Chapter XIII: Part 13

He describes Burke to have been a very intelligent man, and one whose conversation would give a great idea of candour and open-heartedness, though his conduct displayed nothing like remorse or contrition. On the contrary, he seemed happy that the Professor’s knowledge of Innerleithen enabled him to talk of the kindness and charity towards him of several individuals there. He talked of them so as to lead the learned gentleman to remark, that “he understood perfectly well what charity was though he did not practise it.” Hare’s behaviour and conversation were perfectly different. He seemed not to possess the slightest moral perception of the enormity of his conduct, and described his guilty compeer as one of the best men in the world, who would part any thing he had in the world with a beggar. His aspect did not belie him; well might Mr. Cockburn describe him as a “squalid wretch;” we scarcely ever saw a more disgusting specimen of human nature, and both in his physical and moral conformation the brute seemed to vie with the man for the ascendency. A continual idiotic though diabolical laugh appeared to be upon his countenance, such as might be imagined to characterize the lowest grade of fiends.

He is a native of Ireland, and was born in the neighbourhood of Londonderry, and after working at country work there he came to Scotland and engaged as a common labourer upon the Union Canal, and for some time assisted in unloading Mr. Dawson’s coal-boats. There he fell in with Log the former husband of his notorious wife, and subsequently came to lodge in his house. After the work at the canal was finished he took up the trade of a travelling huxter, and with an old horse and cart went about the country selling fish, and sometimes crockery-ware, which he gave in exchange for old iron, &c. and sold it again to the dealers in Edinburgh. He used also to go about with a _hurley_ selling articles. Before Log’s death he had left his house in Tanner’s Close, but returned again after this event, and assumed the privileges of the master of the house, although Mrs. Log never was called by his name. He then became a perfect pest to the inhabitants of the West Port, from his debauched dissolute habits and reckless brutality. His conduct would justify the oft-repeated allegation of an Irishman’s addiction to fighting, as he was continually in a brawl. He never failed to pick a quarrel upon any opportunity that offered, and an individual looking at him was sufficient apology for a challenge to the combat. Though a sorry pugilist, he was never tired until fairly disabled; and the many drubbings he received, could not cure him of his pugnacious propensities. If no adversary presented himself out of doors, he was always sure of one within, and his wife and he were perpetually engaged in conflicts. Though almost always intoxicated herself, his drunkenness incited frequent attacks from her. Any of the neighbours would desire a boy “to go and tell _Lucky Log_ that _Willie Hare_ was on the street drunk,” and a fight immediately ensued upon their rencontre.

In our account of the murders, we have already noticed the share that he had in them, as well as his conduct upon the trial and immediately subsequent to it, and it is unnecessary to repeat it here; we will confine ourselves therefore, to some farther notice of his deportment while in jail, and his adventures after liberation. At first, after Burke’s conviction, he imagined that his detention was for the purpose of protecting him, and was very easy and not at all troubled with compunction; but after his confinement was extended to a period far beyond what was necessary for immediate protection, he began to become uneasy, which was increased when inquiries about the murders were renewed. His behaviour indicated most unbecoming levity, as well as imbecility. He apparently was incapable of comprehending any thing of moral rectitude.

On the last Sabbath of Burke’s life, and when his own case was pending in the courts, he is said to have displayed the only symptoms of feeling that he had suffered to escape him. It was during the discourse of the Rev. Mr. Porteous, which, contrary to his usual custom, he listened attentively to, and appeared affected when pointed allusion was made to his compeer.

On the 2d February, and probably within half an hour of the time 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.

During the whole forenoon Mr. Fraser was apprehensive for the safety 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.