
ceremony that was going on, the clamour still continued, and there were
frequent shouts of "Hare, Hare, bring out Hare! Hang Knox, he's a _noxious
morsel_!" and others of a similar kind. About ten minutes had now gone,
and the crowd was becoming impatient. After he had completed his
devotions, Burke lifted the silk handkerchief upon which he had been
kneeling, and put it in his pocket. He gave a glance up to the gallows,
and then stepped on the drop with a firm step. The executioner proceeded
to adjust the rope round his neck, and his confessor said to him, "Now say
your creed; and when you come to the words, 'Lord Jesus Christ,' give the
signal, and die with his blessed name on your lips." The shouts from the
crowd still continued, and the people, out of their better reason by the
excitement, cried out, "Burke him; give him no rope;" "Do the same for
Hare;" "Weigh them together;" "Wash the blood from the land;" and "You'll
see Daft Jamie in a minute." Williams then tried to loosen Burke's
neckerchief, but he found some difficulty in doing so, and the condemned
man said, "The knot's behind." These were the only words Burke uttered on
the scaffold. The rope was then adjusted, a white cotton night-cap was put
on his head and pulled over his face, and Burke, with an air of firmness,
began the recitation of the creed. When he came to the holy name he gave
the signal, the bolt was drawn, and the greatest murderer of his
time--except, perhaps, his associate Hare--was swinging on the gallows.
The multitude set up a fearful yell, and every time the body of the dying
man gave a convulsive twitch the crowd cheered to the echo. An eye
witness said--"He struggled a good deal, and put out his legs as if to
catch something with his feet; but some of the undertaker's men, who were
beneath the drop, took him by the feet, and sent him spinning round--a
motion which was continued until he was drawn up above the level of the
scaffold." It was now fully a quarter past eight o'clock, and Burke had
been "separated from this world." The body was allowed to hang until five
minutes to nine o'clock, when the executioner cut it down amid the
gloating yells of the people. They made a rush forward to the scaffold as
if to lay hold of the corpse of the murderer, but they were kept back by
the strong force of policemen who lined the barriers. The assistants at
the scaffold, too, seemed to be affected by the general frenzy, and a
scramble took place among them for portions of the rope, or shavings from
the coffin, or any thing that would serve as a relic of the closing scene
of the West Port murders--the great Burke and Hare tragedies. The body was
conveyed to the lock-up, and the large crowd dispersed, without a single
mishap having occurred, though the people still laboured under intense
excitement, which even an accident might divert in a dangerous direction.