The regular, relatively substantial income was spent
on clothes for the Burkes and the Hares that were grander than those normally
seen in West Port, so that the neighbours began to comment but, as yet, no one
suspected the true cause of their affluence. It was also spent freely on drink,
of which all the parties were inordinately fond, but William Hare was not one
to be crossed when in his cups. Burke got wind of a plot by him to murder
Helen, for the sin of ‘being Scotch’ but the growingly frequent quarrels
reached a head when Burke learned that Hare had sold a body to Knox whilst he
had been away in the country with Helen, and had pocketed all the money
himself.
The ten pounds was usually split with six pounds going to Hare (who
then paid a pound to Mary, for the use of the house), and the remaining four
pounds going to Burke. Accusations flew first and then fists, and the
neighbours, not privy to the cause of the fight, gathered to watch the two
Irishmen going at it like Kilkenny cats.
 |
| An Edinburgh Wynd |
After the fight, which it seems Burke
won, the Burkes moved into a nearby house owned by John Broggan, whose wife was
Burke’s cousin. They lodged there at first, but afterwards took over the
premises and rented out the rooms to other lodgers. The quarrel did not,
however, interrupt business and in autumn 1828, Ann McDougal, a
cousin of Helen McDougal’s came on a visit from Falkirk.
After a
couple of days of coming and going, cousin Ann was given a dram. Pretty soon,
Hare was smothering her, with Burke lying on top to stop her arms and legs from
thrashing about, and her body was stripped and put into a trunk supplied by
Knox’s porter, Paterson. John Broggan saw the trunk standing on the landing and
began to ask awkward questions about it, but he was given thirty shillings in hush
money and a couple of drinks and then went off to Glasgow to think about
things. Ann’s relatives began to ask questions too, but Helen deflected their
attention and things were left to lie.
 |
| From The Ballad of Daft Jamie |
Burke and Hare’s next victim was,
perhaps, their most controversial. James Wilson was universally know as Daft
Jamie, and loved as a harmless local character. He was one of those touched
individuals without a jot of harm in them, who attract the sympathy and
affection of all they meet. Daft Jamie Wilson’s father, an Edinburgh hawker of
general goods, had died when the boy was about twelve, and now, at about
eighteen, he was left to wander the streets, where the general charity of the
people provided him with meals and a few odd pennies to spend. He was well
known to the citizens of Auld Reekie and liked to spend his time in the company
of university students, whom he would try to trick with his riddles, and was
famous for his snuffbox, which had a matching spoon and seven openings, a large
central one ‘for Sundays’ and six surrounding ones for the remainder of
the week, and which he was proud to offer round.
 |
| Daft Jamie Wilson |
Wandering about as was his
wont, he came one day in the late September or early October of 1828 to the
Grassmarket, asking if any there knew where he might find his estranged mother.
Mrs Hare was in the Grassmarket too and told the poor lad his mother was at her
home, over at Tanner’s Court, and if he wished, she would take him to her
directly. So, innocent, simple-minded Jamie went along with her and found not
his mother but William Hare waiting for him. Out, of course, came the bottle
but Jamie was not so daft as to suspect strong drink, for fear of getting
fou’.
Mary went out to find Burke, bringing him and more whisky back home,
where Jamie sat sipping from a cup of scotch. The spirits played quickly on his
addled brain and soon he was lying, worse for drink and most definitely fou’,
on the bed. Burke and Hare watched him for a while and, thinking him asleep,
Burke jumped the lad, whose innate survival instincts roused him and he began
to fight back. He was getting the better of Burke but the strapping teenager
was no match for the murderous duo, so when Hare joined in the battle he was
quickly bested and rapidly smothered.
 |
| Broadsheet ballad - Poor Daft Jamie |
His body was customarily stripped, bundled
into the chest and delivered to Doctor Knox’s rooms, all for another ten quid.
Daft Jamie was certainly too well known to be mistaken for another, and Knox’s
students would certainly have recognised his sorry corpse but it is telling
that Knox’s first class involved the dissection of the subject’s facial
muscles, thus rendering it unrecognisable. Jamie Wilson’s disappearance did not
go unnoticed, questions began to be asked at long last, rumours started to
circulate and fear came to the streets of Edinburgh.
But suspicion lay at the
door of the doctors, and the plain people of Scotland knew nothing, yet, about
their suppliers.
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