with a great turn for raillery and jocularity, and what from his after
proceedings could scarcely have been supposed, was distinguished not
only as a man of peculiarly quiet and inoffensive manners, but even as
evincing a great degree of humanity. Of this _softness of heart_,
a singular instance is given by an acquaintance and near neighbour,
whose child Burke was remarkably fond of, and used to caress much. The
little boy chanced, during the time he lodged in the neighbourhood, to
be afflicted with a tumour and gathering on the neck, and his mother
took him to a neighbouring dispensary. The medical attendants there
considered it advisable to open the gathering, which was done. Upon the
mother’s return home with the child, she informed Burke of what had
taken place; he appeared very much affected at the recital, and said
repeatedly that he could not have witnessed the operation; that the
mention of it made his flesh creep, and expressed great surprise that
the mother could be so cruel as to permit and witness it.
At an after period, in Peebles, he still made considerable pretensions
to religion, as the subjoined note testifies.[3] It is from an
intelligent correspondent of the Saturday Evening Post, who mentions,
“On my first visit to his house, he had one or two religious books
lying near him, which he said he read; being at that time confined by
a sore leg.” Somewhat inconsistent with this pretended sanctity, is
the other part of the intelligence, that, “on Saturday nights, and the
Sabbath days, his house was the scene of riot and drunkenness with
the lowest of his countrymen.” In his confessions, published in the
Caledonian Mercury, the following testimony, borne by himself, as to
his religious feelings, appears:
“He states, that while in Ireland, his mind was under the influence
of religious impressions, and that he was accustomed to read his
catechism, and his prayer-book, and to attend to his duties.”
All his pretensions, however, seem to have had but little influence
on his life and conversation, as he was all the time living in the
flagrant violation of the plainest dictates of religion, a drunkard,
blasphemer, and adulterer.
Burke originally worked as a labourer about his native place, assisting
his father, and living in his house, until he attained the age of
eighteen, when he left him. He then went as servant to a gentleman
in the neighbourhood, but after being one year in this capacity, the
gentleman died, when he was obliged to seek other employment.
At the age of nineteen, he entered the Donegal militia as a substitute,
and served in it as a private soldier for seven years. In this
regiment, his brother Constantine held the rank of a non-commissioned
officer. During the greater part of his service, he acted in the
capacity of an officer’s servant; and from the propriety with which he
acquitted himself, gained considerable respect.
It was at this period that he became acquainted with a young woman, of
a respectable character, in Ballina, county of Mayo, to whom, after
some time, he was regularly married. By her, he had seven children,
of whom some were still-born. All of them, excepting one boy, are now
dead. His wife still survives, and resides with her father in Ireland.
It is probable, that notwithstanding her good character, the connection
was not a very comfortable one for her. He proved unfaithful to
her; and this is a vice which must have marred their domestic
happiness. Indeed, even at his best time, he appears to have displayed
considerable laxity in his intercourse with women.
At the general peace, his regiment was disbanded, along with the rest
of the militia forces. He then went with his family to reside in the
county Mayo, in the neighbourhood of his father-in-law. He was also in
the same class as Burke’s parents, and possessed a small farm, which,
in conformity with the custom in Ireland, he was willing to parcel out
to his family and connections. The system pursued in that country, of
the lessee or tacksman, of what originally is, perhaps, a very small
farm, sub-leasing miserable portions of it to an indefinite number of
retainers, is now so universally understood, that it is unnecessary
here to explain it. In a country swarming with an unemployed
population, and when so many additional claimants for the most wretched
patch of potatoe ground, had been superadded by the reduction of the
army, to the already redundant population, it must have been no slight
good fortune in Burke, to find a father-in-law whose farm could still
afford sustenance for another family. He does not seem, however,
to have been contented with the permission that was allowed him to
cultivate, from year to year, for his own behoof, the share that was
allotted to his use, and insisted upon having a lease granted him. This
the old man peremptorily refused, on the allegation, that his object,
after obtaining the lease, was to sell it and desert his family. This
difference led to squabbling between them; and after it had continued
for some time, Burke finding that there was no probability of gaining
his point, abandoned the project, and deserted his wife and family.
After taking leave of his parents, he came to Scotland in 1817 or 1818.
He then engaged as a labourer, on the cutting of the Union Canal, soon
after its commencement; and subsequently wrote to his wife in Ireland,
but she would not receive the letter. After some time it was returned
to him, and with this, all intercourse with his family ceased, never to
be renewed. He has ever since, however, spoken in respectful terms of
his wife, and several times expressed an intention, when he could get
matters arranged, of returning to her; but motives are seldom wanting,
for a continued indulgence in a favourite sin, and want of clothes,
to make a respectable appearance, when he joined her, or some other
frivolous pretence, constantly diverted him from his purpose.
While employed upon the Union Canal, he accidentally met the woman
M‘Dougal at the village of Middiston in Stirlingshire, where she was
residing with her father after the death of her husband. The story told
of his falling in with her on the streets of Glasgow is incorrect. An
intimacy was speedily formed, and about a year from the commencement
of their correspondence, they agreed to live as man and wife, and have
done so ever since.
A similarity of disposition seems to have produced a corresponding
affection, and the sympathy that attracted them to each other
appears still to have outlived all their quarrels and the ill usage
he subjected her to. They have expressed great attachment to each
other since his conviction. It is understood that an account of his
connection with M‘Dougal, while his wife was still alive, having
been made to the priest of his religion, he was first admonished,
and recommended to return to her, and upon his refusal to do so, was
excommunicated. This may perhaps in some measure explain his not
attending chapel while his religious fits were upon him.
He, after the completion of the canal, came, along with M‘Dougal, to
reside in Edinburgh, and engaged in the petty trafficking in various
sorts of merchandise practised by many of his countrymen, travelling
about the country in prosecution of his trade. He dealt in different
sorts of pedlary wares, old clothes, &c. and collected skins, human
hair, &c. in the country.
During the work on the canal, he had been noted among the other
labourers as of a particularly handy active turn, and skilful in
cobbling, in a rude way, his own and the shoes of his acquaintances.
After his subsequent settlement in Edinburgh, he turned his talent to
some account; and though he never had learned the craft and mystery of
shoemaking, contrived to gain from fifteen to twenty shillings a week
by his new acquirement. His practice was to purchase quantities of old
shoes, and, after cobbling them in the best fashion he could, to send
M‘Dougal to hawk them about among the colliers and poor people of her
native district.
At this time he lodged in the house of an Irishman named Michael, or
more commonly Mikey Culzean, in the West Port, who kept a lodging-house
for beggars and vagrants, similar to the one which Hare’s crime has
made so familiar to the public,--in the language of the classes who
frequent them,--a _beggars’ Hotel_.
Many will probably recollect of a fire happening in one of these abodes
of wretchedness about six years ago, when incredible numbers emerged
from the miserable hovels. In this conflagration Mikey’s dwelling
suffered, and Burke and M‘Dougal escaped from the flames nearly naked,
and with the loss of all the little property they possessed. Some
charitable individuals contributed to procure clothes and necessaries
for the sufferers, and they received some relief by the hands of the
Rev. Dr. Dickson, one of the ministers of the parish. By this disaster
he lost his library; and though it is somewhat surprising to hear
at all of a collection of books under such circumstances, it is not
the less so when the names of some of the works are mentioned. Among
them were, Ambrose’s Looking unto Jesus, Boston’s Human Nature in its
Fourfold State, the Pilgrim’s Progress, and Booth’s Reign of Grace. His
landlord afterwards took a room in Brown’s Close, Grassmarket, where
Burke also again went as a lodger.
It was at this time that he attended the religious meeting we have
previously mentioned, which was held in the next apartment to the one
in which he lodged. During his attendance he was always perfectly
decorous in his deportment, and when engaged in worship had an air of
great seriousness and devotion. The conductor and frequenters of it had
formerly been subjected to much obloquy, and even violence, from the
Catholics who abounded in that neighbourhood; and one evening, after
Burke’s attendance on it, his landlord, Mikey Culzean, attempted to
create annoyance, by breaking through some sheets of paper which were
used to cover up an old window, and crying out in a voice of derision,
“that the performance was just going to begin.” Burke expressed himself
in indignant terms on the occasion, saying, that it was shameful and
unworthy of a man to behave in such a manner.
From the general aversion to the meeting so unequivocally manifested
by the Catholics, and Burke being universally known to belong to that
persuasion, his frequent attendance on it, and reverential behaviour,
excited the more notice. It was usual for him to remain conversing
with the individual in whose house they assembled after the others
had dispersed; and on these occasions the subjects that had occupied
their attention during the service naturally were often talked over.
His conversation was generally such as to show that he had been
attentive to what was passing, and comprehended the topics brought
under his notice. Since his conviction he has adverted frequently to
the subject, and deplored that the meetings had been discontinued,
as even this imperfect form of public worship had a tendency to keep
him from flagrant sin. He has kept in his recollection, and mentioned
after condemnation, an expression which was used in one of the
exhortations--“that there was no standing still in sin.” His career
of guilt, gradually advancing in the commission of crime, until the
violation of every human and Divine law led him to most flagrant
enormities, has awakened him, by bitter experience, to give his
unwilling testimony to the justice of the remark.
During his residence in this neighbourhood, he gave no indications of
any thing that would lead people to anticipate his future enormities.
He was industrious and serviceable, inoffensive and playful in his
manner, and was never observed to drink to excess. He was very fond
of music and singing, in which he excelled, and during his melancholy
moods was most frequently found chanting some favourite plaintive
air. All these qualifications, and his obliging manner, joined to
a particularly jocular quizzical character, with an interminable
fund of low humour and drollery, rendered him a general favourite.
His custom was to take a walk almost daily along the streets with an
acquaintance, and freely to interfere in any thing which occurred to
indulge his humour. Some of these occurrences are still recollected by
his companions in his perambulations, a specimen of which, as every
thing concerning him now seems to possess interest, may be given. In
passing along the Cowgate on one occasion, his musical ear was annoyed
by the continued inharmonious cry of an itinerant vender of salt. Upon
her approaching him still nearer, the annoyance reached its climax by
her drawling out in discordant sounds her reiteration of “_wha’ll buy
saut_;” though flinching under it, he turned and replied with his
usual politeness, “Upon my word I do not know, but if you will ask that
woman standing gaping at the door opposite, she will perhaps be able to
inform you.”
On another occasion, when attacked by a girl of the town in the
High Street, instead of replying directly to her solicitations, to
the astonishment of the unfortunate girl, he commenced a torrent of
abuse, on account of the awkward style in which she had painted her
face, saying that he might have passed over the painting, had it
been properly done; but that it was shameful to come to the street,
bedaubed in such an unskilful manner. Such was the humour with which
he continued his remonstrance, that the rude laugh of the crowd was
effectually directed against the amazed girl, and she was glad, by a
hasty retreat, to save herself from farther ridicule.
Though his conduct was such as has been described, and even to his
paramour, notwithstanding her irregular habits, partook most frequently
of his general character. Yet on several occasions, he subjected her
to ill usage, or sometimes rather, perhaps, returned her violence,
by relentlessly beating her. A fruitful source of quarrels, was his
propensity for the company of loose women, which, when exhibited,
never failed to rouse her jealousy. The most common subject of it, was
a near connection of her own, whose virtue was not of an immaculate
description. She was, however, a great favourite of Burke’s and often
was introduced into the house. In one of these squabbles, a result
was nearly produced, which might have terminated both their lives, in
a somewhat less notorious manner, than his is likely to be, though
more conducive to the public safety, than his after impunity was, and
exhibits the latent savageness of his disposition, notwithstanding the
fair exterior. One evening, Burke, M‘Dougal, and the female already
mentioned, had gone to bed together. In the night, some jealousy had
arisen between them, and a battle was the consequence. So long as
the conflict was maintained on nearly equal terms, Burke contented
himself with witnessing it; but, when the elder virago was likely to
master the young one, he rose out of bed, and interfered in behalf of
his favourite. His interposition speedily turned the scale, and he
inflicted an unmerciful thrashing upon M‘Dougal. The neighbours who
had heard the uproar, but as usual, were backward in interfering, were
now alarmed by the cries of an interesting little girl, a daughter
of M‘Dougal’s by her former husband, who lived with them, and who
entreated them to assist her mother, as William Burke was murdering
her. Upon hastily rising and opening their doors, they found M‘Dougal
extended on the floor of the passage, apparently lifeless, with her
brutal companion standing by, contemplating her. After some time, she
exhibited signs of life, when, again seizing her by the hair, and
uttering a horrid imprecation, he exclaimed, “There is life in her
yet,” and dashed her head violently on the floor. The police watchmen
had by this time, been made aware of the noise, and arrived immediately
after this fresh inhumanity. Upon asking Burke, if the woman was his
wife, he again assumed his usual mild manner, and in an insinuating
tone said, “Yes, gentlemen, she is my wife.”
After living for a year in Brown’s Close, he removed, still as
Culzean’s lodger, to Swan’s Close on the opposite side of the
Grassmarket, where he resided for some time still cobbling and pursuing
the same course of conduct. About this time, his acquaintance with the
individual who has furnished us with some of the above particulars,
suffered an interruption. Burke, although so liberal in his intercourse
with Protestants, had still enough of Catholic feeling, as to take
exceptions to his friend’s attending Orange lodges, and a coolness in
consequence ensued.
After leaving Swan’s Close, he went to Peebles, where he settled for
some years. He was employed there as a labourer, and went daily to
road-making in the neighbourhood of Innerleithen.
Here, although he still maintained some pretensions to religion, we can
trace a gradual deterioration in his character. From the note formerly
given, it will be seen that he was now distinguished for keeping
suspicious hours, and that his house was the resort of profligate
characters, and noted as the scene of drunkenness and rioting,
especially on Saturday nights and Sundays.
From thence he went to Pennicuik, where his conduct and occupation
were much the same, working generally as a labourer, and occasionally
following his self-taught occupation of mending shoes.
After the harvest of 1827, he, still accompanied by M‘Dougal, came
again to reside in Edinburgh, and it was at this time that he first
became acquainted with the monster Hare, who was his tempter to these
unhallowed deeds, and his teacher, as well as seducer. He came to live
in Hare’s house in Tanner’s Close, West Port, which was kept as a
lodging-house by his wife, under the name of her former husband Log.
In this abode of profligacy and vice--the resort of vagabonds of every
description, and the theatre of continued brawling and drunkenness, it
is not surprising that every trace of decent feeling that might still
have lingered about him should speedily be dispelled, and his mind be
properly tutored and prepared for the commencement of the murderous
trade in which he so ruthlessly continued for nearly twelve months.
An intimacy was speedily contracted between Hare and him, and to show
the vile footing on which the two families lived, we may here relate
an anecdote which was communicated by a respectable neighbour of
theirs, who called on Burke with the intention of giving him a job as
a cobbler. He found Hare most brutally beating the woman M‘Dougal, who
was lying on the floor, and Burke unconcernedly sitting at the window.
He asked Burke why he suffered another man to beat his wife? to which
he replied, “She well deserved all she was getting.”
Burke still, however, maintained a more respectable character than any
of his partners; Hare was a rude and ferocious ruffian; his wife was
a meet companion for him; and M‘Dougal was very little behind them
in drunkenness and profanity. He continued, (unlike the other three)
to work a little at his business, in the inner small apartment. The
person who now shows Hare’s house is, along with his other avocations,
a dealer in old shoes, and used to employ him to mend them up for sale.
The stock of boots and shoes which was found in Burke’s house upon
their arrest, and which excited so much speculation, belonged to him.
Previously to his becoming an inmate in Hare’s dwelling, he had been
in the habit of engaging in harvest work, first at Mr. Howden’s, an
extensive farmer in East Lothian, and subsequently with Mr. Edington,
farmer at Carlinden, near Carnwath, where Burke and Hare, with their
two women, wrought last harvest.
Of Burke, it had been observed, that he seemed to be a polite,
obliging, and industrious person. In rainy weather, while the reapers
could not work in the fields, it was usual for him to find out some
useful service, which he performed at the farm-steading; so that he
was seldom, if ever, idle. Whenever it happened that a servant had any
heavy article to lift, he, of all the harvest people assembled in the
kitchen, was the foremost to offer his assistance. On a young woman’s
mentioning that she had never seen Edinburgh, the same courteous Burke
invited her to town, saying, that he would give her a lodging in his
own house, and that he would show her the city; but, fortunately, she
never had an opportunity of availing herself of his kindness. After a
stay of a few days at Carlinden, a letter arrived, which was said to
announce the illness of a child of Hare’s, in Edinburgh; the parents
began to arrange for their returning homeward, when M‘Dougal remarked,
that “if Hare goes, William Burke will go too, for they are like
brothers, and cannot be separated.” Accordingly, all the four went off
together.
While he resided in the West Port, he was remarked to be a very early
riser, frequently appearing on the streets in his working dress, on a
summer morning by three or four o’clock; some who were also on foot
at these early hours, used to observe him, and taunt the shoemakers
of the West Port with the observation that the Irish lad was the most
industrious man among them. It is probable that this activity was for a
very different purpose to what was suspected.
The first dealing in subjects commenced in a manner which few would
be inclined to visit with very great reprehension, and had the pair
throughout confined themselves to similar exploits, they would probably
have been regarded as adroit and ingenious knaves, perhaps more
beneficially employed in furnishing the necessary supply of subjects
in a manner which harmed no one, than from their bad habits they were
likely otherwise to be.
In December 1827, the natural death of a lodger happened in Hare’s
house,--not of a woman, as has been erroneously stated, but of a very
tall and stout man, a pensioner who led a dissipated good-for-nothing
life. His debauched habits sufficiently account for his death, while
yet in the vigour of life, without any suspicion of unfair agency being
aroused.
After his decease, the ordinary observances were gone through, and all
matters fitly prepared for the funeral; a coffin was procured, and the
funeral guests invited, and every thing managed in a decorous manner;
the undertaker came, and while employed in fastening down the lid, was
invited into the other room to recruit his strength by a dram, the
coffin was then uncovered, and the corpse quickly dislodged and made to
change situations with a sack of waste bark which had been previously
procured from a neighbouring tannery. After this, the fastening
proceeded. The coffin was borne out at the appointed time, before the
assembled guests, and with all due solemnity deposited in the Grey
Friars churchyard. The rogues, after the ceremony, proceeded to find
out a purchaser for the body, and so unacquainted were they with the
manner of proceeding, that they did not at first apply to the proper
quarter. Throughout the day, however, they found this out, and at dusk
the subject was conveyed away in the sack which had held the bark, and
was carried on Burke’s back. Their first resting place was at Bristo
Port, where it was set down for a little, when Hare took his share of
the burden. They then took the round-about road of College Street to
Surgeons’ Square. They soon afterwards, however, found out the nearest
way.
After all that has been said, subjects must be procured for scientific
purposes; the necessity of a young man under a course of education
for surgical practice qualifying himself for his future profession by
anatomical dissections, renders them indispensable, while the very
ordinances and regulations of the College of Surgeons, makes dissection
imperative before he can obtain a diploma or license to follow his
profession. Were all subjects procured in this harmless way, where
neither the feelings of private friends were outraged, nor public
decency violated, small fault would be found, though the nature of the
traffic would continue still sufficiently revolting to deter all but
ruthless blackguards from embarking in it.