MURDER OF “DAFT JAMIE.”

The second murder charged in the indictment was that of James Wilson, commonly known by the name of “Daft Jamie;” and the circumstances attending it were even more revolting than those of the women Paterson and Campbell. None of their misdeeds has excited a greater feeling of indignation in the public mind. Jamie was very generally known, and was a universal favourite. His appearance marked the imbecility of his mind, and was such as to make every one regard him with a feeling of tenderness and sympathy. He was perfectly harmless and inoffensive, and possessed apparently great kindliness of heart. To all who had occasion to be on the streets of Edinburgh, whether at an early or late hour, Jamie’s appearance was perfectly familiar—wandering about, in every sort of weather, bare-headed, and without stockings or shoes, and his good-humoured laugh and salutation, by an awkward bow and twitch of the front lock of hair, were readily recognised and replied to. Though roaming almost constantly about in this guise, he was never known as a beggar, but occasionally visited certain houses, where he was admitted as a familiar guest, and kindly entertained, while even in these he conducted himself in a modest unobtrusive manner. He used to allege that he did not need money, as he had sometimes the “feck o’ half-a-croun on him.” Jamie was by no means, however, the moping idiot that he has been represented. Though undoubtedly imbecile and incapable of any continuous mental exertion, he possessed some small portion of intellect. To the boys of Edinburgh, his knowledge of the days of the month and week, and facility in computing on what day of the week any given time would fall, were well known; indeed, he sometimes appeared to serve in place of a kalendar to them. His musical talents were also appreciated, and he was often called upon to entertain his juvenile acquaintances with a song, which he executed in tolerable style.

He was scrupulously clean in his person and linen, changing it frequently. His hands and feet, though uncovered, were also observed to be always clean. They were peculiarly formed, and by his feet he is said to have been recognised by some of the students in Dr. Knox’s dissecting-rooms.

It is a curious fact, that almost all the naturals who have lately been known on the streets of this city, have met with a violent and untimely end. Bobby Auld, a contemporary and acquaintance of Jamie’s, was killed by the kick of an ass, and afterwards became also a subject for dissection. There is an anecdote told concerning them, which is a curious instance of blindness to a personal deficiency, joined to a just perception of it in another, and at the same time exhibits in a strong light what we have said of Jamie’s innocent and artless disposition. It is narrated that the two met accidentally one day somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Grassmarket. “It’s a cauld day, Bobby.” “Aye is’t, Jamie,” replies Bobby. “We wud be the better o’ a dram—hae ye ony siller? I hae tippence;” “and I hae fourpence,” says Jamie. “Oh, man,” rejoins Bobby, “that’ll get half a mutchkin.” They then adjourned to a neighbouring public-house, where the money was produced, and the liquor ordered. But before any of them had partaken of it, Bobby inquired anxiously, if Jamie had seen “the twa dougs fechting on the street?” “No,” says Jamie, “I saw nae dougs fechting.” “It’s a grand fecht though,” replies Bobby, “and has lasted half an hour; its weel worth your seeing, and you had better gang to the door and see it.” Jamie accordingly proceeded unsuspectingly to the street to witness this wonderful dog fight, but speedily returned with the intelligence that he could discover no such conflict. “They’ll be dune then,” coolly observes Bobby. “But what’s come o’ the whisky?” said Jamie, on observing the stoup standing empty. “Ou, man,” says the treacherous Bobby, “ye bade sae lang I couldna wait.” Upon Jamie’s being questioned what he had done to Bobby for this false play, he replied, “Ou what could ye say to puir Bobby? he’s daft, ye ken.”

Jamie, however, though inferior to Bobby in trickery and low cunning, was much his superior in intellect. His father is said to have been a decent religious man, and took him regularly to a place of worship in the old town on Sabbaths, which Jamie, after his death, perhaps from habit, continued to attend. When examined by a respectable member, it was found that his religious knowledge was far beyond what could have been expected, and superior to many whose appearance promised more. His answers to questions were intelligent, and out of the usual routine.

It is probable that this poor creature had been for some time watched by the gang of murderers, and marked out as one that might be easily taken off without exciting suspicion. They had very much miscalculated however, both the notice that would be taken of his disappearance, and the degree of resistance he was capable of making. Accident unfortunately threw him in their way. He was met by Burke at nine o’clock one morning in the beginning of October last, wandering about in his usual way in the Grassmarket. He instantly accosted him in his fawning manner, and inquired of him whether he was in search of any one; he told him he was seeking his mother, to whom, as he was a creature of kindly dispositions, he was warmly attached. The wretch at once saw that he now had him within his grasp, and instantly commenced his schemes for drawing him away to some convenient place where he might be murdered. He contrived to persuade him that he knew where his mother had gone, and would take him to the place, and by coaxing and flattery he at length decoyed him into Hare’s house. Here those monsters of iniquity, exulting over their deluded victim, began to pretend the greatest kindness for him, and having procured liquor, they pressed it upon him. He at first decidedly refused to taste it, but they so far wrought upon his good nature by their assumed kindness, that they induced him to join them in their cups, and then plied him so effectually, that he was soon overpowered, and laying himself down on the floor, fell asleep. Burke, who was anxiously watching his opportunity, then said to Hare, “Shall I do it now?” to which Hare replied, “He is too strong for you yet; you had better let him alone a while.” Both the ruffians seem to have been afraid of the physical strength which they knew the poor creature possessed, and of the use he would make of it, if prematurely roused. Burke, accordingly, waited a little, but impatient at length to accomplish his object, he suddenly threw himself upon Jamie, and attempted to strangle him. Oppressed as he was with the influence of liquor, he was roused at once by this assault to a full sense of his danger; and, by a dreadful effort, he threw off Burke, and sprung to his feet, when the mortal struggle began. Jamie fought with all the fury of despair, and would have been an overmatch for any one of his ruffian assailants. Burke had actually the worst of the struggle, and was about to be overpowered, when he called out furiously to Hare to assist him, crying that he would stick a knife into him if he did not do so. Hare rushing forward turned the balance of the unequal conflict by tripping up Jamie’s heels; and afterwards dragging him along the floor, with Burke lying above him. None were present at this murder, which was completed before mid-day, except the two ruffians themselves.

This will be readily recognised as Hare’s account, and, of course, it is fitted to show him in the most favourable light which the circumstances will admit of. It is but justice, however, to give the statement of his companion in guilt, who, if there is any choice, is, after all, perhaps the one whose testimony is most entitled to credit.

Burke states that it was Hare who decoyed Jamie into the house, and then sent for him to assist him in his inhuman design,—that Jamie not only peremptorily refused to taste the liquor presented to him at first, but actually did drink very little of it, and not nearly so much as to produce intoxication,—that he then sat down upon the bed, reclining backwards and leaning upon his arm, and that Hare sat beside him in the same position,—and after some time, impatient for his prey, began to attempt to suffocate him in the usual way, by pressing his hands over his nose and mouth. Jamie, however, when he found him using violence, resisted stoutly, and grappled with him; and during the struggle, both fell off the bed, and rolled on the floor. Hare then called for Burke’s assistance, which he effectually rendered, by falling upon Jamie’s body, when, by their united efforts, he was dispatched.

Jamie fought manfully, and did inflict some injuries upon them; but it is a mistake to suppose that Burke’s cancer was produced in consequence of the bite which he is said to have given. It was originally the effect of heat and fatigue in walking, which he had neglected, and leading a dissipated dissolute life afterwards, it reached the dangerous state which it has now assumed. After Jamie’s death, Burke remarked that his clothes would answer his brother, to whom they were given, and a pair of trousers were afterwards recognised upon him by a baker in the Cowgate, whose they had been, and who had given them to Jamie. It was also observed that his son wore his kerchief.