in common with those who use the silly cant, that the public mind may
be contaminated by an account of his crime. The public mind has been,
and is strongly excited. Some information the public requires, and will
get, and it surely is better to have a correct and authentic statement
than garbled and exaggerated reports. Were it a detail of the clever
tricks of an ingenious and adroit rogue, there might be some colour
for the above opinion; but no one is likely to be so enraptured with
Burke’s narrative as to engage in such a revolting trade in imitation
of him.
But while their Lordships have been deliberating upon this subject, and
ultimately resolving that he should not be allowed to give an account
to any but themselves, the poor man has been confessing all the time;
and it is well known that several have had access to him, whose mouths
cannot be stopped, and whose pens have not been idle. We are assured
that not one, but several “authentic confessions of Burke” will be made
public; and we have reason to know, that a duly authenticated one will
appear, whether the Lord Advocate’s be published or not. Whatever is
interesting, our readers may rely upon receiving.
For the present, with the exception of the following “confessions”
which first appeared in the Caledonian Mercury, and which, we are
assured, are perfectly authentic, we will leave the unfortunate man
until the last act in the singular drama of his life closes.
CONFESSIONS OF BURKE.
The information from which the following article is drawn up, we have
received from a most respectable quarter, and its perfect correctness
in all respects may be confidently relied on. In truth, it is as nearly
as possible a strict report, rather than the substance, of what passed
at an interview with Burke; in the course of which the unhappy man
appears to have opened his mind without reserve, and to have given a
distinct and explicit answer to every question which was put to him
relative to his connection with the late murders.
After some conversation of a religious nature, in the course of which
Burke stated 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, he was
asked, “How comes it, then, that you who, by your own account, were
once under the influence of religious impressions, ever formed the idea
of such dreadful atrocities, of such cold-blooded, systematic murders,
as you admit you have been engaged in--how came such a conception
to enter your mind?” To this Burke replied, that he did not exactly
know; but that becoming addicted to drink, living in open adultery,
and associating continually with the most abandoned characters, he
gradually became hardened.
He was then asked, how long he had been engaged in this murderous
traffic. To which he answered, “From Christmas 1827 till the murder
of the woman Docherty in October last.” “How many persons have you
murdered, or been concerned in murdering, during that time? Were they
thirty in all?” “Not so many; not so many, I assure you.” “How many?”
He answered the question; but the answer was, for a reason perfectly
satisfactory, not communicated to us, and reserved for a different
quarter.
“Had you any accomplices?” “None but Hare. We always took care, when we
were going to commit a murder, that no one else should be present--that
no one could swear he saw the deed done. The women might suspect what
we were about, but we always put them out of the way when we were going
to do it. They never saw us commit any of the murders. One of the
murders was done in Broggan’s house, while he was out, but before he
returned the thing was finished, and the body put into a box. Broggan
evidently suspected something, for he appeared much agitated, and
entreated us ‘to take away that box,’ which we accordingly did. But he
was not in any way concerned in it.
“You have already told me that you were engaged in these atrocities
from Christmas 1827 till the end of October 1828; were you associated
with Hare during all that time?” “Yes. We began with selling to Dr. ----
the body of a woman[4] who had died a natural death in Hare’s house. We
got ten pounds for it. After this we began the murders, and all the
rest of the bodies we sold to him were murdered.”
“In what place were these murders generally committed?” “They were
mostly committed in Hare’s house, which was very convenient for the
purpose, as it consisted of a room and a kitchen. Daft Jamie was
murdered there. The story told of this murder is incorrect. Hare began
the struggle with him, and they fell and rolled together on the floor;
then I went to Hare’s assistance, and we at length finished him,
though with much difficulty. I committed one murder in the country
by myself.[5] It was in last harvest. All the rest were done in
conjunction with Hare.”
“By what means were these fearful atrocities perpetrated?” “By
suffocation. We made the persons drunk, and then suffocated them by
holding the nostrils and mouth, and getting on the body. Sometimes I
held the mouth and nose, while Hare went upon the body; and sometimes
Hare held the mouth and nose, while I placed myself on the body. Hare
has perjured himself by what he said at the trial about the murder of
Docherty. He did not sit by while I did it, as he says. He was on the
body assisting me with all his might, while I held the nostrils and
mouth with one hand, choked her under the throat with the other. We
sometimes used a pillow, but did not in this case.”
“Now, Burke, answer me this question--Were you tutored and instructed,
or did you receive hints from any one as to the mode of committing
murder?” “No, except from Hare. We often spoke about it, and we agreed
that suffocation was the best way. Hare said so, and I agreed with
him. We generally did it by suffocation.” [Our informant omitted to
interrogate him about the surgical instruments stated to have been
found in his house; but this omission will be supplied.]
“Did you receive any encouragement to commit or persevere in committing
these atrocities?” “Yes; we were frequently told by Paterson that he
would take as many bodies as we could get for him. When we got one, he
always told us to get more. There was commonly another person with him
of the name of Falconer. They generally pressed us to get more bodies
for them.”
“To whom were the bodies so murdered sold?” “To Dr. ----. We took the
bodies to his rooms in ---- ----, and then went to his house to receive
the money for them. Sometimes he paid us himself; sometimes we were
paid by his assistants. No questions were ever asked as to the mode in
which we had come by the bodies. We had nothing to do but to leave a
body at the rooms, and go get the money.”
“Did you ever, upon any occasion, sell a body or bodies to any other
lecturer in this place?” “Never. We knew no other.”
“You have been a resurrectionist (as it is called) I understand?” “No.
Neither Hare nor myself ever got a body from a churchyard. All we sold
were murdered save the first one, which was that of the woman (man)
who died a natural death in Hare’s house. We began with that: our
crimes then commenced. The victims we selected were generally elderly
persons. They could be more easily disposed of than persons in the
vigour of health.”
Such are the disclosures which this wretched man has made, under
circumstances which can scarcely fail to give them weight with the
public. Before a question was put to him concerning the crimes he
had been engaged in, he was solemnly reminded of the duty incumbent
upon him, situated as he is, to banish from his mind every feeling of
animosity towards Hare, on account of the evidence which the latter
gave at the trial; he was told, that, as a dying man, covered with
guilt, and without hope, except in the infinite mercy of Almighty God,
through our blessed Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ, he, who stood
so much in need of forgiveness, must prepare himself to seek it by
forgiving from his heart all who had done him wrong; and he was most
emphatically adjured to speak the truth, and nothing but the truth,
without any attempt either to palliate his own iniquities, or to
implicate Hare more deeply than the facts warranted. Thus admonished,
and thus warned, he answered the several interrogatories in the terms
above stated; declaring, at the same time, upon the word of a dying
man, that every thing he had said was true, and that he had in no
respect exaggerated or extenuated any thing, either from a desire to
exculpate Hare, or to spare any one else. The unhappy man is, moreover,
perfectly penitent, and resigned to his fate. He never deluded himself
with any hopes of escape or of mercy; and he is now accordingly
preparing himself for confession, and for receiving absolution, by a
perusal of such books as his spiritual guides have put into his hands,
and by listening with the most devout attention to their religious
instructions. He fully acknowledges the justice of his sentence; nay,
he considers it in some measure as a blessing, the certainty of his
approaching fate having brought back his mind to a sense of religion,
from which it had been long estranged. At first he expressed deep
regret that Hare, whose guilt he conceives as of a still deeper dye
than his own, should have escaped the vengeance of the law; but by
the exertions of his spiritual monitors, who have been indefatigable
in their efforts to impress him with a strong sense of the dreadful
enormity of his own guilt, as well as to bring him to a right frame and
temper of mind, he no longer gives expression to such feelings, and
now only breathes a wish to die at peace with all mankind. As often as
the subject of the late trial is mentioned, however, he never fails to
assert that Hare perjured himself in the account he gave of the murder
of the woman; repeating the statement we have already given, that, so
far from sitting by, a cool and unconcerned spectator of the crime,
Hare actively assisted in the commission of it, and was upon the body
of the woman co-operating with himself in his efforts to strangle her.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE EXECUTION.
We are now drawing near a termination of the earthly career of the
wretched man who has lately occupied so large a place in the public
mind. At the time that his atrocities were first brought to light, a
deep and general sensation of horror and astonishment was produced.
The fresh disclosure of new crimes which were announced from day to
day, kept alive this feeling, until at last it was wound up to a pitch
of interest which can scarcely be imagined. All classes seemed actuated
by a common feeling of indignation against the ruffians who could
perpetrate such enormities; while the disappointment of the public,
that the vengeance of the law had hitherto overtaken only one of the
murderous gang, was strongly expressed. There was manifested, at the
same time, great satisfaction that one at least of the miscreants had
not also escaped his merited fate; and, as the time appointed for his
execution drew near, an universal interest was exhibited to learn the
progress of the preparations, and the state of mind of the unhappy
man. The magistrates and authorities, however, seem purposely to have
adopted a line of conduct calculated directly to disappoint the very
natural anxiety so unequivocally exhibited; and up to the moment when
he appeared on the scaffold, all knowledge of what was passing was
withheld, and all access to the condemned cell or to the Lock-up-house
denied; while those, whose duty required that they should be brought
in contact with Burke, were repeatedly cautioned against divulging
such intelligence as their situation might enable them to obtain. So
rigidly was this injunction enforced, that one of the turnkeys in the
Calton-hill jail, an individual who was very generally respected in his
station, and who, we believe, heretofore conducted himself with much
propriety, has, notwithstanding his previous character, been dismissed
for revealing some of the secrets of the prison-house.
In despite, however, of all this well-preserved mystery, some
particulars of the last hours of the doomed man have transpired, and
we now are enabled to lay before our readers an account, as complete
as it can be made, of the awful ceremony which terminated his mortal
existence.
REMOVAL TO THE LOCK-UP-HOUSE.
At four o’clock on the morning of Tuesday the 27th, (the day previous
to that appointed for the execution), Burke was taken off the _gad_,
and conveyed in a coach from the Calton-hill Jail to the Lock-up-house
in Libberton’s Wynd. The time was purposely fixed at this unusual
hour to prevent any annoyance from the crowd, which would undoubtedly
have assembled had it been delayed to a later time of the day. From
this cause, the only persons present, and indeed the only individuals
acquainted with it, except the coachman, were Captain Rose and one of
his assistants. The criminal was strongly ironed, and secured with
shackles of unusual magnitude and strength.
He maintained on this trying occasion, both immediately before leaving
the jail, and during the time he was in the coach, the same composure
of mind which he has displayed ever since his conviction.
On reaching the Lock-up-house, he was supported into it in a state of
extreme exhaustion; so much so, as to lead some who witnessed it to
imagine that the gallows might still lose its deserved victim, by his
death taking place before the next morning.
In the course of the last day of his existence, his composure
or insensibility still continued unshaken, excepting when the
dead-clothes, a suit of sables, were presented to him. On receiving
them he exhibited deep emotion, and by his own confession he felt it.
We have mentioned before that his thoughts had been frequently occupied
about the dress he was to appear in. He remained perfectly unmoved,
with the exception of this transient indication, throughout the rest of
the day. In the course of the day, he was visited by the Rev. Messrs.
Reid and Stewart, Catholic priests, and the Rev. Mr. Marshall, whom
he requested to attend him to the scaffold, as well as the Rev. Mr.
Porteous, which he promised to do. He said to those in attendance
that he had committed no more murders than those which were comprised
in the declaration he made to the sheriff since his conviction. For
two or three nights previously, he had enjoyed sound sleep, and it is
extraordinary that such was his state of dogged tranquillity, that his
rest was sound and unbroken, for five hours, from Tuesday night to
Wednesday morning. This, we believe, has however been observed to be
frequently the case with criminals on the evening previous to execution.
At length, he manifested some impatience for the arrival of the time
when he was to leave this world. In the course of the night, he said
with much apparent earnestness, “Oh that the hour were come which
is to separate me from the world!” About half-past five o’clock on
Wednesday morning, he expressed a desire to be relieved from his
chains, complaining much of the weight of them. This desire was readily
complied with. He held out his leg to the smith employed to perform
this service, and when the fetters fell from his limbs, he exclaimed,
turning up his eyes towards Heaven, “So may all earthly chains fall
from me!”
About half-past six o’clock, the two Catholic clergymen (the Rev.
Messrs. Reid and Stewart) entered the Lock-up-house: The former
immediately waited upon the criminal in his cell, and was absent for a
considerable time with him.
At seven Burke walked with a firm step into the keeper’s room, followed
by his confessor; and at this moment no appearance of agitation or
dismay was discernible in his countenance or manner. He took his
seat on an arm chair at the side of the fire, and twice or thrice he
was remarked to sigh heavily. There were present at the time Bailies
Child, Crichton, and Small, and one or two official persons besides;
who were shortly afterwards joined by the Reverend Mr. Marshall and
Mr. Porteous, chaplain to the Calton-hill Jail. Before the latter
gentleman arrived, however, Burke and his spiritual assistants of the
Catholic persuasion had commenced their devotions; he engaged in them
with much apparent fervour. The Reverend Messrs. Reid and Stewart
followed up their prayers with some serious exhortations. In the course
of these devout and pious admonitions, Mr. Reid used the words, “You
must trust in the mercy of God;” upon which the unhappy wretch heaved
a long, deep-drawn suspiration, or rather suppressed groan, which too
plainly betrayed the anguish and despair that lurked about his heart.
He seemed to have a secret feeling that he was too deeply sunk in
crime to be entitled even to hope in the infinite mercy of Heaven: his
mind acknowledged the truth of the observation, while his guilty and
perhaps awakened conscience bade him doubt of that mercy being extended
to him.
What is somewhat singular, he exhibited no emotion on the executioner
making his appearance. After this portion of his religious exercises
had been gone through, he was on his way to an adjoining apartment,
when he was accidently met by Williams, who stopped him rather
officiously; upon which he said, “I am not ready for you yet.” The
executioner followed him, and in a very short time both returned, Burke
with his arms tightly pinioned behind his back, but without any change
in his demeanour. While Williams was discharging this part of his duty,
no conversation took place; indeed he rather appeared disinclined to
hold conversation with any.
He was then invited to take a glass of wine, which he accepted of,
and before putting it to his lips, bowing to the company, he drank
“Farewell to all present, and the rest of his friends.” He then entered
into conversation for a few minutes with Mr. Marshall and Mr. Porteous
upon religious subjects. The Magistrates, Bailies Crichton and Small,
who had previously gone out, now appeared in their robes, with their
rods of office, and Burke took the opportunity, before he went forth
to meet his doom, of expressing his gratitude to the Magistrates
generally, and particularly to Bailie Small, for the kindness he had
experienced from them, as well as from all the public authorities. He
likewise made similar acknowledgments to Mr. Rose, the Governor of
the Calton-hill Jail, Mr. Fisher, the Deputy-Governor, and Mr. and
Mrs. Christie, who have the charge of the Lock-up-house, for their
unremitting and kind attentions.
Precisely at eight o’clock, Burke was upon his feet, as if eager to
have the ceremony proceeded in, and immediately after the melancholy
procession began to move towards the scaffold. He was supported by the
two Catholic priests, more from the difficulty of walking, owing to
the circumstance of his arms being pinioned than from any inability,
or any faltering in his steps. When proceeding up Libberton’s Wynd, he
seemed perfectly cool and self-possessed, turning from side to side,
and conversing with the Rev. Messrs. Reid and Stewart, and the Rev. Mr.
Marshall. In crossing from the Lock-up-house to the postern entrance in
Libberton’s Wynd, to where the pathway was wet from the rain and thaw
of the morning, he was observed picking his steps with the greatest
care. When he arrived at the head of Libberton’s Wynd, his face had
an expression of wistfulness and anxiety, as if he were uneasy and
uncertain of his reception from the mob, and he hurried on with his
eyes half closed, eager apparently to bring the fatal scene to a speedy
close.
OCCURRENCES ON THE STREET.
We will now advert to what was passing in the mean time out of doors.
Here fortunately no individual “dressed in a little brief authority”
could interfere, to prevent all the circumstances from being transacted
under the public eye, or from the press, causing the knowledge of them
to be widely extended far beyond even the countless multitudes who
thronged and blocked up the High Street.
On Tuesday many anxious spectators were collected near the
ordinary place of execution at the head of Libberton’s Wynd, and
the thoroughfare was kept up, notwithstanding the inclemency of the
weather, during the whole day. The preparations commenced at an early
hour in the forenoon. Holes were dug in the pavement for the reception
of the upright posts, and a space surrounding the place which it was
intended the scaffold should occupy, was enclosed with strong posts
and chains, to prevent the crowd breaking in upon the scaffold. At
ten o’clock on Tuesday night, the ceremony of setting up the scaffold
commenced. Its progress was watched by a great many eager beholders,
although the rain still continued at intervals to pelt upon them.
The din of the workmen and clanging of the hammers were mingled with
the shouts which were raised by the assembled populace, whenever an
important piece of the erection was completed, while the torches used,
shedding a lurid glare on the black apparatus and dusky countenances of
the workmen, added greatly to the wildness and interest of the scene.
When all was finished, and the fatal beam placed transversely upon
the perpendicular one, and its dark outline visible through the dim
light, three tremendous cheers were given. To show the feeling of the
working classes, we may mention, that notwithstanding the reluctance
that is invariably exhibited among the operatives of the carpenter
employed to set up the apparatus for an execution is such, that lots
have to be cast for those workmen in the employment who are to fulfil
the disagreeable task. On this occasion, one and all volunteered their
services, and performed the work with a gusto and alacrity which
would have been astonishing in an ordinary case. It was completed
about two o’clock in the morning, and shortly after that hour the
people dispersed, some few having delayed their departure until they
witnessed the fitting and adjusting of the rope. It was afterwards
removed, and replaced shortly before its services were required.
Long before this time the closes and stairs near the spot were blocked
up by those who had resolved upon securing a good view, by remaining
all night on the ground. The inclemency of the weather drove them to
any shelter that could be obtained, and morning found them in the
comfortless lairs they had chosen overnight.
A constant bustle was also kept up by the arrival of those individuals,
who either from favour or for money, had procured the conveniency
of a window in the vicinity. Many gave considerable sums for this
accommodation, and such was their desire to avail themselves of their
good fortune in securing them, that they spent the night in the
apartment.
The streets were nearly perfectly quiet throughout the morning after
the erection of the gibbet; the heavy and almost incessant rain must
have contributed greatly to prevent any very early assemblage. As the
morning advanced, however, groups were seen hastening to their windows,
or taking their station in as favourable a place as they could fix upon
for properly witnessing the approaching event.
About five o’clock the people began again to assemble and take their
station, principally in front of the gallows, and above it towards the
Castle Hill, while large parties of policemen and patrole successively
arrived, and were judiciously posted in a strong line in front of the
railing which kept off the crowd. The space left free was larger than
is usually reserved upon such occasions. The Police acted under the
conduct of Captain Stewart and his Lieutenants. Their services were not
in a solitary instance required except it might be to prevent the great
pressure of the vast multitude from bursting the barrier; indeed the
mob were in perfect good humour, and instead of their usual animosity
against the police officers being displayed, in futile attempts to
annoy or retard them in the execution of their duties, one and all of
the immense assemblage would willingly have done any thing in their
power to aid the officers and further the arrangements.