of his premises, and naturally anxious to eject the culprit who had
rendered them so obnoxious. In fact, the whole town was so completely
convulsed, that it was impossible to tell what would happen next, and
in these circumstances, and after due deliberation, on the part of our
magistrates, who had a very onerous duty to perform, an expedient was
hit on and successfully executed, though the chances seemed ten to
one against it. Betwixt two and three o’clock, a chaise and pair were
brought to the door of the King’s Arms Inn, a trunk buckled on, and a
great fuss made; and while these means were employed as a decoy-duck,
another chaise was got ready almost at the bottom of the back entry,
and completely excluded from the view of the mob, if we except a posse
of idle boys. The next step was to direct Hare to clamber or rather
jump out of the window of his prison, and crouch like a cat along the
wall facing the stables, so as to escape observation. This part of his
task was well executed, and the moment he got to the bottom and jumped
into the chaise, the doors were closed and the postilion ordered to
drive like Jehu. And rarely has a better use been made of the whip; and
never perhaps, in the memory of man, did a chaise rattle so furiously
along the streets of Dumfries. To pass Mr. Rankine’s, and round the
corner at Mrs. Richardson’s brewery, was literally the work of a few
moments, and here the turn was taken so sharply, that the chaise ran
for some time on two wheels, and had very nearly been overturned. Had
it really upset, Hare, to a certainty, would have been torn to pieces;
but the driver knew that he was engaged in a very perilous service, and
proceeded onwards at a prodigious pace, lashing right and left all the
while. The mob by this time had become suspicious that a manœuvre of
some kind was in the act of being executed, and as the chaise-driver
had a considerable round to make, they moved in a twinkling, and in
prodigious masses, with the view of intercepting him about the middle
of the Sands. The rush down Bank Street baffles all description, and
can only be compared to the letting out of waters, or rather to the
descent of a mighty cataract. Even from the opposite side of the river,
numbers, when they witnessed the speed of the chaise, immediately
suspected what had taken place, and rushed with such fury across the
Old Bridge, that the driver ran the greatest possible risk of being
outflanked and surrounded on every side; and nothing, in fact, but the
mettle of his steeds, and the willing arm that urged them forward,
saved his passenger from instant death, and himself, perhaps, from
a terrible sousing. At every little interval he was intercepted and
threatened; and though Hare endeavoured to keep up the near pannel,
and also cowered down to be out of harm’s way, three stone were thrown
at, and entered the chaise--one of them heavy enough to have knocked
his brains out. “Stop! stop! let the murderer out!” were shouted by a
hundred voices at once; and while some stood still from inability to
run, others immediately supplied their places, and closed up almost
with the speed of thought, nearly the whole wake of the careering
vehicle. As an impression prevailed that the driver meant to gallop
out the Galloway road, there was a general rush to the western angle
of the New Bridge, and this mistake operated as a diversion in his
favour. Nor were the few moments gained mis-employed. The sharp corner
of Dr. Wood’s laboratory was cleared almost at a single bound, and as
he had then a broad street before him, nothing could well exceed the
fury with which he drove up to the jail door. Mr. Hunter had previously
received his clue, and though a strong chain was placed behind the
door, an opening was left to admit the fugitive; and into this gulph
he leapt, hop-step-and-jump--a thousand times more happy to get into
prison than the majority of criminals are to get out of it! His escape
enraged the mob greatly, and the scene of action must now be shifted
from the King’s Arms Inn to the neighbourhood of the jail. As their
numbers increased, they laid regular siege to this place of safety,
preventing all ingress or egress excepting at considerable personal
risk. From four to eight o’clock nothing but clamour and rioting were
heard; and at night fall they smashed and extinguished the nearest gas
lamps, for reasons that may be easily enough conceived. The ponderous
knocker of a most ponderous door was wrenched from its socket by main
force, and successive showers of stones thrown with such violence
into the court-yard, that the chimney cans of some of the buildings
were broken. For want of a better battering-ram, the same means were
tried to force the entrance to the jail, and the rebound of the stones
was so loud, incessant, and long continued, that the inhabitants
of Buccleuch Street were under the greatest apprehensions for the
safety of their dwellings. Though the militia staff and police exerted
themselves to the utmost, their numbers were inadequate to preserve
proper order; and it was not till near eight o’clock, when a hundred
special constables were sworn in, and appeared armed with batons on
the spot, that the peace of the town was re-assured. Previous to this,
nearly the whole front windows of the court-house were smashed, as well
as a few in an adjoining building, though that, we believe, occurred
by accident. By some, too, it was proposed to pay a similar compliment
to every doctor in town, and by others to provide tar barrels and
peats for the purpose of firing the doors of the jail. Indeed, from
what we have heard, it seems nearly certain that the latter scheme
would have been carried into execution, and that nothing prevented
the jail from being partially burnt and sacked, but the swearing in
of the special constables--a measure that should have been adopted
some hours earlier. In spite of the noise occasioned by the uproar and
ceaseless hum of human voices, Hare was in bed and sound asleep; and
we dare say our authorities were a good deal puzzled what to do with
him, and very heartily banned the cause that had led him to pollute
Dumfries with his hateful presence. During the whole day, business
had been interrupted, if not suspended, and it was feared, if he
remained overnight, that the scenes of Friday would be renewed and
aggravated, by large importations of persons from the country. Still
so long as the streets leading to the jail, and other parts of the
town were in a state of commotion, it seemed next to impossible to get
out of the way, and if the mob had remained firm to their purpose of
keeping vigilant watch and ward, we know not what would have been the
final result. But as the night waxed their resolution cooled, and at
one o’clock on Saturday morning not a single individual was seen in
Buccleuch Street beyond those on official duty. As the opportunity was
too good to be lost, Hare was roused from his troubled slumbers, and
ordered to prepare for his immediate departure. While putting on his
clothes he trembled violently, and inquired eagerly for his cloak and
bundle. But as these articles were not at hand, he was told that he
must go without them, and thank his stars into the bargain that he had
a prospect of escaping with whole bones. As the whole population of
Galloway were in arms, and as the mail had been surrounded and searched
on Friday at Crocketford toll-bar, and probably at every other stage
betwixt Dumfries and Portpatrick, it was in vain to escort him across
the bridge; and in these circumstances he was recommended to take
another route. He at once consented, and after being guided to Hood’s
loaning by two militia-men and a Sheriff’s officer, and fairly put on
the Annan road, he was left to his own reflections and resources. At
three o’clock he was seen by a boy passing Dodbeck, and must have been
beyond the Border by the break of day, though a report was circulated
on Saturday and Sunday, that he had been discovered at Annan and stoned
to death. But this mistake was corrected yesterday by the driver of the
mail, who reported that he saw him at a quarter past five on Saturday
evening, sitting beside two stone-breakers on the public road, within
half a mile of Carlisle. As the coach passed he held down his head, but
the driver recognised him, notwithstanding, as well as a gentleman who
was on the top of the mail. The news soon spread, and as a number of
persons went to see him, he was told he would be murdered if he went
into Carlisle; and although he appeared completely “done up,” he turned
off by the Newcastle road, and doubtless made his bed in the open
fields.
Since writing the above, we have learnt that Hare was seen on Sunday
morning last, at a small village about two miles beyond Carlisle.
During the preceding night, he had slept, as is believed, in an
out-house, and seemed to be moving onwards trusting to circumstances,
and without any fixed purpose, if we except the wretched one of
prolonging, as long as possible, his miserable life. In England he
is certainly much safer than in Scotland, particularly since the
publication of Burke’s confession; but still it is hardly possible,
and certainly not desirable that a wretch such as he is--steeped to
the very chin in blood--should find a permanent resting place for the
sole of his foot in any part of the British dominions. While a late
great fugitive found only foes in the officers of justice, almost
every man is naturally and irresistibly the enemy of Hare; and,
perhaps, since the days of our first parents, there never existed a
human being, of whom it could be said with less justice, “the world
is all before him, where to choose his place of rest.” Like the first
murderer, he bears a mark about him, which even those who run may
read; and seared and ossified as his conscience may be, there is a
worm gnawing at it, that will never die; and we fondly hope, that the
intense moral loathing--the universal execration--the curses deep
as well as loud--excited by crimes, which make humanity turn pale,
will have more effect than a hundred acts of Parliament, in blotting
out similar crimes from our calendar, and restoring Scotland to its
wonted propriety. Still we rejoice that our Magistrates were firm
and enlightened enough to prevent any thing like personal violence
from being offered to the miscreant in this town; a feeling which, if
necessary, we could justify on a thousand and one grounds. It has been
often said that most of the horrors of the French Revolution might be
ascribed to the first deliberate murder which the populace were allowed
and encouraged to perpetrate, and that ever after they appeared to be
as insatiable in their thirst for vengeance, as the lion is that has
once lapped human blood. If Providence, when he interfered specially
in the affairs of the world, left Cain to wander homeless on the face
of the earth, why may not Hare be subjected to the same species of
punishment? and without wishing to refine too far, we may say, as the
Roman said long ago, “every thing must bow to the majesty of the law;
and that from the weightiest circumstance down to the smallest, there
is a medium course--a middle path--beyond which no rectitude can exist.”
HARE’S APPEARANCE, &c.
We believe we speak within bounds, when we say, that scarcely an
individual among the thousands who visited Hare here, could have
identified him from the descriptions given in the Edinburgh papers;
and still less from the caricatures in the shape of wooden blocks or
cuts, which, when daubed over with printer’s ink, were palmed on the
public as excellent likenesses.[6] Close confinement may have made him
thinner, and terror and reflection more subdued; but his features,
of course, remain unaltered; and in place of the _goulishness_,
_squalor_, and _ferocity_, upon which the changes have been
wrung so long, the people in this quarter could only recognise the
contrary characteristics of apathy, vacancy, and mental imbecility.
His eyes are watery, curiously shaped, and have certainly a
peculiarity about them, which seems to hover betwixt leering and
squinting; the forehead is low, as in all murderers; combativeness is
large--destructiveness middling; the nose, mouth, and chin, very vulgar
and common-place; and his countenance, on the whole, though it may
betray more or less of what we may call a sinister dash of expression,
indicates anything but intense ferociousness. The common remark was,
that “he was a poor silly-looking body;” and nothing can better
describe his appearance; for though Hare is certainly no beauty, every
one has seen hundreds of uglier men. He can neither read nor write,
and his mind, in other respects, is just as untutored as an Esquimaux
Indian’s. What is called the moral sense, seems in him to stand below
_zero_; and in this opinion we are borne out by all the medical
gentlemen who had an opportunity of seeing and conversing with him
here. He is five feet six inches high, and weighed, he says, at one
time, 10 stones. When his venerable, and we understand, respectable
mother, visited Edinburgh about a fortnight after he was apprehended,
she stated that he was about twenty-five years of age, and this part
of his personal history he seems only to know on her authority. He is
a native of Armagh, though he refused to tell the particular parish.
His father, who is dead, was a Protestant; his mother is a Catholic;
and though he never cared much about the matter, and either could
not, or would not give the name of the priest he attended, he seems
inclined to prefer his mother’s religion. He has two brothers and two
sisters alive. He came to Scotland ten years ago, and after landing at
Workington, travelled to Newcastle, &c. He worked seven years with Mr.
Dawson, at the canal boats, Edinburgh, and two years with Mr. Johnston,
quarryman. He married more than two years ago, and has two children.
His wife, he says, was lately in Glasgow, and got somebody to write
a letter to the governor of the jail, stating particulars “which are
nobody’s business,” and suggesting an arrangement for meeting her
husband in some part of Ireland. With regard to Burke, his statements
were so loose and contradictory, that we question whether any one heard
him say the same thing twice over. Sometimes he denied, and sometimes
admitted that he had seen his confession; sometimes hinted that the
whole truth was not yet known, and at others that far more had been
said than was true. To one person he averred that he had only witnessed
two murders; and he was only, perhaps, consistent in this, that he
seemed uniformly willing to blacken his associate, and whitewash
himself. Burke’s statement that his female associate had no knowledge
of the murders committed, goes far to damage his whole testimony,
and if both assassins had been confessed and gibbetted, we question
whether the truth could have been got at between them; and though we
think it right to give the above particulars, we would not, for our own
parts, believe a single word that Hare says, where the circumstance
he speaks to is at all material, if unsupported by other evidence. To
one gentleman who pressed him pretty closely, he positively declared
that he believed that even Paterson himself was ignorant of the manner
in which _they_ (meaning, of course, Burke and himself), came by
so many subjects. A great number of persons were certain that they
had seen Hare before, and one or two farmers insisted that he had
worked as a reaper on their lands. But he denied ever having been in
Dumfries-shire or Galloway, and it seems probable that this is the real
truth, otherwise it is very difficult to explain why he did not leave
the mail at Albany Place and proceed to Portpatrick quietly on foot,
before the hue and cry was raised here. To one of the individuals who
saw him out of town, and who strove to open his eyes to the enormity of
his guilt, he remarked, as soon as he could speak from terror, “this
has been a terrible day for me.” “Yes,” said the other, “more terrible
than any day I ever witnessed in Dumfries, and all owing to your own
character.” To this he seemed to assent, and added emphatically, “I see
it now.” Again the other enforced the great duty of repentance, and
found him, for the moment, apparently penitent, though he soon recurred
to his worldly prospects, and said, “it’s of no use going to my own
country--or indeed anywhere.” On this his guide advised him to try and
get to the South, and inlist as a private in some of the regiments
of the East India Company. His answer was, “God knows what I will
do, though I must do something.” And here he went on his way, after
offering to shake hands with the officers, and thanking them for seeing
him out of town.
* * * * *
Hare has not been heard of since the morning of Sunday the 8th Feb. It
is probable that he has found his way to Liverpool, where a passage to
Dublin could be readily procured, or that he has embarked at one of
the Cumberland ports. By this time he may be in Ireland, where he can
hide his guilty head with less fear of detection. We may hope that his
presence will never again pollute our soil.
CONFESSIONS OF WILLIAM BURKE.
That our readers may not be disappointed, we print entire the
confessions of Burke as received by the Sheriff, as well as the more
complete one obtained by the Courant newspaper. The account of his
crimes contained in our memoir was so full and correct, that these
might almost have been spared; but even at the risk of incurring the
charge of repetition, we present whatever possesses interest.
LETTER FROM THE SHERIFF TO THE RIGHT HON. THE
LORD PROVOST.
_Sheriff’s Office, Edinburgh, Feb. 5, 1829._
MY LORD PROVOST,
As it is now fully understood that all proceedings of a criminal nature
against William Hare have terminated, it has appeared to the Lord
Advocate, that the Community have a right to expect a disclosure of the
contents of the Confessions made by William Burke after his conviction.
I have, therefore, been directed to place those Confessions in your
Lordship’s hands, with a view to their being given to the public, at
such time, and in such a manner as you may deem most advisable.
Your Lordship is already aware that the first of these Confessions was
taken by the Sheriff-Substitute, on the 3d day of January last, in
consequence of Burke having intimated a wish to that effect. The second
was taken on the 22d of the same month, a few days before Burke’s
execution; and in order to give it every degree of authenticity, Mr.
Reid, a Roman Catholic Priest, who had been in regular attendance on
Burke, was requested to be present.
It may be satisfactory to your Lordship to know, that in the
information which Hare gave to the Sheriff on the 1st of December last,
(while he imputed to Burke that active part in those deeds, which the
latter now assigns to Hare,) Hare disclosed nearly the same crimes in
point of number, of time, and of the description of persons murdered,
which Burke has thus confessed; and in the few particulars in which
they differed, no collateral evidence could be obtained calculated to
show which of them was in the right.
Your Lordship will not be displeased to learn, that after a very full
and anxious inquiry, now only about to be concluded, no circumstances
have transpired calculated to show that any other persons have lent
themselves to such practices in this city, or its vicinity; and
that there is no reason to believe, that any other crimes have been
committed by Burke and Hare, excepting those contained in the frightful
catalogue to which they have confessed.
In concluding, I need hardly suggest to your Lordship the propriety of
not making those Confessions public, until such time as you are assured
that Hare has been actually liberated from Jail. I have the honour to
be, My Lord, your Lordship’s most obedient humble servant,
AD. DUFF.
_The Right Hon. the Lord Provost, &c. &c._
OFFICIAL CONFESSIONS OF BURKE IN THE JAIL.
Present, Mr. George Tait, Sheriff-Substitute; Mr. Archibald
Scott, Procurator-Fiscal; Mr. Richard J. Moxey, Assistant
Sheriff Clerk.
_Edinburgh, 3d Jan. 1829._
Compeared William Burke, at present under sentence of death in the
gaol of Edinburgh, states, that he never saw Hare till the Hallow-fair
before last, (November 1827,) when he and Helen M‘Dougal met Hare’s
wife, with whom he was previously acquainted, on the street; they
had a dram, and he mentioned he had an intention to go to the west
country to endeavour to get employment as a cobbler, but Hare’s wife
suggested that they had a small room in their house which might suit
him and M‘Dougal, and that he might follow his trade of a cobbler in
Edinburgh,--and he went to Hare’s house, and continued to live there,
and got employment as a cobbler.
An old pensioner, named Donald, lived in the house about Christmas
1827; he was in bad health, and died a short time before his quarter’s
pension was due--that he owed Hare L. 4; and a day or two after the
pensioner’s death, Hare proposed that his body should be sold to the
doctors, and that the declarant should get a share of the price.
Declarant said it would be impossible to do it, because the man would
be coming in with the coffin immediately; but after the body was put
into the coffin, and the lid was nailed down, Hare started the lid
with a chisel, and he and declarant took out the corpse and concealed
it in the bed, and put tanner’s bark from behind the house into the
coffin, and covered it with a sheet, and nailed down the lid of the
coffin, and the coffin was then carried away for interment. That Hare
did not appear to have been concerned in any thing of the kind before,
and seemed to be at a loss how to get the body disposed of, and he and
Hare went in the evening to the yard of the College, and saw a person
like a student there, and the declarant asked him if there were any of
Dr. Monro’s men about, because he did not know there was any other way
of disposing of a dead body--nor did Hare. The young man asked what
they wanted with Dr. Monro, and the declarant told him that he had a
subject to dispose of, and the young man referred him to Dr. Knox, No.
10, Surgeons’ Square, and they went there, and saw young gentlemen whom
he now knows to be Jones, Miller, and Ferguson, and told them that they
had a subject to dispose of, but they did not ask how they had obtained
it; and they told the declarant and Hare to come back when it was dark,
and that they themselves would find a porter to carry it: Declarant
and Hare went home, and put the body into a sack, and carried it to
Surgeons’ Square, and not knowing how to dispose of it, laid it down at
the door of the cellar, and went up to the room where the three young
men saw them, and told them to bring up the body to the room, which
they did, and they took the body out of the sack, and laid it on the
dissecting table: That the shirt was on the body, but the young men
asked no questions as to that, and the declarant and Hare, at their
desire, took off the shirt, and got L.7, 10s. Dr. Knox came in after
the shirt was taken off, and looked at the body, and proposed they
should get L.7, 10s. and authorised Jones to settle with them; and he
asked no questions as to how the body had been obtained. Hare got L.4,
5s., and the declarant got L.3, 5s. Jones, &c. said that they would be
glad to see them again when they had any other body to dispose of.
Early last spring, 1828, a woman from Gilmerton came to Hare’s house as
a nightly lodger, Hare keeping seven beds for lodgers: That she was a
stranger, and she and Hare became merry, and drank together; and next
morning she was very ill in consequence of what she had got, and she
sent for more drink, and she and Hare drank together, and she became
very sick and vomited, and at that time she had not risen from bed, and
Hare then said that they would try and smother her in order to dispose
of her body to the Doctors: That she was lying on her back in the bed,
and quite insensible from drink, and Hare clapped his hand on her mouth
and nose, and the declarant laid himself across her body in order to
prevent her making any disturbance, and she never stirred, and they
took her out of bed and undressed her, and put her into a chest, and
they mentioned to Dr. Knox’s young men that they had another subject,
and Mr. Miller sent a porter to meet them in the evening at the back of
the Castle; and declarant and Hare carried the chest till they met the
porter, and they accompanied the porter with the chest to Dr. Knox’s
class-room, and Dr. Knox came in when they were there; the body was
cold and stiff. Dr. Knox approved of its being so fresh, but did not
ask any questions.
The next was a man named Joseph, a miller, who had been lying badly in
the house: That he got some drink from declarant and Hare, but was not
tipsy; he was very ill, lying in bed, and could not speak sometimes,
and there was a report on that account that there was fever in the
house, which made Hare and his wife uneasy in case it should keep
away lodgers, and they (declarant and Hare) agreed that they should
suffocate him for the same purpose, and the declarant got a small
pillow and laid it across Joseph’s mouth, and Hare lay across the body
to keep down the arms and legs, and he was disposed of in the same
manner, to the same persons, and the body was carried by the porter who
carried the last body.
In May 1828, as he thinks, an old woman came to the house as a lodger,
and she was the worse of drink, and she got more drink of her own
accord, and she became very drunk, and declarant suffocated her; and
Hare was not in the house at the time; and she was disposed of in the
same manner.
Soon afterwards an Englishman lodged there for some nights, and was ill
of the jaundice: that he was in bed very unwell, and Hare and declarant
got above him and held him down, and by holding his mouth suffocated
him, and disposed of him in the same manner.
Shortly afterwards an old woman named Haldane, (but he knows nothing
farther of her) lodged in the house, and she had got some drink at the
time, and got more to intoxicate her, and he and Hare suffocated her,
and disposed of her in the same manner.
Soon afterwards a cinder woman came to the house as a lodger, as he
believes, and she got drink from Hare and the declarant, and became
tipsy, and she was half asleep, and he and Hare suffocated her, and
disposed of her in the same manner.
About midsummer 1828, a woman, with her son, or grandson, about twelve
years of age, and who seemed to be weak in his mind, came to the house
as lodgers; the woman got a dram, and when in bed asleep, he and Hare
suffocated her; and the boy was sitting at the fire in the kitchen,
and he and Hare took hold of him, and carried him into the room and
suffocated him. They were put into a herring barrel the same night,
and carried to Dr. Knox’s rooms.
That, soon afterwards, the declarant brought a woman to the house as a
lodger, and after some days she got drunk, and was disposed of in the
same manner: That declarant and Hare generally tried if lodgers would
drink, and, if they would drink, they were disposed of in that manner.
The declarant then went for a few days to the house of Helen M‘Dougal’s
father, and when he returned, he learned from Hare that he had disposed
of a woman in the declarant’s absence, in the same manner, in his own
house; but the declarant does not know the woman’s name, or any farther
particulars of the case, or whether any other person was present or
knew of it.
That about this time he went to live in Brogan’s house, and a woman,
named Margaret Haldane, daughter of the woman Haldane before mentioned,
and whose sister is married to Clark, a tinsmith in the High Street,
came into the house, but declarant does not remember for what purpose;
and she got drink, and was disposed of in the same manner: That Hare
was not present, and neither Brogan nor his son knew the least thing
about that or any other case of the same kind.
That, in April 1828, he fell in with the girl Paterson and her
companion in Constantine Burke’s house, and they had breakfast
together, and he sent for Hare, and he and Hare disposed of her in
the same manner; and Mr. Ferguson and a tall lad, who seemed to have
known the woman by sight, asked where they had got the body; and the
declarant said he had purchased it from an old woman at the back of
the Canongate. The body was disposed of five or six hours after the
girl was killed, and it was cold but not very stiff, but he does not
recollect of any remarks being made about the body being warm.
One day in September or October 1828, a washer-woman had been washing
in the house for some time, and he and Hare suffocated her, and
disposed of her in the same manner.
Soon afterwards, a woman, named M‘Dougal, who was a distant relation of
Helen M‘Dougal’s first husband, came to Brogan’s house to see M‘Dougal;
and after she had been coming and going to the house for a few days,
she got drunk, and was served in the same way by the declarant and Hare.
That “Daft Jamie” was then disposed of in the manner mentioned in the
indictment, except that Hare was concerned in it. That Hare was lying
alongside of Jamie in the bed, and Hare suddenly turned on him, and
put his hand on his mouth and nose; and Jamie, who had got drink, but
was not drunk, made a terrible resistance; and he and Hare fell from
the bed together, Hare still keeping hold of Jamie’s mouth and nose;
and as they lay on the floor together, declarant lay across Jamie to
prevent him from resisting, and they held him in that state till he was
dead, and he was disposed of in the same manner; and Hare took a brass
snuff-box and a spoon from Jamie’s pocket, and kept the box to himself,
and never gave it to the declarant, but he gave him the spoon.