by Walter Scott
CHAPTER FIRST.
Whoe'er's been at Paris must needs know the Gre've, The fatal retreat of the unfortunate brave, Where honour and justice most oddly contribute, To ease heroes' pains by an halter and gibbet.
There death breaks the shackles which force had put on, And the hangman completes what the judge but began; There the squire of the poet, and knight of the post, Find their pains no more baulked, and their hopes no more crossed. Prior.
In former times, England had her Tyburn, to which the devoted victims ofjustice were conducted in solemn procession up what is now called OxfordStreet. In Edinburgh, a large open street, or rather oblong square,surrounded by high houses, called the Grassmarket, was used for the samemelancholy purpose. It was not ill chosen for such a scene, being ofconsiderable extent, and therefore fit to accommodate a great number ofspectators, such as are usually assembled by this melancholy spectacle.On the other hand, few of the houses which surround it were, even inearly times, inhabited by persons of fashion; so that those likely to beoffended or over deeply affected by such unpleasant exhibitions were notin the way of having their quiet disturbed by them. The houses in theGrassmarket are, generally speaking, of a mean description; yet the placeis not without some features of grandeur, being overhung by the southernside of the huge rock on which the Castle stands, and by the moss-grownbattlements and turreted walls of that ancient fortress.
It was the custom, until within these thirty years or thereabouts, to usethis esplanade for the scene of public executions. The fatal day wasannounced to the public by the appearance of a huge black gallows-treetowards the eastern end of the Grassmarket. This ill-omened apparitionwas of great height, with a scaffold surrounding it, and a double ladderplaced against it, for the ascent of the unhappy criminal andexecutioner. As this apparatus was always arranged before dawn, it seemedas if the gallows had grown out of the earth in the course of one night,like the production of some foul demon; and I well remember the frightwith which the schoolboys, when I was one of their number, used to regardthese ominous signs of deadly preparation. On the night after theexecution the gallows again disappeared, and was conveyed in silence anddarkness to the place where it was usually deposited, which was one ofthe vaults under the Parliament House, or courts of justice. This mode ofexecution is now exchanged for one similar to that in front ofNewgate,--with what beneficial effect is uncertain. The mentalsufferings of the convict are indeed shortened. He no longer stalksbetween the attendant clergymen, dressed in his grave-clothes, through aconsiderable part of the city, looking like a moving and walking corpse,while yet an inhabitant of this world; but, as the ultimate purpose ofpunishment has in view the prevention of crimes, it may at least bedoubted, whether, in abridging the melancholy ceremony, we have not inpart diminished that appalling effect upon the spectators which is theuseful end of all such inflictions, and in consideration of which alone,unless in very particular cases, capital sentences can be altogetherjustified.
On the 7th day of September 1736, these ominous preparations forexecution were descried in the place we have described, and at an earlyhour the space around began to be occupied by several groups, who gazedon the scaffold and gibbet with a stern and vindictive show ofsatisfaction very seldom testified by the populace, whose good nature, inmost cases, forgets the crime of the condemned person, and dwells only onhis misery. But the act of which the expected culprit had been convictedwas of a description calculated nearly and closely to awaken and irritatethe resentful feelings of the multitude. The tale is well known; yet itis necessary to recapitulate its leading circumstances, for the betterunderstanding what is to follow; and the narrative may prove long, but Itrust not uninteresting even to those who have heard its general issue.At any rate, some detail is necessary, in order to render intelligiblethe subsequent events of our narrative.
Contraband trade, though it strikes at the root of legitimate government,by encroaching on its revenues,--though it injures the fair trader, anddebauches the mind of those engaged in it,--is not usually looked upon,either by the vulgar or by their betters, in a very heinous point ofview. On the contrary, in those countries where it prevails, thecleverest, boldest, and most intelligent of the peasantry, are uniformlyengaged in illicit transactions, and very often with the sanction of thefarmers and inferior gentry. Smuggling was almost universal in Scotlandin the reigns of George I. and II.; for the people, unaccustomed toimposts, and regarding them as an unjust aggression upon their ancientliberties, made no scruple to elude them whenever it was possible to doso.
The county of Fife, bounded by two firths on the south and north, and bythe sea on the east, and having a number of small seaports, was longfamed for maintaining successfully a contraband trade; and, as there weremany seafaring men residing there, who had been pirates and buccaneers intheir youth, there were not wanting a sufficient number of daring men tocarry it on. Among these, a fellow called Andrew Wilson, originally abaker in the village of Pathhead, was particularly obnoxious to therevenue officers. He was possessed of great personal strength, courage,and cunning,--was perfectly acquainted with the coast, and capable ofconducting the most desperate enterprises. On several occasions hesucceeded in baffling the pursuit and researches of the king's officers;but he became so much the object of their suspicions and watchfulattention, that at length he was totally ruined by repeated seizures. Theman became desperate. He considered himself as robbed and plundered; andtook it into his head that he had a right to make reprisals, as he couldfind opportunity. Where the heart is prepared for evil, opportunity isseldom long wanting. This Wilson learned that the Collector of theCustoms at Kirkcaldy had come to Pittenweem, in the course of hisofficial round of duty, with a considerable sum of public money in hiscustody. As the amount was greatly within the value of the goods whichhad been seized from him, Wilson felt no scruple of conscience inresolving to reimburse himself for his losses, at the expense of theCollector and the revenue. He associated with himself one Robertson, andtwo other idle young men, whom, having been concerned in the same illicittrade, he persuaded to view the transaction in the same justifiable lightin which he himself considered it. They watched the motions of theCollector; they broke forcibly into the house where he lodged,--Wilson,with two of his associates, entering the Collector's apartment, whileRobertson, the fourth, kept watch at the door with a drawn cutlass in hishand. The officer of the customs, conceiving his life in danger, escapedout of his bedroom window, and fled in his shirt, so that the plunderers,with much ease, possessed themselves of about two hundred pounds ofpublic money. The robbery was committed in a very audacious manner, forseveral persons were passing in the street at the time. But Robertson,representing the noise they heard as a dispute or fray betwixt theCollector and the people of the house, the worthy citizens of Pittenweemfelt themselves no way called on to interfere in behalf of the obnoxiousrevenue officer; so, satisfying themselves with this very superficialaccount of the matter, like the Levite in the parable, they passed on theopposite side of the way. An alarm was at length given, military werecalled in, the depredators were pursued, the booty recovered, and Wilsonand Robertson tried and condemned to death, chiefly on the evidence of anaccomplice.
Many thought that, in consideration of the men's erroneous opinion of thenature of the action they had committed, justice might have beensatisfied with a less forfeiture than that of two lives. On the otherhand, from the audacity of the fact, a severe example was judgednecessary; and such was the opinion of the Government. When it becameapparent that the sentence of death was to be executed, files, and otherimplements necessary for their escape, were transmitted secretly to theculprits by a friend from without. By these means they sawed a bar out ofone of the prison-windows, and might have made their escape, but for theobstinacy of Wilson, who, as he was daringly resolute, was doggedlypertinacious of his opinion. His comrade,
Robertson, a young and slenderman, proposed to make the experiment of passing the foremost through thegap they had made, and enlarging it from the outside, if necessary, toallow Wilson free passage. Wilson, however, insisted on making the firstexperiment, and being a robust and lusty man, he not only found itimpossible to get through betwixt the bars, but, by his struggles, hejammed himself so fast, that he was unable to draw his body back again.In these circumstances discovery became unavoidable, and sufficientprecautions were taken by the jailor to prevent any repetition of thesame attempt. Robertson uttered not a word of reflection on his companionfor the consequences of his obstinacy; but it appeared from the sequel,that Wilson's mind was deeply impressed with the recollection that, butfor him, his comrade, over whose mind he exercised considerableinfluence, would not have engaged in the criminal enterprise which hadterminated thus fatally; and that now he had become his destroyer asecond time, since, but for his obstinacy, Robertson might have effectedhis escape. Minds like Wilson's, even when exercised in evil practices,sometimes retain the power of thinking and resolving with enthusiasticgenerosity. His whole thoughts were now bent on the possibility of savingRobertson's life, without the least respect to his own. The resolutionwhich he adopted, and the manner in which he carried it into effect, werestriking and unusual.
Adjacent to the tolbooth or city jail of Edinburgh, is one of threechurches into which the cathedral of St. Giles is now divided, called,from its vicinity, the Tolbooth Church. It was the custom that criminalsunder sentence of death were brought to this church, with a sufficientguard, to hear and join in public worship on the Sabbath beforeexecution. It was supposed that the hearts of these unfortunate persons,however hardened before against feelings of devotion, could not but beaccessible to them upon uniting their thoughts and voices, for the lasttime, along with their fellow-mortals, in addressing their Creator. Andto the rest of the congregation, it was thought it could not but beimpressive and affecting, to find their devotions mingling with those,who, sent by the doom of an earthly tribunal to appear where the wholeearth is judged, might be considered as beings trembling on the verge ofeternity. The practice, however edifying, has been discontinued, inconsequence of the incident we are about to detail.
The clergyman, whose duty it was to officiate in the Tolbooth Church, hadconcluded an affecting discourse, part of which was particularly directedto the unfortunate men, Wilson and Robertson, who were in the pew setapart for the persons in their unhappy situation, each secured betwixttwo soldiers of the city guard. The clergyman had reminded them, that thenext congregation they must join would be that of the just, or of theunjust; that the psalms they now heard must be exchanged, in the space oftwo brief days, for eternal hallelujahs, or eternal lamentations; andthat this fearful alternative must depend upon the state to which theymight be able to bring their minds before the moment of awfulpreparation: that they should not despair on account of the suddenness ofthe summons, but rather to feel this comfort in their misery, that,though all who now lifted the voice, or bent the knee in conjunction withthem, lay under the same sentence of certain death, _they_ only had theadvantage of knowing the precise moment at which it should be executedupon them. "Therefore," urged the good man, his voice trembling withemotion, "redeem the time, my unhappy brethren, which is yet left; andremember, that, with the grace of Him to whom space and time are but asnothing, salvation may yet be assured, even in the pittance of delaywhich the laws of your country afford you."
Robertson was observed to weep at these words; but Wilson seemed as onewhose brain had not entirely received their meaning, or whose thoughtswere deeply impressed with some different subject;--an expression sonatural to a person in his situation, that it excited neither suspicionnor surprise.
The benediction was pronounced as usual, and the congregation wasdismissed, many lingering to indulge their curiosity with a more fixedlook at the two criminals, who now, as well as their guards, rose up, asif to depart when the crowd should permit them. A murmur of compassionwas heard to pervade the spectators, the more general, perhaps, onaccount of the alleviating circumstances of the case; when all at once,Wilson, who, as we have already noticed, was a very strong man, seizedtwo of the soldiers, one with each hand, and calling at the same time tohis companion, "Run, Geordie, run!" threw himself on a third, andfastened his teeth on the collar of his coat. Robertson stood for asecond as if thunderstruck, and unable to avail himself of theopportunity of escape; but the cry of "Run, run!" being echoed from manyaround, whose feelings surprised them into a very natural interest in hisbehalf, he shook off the grasp of the remaining soldier, threw himselfover the pew, mixed with the dispersing congregation, none of whom feltinclined to stop a poor wretch taking his last chance for his life,gained the door of the church, and was lost to all pursuit.
The generous intrepidity which Wilson had displayed on this occasionaugmented the feeling of compassion which attended his fate. The public,where their own prejudices are not concerned, are easily engaged on theside of disinterestedness and humanity, admired Wilson's behaviour, andrejoiced in Robertson's escape. This general feeling was so great, thatit excited a vague report that Wilson would be rescued at the place ofexecution, either by the mob or by some of his old associates, or by somesecond extraordinary and unexpected exertion of strength and courage onhis own part. The magistrates thought it their duty to provide againstthe possibility of disturbance. They ordered out, for protection of theexecution of the sentence, the greater part of their own City Guard,under the command of Captain Porteous, a man whose name became toomemorable from the melancholy circumstances of the day, and subsequentevents. It may be necessary to say a word about this person, and thecorps which he commanded. But the subject is of importance sufficient todeserve another chapter.