§§ Rudolf Virchow (1821–1902) was a German scientist known as ‘the father of modern pathology’.
¶¶ James Cowles Prichard, Treatise on Insanity and Other Disorders Affecting the Mind (1835).
The Trial
The following account has been compiled from contemporary newspaper coverage and the volume A Complete Report of the Trial of Roderick John Macrae published by William Kay of Edinburgh in October 1869.
* * * * *
First day
The trial opened at the Circuit Court of Inverness on Monday the 6th of September 1869. At eight o’clock Roderick Macrae was conveyed to the court from his cell in Inverness gaol to a holding room in the basement of the building. He was transported in a windowless carriage, flanked by police horsemen, and the presence of this little convoy in the streets excited great passions among passers-by. According to John Murdoch, covering the case for the Inverness Courier, some who saw it ‘called out offensive words, while others made missiles of whatever came to hand’. Such was the interest in the case that a crowd of several hundred people had gathered outside the court and enterprising vendors had set up stalls to provide for the throng. When the procession arrived, a great cheer went up and the out-riders were unable to prevent the crowd from surging forward and beating the sides of the cab. The carriage was brought to a halt and a number of men were injured as the police fought off the mob with batons. An elderly woman, Mary Patterson, was trampled underfoot and had to be attended by doctors. On subsequent days, barriers were erected and the police presence increased to ensure the safe passage of the convoy.
Special accommodation had been made in the court-room for the large number of reporters wishing to attend the trial and these were admitted by prior arrangement through a side entrance. Admittance to the public gallery was organised by the issue of special hand bills, which, it was later discovered, changed hands for considerable sums of money. By half past nine the public gallery had been filled and the Lord Justice-Clerk Lord Ardmillan and Lord Jerviswoode took their places on the bench. At the bar, the Crown was represented by the Solicitor-General Mr Gifford, a Mr William Crichton and assisted by Mr Gordon Frew, Crown-agent. For the defence, Andrew Sinclair was assisted by his colleague, Edward Smith. The Lord Justice-Clerk began by issuing a stern warning to those in the public gallery. No one would be permitted to enter or leave the court-room during evidence and any person disrupting the proceedings would be peremptorily ejected and their bill of admission confiscated.
The Lord Justice-Clerk then addressed counsel. He was aware, he said, of the existence of the ‘so-called memoir’ written by the prisoner. As the account had not been produced under the proper cautions and contained admissions which the prisoner might not wish to make in the course of his defence, ‘neither the document nor any portion thereof’ were admissible in evidence. He further sternly advised both sides against making any reference to the document in the course of their examination of the witnesses. The case would be decided on the basis of the evidence heard in court and this evidence only. Neither the Solicitor-General nor the defence raised any objection to this ruling, which was no doubt intended by the judge to pre-empt any later discussion in the presence of the jury.
At five minutes past ten, accompanied by a ‘great uproar which the repeated striking of the Lord Justice-Clerk’s gavel did nothing to quell’, the prisoner was brought up to the dock. James Philby, reporting for The Times, described the moment:
Those awaiting the appearance of a monster were sorely disappointed. Once the initial tumult had died away, the most oft-heard remark was to the effect that the prisoner was no more than a boy. And, in truth, it was a most accurate observation. Roderick Macrae would be no one’s idea of a murderer and certainly did not appear capable of the monstrous acts of which he is accused, being of small stature, though well-built around the shoulders and chest. His hair was unkempt and his complexion, no doubt on account of the weeks spent in his cell, pallid. On entering, his dark eyes surveyed the court-room from beneath his heavy brow, but he appeared quite in possession of his senses and made no reaction to the hullabaloo from the public gallery. His advocate, Mr Andrew Sinclair, stood by the dock and instructed him to take his seat there and this he did, adopting a respectful posture, with his hands resting in his lap and his head bowed. He generally remained in this attitude throughout the proceedings.
The Clerk of the Court then read the indictment:
Roderick John Macrae, now or lately a crofter of Culduie, Ross-shire, and now or lately prisoner in Inverness, you are indicted and accused at the instance of James Moncrieff, Esq., Her Majesty’s Advocate for Her Majesty’s interest: that albeit, by the laws of this and of every other well governed realm, murder is a crime of an heinous nature, and severely punishable: yet true it is, and of verity, that you, the said Roderick John Macrae, are guilty of the said crime, actor, or art and part: In so far as, (1.) On the morning of the 10th day of August 1869, within the dwelling-house of Lachlan Mackenzie in Culduie, Ross-shire, did wickedly and feloniously assault and attack the said Lachlan Mackenzie, and did, with a croman and flaughter, strike the said Lachlan Mackenzie several blows about the chest, face and head, and did fracture his skull, by all which, or part thereof, the said Lachlan Mackenzie was mortally injured and immediately died, and was thus murdered by you the said Roderick John Macrae.
The indictment went on to similarly detail the assaults on Flora and Donald Mackenzie.
The Lord Justice-Clerk then instructed the prisoner to rise and addressed him:
‘Roderick John Macrae, you are charged under this indictment with the crime of murder. How say you: are you guilty or not guilty?’
Roddy stood with his hands at his sides, and after glancing towards his counsel replied in a clear, but quiet voice, ‘Not guilty, my lord.’
He resumed his seat and Andrew Sinclair rose to submit the Special Defence of Insanity. This was read by the Clerk of the Court: ‘The panel pleads generally not guilty. He further pleads specially that at the time at which the acts set forth in the indictment are alleged to have been committed he was labouring under insanity.’
Mr Philby wrote, ‘For a young man who had never previously ventured more than a few miles from his village, he did not seem unduly unsettled by the array of learned faces which now scrutinised him from the bench. Whether this was due to the insanity claimed by the defence or merely spoke of a certain sang-froid, it was not at this point possible to venture an opinion.’
The jury of fifteen men was then empanelled. The Lord Justice-Clerk instructed the jurors to dismiss from their minds anything they might have read or heard about the case and reminded them of their obligation to consider only the evidence to be set forth in the court-room. He then asked the jurors if any of them had formed a settled opinion about the case or laboured under any prejudice about it. The jurors replied in turn that they had not, and, at half past ten, the case for the prosecution was opened.
The first witness to be called was Dr Charles MacLennan, who had carried out the post-mortem examination of the bodies. The practitioner was dressed in a tweed suit and yellow waistcoat, and boasted drooping moustaches, which leant him a suitably sombre air. It was unlikely that, as a rural doctor, he had ever been called upon to take part in such proceedings and he appeared nervous as he entered the witness box. As he began his evidence, wrote Mr Murdoch for the Courier, ‘the festive atmosphere in the public gallery quickly dissipated and the gravity of the occasion overtook the room’.
To a hushed court-room, Mr Gifford led Dr MacLennan through a meticulous account, lasting some thirty minutes, of the injuries sustained by each of the three victims. At the conclusion of his testimony the doctor was shown Productions No. 1 and No. 2, a flaughter and a croman. The appearance of the murder weapons elicited gasps from the gallery. The blade of the flaughter was badly bent out of shape, testifying ‘to great force with which it had bee
n wielded’.
The Solicitor-General then asked the witness, ‘Have you seen these items before?’
Dr MacLennan: ‘No, sir.’
‘Can you tell us what they are?’
‘They are a flaughter and a croman.’
‘And what would be their normal use?’
‘They would be used for breaking ground or otherwise tending a croft.’
Mr Gifford, a tall and distinguished man, impeccably attired in a black suit, here paused to give full weight to the question he was about to ask.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘in your professional opinion, and given your careful examination of the three victims in this case, would the injuries sustained be consistent with the use of these weapons?’
‘Most certainly,’ the doctor replied. ‘If used with sufficient force.’
Mr Gifford nodded solemnly.
‘If I might put one further question to you,’ he said, ‘how would you characterise the injuries to the deceased, I mean, in comparison with other cases you have examined?’
Dr MacLennan exhaled sharply, as if the answer was self-evident. ‘They were without question the most brutal I have ever had the misfortune to encounter,’ he said.
Mr Gifford then indicated that he had concluded his examination. If his intention had been to leave the jurymen in no doubt about the seriousness of the case before them, he certainly succeeded. Several of them, it was reported, looked quite ashen.
Mr Sinclair had no questions for the doctor and the witness was excused.
Roddy had listened to this evidence with some attention, but no show of emotion, ‘quite as if,’ wrote Mr Philby, ‘he were no more than an interested spectator’.
The next witness was Carmina Murchison. She wore a green taffeta dress and would not, The Scotsman noted, ‘have looked out of place in the salons of George Street’. Not a single newspaper omitted mention of Mrs Murchison’s striking appearance and Mr Philby was even moved to note that ‘no juryman with blood in his veins could doubt a word which emerged from such lips’.
Led by Mr Gifford, Mrs Murchison related how she had met Roderick Macrae on the morning of the 10th of August and exchanged a few words with him as he passed her house. A map of Culduie had been drawn up and was displayed on an easel in the court-room and Mrs Murchison indicated the position of her own house, that of the prisoner and that of Lachlan Mackenzie.
‘Did you find,’ Mr Gifford asked, ‘the prisoner to be in a state of agitation?’
‘No, sir.’
‘He did not appear nervous or anxious?’
‘No.’
‘Did you believe him when he told you that he was going to break some ground at Mr Mackenzie’s property?’
‘I had no reason to disbelieve him.’
‘And he was carrying some tools for this purpose?’
‘Yes.’
Mrs Murchison was then shown the Productions. She covered her eyes at the sight of the weapons and they were swiftly removed.
The elegant Mr Gifford apologised with a little bow, before asking, ‘Were these the tools that the prisoner was carrying?’
Mrs Murchison: ‘Yes.’
‘And these would be the normal tools to carry out the work stated?’
‘Yes.’
‘But this was not the normal time of year to break ground, was it?’
‘Not for the purpose of planting crops.’
‘But this did not sound any alarm in your mind that this might not have been the prisoner’s true purpose?’
‘Roddy had lately been carrying out a good deal of work for Lachlan Broad.’
The Lord Justice-Clerk: ‘Lachlan Broad is the name by which Mr Mackenzie was known in your community?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Mr Gifford: ‘Why had the prisoner been carrying out work for the deceased?’
Mrs Murchison: ‘It was in repayment of a debt owed to Mr Mackenzie by Roddy’s father.’
‘And what was the nature of this debt?’
‘It was in compensation for a sheep which Roddy had killed.’
‘A sheep belonging to Mr Mackenzie?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was the extent of this debt?’
‘Thirty-five shillings.’
‘And Mr Macrae – the prisoner’s father – was unable to pay this sum?’
‘I believe so.’
‘So, in lieu of payment the prisoner was labouring for Mr Mackenzie?’
‘Yes.’
‘And, in view of this arrangement, there was nothing untoward in your exchange with the prisoner?’
‘No.’
‘Nothing which might have alerted you to what was about to occur?’
‘Nothing whatsoever.’
Mrs Murchison then related how, some time later – she estimated half an hour – she saw Roderick Macrae walking back through the village, now covered from head to foot in blood. Thinking an accident had befallen him, she ran to help. When she asked what had occurred, he replied that he had killed Lachlan Mackenzie. He made no mention of the other victims. Mrs Murchison then described the general commotion in the village and how Roderick Macrae had been imprisoned in the Murchisons’ outbuilding.
Mr Gifford: ‘How would you describe the prisoner’s demeanour at this time, Mrs Murchison?’
‘He was quite calm.’
‘Did he make any attempt to abscond?’
‘No.’
‘Did he not struggle with your husband or the other men who imprisoned him in the outbuilding?’
‘No.’
‘Did he express any remorse for what he had done?’
‘No.’
Mr Gifford then turned to the matter of motive.
‘How,’ he asked, ‘would you describe relations between the deceased, Mr Mackenzie, and the prisoner?’
‘I could not say.’
‘Were they friends?’
‘I would not say so.’
‘Enemies, then?’
Mrs Murchison made no answer to this question.
Mr Gifford expressed some surprise that in a village of a mere fifty-five souls the state of relations between two members of that community could be concealed.
Mrs Murchison: ‘I never heard Roddy express any ill feeling towards Lachlan Broad.’
‘You were not aware of any vendetta between Mr Mackenzie and the Macrae family?’
‘I was aware that there had been some disputes between them.’
‘What was the nature of these disputes?’
‘There was the killing of the sheep.’
‘Anything further?’
‘There was the matter of the allocation of land in the village.’
Mr Gifford asked Mrs Murchison to elaborate.
‘In his capacity as village constable, Mr Mackenzie allocated a portion of Mr Macrae’s croft to his neighbour, Mr Gregor.’
‘You are referring to Mr John Macrae, the father of the prisoner?’
‘Yes.’
‘On what grounds was this re-allocation made?’
‘Mr Macrae’s wife had died and Mr Mackenzie argued that as the household was reduced in number they needed less land.’
‘And this was felt to be unjust?’
‘Yes.’
‘So there was the matter of the killing of the sheep and the matter of the re-allocation of farming land. Anything else?’
‘It is difficult to express.’
‘Difficult to express because it did not exist or because you cannot explain it?’
Mrs Murchison was silent for some time and had to be prompted to answer by the Lord Justice-Clerk.
‘There was a general air of oppression,’ she said eventually. ‘Mr Mackenzie often acted in a high-handed manner and in particular towards Mr M
acrae.’
‘I see. Perhaps if you have difficulty explaining the relations between Mr Mackenzie and the prisoner, you could tell us your own opinion of the deceased?’
‘I did not care for him.’
‘Please tell us why you did not care for him.’
‘He was a bully.’
‘A bully?’
‘Yes.’
‘By which you mean what?’
‘He took pleasure in wielding power over those around him and especially over Mr Macrae and his family.’
‘He tormented them?’
‘I would say so, yes.’
Mr Gifford then concluded his questioning and Mr Sinclair rose for the defence, appearing, at first, quite flustered. ‘It must,’ wrote Mr Philby, ‘be an unusual occurrence for a provincial pettifogger to be involved in a case of such notoriety, or perhaps he was merely bedazzled by the enchantress in the witness box.’ In any case, after some obsequious enquiries about Mrs Murchison’s comfort, he commenced his examination.
‘For how long have you lived in Culduie, Mrs Murchison?’
‘For eighteen years. Since my marriage.’
‘So you have known the prisoner all his life?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how would you describe your relations with him?’
‘They were quite normal.’
‘You were on friendly terms?’
‘Yes.’
‘Before the acts for which he is here accused, have you ever known him to be violent?’
‘No.’
‘And you were on good terms with his family?’
‘Generally, yes.’
‘Generally?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you elaborate?’
‘I was very close to Una Macrae.’
‘The prisoner’s mother?’
‘Yes.’
‘And his father?’
‘Less so.’
‘Was there any reason for this?’
‘We were not on bad terms, it is only that I had less to do with him and he with me.’
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