when the wretch would have been liberated, in consequence of the
judgment of the High Court of Justiciary, on his bill of advocation,
suspension, and liberation, a detainer was lodged against him at the
instance of the mother and sister of Daft Jamie, proceeding upon a
petition setting forth that the petitioners had a claim of assythment
against Hare on account of the murder of their near relative; that the
sum of five hundred pounds, or such other sum as might be modified,
was due to them by Hare on that head, and that, as the said William
Hare, a foreigner, was _in meditatione fugae_, and about to withdraw
himself forth of the kingdom with a view to disappoint their just
claim; wherefore a warrant was prayed for to take him into custody, to
bring him before the Sheriff for examination, and to take him bound
in caution _judicio sisti et judicatum solvi_. The petitioners having
taken the usual oath, Hare was consequently detained, and eight o’clock
the same evening was fixed for his examination. Accordingly, a little
after the hour appointed he was brought into an apartment of the jail
for examination, and a number of interrogatories were put to him; but
he preserved an obstinate silence in regard to all of them, except the
first, we believe, which related in some way to the murder of Jamie,
and in reference to which he growled out that he would say no more
about it. Several witnesses to whom he had communicated his intention,
after getting out of jail, to quit this country and return to Ireland,
were then called and examined. Among these was a prisoner of the name
of Lindsay, a brisk fellow, with a black scratch wig on the top of his
head, who proved distinctly that Hare meant to leave Scotland and
withdraw to some part of Ireland; and having finished his deposition,
volunteered his unqualified testimony in favour not only of Hare but
also of Burke. This fellow, whose misfortune as well as fault it is
to be alimented and housed at the public expense, and who is not yet
a man of _tried_ character, although it will soon, we understand, be
put to the test, observed that he knew both Burke and Hare well; that
in particular he had slept for a considerable time with the former
before his trial; and that he was decidedly of opinion they were _the
best Irishmen he ever knew_: from which we would charitably infer
that his acquaintance has been rather limited and somewhat select.
Several turnkeys gave evidence to the same effect with this _youth_
as to the expressed intentions of Hare; and ultimately the Sheriff
granted warrant for the incarceration of the latter, until he should
give caution _judicio sisti_. When Hare discovered the turn things
were taking, he recovered the use of his speech, and said twice or
three times, “Ye’re no giving me justice; I’m sure, gentlemen, ye’re
no giving me justice.” Observing him getting the better of the caution
he had previously observed, several questions were put to him, without
however eliciting any satisfactory answers. “What would you do if you
were to get out of jail?” “I do not know; I must do something; I have
no money.” “Do you consider yourself in danger from the mob?” He gave
no audible answer to this question, though he seemed to be muttering
something. “Would you consider yourself safe in Edinburgh?” “No, I
would not consider myself safe in Edinburgh.” “Would you consider
yourself safe in any other part of this country?” “My mind and heart
tell me that I ought to be safe?” This answer excited some surprise,
for had it been competent to prove any thing except his expressed
intentions to quit the country upon his liberation, witnesses might
have been easily produced to whom he had admitted the murder, from
all prosecution for which he is now for ever free. The appearance of
Hare upon this occasion was more than usually hideous and forbidding.
The “squalid wretch” of the witness-box will not soon be forgotten
by those who happened to see him there; but on Monday night he was
incomparably more gruesome and growlish; for in order to facilitate the
operations of some Phrenologists, who had just finished taking a cast
of his head, his hair had been mown down to the very sconce, with the
exception of a fringe bordering the scalp all round, thus blending in
his appearance the ludicrous with the horrid in a way and manner that
defies all description. His behaviour, however, was rather dogged and
cautious than impudent or forward. When he first entered the apartment,
he seemed very much at his ease; but when he came to understand,
after repeated explanations, the object of the proceedings, he grew
exceedingly restless and fidgetty, neither his “mind or heart telling
him” that farther imprisonment was likely to prove either convenient or
salutary. Upon the whole, however, he is certainly one of the coolest
and most collected villains that ever lived; and we are convinced that
the only consideration which gave him a moment’s uneasiness is an
accidental vision of the gallows flitting across his imagination. To
this favour, indeed, we have little doubt that he will ultimately come.
* * * * *
The following admirable description from the graphic pen of John
M‘Diarmid, Esq. editor of the Dumfries and Galloway Courier, a
gentleman to whom literature is much indebted, furnishes every
particular that can be required of Hare’s proceedings after his
liberation from the Calton-hill Jail.
We were roused from our bed on the morning of Friday the 6th of
February, by a messenger who stated that the miscreant Hare had arrived
in Dumfries. At first we could hardly credit the intelligence, after
what we had seen stated in the Edinburgh papers; but on repairing to
the coach office at the King’s Arms Inn, a little after eight o’clock,
we discovered that the news was too true. By this time a considerable
crowd had collected, and every moment added to its density. On being
admitted to the hateful presence of the man, we found him, as was
natural, exceedingly reserved on certain points, but sufficiently
communicative regarding others--particularly the means employed, as
he alleged, by certain authorities, to facilitate his escape to his
native country. At a little past eight on Thursday night, while a very
different impression prevailed in Edinburgh, he was released from
his cell in the Calton-hill Jail, and after being muffled in an old
camlet cloak, walked in company with the head Turnkey, as far as the
Post-Office on Waterloo Bridge, without meeting with the slightest
molestation. At this point his companion called a coach, and conveyed
him to Newington, where the two waited till the mail came up. The
guard’s edition of the story varies thus far--that he took up an
unknown passenger in Nicolson Street, and was ordered to blow the horn
there. But the difference is immaterial, and might easily arise from
Hare’s state of mind, and ignorance of the ever shifting localities
of Edinburgh. Be this as it may, he got safely seated on the top of
the mail, without challenge, and without suspicion. In the way-bill
he figured as a Mr. Black,--not an inappropriate name--and the tall
man who came to see him off, exclaimed, when the guard said “all’s
right,”--“good bye Mr. Black, and I wish you well home!” At Noblehouse,
the second stage on the Edinburgh road, twenty minutes are allowed for
supper, and when the inside passengers alighted and went into the Inn,
Hare was infatuated enough to follow their example. At first, however,
he sat down near the door, behind backs, with his hat on, and his cloak
closely muffled about him. But this backwardness was ascribed to his
modesty, and one of the passengers, by way of encouraging him, asked if
he was not perishing with cold. Hare replied in the affirmative, and
then moving forward, took off his hat and commenced toasting his paws
at the fire--a piece of indiscretion that can only be accounted for by
his imbecility of character. And little indeed was the wretch aware
that Mr. Sandford, advocate, one of the counsel employed against him
in the prosecution at the instance of Daft Jamie’s relations, was then
standing almost at his elbow. A single glance served all the purposes
of the fullest recognition, and as Hare naively enough remarked, “he
shook his head at me,”--we suppose it was a shake after the fashion
of the ghost in Macbeth, and that the wretch was so well aware of its
significancy, that he felt his blood freezing in its course, and that
his hair, if the phrenologists had left any remaining, would have
bristled “like quills upon the fretted porcupine.” When the guard blew
his horn, the associate of Burke managed to be first at the coach door,
and as there happened to be one vacant seat, was allowed to go inside.
But Mr. S. on coming forward, immediately discovered what had taken
place, and although something was said about the coldness of the night,
determinedly exclaimed, “take that fellow out.” Again, therefore, he
was transferred to the top, and then Mr. S. to explain perhaps his
seeming harshness, revealed to his fellow travellers--(two of our own
townsmen)--a secret which we devoutly wish he had kept. News, whether
good or bad, partake of the diffusive nature of light, and at Beattock,
the guard, and even the driver, became as learned as others, though not
half so close. Still as the hour was early, the night dark, and the
inmates asleep, no disturbance of any kind occurred until the tocsin
was sounded in this town. Each of our townsmen had a servant in waiting
to receive his luggage, and the moment Jack and Bill, Tom or Peter,
received a hint, the news flew like wild-fire in every direction. We
have already spoken of the crowd that had assembled shortly after
eight o’clock, and by ten it had become perfectly overwhelming. Nearly
the whole of the High Street was one continued mass of people, so
closely wedged, that you might have almost walked over their heads,
while Buccleuch Street was much in the same state; and to express
much in few words, the one, as far as numbers went, reminded us of a
great fair when the country empties itself of its population, and the
other of what takes place at an execution. The numbers of the people
are variously estimated, but the best judges are of opinion that
they could not be under 8,000. As it was known that Hare was bound
to Portpatrick, the mob every where evinced the greatest anxiety to
see him pass and pay their respects to him in their _own way_. But in
the interim of more than four hours, that elapses between the arrival
of the Edinburgh, and departure of the Galloway or Portpatrick mail,
hundreds if not thousands were admitted to see him; and if poll-tax
had been levied during the day, from the multitudinous visitors to the
wild beast, a large fund might have been raised for the purposes of
charity, though we question whether the poorest person in town would
have pocketed a farthing so ignominiously come by. The Edinburgh mail
arrived about twenty minutes before seven, and as the crowd were soon
on the _qui vive_, it became necessary to secrete Hare in the tap-room
attached to the King’s Arms. Here, from the first, he was surrounded
by a knot of drivers and other persons, and as ale was handed to
him, he commenced clattering to all and sundry, and drinking absurd
toasts--such as, “bad luck to bad fortune.” At this time he appeared
to be the worse of liquor; and when interrogated as to his personal
identity, he replied that he was indeed the man, and that “there was
no use of denying it now;” but all questions regarding his crimes he
evaded, by stating that “he had said enough before”--“had done his duty
in Edinburgh,” &c. &c. To have pressed him on such points would have
been the height of folly, for even if he had been disposed to speak
out, no reliance could have been placed in his statements; and just as
ill-timed, in our opinion, were the threatenings addressed, and the
reproaches showered upon him by a variety of persons. Betwixt nine and
ten o’clock an intelligent gentleman visited Hare, and shortly after
he was taken into a closet off the tap-room, and left in the presence
of three individuals. After various questions, touching chiefly his
early history, in the course of which he stated that he had almost no
money, and had tasted no food from the time he had left the prison, the
gentleman alluded to gave him a sovereign, and this piece of kindness
seemed to surprise him so much that he actually burst into tears,
though his bearing had been sufficiently unflinching before. When this
visitor retired, those without forced the door, and crowded the closet
to suffocation. In an instant Hare was nosed, and squeezed into the
smallest possible corner, and strongly reminded us of a hunted fox
when he stops short, turns round, shows his teeth, though unable to
fly, and vainly attempts to keep the jowlers at bay. In the absence of
the police, his situation was far from being free from danger; and
amidst a dreadful torrent of other imprecations “Burke him! Burke him!”
resounded so loudly, that we actually believed he would be murdered on
the spot. One old woman--the only one in the crowd--was particularly
emphatic and ferocious in her gestures, and seemed anxious to get
forward to strike “the villain” with the butt-end of a dirty ragged
umbrella. But she could not make her way through the crowd; and lucky
it was for the object of her abhorrence; for mischief, like fire, needs
only a beginning, and if but one individual had set an example of
violence, we believe it would have been very generally followed. When
the police arrived, the room was cleared, and Hare re-conveyed to the
tap-room, where crowds continued to visit him, almost up to the hour,
(eleven o’clock) when the Galloway mail was expected to start. With
a view to this, the inn yard was cleared not without difficulty, the
horses put to, and the coach brought out; but the mob, who, Argus-like,
and with far more than _his_ eyes, anxiously watched every opportunity,
had previously taken their plans almost by instinct, and their aspect
appeared so truly threatening, that it was impossible to drive the mail
along the High Street, if Hare was either out or inside, with safety
to any person connected with it. In these circumstances, and while two
passengers were sent forward a few miles in gigs, the coach started
perfectly empty, if we except the guard and driver, and one of Bailie
Fraser’s sons, who seemed anxious to protect his father’s property.
The crowd opened and recoiled so far, and the tremendous rush--the
appalling waves on waves of people--far exceeded in magnitude and
intensity, any thing we ever witnessed in Dumfries before. When near
the post-office, the coach was surrounded, the doors opened, and the
interior exposed; and though this proceeding served to allay suspicion,
the cry soon resounded far and wide that the miscreant, who was known
to be a small man, had managed to squeeze himself into the boot. We
have said that the mob had concocted a plan, and from all we can learn,
their resolution was, to stop the mail at the middle of the bridge,
and precipitate Hare over its goodly parapet into the river. Failing
this, they had fully determined to way-lay the coach at Cassylands
toll-bar, and subject him to some other species of punishment; and in
proof of this, we need only state, that they had forcibly barricaded
the gates. But when it became obvious that Hare was neither in nor on
the mail, the guard and driver were allowed to proceed; and we here
mention, that Mr. Fraser, jun. while returning home on foot, was hooted
and threatened, merely from having been upon the top of the mail. Even
those who interfered in his behalf, were exposed to a shower of mud,
and ourselves among others, was so honoured for daring to take the part
of an unoffending citizen. But that is a matter of no moment, otherwise
we could tell a number of similar tales. Hare, as we have said, was
not allowed to go by the mail, and when that fact became generally
known, group after group continued to visit the monster’s den, though
policemen with their staves guarded the mouth of the King’s Arms Entry,
kept the mob at bay, and only admitted whom they pleased. By these
successive visitors, he was forced to sit or stand in all positions,
and cool, and insensate, and apathetic as he seems, he was occasionally
almost frightened out of his wits. Abuse of every kind was plentifully
heaped on him, as the only fitting incense that could meet his ear; and
one woman, it is said, seized him by the collar, and nearly strangled
him; while a sturdy ostler who happened to be present, though perhaps
not at the same moment, addressed him in these emphatic words--“Whaur
are ye gaun, or whaur can ye gang to?--Hell’s ower good for the like
o’ you--the very deevils, for fear o’ mischief, wadna daur to let ye
in; and as for heeven that’s entirely out o’ the question.” Another man
told him that he should never rise off his knees, and many that “he
should hang himsel’ on the first tree he cam’ to.” On one occasion he
was menaced by a mere boy, while others urged him on and took his part,
and at this time he became so much irritated that he told them “to come
on and give him fair play.” A second time when pressed beyond what he
could bear, he took up his bundle and walked to the door, determined,
as he said, to let the mob “tak’ their will o’ him.” In this effort,
he was checked by a medical man; but it would be endless to repeat all
that occurred while Hare remained a prisoner in the tap-room.