Читать книгу Trial of Deacon Brodie - Группа авторов - Страница 5

Let us take the road;

Hark! I hear the sound of coaches!

The hour of attack approaches;

To your arms, brave boys, and load.

See the ball I hold;

Let the chemists toil like asses

Our fire their fire surpasses,

And turns our lead to gold.

It was a raw and wintry evening of a type familiar to the Edinburgh spring—that “meteorological purgatory” of Stevenson; there had been a considerable fall of snow, followed by an intense frost, and few people were out of doors. Smith, Brown, and Ainslie were sitting in an upper room beguiling the time with a light refection of herrings and chicken, washed down by draughts of gin and “black cork,” i.e., Bell’s beer. Ainslie and Brown had, whenever it was sufficiently dark, brought the coulter of the plough and the iron wedges from their hiding-place in Salisbury Crags. No time was to be lost, and so soon as the Deacon arrived the final arrangements were quickly made. Three brace of pistols—one of which had been obligingly lent by Michael Henderson—were loaded by Smith with powder and ball, each member of the party, excepting Ainslie, being armed with a pair, “as they were determined not to be taken, whatever should be the consequence.” Three crape masks were also prepared for the use of Smith, Ainslie, and Brown. To Smith and Brown was appointed the task of forcing the doors and rifling the premises; the Deacon was to be stationed in the hall behind the outer door to prevent a surprise; while it was Ainslie’s duty to keep watch within the “palisadoes” outside the office, where, concealed by the parapet wall, he could command a view of the court and entry. Ainslie was provided with a whistle of ivory, purchased by Brodie the night before, with which, if the watchman appeared, he was to give one whistle, so that they might be prepared to secure him; and, if more than one man or any appearance of danger was perceived, he was to give three whistles, and then make the best of his way to the gardens behind, in order to assist the others in escaping by the back windows. Brodie, on hearing the signal, was, in turn, to give the alarm to Brown and Smith within the building.

In pursuance of this arrangement, Ainslie left first for the scene of action in Chessel’s Court, carrying with him the coulter, and, having taken up his position within the “palisadoes,” saw the porter come out with a light and lock the outer door behind him. Shortly thereafter Smith arrived. On hearing that the coast was clear, he lost no time in opening the front door with his false key and went into the office. He was followed five minutes later by Deacon Brodie, who, learning that Smith was within, but that Brown had not yet put in an appearance, went back up the court to look for him. They met in the entry and returned together, Brown explaining that, on his arrival, he had seen the old man who usually locked up the office leaving the court, and had dogged him home as a precautionary measure. Brown then inquired of Ainslie “whether or not he had ‘Great Samuel’?”—by which playful appellation he referred to the coulter—and Ainslie handed it to him through the railings. The Deacon and Brown then entered the office, leaving the outer door on the latch, behind which the former ensconced himself.

Smith had meanwhile opened the spring catch of the inner door with a pair of curling irons or “toupee tongs” which he had prepared for that purpose, and was awaiting Brown in the hall. By means of the coulter and an iron crow—“Little Samuel,” in Brown’s humorous phraseology—the two burglars at length succeeded in forcing the door of the cashier’s room, and by the light of the Deacon’s lantern they proceeded to prize open every desk and press which it contained. In the cashier’s desk they found and appropriated two five-pound notes, six guinea notes, and some odd silver; but after half-an-hour’s diligent searching their utmost efforts failed to discover the accumulated riches which they had confidently expected to secure.

In the hurry of the search, by a curious chance, a secret drawer, concealed beneath the cashier’s desk, containing no less than £600 sterling, escaped their notice.

Unwilling to accept their defeat, the two men were ransacking the desks afresh when they heard the front door open, but, supposing Brodie to be at his post, paid no attention. They were about to leave the room to prosecute their investigation of the premises when they heard some one come hastily down the stairs, “which made them stop or they must have met him.” Upon this Brown whispered, “Here must be treachery; get out your pistols and cock them!” They then heard the front door close with a crash. Perceiving that something was wrong, they now hastened into the hall, when, to their amazement, they found that the Deacon had vanished, and, on opening the door, that Ainslie also had disappeared. Cursing their ill luck and the defection of their companions, the puzzled burglars hurried through the court into the Canongate; and, quite at sea as to what had happened, made the best of their way to Smith’s house, leaving behind them in the office the heavy coulter and the spur which was designed to mislead the discoverers of the robbery.

We must now return to Ainslie, whom we left on the watch behind the railings. A servant girl, returning from a message to her master’s house in the court, saw him looking over the wall, and, “judging him to be a light or suspicious person”—in which diagnosis she was not far wrong—sought safety within doors. He had not been long at his post when the silence of the court was broken by the sound of a man running into it from the street, and Ainslie, peering through the railings, was alarmed to see him go in at the open door of the Excise Office. At the very moment of his entrance another man rushed from the doorway and fled at full speed up the court; and before Ainslie could recover from his surprise at this unlooked-for situation, a third man, as he supposed, came immediately out of the office and also disappeared towards the Canongate after the other.

The scanty oil lamps with which in those days the city was “illuminated” after nightfall served but as feeble foils to the surrounding darkness, and to Ainslie, in the dimly-lighted court, friend and foe were equally indistinguishable. These mysterious and unlooked-for doings proved too much for the watcher’s nerve; so, having hastily given the agreed-on signal of retreat by three blasts upon his whistle, he, too, made for the entry, and, turning down St. John’s Street, came through the gardens of the Canongate to the back of the Excise Office. Finding no trace of his associates there, Ainslie in his turn repaired to Smith’s.

The explanation of these occurrences, which had dispersed the gang in bewilderment and consternation, was singularly simple, but the issue might have been very different. Mr. James Bonar, Deputy Solicitor of Excise, had returned to the office about half-past eight o’clock to get certain papers which he had left in his room. Finding the outer door on the latch, he assumed that some of the clerks were still in the building, and was entering the office when the Deacon, who appears to have lost his usual presence of mind, bounced out from behind the door, and, brushing past him, fled hastily from the court. Mr. Bonar attached no importance to this incident, thinking the person belonged to the office, and, being pressed for time, ran upstairs to his own room, got what he wanted, and hastened from the building, slamming the outer door after him.

If Ainslie had not lost his head at the sudden entrance and exit of the Solicitor and the Deacon, but had blown his whistle, as he should have done, whenever the former appeared, Smith and Brown, rushing out with their pistols cocked, would have encountered Mr. Bonar in the lobby, and murder would doubtless have been done. As it was, that gentleman probably owed his life to the pusillanimity of Ainslie and Brodie, the latter of whom could, from his ambush, easily have closed with him as he entered the hall.

After his undignified flight from the Excise Office, Deacon Brodie reached his own house about nine o’clock, where he once more changed his attire, putting on the fine white suit he usually wore. He then hurried to the house of his mistress, Jean Watt, in Libberton’s Wynd, where he remained till the following morning. Meanwhile, at Smith’s house the other three were discussing the disappointing result of the night’s expedition and indulging in mutual recriminations. The non-appearance of Brodie added to their uncertainty, and they parted for the night in no amiable mood, Ainslie and Brown going over to the New Town, where, in a tavern kept by one Fraser, they sought consolation in a bowl of punch. The next day—Thursday—the Deacon came to Brown and Ainslie’s lodging in Burnet’s Close and laughingly told them that Smith had accused him of deserting his post the previous night. He was received but sourly by Brown, who made no secret of sharing Smith’s opinion. These, however, were minor matters, the vital question being whether or not suspicion would be directed to themselves. It was arranged that they should all meet at Smith’s the following night, when the sixteen pounds—miserable recompense of so much risk and labour!—was to be equally divided among them.

Accordingly, upon the Friday evening, in the upper room of Smith’s house, each man received his share, amounting to a little over four pounds. Ainslie, to whom Brodie owed a “debt of honour,” took occasion to require payment, and got one of the five-pound notes and some gold from him. The Deacon, who had staked infinitely more, thus made less than any of them by the adventure. Brown, so soon as he had received his share, went out, like Judas, and for a similar purpose.

The reader may remember the two trunks in which the silks stolen from Inglis & Horner’s shop were packed with a view to transmission to John Tasker at Chesterfield. One of these had been despatched some time before by the Berwick carrier, the other had been forwarded that week by the Newcastle waggoner, and Smith’s wife was to leave for England on the Saturday in order to treat personally with the proprietor of the “Bird in Hand,” who was probably a difficult customer to deal with. Smith and Ainslie therefore proceeded to the New Town, where, at the inn kept by William Drysdale, they purchased a ticket for Mrs. Smith by the mail-coach to Newcastle on the following day. The five-pound note was tendered in payment, and they received the change, less the price of the ticket.

Let us now see how prudent Mr. Brown had been improving his time. Daily since the 25th of January there had appeared in each of the three Edinburgh newspapers advertisements offering £150 reward and a free pardon to whoever should disclose the robbers of Inglis & Horner’s shop. The excitement occasioned by that crime had been revived and increased tenfold by the discovery of the attack upon the Excise Office, which was made by ten o’clock on the night of its occurrence, and the vigilance of the authorities was proportionally augmented.

Brown stood in a more ticklish situation towards the outraged majesty of the law than any of his companions, for over him hung the sentence of transportation, which he had hitherto successfully evaded; and it would go hard with him if he fell into the hands of justice in connection with any of his later villainies, which might happen at any moment. He was, moreover, profoundly disgusted with the manner in which the Excise business had miscarried through no fault of his own, and would not be sorry to steal a march on his cowardly associates. He was also cunning enough to foresee that, if he turned informer, he would not only earn a handsome reward, but enjoy immunity for his past performances, as it would be necessary for the public prosecutor to obtain a pardon for his old offence also, before his evidence could be made available against his fellow-criminals.

Having carefully considered his position, therefore, and immediately after securing his dividend at Smith’s, Brown proceeded to William Middleton, of the Sheriff-Clerk’s Office, and informed him that he had certain discoveries to make concerning the robberies recently committed in the city. Late as it then was—eleven o’clock—Middleton at once took Brown to the Procurator-Fiscal, to whom he told the whole story, suppressing, however, in the meantime, all mention of Deacon Brodie’s name in connection with the crimes. His object in taking this course was doubtless to secure a hold upon the Deacon which would enable him, at his leisure, to blackmail that respectable gentleman with impunity. At his own request the Procurator-Fiscal and Middleton went with him that same night to Salisbury Crags, where Brown pointed out a number of false keys underneath a stone, hidden there by Smith after the affair at the Excise Office, of which the Fiscal took possession.

The next morning, Saturday, 8th March, Brown, accompanied by Middleton, left for Chesterfield in pursuit of Inglis & Horner’s goods by the very coach in which Mrs. Smith was to have performed the same journey. How they fared upon their errand is not recorded, but it would have been interesting to know what happened when John Tasker’s unexpected guests dropped in at the “Bird in Hand.”

The same day Ainslie, Smith, and his wife, and servant-maid were apprehended; and, having been examined before the Sheriff, were committed to the Tolbooth, the two women being subsequently set at liberty.

That Saturday evening the rumour of the prisoners’ arrest spread like wildfire through the city, and on Deacon Brodie, confident in his fool’s paradise, the intelligence must have fallen like a thunderbolt. Apart from his temporary loss of nerve at the Excise Office, he was undoubtedly a man of courage and resource, and the step he now determined to take might well have daunted a less intrepid character. This was to visit the Tolbooth in person and obtain speech with Smith and Ainslie, so as to induce them, if it were not too late, to hold their tongues. To do this, knowing nothing of where he stood or how much had come out, was to put his head into the lion’s mouth; but he saw that, at all costs, he must ascertain what had happened. Accordingly, having taken his cane and cocked hat, the Deacon, with that “particular air” which characterised his walk, sallied forth upon his desperate errand. The Tolbooth was but a few paces from his own door, and he was familiar with the jail, both as a Town Councillor and in the ordinary course of his employment. Arrived there, he congratulated the officials on their capture, and expressed his curiosity to see the redoubtable burglars with whose deeds all Edinburgh was then ringing, but was informed that no one was allowed access to them. He was therefore compelled to return home no wiser than he went, where, it is probable, the owner of the house in Brodie’s Close passed a sleepless and remorseful night.

Next morning, realising that the game was up, and that he must prepare for the worst—for he might now be arrested at any moment—Deacon Brodie sent for his foreman, Robert Smith, at eight o’clock, told him that he was about to leave town for a day or two on business, and gave him a message about a waistcoat and a pair of breeches he required for the journey. He then casually asked “if there were any news about the people who had broke into the Excise.” The foreman answered that Smith was in custody, and that Brown had been sent to England; and, knowing his master’s intimacy with these men, added that he hoped he (Brodie) was not concerned with them, to which the other made no reply.

If he was to fly the country it was essential that the Deacon should be in touch with his relations in Edinburgh, upon whose assistance he would principally have to rely. He therefore promptly called upon his cousin—whose name was considerately withheld in the subsequent proceedings—and explained the situation. This gentleman’s feelings, as he listened to the disclosures of his respectable relative, may readily be imagined. But the honour of the family was at stake, and he seems to have done everything he could to further the Deacon’s plans. The necessary arrangements made, early in the forenoon of Sunday, 9th March, while the good folks of Edinburgh were still in church, Deacon Brodie burnt his boats and stole secretly out of the city.

Had the Deacon’s confidence in the loyalty of his late companions been stronger, it is possible he might even yet have weathered the storm, for neither Smith nor Ainslie in the declarations emitted by them on the Saturday had admitted their guilt or made any reference to his connection with them. So far, therefore, the statements of Brown were uncorroborated; and if, in modern parlance, Brodie had decided “to face the music” and remain in Edinburgh, his fortunes might have taken a different turn.

In the course of Smith’s first examination before the Sheriff a curious incident occurred. He was confronted with the ploughman, John Kinnear, whose coulter had been stolen by Ainslie and Brown as before narrated, in order to try if that person could identify him. Kinnear, never having seen him before, failed to do so. At this moment, however, Smith’s dog “Rodney,” having followed his master to the Sheriff-Clerk’s Office, came into the room, and the ploughman at once recognised it as the black dog which he had seen with the men in the field at Duddingston. The animal ran up to Smith and fawned upon him, thus, in spite of his denial, establishing the fact of his ownership. “Rodney” figures in Kay’s sketch of the first meeting of Brodie and Smith.

On Monday, 10th March, Smith, learning that the Deacon had decamped, and no doubt hoping to secure more favourable terms for himself, sent for the Sheriff and informed him “that he wished to have an opportunity of making a clean breast and telling the truth.” He thereupon emitted his second declaration, laying bare the whole operations of the gang, and implicating Brodie to the fullest extent, his admissions being afterwards confirmed by Ainslie.

The following paragraph appeared next day in the Edinburgh Evening Courant:—“The depredations that have been committed by housebreakers in and about this city for this some time past have been no less alarming than the art with which they have been executed, and the concealment that has attended them has been surprising. From a discovery, however, just made, there is reason to hope that a stop will soon be put to such acts of atrocious villainy. With what amazement must it strike every friend to virtue and honesty to find that a person is charged with a crime of the above nature who very lately held a distinguished rank among his fellow-citizens? With what pity and compunction must we view the unfortunate victim who falls a sacrifice to justice for having violated the laws of his country, to which violation he was perhaps impelled by necessity, when rank, ease, and opulence are forfeited in endeavouring to gratify the most sordid avarice? For to what other cause than avarice can we impute the late robbery committed upon the Excise Office, when the situation of the supposed perpetrator is considered? No excuse from necessity can be pled for a man in the enjoyment of thousands, who will run the risk of life, honour, and reputation in order to attain the unlawful possession of what could in a very trifling degree add to his supposed happiness.—See the advertisement from the Sheriff-Clerk’s Office.”

The advertisement to which this article refers—a copy of which will be found in the Appendix—was the offer by the Procurator-Fiscal of a reward of two hundred pounds for the apprehension of “William Brodie, a considerable house carpenter, and burgess of the city of Edinburgh,” together with the minute and somewhat unflattering description of that gentleman’s personal appearance, to which we have already alluded. So the murder was out at last, and the ex-Town Councillor became a fugitive from justice with a price upon his head.

In consequence of the revelations of Smith, the officers of justice proceeded on Monday, 10th March, to search the house in Brodie’s Close. There Smith, who accompanied them, unearthed the Deacon’s pistols, buried in his woodyard. His dark lantern, several pick-locks, and a parcel of false keys were also found—the first “in a pen where game-cocks had been

Deacon Brodie’s Dark Lanthorn and False Keys. (From the originals in the Museum of The Society of Antiquaries of Scotland.)

kept”—together with “a black case, with a lid to it, the case full of potty,” with which it had been the Deacon’s amiable habit to take impressions of his friends’ door keys, and of which Smith remarked that he “approved of Brodie keeping the potty in a case, as the lid prevented an impression of a key, when taken, from being defaced.” On a subsequent occasion, Smith conducted the sheriff-officers to the foot of Warriston’s Close, where the iron crow—“Little Samuel”—the “toupee tongs,” and the false key for the Excise Office door were discovered hidden “in an old dyke.” The Deacon’s dark lantern and twenty-five false keys were, on 13th December, 1841, presented by the then Clerk of Justiciary to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, in whose museum they still remain.

On Tuesday, 11th March, George Williamson, King’s Messenger for Scotland, was deputed to search for the missing Deacon. He tried several of Brodie’s haunts in Edinburgh and Leith—even examining the enclosed tombs in Greyfriars Churchyard, which had more than once sheltered living offenders against the law—but without success. Prosecuting his inquiries along the London Road, Williamson first got scent of his quarry at Dunbar, which the fugitive had left at four o’clock on the Sunday afternoon in a post-chaise, and afterwards traced him to Newcastle, where he had taken the “Flying Mercury” light coach for York and London. From the coachman of that vehicle Williamson learned that Deacon Brodie had left the coach at the foot of Old Street, Moorfields, instead of proceeding to the “Bull and Mouth,” where the coach stopped, and there all trace of him was lost. His pursuer repaired to the billiard tables, hazard tables, cock-pits, tennis courts, and other likely places, without hearing anything of him, and pushed his inquiries as far as Margate, Deal, and Dover, with the like result. Finally, after eighteen days’ fruitless search, the King’s Messenger was compelled to return to Edinburgh and confess himself at fault.

We must now, in our turn, set forth in search of Mr. Brodie; and as to his doings after leaving Edinburgh we have the evidence of his own letter to Michael Henderson. He writes—“Were I to write you all that has happened to me, and the hair-breadth escapes I made from a well-scented pack of bloodhounds, it would make a small volume. I arrived in London on Wednesday, 12th March, where I remained snug and safe in the house of an old female friend until Sunday, 23rd March (whose care for me I shall never forget, and only wish I may ever have it in my power to reward her sufficiently), within five hundred yards of Bow Street. I did not keep the house all this time, but so altered, excepting the scar under my eye, I think you could not have rapt [swore] to me. I saw Mr. Williamson twice; but although countrymen commonly shake hands when they meet from home, yet I did not choose to make so free with him notwithstanding he brought a letter to me. He is a clever man, and I give him credit for his conduct. My female gave me great uneasiness by introducing a flash man to me, but she assured me he was a true man, and he proved himself so, notwithstanding the great reward, and was useful to me. I saw my picture [his description in the newspapers] six hours before, exhibited to public view, and my intelligence of what was doing at Bow Street Office was as good as ever I had in Edinburgh. I make no doubt but that designing villain Brown is now in high favour with Mr. Cockburn [the Sheriff], for I can see some strokes of his pencil in my portrait. May God forgive him for all his crimes and falsehoods.” It is evident that the impartial terms of this description were unpalatable to its subject.

The scar to which the Deacon here alludes was a souvenir of his membership of the club in the Fleshmarket Close, and the occasion of his receiving it is thus referred to in the answers of Hamilton, the master sweep, in the process before mentioned—“Mr. Brodie, in all his innocent amusements, never met with any person who, after having been fleeced of money to the amount of a hundred pounds, and detected of the vile and dishonest methods by which it had been abstracted from him, received, as a return for his moral rectitude, a very handsome incision on the eye—never he, indeed! He never was in such company, nor ever met with such an accident—not he!” This scar may be observed in the portraits of the Deacon by Kay.

Deacon Brodie had brought with him to London an introduction from his cousin to Mr. William Walker, attorney in the Adelphi, who busied himself in the fugitive’s affairs, lent him twelve guineas, and arranged to have him shipped safely off to the Continent so soon as the coast was sufficiently clear.

On Sunday, 23rd March, that “constant trader,” the sloop “Endeavour,” of Carron, John Dent, master, bound for the port of Leith, lay at her anchor at Blackwall. About twelve o’clock that night the captain, who had gone ashore, came aboard with the owners, Messrs. Hamilton and Pinkerton, and an elderly gentleman, apparently in feeble health. After a short conversation the owners left the ship; the passenger, who had been “allotted a bed in the state-room near the fire, as he was sick,” withdrew to the privacy of his cabin; and the “Endeavour” began her voyage. Off Tilbury Point, however, she went aground, and did not clear the Thames for a fortnight. No one seems to have thought this misadventure at all remarkable, and such incidents were doubtless common enough in those spacious days, when time, generally speaking, was no object.

The only other passengers on board were John Geddes, a tobacconist in Mid-Calder, and his wife, who were returning to Leith after a visit to the metropolis. The leisurely methods of the “Endeavour” afforded ample opportunity for cultivating the acquaintance of their fellow-passenger, whose name they found was Mr. John Dixon. They passed the time agreeably together, and Mr. Dixon on one occasion entertained his fellow-voyagers to dinner at a neighbouring village, though for the most part, while the vessel was aground, he remained on board.

At length, having been successfully refloated, the “Endeavour” resumed her interrupted voyage. No sooner, however, were they well out at sea than Mr. John Dixon produced and handed to Captain Dent sealed orders from the owners, wherein he was instructed to make sail for Ostend, where Mr. Dixon was to be landed, before proceeding to Leith, and the vessel was accordingly headed for the coast of Flanders. Owing to thick weather and cross winds, she failed to make that port, and finally put in to Flushing. Even this fresh delay appears in no way to have disturbed the equanimity of the easy-going Geddeses; and, having arrived on the 8th of April at their unlooked-for destination, they improved the occasion by making some purchases of contraband goods as a memento of their visit. Mr. John Dixon, meanwhile, before leaving the ship, wrote three letters—which he entrusted to the care of Geddes for delivery on his arrival in Edinburgh—directed respectively to Michael Henderson, stabler in the Grassmarket; Mrs. Anne Grant, Cant’s Close; and Mr. Matthew Sheriff, upholsterer in Edinburgh. Having taken a cordial farewell of each other, Mr. Dixon and Geddes parted company, the former—in whom the astute reader has ere now discerned the perfidious Deacon—setting out for Ostend in a skiff, and the latter resuming his protracted voyage.

When the “Endeavour” eventually arrived at Leith, where her non-appearance had caused considerable anxiety, Geddes, on perusing the newspapers, saw the Deacon’s description; but, though satisfied that the letters he carried were written by the notorious William Brodie, for three weeks after making the discovery he did nothing further in the matter. Perhaps a dilatory habit had been induced by his late experiences, or his conscience may have required some persuasion. Having at last decided to open the letters, he showed them to various persons, and subsequently delivered them over to the Sheriff. In taking this course, Geddes was probably actuated less by a sense of duty to his country than by a desire to secure the reward. If so, it is satisfactory to find that he did not receive it. The authorities had now, through the Deacon’s singular imprudence, obtained the necessary clue to his whereabouts, and no time was lost in following it up.

What were the contents of the letter to Anne Grant we have now no means of knowing, for that document was not produced at the trial, but the other two letters will be found at length in the following report. In all the contemporary accounts of the trial the names of persons referred to by Deacon Brodie in his letters were, for obvious reasons, omitted. These are now printed in full for the first time from the originals in the Justiciary Office, Edinburgh. In that addressed to his brother-in-law, Matthew Sheriff, dated 8th April, the Deacon writes—“My stock is seven guineas; but by I reach Ostend will be reduced to less than six. My wardrobe is all on my back, excepting two check shirts and two white ones; one of them an old rag I had from my cousin Milton, with an old hat (which I left behind). My coat, an old blue one, out at arms and elbows, I also had from him, with an old striped waistcoat and a pair of good boots. Perhaps my cousin judged right that old things were best for my purpose. However, no reflections; he is my cousin and a good prudent lad, and showed great anxiety for my safety; rather too anxious, for he would not let me take my black coat with me. I could not extract one guinea from him, although he owes me twenty-four pounds for three years past. He cannot help his natural temper.” Evidently the spruce and dapper gentleman keenly felt the sartorial straits to which his cousin’s parsimony had reduced him. He requests that wearing apparel, tools, and certain articles connected with his trade be forwarded to him at an address in New York; desires that his remittances may be as liberal as possible—“for without money I can make but a poor shift”; and adds in a postscript, “Let my name and destination be a profound secret, for fear of bad consequences.”

To Michael Henderson he writes, on 10th April, after the passages already quoted, asking what is likely to become of “poor Ainslie, Smith, and his wife; I hope that neither you nor any of your connections has been innocently involved by these unfortunate men. Write me how the Main went; how you came on in it; if my black cock fought and gained, &c., &c.”—from which we are pleased to note that the Deacon, amid the ruin of his fortunes, retained his kindly disposition and sporting instincts. One hopes that the black cock came off victorious. It is interesting to find in the Edinburgh Evening Courant of 5th April, 1788, the following advertisement of the “Main” to which the Deacon refers:—

COCK FIGHTING.

The LONG MAIN betwixt William Hamilton, Esq., of Wishaw, and Captain Cheap of Rossie, begins at twelve o’clock on Monday, the 7th curt., and will continue at the same hour every day during the week, at HENDERSON’S PIT, Grassmarket.

SUNLEY and SMALL, Feeders and Handlers.

Brodie concludes his letter thus—“I am very uneasy on account of Mrs. Grant and my three children by her; they will miss me more than any other in Scotland. May God in His infinite goodness stir up some friendly aid for their support, for it is not in my power at present to give them the smallest assistance. Yet I think they will not absolutely starve in a Christian land, where their father once had friends, and who was always liberal to the distressed. My eldest daughter, Cecil, should be put apprentice to the milliner or mantuamaking business; but I wish she could learn a little writing and arithmetic first. I wish to God some of my friends would take some charge of Cecil; she is a fine, sensible girl, considering the little opportunity she has had for improvement.” Here we have a glimpse of another and better element in the complex character of this extraordinary man.

Information of the circumstances disclosed in these letters was instantly despatched to the authorities in London, and the Secretary of State, Lord Carmarthen, at once communicated with Sir John Potter, the British Consul at Ostend, in consequence of which Deacon Brodie was traced to Flushing and Middleburgh, and from thence to Amsterdam. Application was immediately made to Sir James Harris, British Consul there, with the result that the Deacon was apprehended in an alehouse, through the instrumentality of John Daly, an Irishman, on the eve of embarking for America.

The circumstances of his capture were as follows:—Daly, armed with an exact description of the fugitive, ascertained his whereabouts in Amsterdam from two Jews “who attend the passengers that arrive in the treck schoots.” On reaching the alehouse where Brodie was lodged, the landlord told him that the gentleman he inquired for was above. Daly proceeded to the first floor, knocked once or twice at the door, and, receiving no answer, entered the room. It was seemingly empty, but a search of the apartment disclosed the unlucky tenant hiding in a cupboard. “How do you do, Captain John Dixon alias William Brodie?” said Daly; “come along with me”; and the Deacon, realising that resistance was useless, surrendered at discretion, and was duly lodged in the Stadthouse. It is disappointing to find our hero yielding thus tamely to his Irish captor, but it must be remembered that, physically, the Deacon was a small man, and, moreover, at this time was not in good health. Having seen his captive safely disposed of, John Daly left for London to claim and receive the reward.

On 1st July, Mr. Groves, Messenger-at-arms, was despatched from London to bring the prisoner back to England. The journal kept by Groves on this expedition—a copy of which is contained in the Appendix—gives an interesting account of the proceedings before the magistrates at Amsterdam in connection with the extradition of the Deacon. There was some difficulty in establishing the prisoner’s identity, the evidence of two witnesses on oath to that effect being required by the law of Holland. One witness, who had seen Brodie in Edinburgh, stated that he had no doubt he was the same man, “but would not swear he had no doubt”—a nice distinction. The Deacon would admit nothing. Ultimately the magistrates declared themselves satisfied, and the prisoner was delivered up to Mr. Groves, who conducted his charge in triumph to Helvoetsluys.

The journey was accomplished, with all the pomp and circumstance befitting so important an occasion, in “two carriages, and four guides, with four horses in each carriage,” and the poor Deacon “properly secured” inside. Next day they sailed for Harwich, the prisoner being “watched two hours alternately on board by the ship’s crew, his hands and arms confined, and his meat cut up for him, &c.” Mr. John Dixon must have recalled with regret the comforts of his earlier voyage.

On 11th July the pair arrived in London, where Deacon Brodie was examined at Bow Street before Sir Sampson Wright, chief magistrate, and Mr. Longlands, solicitor to the Treasury, in whose presence he admitted his identity. He was accordingly committed to Tothilfields Bridewell, pending his removal to Scotland.

At Bow Street two trunks belonging to Brodie were opened, and in one of them was found a bundle of papers. Among these were two draft letters or unsigned scrolls, afterwards produced at the trial, and printed in the following report, which throw much interesting light upon the writer’s position and prospects. They were evidently intended for friends in Edinburgh, and written subsequent to the letters which he had intrusted to the treacherous Geddes. He writes—“I hope to embark in the first ship for America, to whatever port she is bound, which will probably be Charlestown, South Carolina, as there is a ship lying-to for that port. I will settle there, if I think I can do better than at Philadelphia or New York.” He asks his correspondent to inform him “what has been done with the two unfortunate men Smith and Ainslie, and the greater villain, John Brown alias Humphry Moore? Was John Murray alias Jack Tasker brought from England? I shall ever repent keeping such company; and whatever they may allege, I had no direct concern in any of their depredations, excepting the last fatal one, by which I lost ten pounds in cash. But I doubt not all will be laid to my charge, and some that I never heard of.” The last quoted passage told strongly against him at the trial, and it is difficult to see why he had preserved such compromising documents.

In the same trunk was found an account or state of Brodie’s affairs prepared by himself on 24th March, the day after he embarked in the “Endeavour.” This document was founded on in the indictment and produced at the trial; but Creech tells us, in the introduction to his report, that, “although laid on the table for the inspection of the jury, yet, being of a private nature and not necessarily connected with the crime charged, the jury had too much delicacy to look into; and it is hoped the same motive will be a sufficient apology for not laying it before the public.” It was, accordingly, not published in any of the contemporary accounts of the trial, and is now for the first time printed in the following report from the original MS. in the Justiciary Office. From this most interesting document we are able to learn the financial position of Deacon Brodie at the time of his flight, and it is surprising to find that he brings out a balance in his favour of upwards of £1800.

Our old friend, George Williamson, the King’s Messenger, was sent from Edinburgh to conduct the reluctant Deacon back to his native city. On the journey north, Williamson tells us, “Mr. Brodie was in good spirits, and told many things that had happened to him in Holland.” Among other items of interest, he mentioned that, while in Amsterdam, he had formed the acquaintance of a gentleman living in that city on the proceeds of a successful forgery committed upon the Bank of Scotland. Forgery was a branch of the learned professions which the Deacon had hitherto neglected, and he was receiving instruction from this obliging practitioner, when his studies were abruptly terminated by Mr. Daly’s call. “Brodie said he was a very ingenious fellow, and that, had

George Williamson, King’s Messenger for Scotland. (After Kay.)

it not been for his own apprehension, he would have been master of the process in a week.” Before arriving in Edinburgh the Deacon, ever careful of his personal appearance, was anxious to obtain a shave—a luxury to which, in the turmoil of his affairs, the dapper gentleman had been for some days a stranger. Williamson, afraid to trust a razor to one so circumstanced, himself essayed the task. His intention must have been superior to his execution, for, when the operation was over, the patient remarked, “George, if you’re no better at your own business than at shaving, a person may employ you once, but I’ll be d——d if ever he does so again!”

On 17th July the Caledonian Mercury was able to announce to its readers—“This morning early Mr. Brodie arrived from London. He was immediately carried to the house of Mr. Sheriff Cockburn, at the back of the Meadows, or Hope Park, for examination. Mr. George Williamson, Messenger, and Mr. Groves, one of Sir Sampson Wright’s clerks, accompanied Mr. Brodie in a post-chaise from Tothilfields Bridewell. He was this forenoon committed to the Tolbooth. They were only fifty-four hours on the road.”

While their leader was enlarging his experience of life on the Continent, Smith and Ainslie had varied the monotony of existence in the Tolbooth by a vigorous attempt to regain their liberty. We read in the Scots Magazine for May, 1788, that “in the night between the 4th and 5th of May, George Smith, prisoner in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, accused of shop-breaking and theft, had the ingenuity to make his way from his own apartment to that of Andrew Ainslie, a supposed accomplice in the same crimes, though Ainslie’s room was situated two storeys above that occupied by Smith. This, it would appear, was achieved by his converting the iron handle of the jack or bucket of the necessary into a pick-lock, and one of the iron hoops round the bucket into a saw. By a dextrous use of these instruments Smith took off one door from the hinges, and opened the other which led to Ainslie’s apartment. They then both set to work, and cut a hole through the ceiling of Ainslie’s room, as well as through the roof of the prison itself. Luckily, however, the falling of the slates and lime into the street, between three and four o’clock in the morning, attracted the attention of the sentinel upon duty, who immediately gave the alarm, and the inner keeper had them soon after properly secured. In order to let themselves down from the top of the prison they had prepared 16 fathoms of rope, which they had artfully manufactured out of the sheets of their beds.”

This daring and ingenious bid for freedom deserved a better fate, and it is a testimony to Smith’s skill that he was able to achieve so much by means so grotesquely inadequate. Little wonder that, with liberty and his tools, he was a competent and successful practitioner.

Mr. Brown, that unamiable informer, was, strangely enough, also at this time an inmate of the Tolbooth. The Edinburgh Magazine for the same month gives an account of his arrest, along with George White, tanner, and William Peacock, flesher, charged with being concerned in the murder of James M‘Arthur, change-keeper in Halkerston’s Wynd, during a quarrel in the latter’s house—“alleged not to be one of very good repute”—in which M‘Arthur was fatally assaulted with a bottle. The consequences of this regrettable incident were, so far as Brown was concerned, averted by the pardon aftermentioned. White, however, was brought to trial and found guilty of culpable homicide.

The law officers of the Crown were now busily preparing their case against Brodie, Smith, and Ainslie; and as, apart from the testimony to be borne by Brown, there was no direct evidence of the commission of the crime available, it was decided to accept Ainslie as King’s evidence, and proceed only against Brodie and Smith upon the charge of breaking into and robbing the General Excise Office for Scotland. Accordingly, on 19th July, an indictment was served upon them, the trial being fixed to take place on 4th August. Owing, however, to some additional evidence having come to the knowledge of the Public Prosecutor, on 11th August, a new indictment had to be served, and the trial postponed until the 27th of that month.

Meanwhile, on 28th July, His Majesty’s most gracious pardon had been obtained for John Brown alias Humphry Moore, which, in law, rendered that miscreant, as a witness, “habile and testable,” notwithstanding the baseness of his character and his infamous record.

Deacon Brodie had, since his apprehension, been kept in close confinement in the Tolbooth. He was carefully watched day and night by two soldiers of the City Guard, and was not allowed either knife or fork with which to eat his victuals in case of dangerous consequences. On account of this inconvenient restriction, the Deacon, shortly before his trial, addressed the following remonstrance to a brother member of the Town Council and one of the magistrates of the city:—