Lock-up, whither he was conveyed immediately after sentence, and where,
too, M'Dougal, for the sake of safety, was placed till an opportunity was
afforded of sending her away unknown to the mob. As for Hare and his wife,
they behoved to continue as prisoners. No sooner had Burke been removed to
the prison and placed in his separate apartment, than the old devil in him
broke out. "This is a d----d cold place you have brought me till." One of
the men rebuked him, but as yet it was of no use. The spirit of the man
had not been touched, and as yet he lay under the gloomy weight of anger
at having been betrayed, frequently bursting out in maledictions, and
saying that Hare was the more guilty of the two. "He murdered the first
woman," he continued. "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." He then threw himself upon the stone bed,
and lay with clenched hands, occasionally starting, as if the desire to
wreak vengeance upon his betrayer had flashed through his mind, and nerved
his arms to his customary assaults. While in this fit, one of the
officers, not relishing the idea that he wished to excuse himself by
casting even more than his share upon his colleague, made the remark, "I
think I could never wish to see that man forgiven who could murder that
poor, harmless, good-natured idiot, Daft Jamie," whereupon the prostrate
man started, and said, "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 in so far, for I assisted to carry his body to Dr
Knox, and got a share of the money." And how often do we find even the
condemned, and how much more often the still successful criminal,
anointing with the saliva of their own lying tongues their own ears, ay,
even with the whine of self-sympathy!
As the day advanced, the perturbations produced by revenge gradually
subsided, giving place to others more connected with the condition in
which he now found himself, and his state of mind was attempted to be
taken advantage of by the officers, always anxious to get their curiosity
gratified by confessions, which they know, too, will be welcome to their
superiors. But they were successful only so far that he no longer denied
his guilt, even going the length of admitting a general scheme of watching
poor and wretched strangers who were not likely to be inquired after by
friends. Beyond this he would not go, expressing even a determination to
withhold all particulars, unless counselled otherwise by his priest. Even
this shewed that a great change had come over him, and shortly there was
to be a still more undoubted sign, for, after remaining silent and
meditative, he inquired, with an appearance of humility, and even of that
politeness which was said to have formed a feature of his character at a
prior period of his life, whether he would be permitted to offer up a
prayer. And upon the permission having been given, this man who, only a
few hours before, had exhibited the same continued impenetrability of
heart manifested through the long period of his confinement, dropt upon
his knees, imploring forgiveness from Almighty God for the wicked life he
had led, and especially for that great crime for which he was to suffer on
the gibbet; entreating, also, that his wretched partner in guilt might be
brought to a full sense of her guilt--that she might repent and atone, as
far as it was in her power to do so in this world, by a life of quietness,
piety, and honest industry. On rising, he requested the officer to read to
him a part of the Scriptures; chapter after chapter, till they amounted to
six, were listened to, if not greedily accepted, with occasional remarks
of the applicableness of particular passages to his crimes. Withal he had,
as yet, indicated no fear--the first emotion after sentence having been
revenge, and that which followed, humility and resignation, which were to
remain as the prevailing condition of his mind up to the final day.
Meanwhile, the usual anxiety as to the state of the criminal's soul
produced outside that conflict between the Calvinists and the Indifferents
which is so common in Scotland. The one party maintained the possibility
as well as the merits of the new birth, even up to the throwing away of
the handkerchief; the other did not consider it either possible or
probable: and while the one wished for, and waited for, the proof, the
other thought, and with some reason, that so easy a way of getting quit of
the consequences of the murders would not be very favourable to their
non-repetition. All this Burke settled in his own Roman way, by satisfying
himself that, if he wished, he could get to heaven through the ear of his
confessor but there was not much evidence to shew that he entertained any
strong wish on the subject, if he did not suspect that he was not a very
proper person to appear in heaven. We have no wish to be irreverent, but,
setting aside the old question as being inscrutable and insoluble, it is
all but certain that this man never shewed a trace of that anguish of
spirit under the mordacious fangs of remorse which can be accepted as the
only sign of an approach to the saving faith which is in Jesus. The
approvers founded upon a statement he was said to have made, that he would
not accept a pardon if it had been granted. If he had been tempted by an
offer, we would likely have had another tale; nor would he have been to
blame, unless we are to suppose that true conversion brings along with it
a predilection for being hanged, and that, while it prepares a man for
death, it incapacitates him for worthily continuing in life. Independently
of the total want of any signs of the real pathology of repentance, there
are positive proofs that his thoughts were continually recurring to earth.
He thought more of Helen M'Dougal than of a Saviour; and otherwise, we
have even a ludicrous example of his sublunary grovellings. On one
occasion, his mind seemed to one who was sitting by his bed to be occupied
by thoughts of eternity, as he lay silent and meditative. The omen was
propitious, and the pious assistant waited for the sign, which could not
be less than a burst of tears, not one of which he had yet shed, or had
ever been seen to shed. The sign came.
"I think," said he, with a start, "I am entitled, and ought to get that
five pounds from Dr Knox which is still unpaid on the body of the woman
Docherty."
"Why," replied the astonished pietist, "Dr Knox lost by the transaction,
as the body was taken from him."
"That was not my business," said Burke sharply. "I delivered the subject,
and he ought to have kept it."
"But you forget," said the other, "that were the money paid, Hare would
have the right to a half of it."
And then came, after a little meditation, the explanation.
"I have got a tolerable pair of trousers," he continued; "and since I am
to appear before the public, I should like to be _respectable_. I have not
a coat and waistcoat that I can appear in, and if I got the £5 I could buy
them."
But it is to be admitted that while he shewed no real signs of penitence
in a Calvinistic sense,--so different these we suspect, from what are
found in a votary of the confessional,--he evinced none of the dogged
surliness of the hardened sinner, if his general mildness and continued
politeness were not remarkable. Indeed, as we have seen, these
characteristics were always, when he was not intoxicated, the prevailing
features of his demeanour, from which many inferred that he purposely
roused himself by large draughts of whisky to the fury which he found
necessary to the perpetration of his onslaughts. This would seem to
receive confirmation from the statement of a witness, who said that on
these occasions he did not drink out of an ordinary measure, but used a
strong-ale glass, which he would fill almost to the brim. Were this true,
it would be no abatement from the malignity and sternness of the sober
purpose which assuredly he must have entertained, while his external
aspect was still as composed, if not as mild, as it was said to be. As a
consequence of this placability, he gave way alternately to those
solicitations with which he was daily pursued to utter a confession. He
first made one and then another, but while these documents exhibit many
discrepancies, they shew, from their curtness and desultoriness, that they
were the result of a mere carelessness, only brought up to the point by
pestering solicitations. Ten lines are devoted to the whole story of the
murder of a human being, and if it had not been that circumstances came
out on all sides, often from unknown sources, no more would have ever been
known, at least as regards many of the victims, than simply that they
perished. Even for these the gaping mouth of curiosity, and not less the
hopeful heart of piety, was sufficiently thankful, while the hardened
sceptics still refused to see the sign of the new birth.
Nor, as the short days passed to usher in the last morning, for which he
said "he would not greatly weary," was there any other more signal
appearance of a radical change. No doubt he received the visits of
clergymen, not caring much whether of one denomination or another, and
none of them were gratified with more than very ordinary manifestations of
regret. There always haunted him a desire to have Hare brought to trial,
yet he had art enough to place this, not to the account of revenge, but
that of _humanity_. Even Burke became a philanthropist, or, what is often
the same thing, could use the hackneyed words which are the fashionable
tribute paid by vice to virtue. If he was not thus unable to forget the
enormous debt due by his fearful associate, he was, and continued to the
end to be, not less mindful of his paramour. He sent his watch and what
money he possessed to her--"Poor thing, it is all I have to give to her;
it will be of some use to her, and I will not need it." Yet no moisture of
the eyes--the pity was only the bastard offspring of animal love.
Withal, we are frank to admit that even the breaking down of the adamant,
to the extent of confession and regret, in a man like Burke, was a triumph
to religion. There is no natural way of accounting for that phenomenon of
which every man is doomed to feel the experience, that while death asserts
his power over the body, he extorts a contribution from the soul. Turn the
question in any way you please, your final cause is nowhere, unless it be
that the experience of agonised death-beds is the opportunity of virtue--a
poor back-handed way of making people better, and certainly bought at a
terrible expense. But even taking the advantage in this limited form, it
does not exhaust the conditions of the question; for while the dying
sinner is altogether unconscious that his agonies will go forth to the
world and be an example, his mind is in another direction. He looks
forward, and the more keenly, that he cannot look backwards. Where is the
final cause now? Try again, and we suspect you will find it only in
heaven.
Vejove.
We are so apt to take signs for things, and so glibly too do the one pass
into the other, that we find almost all descriptions of individuals
previous to execution very much the same; and so they must needs be, for
fate is the great man-tamer, and man only: the brutes merely feel the
stroke when it falls--man sees it coming, knows its necessity, and
therefore commits himself to resignation. Then, resignation is so grave an
affair that it is often mistaken for genuine seriousness, if not for
religious impression; but even here we have exceptions of men who could be
merry under the gibbet or the axe--strange beings these, and more often of
the virtuous than the vicious; for vice in the clutch is but a sorry
affair. This doomed man, who was represented as having behaved so
decently, could sing and dance the minute before he braced his cruel
sinews to the work of death; and if he had been consistent, he would have
acted Macpherson under the cross-beam; but the Highlander only stole
cattle, while the Irishman immolated human beings, and so we find him
grave and decorous because he was now to be throttled in his turn.
At four o'clock on the morning of Tuesday the 27th,--that previous to the
day of execution,--he was taken off the _gad_ and removed to the Lock-up
in Liberton's Wynd. The reason of the early hour is evident, for the
excitement of the people was such that the authorities were not satisfied
that he would not be claimed by a furious mob, and dealt with as he had
dealt by so many others. Notwithstanding the long period he had been in
jail, there was no great change in his appearance, except a slight
paleness, which, with some weakness of body, was the result of a peculiar
external malady with which he had for a considerable time been
afflicted;[15] nor could the sharpest observation of Captain Rose, who
accompanied him, detect any diminution of that composedness, or, if you
please, insensibility, which had marked his demeanour all along. If there
was a flutter at all, it was when he was presented with his new suit of
black--either the passing feeling of the ominous dress, or satisfaction of
his wish to appear respectable. In the course of the day the Catholic
priests, Messrs Reid and Stewart, as well as the Protestant ministers,
Messrs Marshall and Porteous, paid him a visit, and were rewarded with the
usual amount of earthly regret; but with how much of remorse or faith in
the Redeemer, even they could not tell, immovable as he was, and
apparently unconcerned. Indeed the sole animating feeling was a desire to
have the business over. "Oh, that the hour were come that is to separate
me from the world!" but not a word of faith, and far less of hope. In the
morning, too, when the jailer took off his heavy fetters, and they fell
with a clank upon the floor,--"So may all earthly chains fall from me."
At seven, and after having experienced a sound and unbroken rest for at
least five hours, Burke walked with a steady step into the keeper's room,
followed by the confessor; nor yet was there any appearance of agitation
or dismay. He took his seat in an arm-chair by the side of the fire, and
twice or thrice arrived at that point of distress which is marked by two
or three sighs. Then commenced the Catholic devotions, in which, as he had
done before, he engaged with an appearance of fervour. The Protestant
ministers followed up the Catholic service with some serious exhortations,
in the course of which, Mr Porteous having dwelt on the words, "You must
trust in the mercy of God," the doomed man exhibited symptoms of anguish;
but as for anything like that "awe which is illumined by hope," he seemed
to have a secret feeling that he was too deeply sunk in crime even to
think of the infinite mercy of Heaven. After this portion of the exercises
was gone through, he was on his way to an adjoining apartment when the
executioner met and stood before him. Even this apparition, generally so
fearful to a criminal when he first makes his appearance, did not dismay
him. "I am not ready for you yet," was the brief salutation; and in a
short time after, when he was pinioned, he bore the operation composedly,
and without uttering a word. He was now asked to take a glass of wine, and
having accepted the offer, he bowed to the company, and drank "Farewell to
all present, and the rest of my friends." The magistrates having now gone
out, returned in their robes, with their rods of office, and Burke, before
going forth, expressed his gratitude to the bailies and all the other
officials for the kindness and attention he had received at their hands.
Meanwhile the crowd outside had attained its greatest density. At ten
o'clock on the previous night, the ceremony of setting up the scaffold had
commenced. This has always been a scene in Edinburgh, but now it was a
festival. The din of the workmen, and the clang of the hammers, were
mingled with the shouts of the assembled people to the amount of
thousands. Whenever an important part of the erection was completed in the
light of the torches, up rose the cheer, as if so much had been done
towards the satisfaction of their vengeance. When all was finished, and
the transverse beam looked so ready for its weight, the event was honoured
by three of these cheers so loud and prolonged that they were heard in
Princes Street. Even the services of the workmen, always averse as they
are to gallows-work, were on this occasion, and certainly never before,
volunteered with emulation. By this hour, two in the morning, the closes
and stairs near the spot were blocked up by masses of people, who had
resolved, at the expense of so many hours' watch, to secure a good view.
The inclemency of the weather drove them to any shelter that could be
obtained,--in very few cases homeward,--where the morning broke upon them
in gray dawn, but with the inspiration of hope. In addition to all this
confusion, a constant bustle was kept up by those who, either for favour
or for money,--and high prices were paid for good stances,--had procured
the envied windows. After this a solemn stillness pervaded the whole
scene, broken only by the splashing of the rain, which fell in torrents,
accompanied with gusts of wind which whistled and moaned through the long
closes.
As the morning advanced, the groups were seen hastening to their windows,
and about five, the people generally began to pour in, taking their
stations in front of the gallows, and upwards towards the Castlehill,
while large parties of policemen and patrols successively arrived, to be
posted in a strong line in front of the railing--the space left free being
much larger than ordinary. Nor were the crowd on this occasion in their
ordinary humour of annoying or retarding the constables in the execution
of their duty, which they rather viewed as a common cause. From six to
seven the concourse increased, thronging every avenue to the High Street,
and hurrying in from every quarter, till the whole space, from the Tron to
the Bow, threatened to be too small to hold them. Nor were the masses
entirely composed of the class that usually attend such scenes. There were
included, especially about the windows, not only of the dingy houses of
the Lawnmarket, but also of the County Buildings, great numbers of
well-dressed ladies, imparting a variety, scarcely to have been expected,
to the scene, already otherwise picturesque. After seven, and when the
rain, which had been excessive some hours before, began to cease, the
crowd became rapidly larger still, and at eight, the entire area between
the two points we have mentioned presented the aspect of an immense and
closely-wedged mass of human beings, all still and watchful, never before
seen there, except, perhaps, on the occasion of the King's visit. All
round the scaffold you saw the crowd was composed of men--gradually
outwards giving place to women, many of whom, being pressed by the dense
mass around them, sent forth screams of distress; and where the pressure
got less, chiefly about the circumference, the numbers of that sex were
still considerable--the entire assemblage, as is the case where density is
great, being moved, as it seemed, all throughout by the same impulse,
coming from whatever direction. The numbers at this time were computed at
20,000 or 30,000. But there was one feature of this crowd which was more
extraordinary than its extent or composition. In ordinary cases, at least
in Scotland, there is usually manifested sympathy for the sufferer, or at
least a sedate and solemn manner, as if the occasion were melancholy and
instructive. All this was changed now. There was on every face an
expression of something approaching to joy, as if the heart felt it was to
get quit of a painful feeling of revenge, and that the relief was near. It
is now eight,--St Giles's rolls forth the sounds, and every noise is
stilled.
Precisely at the hour Burke was on his feet, eager to be dead, and the
procession moved. He was supported by the two Catholic priests, more from
the difficulty he experienced in walking with his arms so closely
pinioned, than from any weakness or faltering of step. In the progress
towards and up Liberton's Wynd he shewed even increased coolness and
self-possession, turning from side to side in conversation, and at one
part, where the ground was wet, carefully picking his steps; but at the
head of the entry, where he was to get a view of the crowd, he winced, and
half-closing his eyes, hurried on, as if more eager still to be out of the
roar of that terrible assemblage. Nor was that roar long delayed. Upon
Bailies Crichton and Small issuing from the wynd, the shout was raised in
one long-continued yell, and when Burke himself was seen ascending the
stair, the roar was repeated with double intensity, mixed with articulated
execrations,--"Burke him!" "Choke him!" "No mercy, hangie!" Yet amidst
all, Burke walked with steady step, and stood coolly below the apparatus
of death. If he was much moved at all, it was to cast a look at the crowd
of fierce and desperate defiance, as if he could have felt it in his heart
to repeat upon every one of them his old experiment, and we suspect that
he would have done it if he had had the liberty and the power.
Having taken his station in front of the drop, he kneeled with his back
towards the spectators, his confessor on his right hand, and the other
Catholic clergyman on the left, and repeated a form of prayer dictated by
one of these reverend gentlemen. Mr Marshall, meanwhile, offered up a
supplication on his behalf, the bailies and other officials joining in the
devotions, with the exception of the executioner (Williams) and his
assistant, who stood at the back of the drop. During all this time there
was silence. On rising from his kneeling posture, Burke was observed to
lift a silk handkerchief, on which his knees had rested, and put it into
his pocket. There was now some hesitation in his manner, as if loath to
mount; and one of the persons who assisted him to ascend, having, perhaps
inadvertently, pushed him somewhat roughly to a side, that he might be
placed exactly on the spot, he looked round with a withering scowl. He
then _ran_ up the steps, as if he hurried to death, to get beyond the
reach of these terrible howls. Some further delay took place, from the
circumstance of Williams, who stood behind him, endeavouring to loose his
handkerchief, in which he found some difficulty. "The knot is behind,"
said Burke,--the only words not devotional uttered by him on the scaffold.
When Williams succeeded in removing the neckcloth, he proceeded to fasten
the rope round his neck, pulling it tightly, and, after adjusting and
fixing it, he put upon his head a white cotton night-cap, but without
pulling it over his face. While this was going on, the yells became
fiercer and fiercer, mixed with the ejaculations, "Where's Hare? Hang him,
too." "Don't waste rope on him." "You ----, you will see Daft Jamie in a
minute." The Rev. Mr Reid then advanced, and conversed with him shortly,
but earnestly, and directed him to say the Creed, which he did. As he
muttered the words, his face was pale and livid, but he was still
composed, unflinching, and motionless. The next act was the advance of
Williams to draw the cap over his face. He manifested a repugnance to
this, as if he would brave the yelling crowd even to the last extremity,
and it was with some difficulty this was accomplished. Everything is now
ready. He utters an ejaculation to his Maker, imploring mercy, and throws
away the handkerchief with a jerk of impatience, the bolt is drawn, and
Burke swings in the air amidst the deafening roar of thirty thousand
people.[16] But Burke was not yet dead. He must be dead before that crowd
is satisfied. From the limited length of the fall, there had been no
dislocation; and for five minutes the body hung motionless, except from
the impetus given by the fall, when a convulsive motion of the feet, and a
general heaving, indicated a still lingering vitality. Upon observing
this, the crowd raised another cheer. Twice these motions were renewed,
and twice again rose the shout.