This is crazy. In the late 1820s, Edinburgh was one of the intellectual capitals of Europe: a glittering center of philosophy, medicine, science, literature, and apparently, freelancing psychopaths. Medical schools were booming, anatomy classes were packed, and professors desperately needed cadavers to dissect. Unfortunately, British society at the time remained weirdly uptight about allowing Grandma Ethel to be chopped into educational slices by a room full of students with bone saws and sideburns.
This created a severe corpse shortage.
And whenever history produces a shortage, somewhere entrepreneurial men will immediately say, “You know what? There's a market here.”
Enter William Burke and William Hare, two Irish immigrant sunso'bitches whose moral compass had apparently been assembled by raccoons during an earthquake. They ran a boarding house, which in those days was basically a hotel crossed with tuberculosis. One day a tenant died owing them rent money. Most landlords would write this off as a loss. Burke and Hare instead looked at the corpse and thought: “Hold on. What if the dead guy is the payment?”
So they hauled the body over to a guy named Robert Knox at the Edinburgh Medical College, who was apparently operating under the groundbreaking scientific principle of “Look, I’m sure it’s probably fine.” Knox paid them good money, no questions asked, because nothing says “prestigious medical institution” like buying mystery corpses from two sweaty guys who arrived carrying a stinking sack o' death at 2 a.m.
This was the moment Burke and Hare became true visionaries. Unfortunately, they launched the startup field of artisanal murder.
At first they targeted sick tenants. Then prostitutes. Then random strangers. Pretty soon they were basically running Scotland’s least ethical subscription service. Need a cadaver? Just call Burke and Hare! Fast delivery. Locally sourced. Farm-to-dissection-table freshness.
Their preferred murder method was strangulation, largely because it left fewer marks on the body. This technique became known as “Burking,” which is honestly one of history’s greatest branding achievements. Most people struggle to get their names remembered. These guys got theirs turned into a verb meaning “to quietly murder someone for resale purposes.”
And the city somehow kept functioning around this. Imagine strolling through Edinburgh in 1828:
“Lovely weather.”
“Yes, beautiful.”
“Any plans today?”
“Oh, probably avoid being murdered by body snatchers.”
Eventually the partnership fell apart, as many businesses do when built entirely on homicide. William Hare immediately testified against Burke in exchange for immunity, proving that among murderers there is apparently no honor, loyalty, or even the basic courtesy of sticking to the team-building vision statement.
William Burke was hanged publicly before enormous crowds because nothing entertained the 19th century quite like executions. But Edinburgh authorities weren’t done. Oh no. They dissected Burke publicly afterward, which feels less like justice and more like a government employee saying, “You know what? Let’s really commit to the theme here.”
Then, in a final flourish of absolutely unhinged Gothic insanity, parts of Burke’s skin were turned into a book cover. Because apparently someone looked at human skin-leather and thought: “You know what would really improve this library? A crime against humanity.”
That book still exists today near the Royal Mile, which means somewhere in Scotland there is a tourist gift shop where people casually purchase postcards where a murderer was converted into a book.
And the best part is that this whole nightmare circus eventually led to the Anatomy Act 1832, which changed the laws surrounding cadavers so medical schools could obtain bodies legally instead of relying on what was essentially Door-Dash for serial killers.
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