The Edinburgh Dead

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We have heard a great deal of late concerning “the march of the intellect” for which the present age is supposed to be distinguished; and the phrase has been rung in our ears till it has nauseated us by its repetition, and become almost a proverbial expression of derision. But we fear that, with all its pretended illumination, the present age must be characterized by some deeper and fouler blots than have attached to any that preceded it; and that if it has bright spots, it has also darker shades and more appalling obscurations. It has, in fact, nooks and corners where every thing that is evil seems to be concentrated and condensed; dens and holes to which the Genius of Iniquity has fled, and become envenomed with newer and more malignant inspirations.

Thomas Ireland Jnr, West Port Murders (Edinburgh, 1829)

The Demonstration

Glasgow, 1818

The corpse sat in a simple, high-backed chair. A band had been tied around its stomach to keep it upright. The man—young, perhaps no more than twenty-five—had as peaceable a look to him as death might permit. A relaxed face, hands resting quite naturally, in lifelike manner, upon his knees. He was naked, but a pure white sheet had been laid across his legs and groin, for the preservation of modesty.

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