Читать книгу Trial of Deacon Brodie - Группа авторов - Страница 6

“Edinburgh, 17th August, 1788.

“Dear Sir,

“The nails of my toes and fingers are not quite so long as Nebuchadnezzar’s are said to have been, although long enough for a Mandarine, and much longer than I find convenient. I have tried several experiments to remove this evil without effect, which no doubt you’ll think says little for your Ward’s ingenuity; and I have the mortification to perceive the evil daily increasing.

“Dear Sir, as I intend seeing company abroad in a few days, I beg as soon as convenient you’ll take this matter under consideration, and only, if necessary, consult my Guardian and Tutor sine qua non; and I doubt not but you’ll devise some safe and easy method of operation that may give me a temporary relief. Perhaps the faculty may prescribe a more radical cure.

“Dear Sir, if not disagreeable to you, I’ll be happy to see you. You’ll be sure to find me at home, and all hours are equally convenient.

“Believe me to be, with great esteem,

“Your most affectionate Ward, and very humble servant,

“Will. Brodie.

“To Don. Smith Esq.

“Edinburgh.”

This curious instance of a sense of humour retained in the most unfavourable circumstances throws an interesting sidelight on the Deacon’s character.

On the Friday before the trial Smith, who appears to have abandoned all hope of an acquittal, wrote a letter to the Board of Excise, saying “that he was not to give them any trouble, for he would plead Guilty.” He also prepared a written statement, which it was his intention to have read to the Court, but he was dissuaded from this course by his agent, Mr. Morrison, and finally decided to take his chance and plead not guilty. In this remarkable document—a copy of which is contained in the Appendix—Smith gives, inter alia, the following list of “such robberies as my accomplices and myself had determined to commit, had we not been timeously prevented:—

 “1. On Dalgleish & Dickie, watchmakers.

 2. On White & Mitchell, lottery-office keepers.

 3. On a rich baker near Brodie’s Close—the name forgot.

 4. The Council Chamber, for the mace.

 5. The Chamberlain’s Office, for money.

 6. Forrester & Co.’s, jewellers.

 7. Gilchrist & Co.’s, linen drapers.

Besides these, and as depredations of greater magnitude—

 8. The Bank of Scotland (or Old Bank) was to have been broke into.

 9. The Stirling stage coach, carrying a thousand pounds to pay the Carron workmen, was to have been stopped and robbed.

 10. Mr. Latimer, Collector of Excise for the Dalkeith district, reported to have generally from one to two thousand pounds, was to have been robbed.”

This comprehensive catalogue of the gang’s prospective arrangements was, doubtless, perused with much interest by the intended victims, and the rich baker must have congratulated himself on escaping the attention of his respectable neighbour. The only one of these contemplated robberies, towards the accomplishment of which any steps would seem to have been taken, was that of the office of the City Chamberlain. We read in Smith’s third declaration that “a false key was made by Brodie for the purpose of opening the door of the Chamberlain’s cash-room of the city of Edinburgh; the declarant and Brodie had frequently been at the door of the Chamberlain’s Office, in order to take the impression of the keyhole; that Brodie showed the declarant the said key after it was made; and Brodie told the declarant that it did not answer”—which was fortunate for the City Chamberlain. But the laudable intention which Smith, since his apprehension, had evinced “of making a clean breast” was not destined to gain for him any temporal advantage.

George Smith at the Bar. (After Kay.)

The public interest in the approaching trial was intense, both on account of the magnitude of the late robberies and the prominent position which Deacon Brodie had so long occupied in Edinburgh. His escape and capture had further whetted the popular excitement, and at an early hour on the morning of Wednesday, 27th August, 1788, every part of the Justiciary Court was crowded to its utmost capacity. A detachment of the 7th Regiment of Foot from the Castle lined the Parliament Square for the purpose of securing an easy access for the members of the Court and jurymen, and to prevent any confusion that might arise from the great crowd assembled at the doors.

At a quarter to nine o’clock the prisoners were brought from the Tolbooth into Court. “They were conveyed, upon their request, in chairs, but each having a sentinel of the City Guard on the right and left, with naked bayonets, and a sergeant’s guard behind, with muskets and fixed bayonets.” A contemporary account informs us that “Mr. Brodie was genteelly dressed in a new dark-blue coat, a fashionable fancy waistcoat, black satin breeches, and white silk stockings, a cocked hat, and had his hair fully dressed and powdered.” In contrast to the dashing appearance cut by his companion, Smith, we are told, was “but poorly clothed, having had no money since his confinement, which had already lasted six months.” The Deacon affected an easy and confident demeanour; Smith, on the contrary, looked timid and dejected.

At nine o’clock the five judges, preceded by a macer bearing the Justiciary mace, and headed by the formidable Braxfield, took their seats, “and, the Court being fenced and the action called in the usual manner,” the trial then commenced. As a verbatim report of the proceedings is contained in the following pages, and some account of the judges and counsel engaged therein will be found in the Appendix, it is only necessary here briefly to comment upon the more salient incidents which occurred in the course of the trial.

It is worthy of note that among those who served upon the jury were William Creech, the celebrated Edinburgh publisher and man of letters, and also Sir William Fettes, afterwards Lord Provost of Edinburgh, and James Donaldson, the well-known printer and pioneer of cheap literature, to whose munificence the city is indebted for the famous college and palatial hospital which bear the names of their respective founders.

The interest of the Deacon’s friends had secured for him the services of Henry Erskine, then Dean of Faculty, and the chief ornament of the Scots bar, with whom were Alexander Wight, and Charles Hay, afterwards the jovial Lord Newton; while Smith’s case was entrusted to the celebrated John Clerk of Eldin, at that time an inconsiderable junior, and Robert Hamilton, in later years the colleague of Sir Walter Scott. The Lord Advocate (Ilay Campbell) and the Solicitor-General (Robert Dundas), assisted by two Advocates-depute, conducted the prosecution.

Both prisoners pleaded not guilty; no objections were taken to the relevancy of the indictment; and it was stated for Brodie that he intended to prove an alibi. An objection taken by the Dean of Faculty to the specification of certain of the articles libelled on having been repelled, John Clerk attempted to make some observations on behalf of Smith, which resulted in the first of those passages of arms between him and Braxfield, whereby the dignified course of the proceedings was frequently enlivened. Clerk had then been at the bar less than three years; this was the most important case in which he had yet been employed; and it is said to have been his first appearance in the Justiciary Court. The remarkable and characteristic energy with which on that occasion he conducted his client’s defence attracted the attention of the profession, and laid the foundations of his subsequent reputation and practice.

An interesting point of law arose in connection with the calling of Smith’s wife as a witness for the prosecution against Brodie. Her proposed evidence was vigorously objected to by Clerk on account of the relation in which she stood to his client—both panels were included in one indictment, and it was impossible to criminate the one without the other. A sharp encounter with Braxfield ensued; but the Court admitted the witness. When Mrs. Smith entered the box, however, Alexander Wight, for Brodie, stated a fresh objection, viz., that the maiden name of the witness was wrongly given in the Crown list as “Mary Hubbart,” whereas her real name was “Hibbutt,” which, on her being requested by Braxfield to sign her name, turned out to be the fact. In view of this misnomer the objection was sustained and the witness dismissed.

Another legal point of interest arose when it was proposed to identify the five-pound bank-note libelled on, the Dean of Faculty objecting that it was not a “bank-note,” as described in the indictment, having been issued by a private banking company in Glasgow. The Court sustained the objection, holding that nothing was to be deemed a bank-note but one issued from a bank established by Royal Charter.

The crucial question of the case, however, both for the prosecution and the defence, was whether or not Ainslie and Brown should be admitted as witnesses to prove the panels’ guilt. So far the proof of their complicity in the robbery was mainly circumstantial. Although Smith, in his second declaration, had confessed his accession to the crime, yet, having pleaded not guilty, this was not in itself sufficient to convict him; while as regards the Deacon, apart from the statements of Smith, his guilt was only to be inferred from his flight and certain passages in his letters. It was, therefore, of vital importance to the prisoners that the direct evidence of their accomplices should be excluded, while the Crown case equally depended for a verdict upon its admission.

To the determining of this question each side accordingly addressed its strongest efforts, and the debate which followed will be found both lively and instructive. The authority of Sir George Mackenzie was quoted against the admission of the witnesses; but that venerable jurist was somewhat severely handled. The principal objection to Ainslie, as stated by the Dean of Faculty, was that he had been himself accused of the crime he was now to fasten upon another, and that the Sheriff of Edinburgh had offered him his life if he would criminate Brodie, of whose complicity he had hitherto said nothing. In the case of Brown, the battle was joined upon the precise effect of the pardon which had been obtained for that interesting criminal, and to what extent the pristine purity of his character was thereby restored. The Court, however, repelled the objections, and admitted both witnesses; and the evidence which they gave finally disposed of all chance of the panels’ acquittal.

At the conclusion of Brown’s evidence the Lord Justice-Clerk addressed that truculent scoundrel as follows:—“John Brown, you appear to be a clever fellow, and I hope you will now abandon your dissipated courses, and betake yourself to some honest employment.” To which Brown suitably replied, “My Lord, be assured my future life shall make amends for my past conduct.” He then left the box, and so passes out of the story, of which he was undoubtedly “the greater villain,” and surely never did witness less merit judicial commendation than John Brown alias Humphry Moore.

The Crown case closed with the reading of the prisoners’ declarations and the Deacon’s letters, such portions of the former as related to matters unconnected with the trial being withheld from the jury. For the defence no witnesses were called for Smith, and an attempt to prove an alibi made on behalf of Brodie was entirely unsuccessful, the principal witnesses to it being his brother-in-law, Matthew Sheriff, and his mistress, Jean Watt, both obviously friendly to the Deacon’s interests.

At one o’clock on the morning of Thursday, 28th August, the exculpatory proof was closed, and the Lord Advocate began his address to the jury. His Lordship’s speech, while an able and convincing statement of the Crown case, was marred by one or two passages which would now be considered to exceed the limits of legitimate advocacy. Such are the references to facts “which would have been likewise sworn to by Smith’s wife, if she had been allowed to be examined”; the assumption that the Deacon’s foreman, Robert Smith, was convinced of his master’s guilt; the use made of Ainslie’s declaration, which that witness was told had been destroyed, and which was not before the Court; and the passage in the peroration referring to the “consequences to the inhabitants of this populous city” of the Deacon’s acquittal.

At the conclusion of the evidence the Dean of Faculty and John Clerk had held a final consultation, when it was arranged that Clerk should speak first for Smith, and that Erskine should follow for Brodie, and strengthen or take up such points as he might think necessary. In order to put himself in fighting form, Clerk, we are told, drank a bottle of claret before commencing his address. This speech, the only extant example of his celebrated method of advocacy, was, in all the contemporary reports, reduced to a minimum for fear of offending the judges. Fortunately, however, a later writer, Peter Mackenzie, has preserved, in his “Reminiscences of Glasgow” (Glasgow, 1866), a full account of the suppressed passages, which he gives on the unquestionable authority of Æneas Morrison, the agent for Smith, who himself furnished the author with these particulars. They have accordingly been incorporated in the following report.

When Clerk, in the course of his address, came to deal with the evidence of Ainslie and Brown, a scene, almost incredible to us nowadays, occurred between the irrepressible young advocate and the overbearing judge. Clerk informed the jury that, in his opinion, these witnesses ought never to have been admitted, a statement which the bench naturally resented, and he went on to insist that, notwithstanding the ruling of the Court, the jury should discard their evidence entirely, as they (the jury) were to judge of the law as well as of the fact. In the course of the discussion which followed, the intervention of the Lord Advocate was met by a graceful allusion to His Majesty’s Tory Administration as “villains” likely to contaminate the Crown.

A heated altercation between Clerk and Braxfield ensued, and, finally, the latter bade him go on with his speech at his peril. On Clerk refusing to proceed unless allowed to do so in his own way, Braxfield invited the Dean of Faculty to commence his address for Brodie, which that gentleman declined to do. Thereupon the Lord Justice-Clerk was about to charge the jury himself, when Clerk, starting to his feet and shaking his fist at the bench, cried out, “Hang my client if ye daur, my Lord, without hearing me in his defence!” These amazing words, the like of which had seldom echoed in judicial ears, caused the utmost sensation in Court, and, after an awful pause, the judges left the bench to hold a consultation. But, on their return, instead of anything tremendous taking place, his Lordship civilly requested Clerk to continue his address, and the incident terminated.

Thus was the redoubtable Braxfield forced to yield to the persistence of the fiery young counsel. On reading the discussion as reported, one cannot but think that Clerk was clearly in the wrong, and that his contention as to the jury being judges both of the fact and of the law was, as Braxfield roundly put it, “talking nonsense.” Nor does it appear that the line which he saw fit to adopt could in any way benefit his unfortunate client, whose interests would have been better served by more temperate methods. Clerk, however, was thoroughly pleased with his performance, and subsequently observed that it was “the making of him” professionally.

It is said that Clerk’s indignant repudiation of the prosecutor’s argument that the King’s pardon made Brown an honest man reached the ears of Robert Burns, and led him afterwards to write the famous lines—

A prince can mak’ a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;

But an honest man’s aboon his might,

Gude faith, he mauna fa’ that!

At three o’clock in the morning the Dean of Faculty rose to address the jury on behalf of Deacon Brodie. In spite of the fact that he had been continuously engaged upon the case since nine o’clock the preceding morning, no signs of exhaustion appear in his eloquent and powerful speech. Every point telling in favour of the prisoner was given due prominence, and the utmost was made of the somewhat flimsy material of the alibi; the whole address forms a fine example of forensic oratory.

At half-past four o’clock the Lord Justice-Clerk—who is said never to have left the bench since the proceedings began—delivered his charge to the jury, which, one is glad to find, notwithstanding what had previously occurred, was a fair and impartial review of the evidence. His Lordship having concluded his charge at six o’clock on Thursday morning, the Court adjourned until one o’clock afternoon; the jury were inclosed; and the prisoners taken back to prison.

The Edinburgh Advertiser remarks—“Mr. Brodie’s behaviour during the whole trial was perfectly collected. He was respectful to the Court, and when anything ludicrous occurred in the evidence he smiled as if he had been an indifferent spectator.”

When the Court met again at one o’clock, the Chancellor of the jury handed in their written verdict, sealed with black wax, which unanimously found both panels guilty of the crime libelled, and the Lord Advocate formally moved for sentence.

A final effort was now made on behalf of the prisoners. Counsel for Brodie stated a plea in arrest of judgment, in respect that the verdict found the panels guilty “of breaking into the house in which the General Excise Office for Scotland was kept,” whereas it appeared from the evidence that there were, in fact, two separate and distinct houses occupied as the Excise Office. This objection was, after argument, repelled by the Court, and the prisoners were sentenced to death, their execution being appointed to take place on Wednesday, 1st October.

When the sentence was pronounced, we are told “Mr. Brodie discovered some inclination to address himself to the Court, but was restrained by his counsel,” and contented himself with bowing to the bench. The prisoners were then removed to the Tolbooth, escorted by the City Guard, amid a great concourse of spectators, and the proceedings terminated.

Æneas Morrison, the agent for Smith, adds the following particulars:—“The panels behaved in a manner different from each other, Smith appearing to be much dejected, especially at receiving his dreadful sentence, although in many instances he showed very great acuteness in his remarks upon the depositions of the witnesses and in the questions to them which he suggested. Mr. Brodie, on the other hand, affected coolness and determination in his behaviour. When the sentence of death was pronounced he put one hand in his breast and the other in his side and looked full around him. It is said that he accused his companion of pusillanimity, and even kicked him as they were leaving the Court. Thus ended a trial which had excited the public curiosity to an extraordinary degree, and in which their expectations were not disappointed. During the space of twenty-one hours—the time it lasted—circumstances continually followed each other to render it highly interesting, and more particularly to the gentlemen of the law, on account of the great variety and importance of the legal topics which were discussed and decided.”

The prisoners were lodged in the condemned cell of the Tolbooth, along with two men, James Falconer and Peter Bruce, then under sentence of death for breaking into and robbing the office of the Dundee Banking Company. They were each chained by one foot to an iron bar, but a contemporary account records that “Brodie’s chain is longer than the rest, as he can sit at a table and write by himself. They have behaved tolerable well, considering the small room they have on the goad, which goes across the room, very securely fixed from one end to the other in the wall, and hath four divisions or places on which the chains are fixed, with strong iron supporters fastened into the stone floor, and each has a mattress to lie on opposite to himself.”

A terrible change this, for the unfortunate Deacon, from the comfortable chambers of his house in Brodie’s Close and the social advantages which he had so long and undeservedly enjoyed. He seems, notwithstanding, to have kept up his spirits, and is said to have been as particular as ever in the matter of his dress. Having contrived to cut out the figure of a draughtboard on the stone floor of his dungeon, he amused himself by playing with any one who would join him, and in default of such, with his right hand against his left. The author of “Traditions of Edinburgh” states that this diagram remained in the room, where it was so strangely out of place, till the demolition of the Old Tolbooth in 1817. Many of his friends came to see him, for, until the time of his execution drew near, no restriction was placed upon their visits, and every effort was made by them to obtain a commutation of the death sentence to one of transportation for life.

In furtherance of this object Deacon Brodie, on 10th September, wrote letters to the Right Hon. Henry Dundas, afterwards Viscount Melville, and to the Duchess of Buccleuch, soliciting their influence in support of an application then being made to the Government on his behalf. Copies of these most interesting documents, which have never before been published, will be found in the Appendix—that addressed to the Duchess being also given in facsimile. This lady was Elizabeth, daughter of George, Duke of Montague, and wife of Henry, third Duke of Buccleuch, the friend of Sir Walter Scott, whose daughter-in-law, when Countess of Dalkeith, inspired “The Lay of the Last Minstrel.” It is noteworthy that, in spite of his position and presumed education, the Deacon’s spelling is more remarkable for originality than accuracy. His friends’ “aplication above,” however, proved unsuccessful, and the inevitable end had to be faced.

The Old Tolbooth of Edinburgh, showing the beam upon which criminals were executed. (From a Drawing by D. Somerville.)

Deacon Brodie continued to bear up bravely, referring to his approaching exit as “a leap in the dark,” and is said to have only once broken down, when he was visited by his eldest daughter, Cecil, on the Friday before his execution. On the Sunday preceding his death, the other two prisoners, Falconer and Bruce, who were to have been executed on the same day, were granted a respite of six weeks. Smith observed that six weeks was but a short time; whereupon the Deacon exclaimed, “George, what would you and I give for six weeks longer? Six weeks would be an age to us!” On the Tuesday he was visited by a friend, when, we are told, “the conversation turning upon the female sex, he began singing with the greatest cheerfulness from the ‘Beggar’s Opera’ ‘ ’Tis woman that seduces all mankind,’ &c.”

The “Beggar’s Opera,” the well-known work of the poet and dramatist, John Gay, appears to have been a special favourite with the Deacon, for it will be remembered that he sang a stave from it on the night of the robbery of the Excise Office. The opera was frequently performed at the Old Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, at this period, and he had, no doubt, had many opportunities of hearing it. Commenting on this incident, the Edinburgh Advertiser remarks—“Brodie seemed to take the character of Captain Macheath as his model, and the day before his death was singing one of the songs from the ‘Beggar’s Opera.’ This is another proof of the dangerous tendency of that play, which ought to be prohibited from being performed on the British stage. It is inconceivable how many highwaymen and robbers this opera has given birth to.” The editor of the Advertiser was evidently less gifted with a sense of humour than the Deacon, and had never read Fergusson’s lines “To Sir John Fielding, on his attempt to suppress the ‘Beggar’s Opera.’ ”

On the night before the execution, Deacon Brodie complained of the noise made by the workmen in effecting the alterations on the gibbet necessitated by the reprieve of the other prisoners, Falconer and Bruce; and it is stated in a contemporary report of the trial, published by Robertson on 2nd October, 1788, the day after the execution, that Brodie then said “he planned the model of the new place of execution, he purchased the wood, and gave his assistance in finishing it—but little did he imagine at the time that he himself would make his exit on it.” The Edinburgh Advertiser of 3rd October, 1788, describing the execution, says—“It is not a little remarkable that Brodie was the planner, a few years since, of the new-invented gallows on which he suffered”; and Robert Chambers, in his “Minor Antiquities of Edinburgh,” (1833, p. 168), remarks—“As the Earl of Morton was the first man executed by the ‘Maiden,’ so was Brodie the first who proved the excellence of an improvement he had formerly made on the apparatus of the gibbet. This was the substitution of what is called the ‘drop’ for the ancient practice of the double ladder. He inspected the thing with a professional air, and seemed to view the result of his ingenuity with a smile of satisfaction.” William Chambers, however, in his “Book of Scotland” (1830, pp. 327-8), takes a different view, holding that the drop was first employed at Newgate in 1784, and had already been used in Edinburgh at an execution in 1785.

Popular tradition, with a fine sense of the requirements of poetic justice, has steadfastly held that Deacon Brodie was the first to test the efficacy of the drop which he himself invented, and was thus, in a double sense, the artificer of his own downfall. And although such a circumstance would be well in keeping with the Deacon’s singularly dramatic career, it must unfortunately be dismissed as a picturesque improvement on the literal truth.

A careful examination of the Council records discloses the following facts, now for the first time published:—On 18th August, 1784, the Town Council remitted to Convener Jameson (mason), Deacon Hill (wright), and Deacon Brodie to inspect the west wall of the Tolbooth and consider in what manner a door or passage could be made in order that criminals might be executed there, and to report. Up till that time all public executions had taken place in the Grassmarket at the foot of the West Bow; and it was now proposed that criminals should be executed upon a platform to be erected on the low building which projected from the west gable of the Tolbooth. The report of the committee on the subject does not appear on the record; but in September the new Council was elected for the ensuing year, and Deacon Brodie was not chosen a member of it.

On 24th November, 1784, “pursuant to a late remit to the Magistrates to consider as to fitting up a place adjoining to the Tolbooth of this city for the execution of criminals,” estimates by Convener Jameson and Deacon Hill (who were members of the new Council) were accepted for the mason and wright work respectively. On 11th April, 1785, estimates by the same two Councillors were accepted for rebuilding the shops affected by the proposed alterations, “exclusive of the wright work for the platform and the machinery for an execution, conform to a former estimate.” On the 13th of the same month, the Dean of Guild having inspected the work and reported favourably upon it, the magistrates passed an Act of Council appointing the west end of the Tolbooth to be the common place of execution in all time coming; and ordained Archibald Stewart, then under sentence of death for housebreaking, to be executed there in pursuance of his sentence. The execution was accordingly carried out on 20th April, 1785, but not, it would appear, upon the moveable platform or drop. On 7th September of that year, five months after Stewart’s death, the Council for the first time authorised Deacon Hill “to make a moveable platform for the execution of criminals in terms of his estimate”; and among certain accounts ordered to be paid by the City Chamberlain on 13th September, 1786, we find one due “To Thomas Hill for erecting a second platform, west end of the Tolbooth, twenty-one pounds, seven shillings and elevenpence halfpenny”—his account for the former work being also mentioned.

This was, without doubt, the drop upon which, two years later, Deacon Brodie was to suffer the penalty of the law. It is possible, and indeed, from the contemporary evidence already quoted, probable that he himself designed the model, adopting the improvement recently introduced in England. He may even have sent in an estimate for the work, but, as he was not that year a member of Council, Deacon Hill had the better chance of securing the contract, and certainly obtained it.

It was, therefore, on the platform above referred to that the execution of William Brodie and George Smith took place, at half-past two o’clock on the afternoon of Wednesday, 1st October, 1788, in presence of an immense crowd of spectators, great numbers having come from all parts of the country to witness the event. The Caledonian Mercury observes—“The crowd on this occasion was the greatest ever known; the whole space from the prison to the Castle Hill being filled with spectators, pressed together in one compact and immoveable column.” The proceedings were conducted with more than usual solemnity; the magistrates attended in their robes of office, “with white gloves and white staves”; ministers of divers denominations were present in their gowns and bands; and the City Guard formed a cordon round the place of execution. We read that “the great bell tolled during the ceremony, which had an awful and solemn effect.” This is said to have been the first occasion of the kind on which the bell of St. Giles’ Church was tolled. It is characteristic of the man that, on his last public appearance, we are informed, “Mr. Brodie appeared in a handsome suit of black clothes, and had his hair powdered and dressed with taste.” Twice, owing to some defect in the adjustment of the ropes, did the Deacon descend from the platform and enter into conversation with his friends; but, notwithstanding this dreadful delay, his fortitude remained unshaken, and he met his fate with a courage and equanimity worthy of a better cause:

Nothing in his life

Became him like the leaving it.

With his hand thrust carelessly into the open front of his vest, as we see him in his portrait, the Deacon calmly took that step out of the world which his own ingenuity is said to have shortened.

The Edinburgh Evening Courant of 2nd October, 1788, voices the popular sentiment of the time as follows:—“Thus ended the life of William Brodie, whose conduct, when we consider his situation in life, is equally singular and contradictory. By the low and vicious connections he formed he had everything to lose—he could gain little even if successful; for, from the moment he embarked in the enterprises of his desperate associates, his property, his life, was at their mercy. Indeed, his crimes appear to be rather the result of infatuation than depravity; and he seemed to be more attracted by the dexterity of thieving than the profit arising from it. To excel in the performance of some paltry legerdemain or slight-of-hand tricks, to be able to converse in the cant or flash language of thieves, or to chant with spirit a song from the ‘Beggar’s Opera,’ was to him the highest ambition. Those who knew him best agree that his

Deacon Brodie. (After Kay.)

disposition was friendly and generous, and that he had infinitely more of the dupe than the knave in his composition; and was, indeed, admirably fitted for designing and wicked men to work upon.” The Deacon, even in his own day, did not lack apologists. And though there may be some diversity of opinion regarding the precise shade which that unhappy gentleman had stained a character in other respects not without redeeming traits, there can be none as to the monstrous injustice of the penalty exacted by the law for his offence. In these more merciful times, when conscientious juries hesitate to convict the guilty upon a capital charge, and rather than deliver a fellow-being to an irrevocable doom will sometimes evade responsibility by the via media of “not proven,” it is difficult to realise the callous indifference to human life for which our criminal code was formerly notorious. At that period a man might, literally, as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb; and that the Deacon should suffer a punishment so disproportionate to his deserts would, however repugnant to modern feeling, seem natural enough to his stoical contemporaries.

In explanation of the singular degree of coolness exhibited to the last by Deacon Brodie, a curious story became current. Much anxiety had undoubtedly been shown both by himself and others that his body might not be detained in prison, but should be delivered to his friends so soon as the execution had taken place. With this view the Deacon, on the forenoon of the fatal day, addressed to the Lord Provost the following remarkable letter:—

“Edinburgh Tolbooth,

“Oct. 1, 1788, Eleven o’clock.

“My Lord,

“As none of my relations can stand being present at my dissolution, I humbly request that your Lordship will permit —— to attend, it will be some consolation in my last hour; and that your Lordship will please give orders that my body after be delivered to and by no means to remain in gaol; that he and my friends may have it decently dressed and interred. This is the last request of

“Your most obedient

but most unfortunate,

Will. Brodie.”

“Both of which requests,” we are told, “his Lordship most readily granted.” It is said, by the author of the letterpress in “Kay’s Portraits” (1877, vol. 1., pp. 262-3), on the authority of an eye-witness of the execution, that Brodie had been visited in prison by a French quack, Dr. Peter Degravers, who undertook to restore him to life after he had hung the usual time; that, on the day preceding the execution, this individual had marked the Deacon’s temples and arms with a pencil, in order to know the more readily where to apply his lancet; and that with this view the hangman had been bargained with for a short fall. “The excess of caution, however, exercised by the executioner in the first instance in shortening the rope proved fatal by his inadvertency in making it latterly too long. After he was cut down his body was immediately given to two of his own workmen, who, by order of the guard, placed it in a cart and drove at a furious rate round the back of the Castle. The object of this order was probably an idea that the jolting motion of the cart might be the means of resuscitation, as had once actually happened in the case of the celebrated ‘half-hangit Maggie Dickson.’ The body was afterwards conveyed to one of Brodie’s own workshops in the Lawnmarket, where Degravers was in attendance. He attempted bleeding, &c., but all would not do. Brodie was fairly gone.”

The irregular practitioner above mentioned was certainly in Edinburgh about that time, for we read in the newspapers of the day advertisements, which he issued from his rooms in Charles Street, offering his professional services to the public at the moderate fee of half-a-crown “in all cases.” Judging by the testimonials from grateful patients which he also published, the doctor must have given wonderful value for the money; but in the somewhat exceptional circumstances of the Deacon’s case he would, if successful, have surely been entitled to a larger fee.

A more picturesque, if less probable version of the same story is given by the author of “Reminiscences of Glasgow,” on the authority of Æneas Morrison. It is there stated that any attempt to effect the Deacon’s rescue by overpowering the City Guard or breaking into the Tolbooth having, after due consideration, been abandoned by his friends as hopeless, the following elaborate scheme was to be attempted to save his life. Shortly before the hour of his execution, the Deacon was to beg that he might speak to certain of his friends alone for a few moments upon his private affairs. This request being complied with, the opportunity should be seized for introducing into his throat and mouth a small silver tube made for the purpose, with the view of preventing suffocation, and wires were to be carried down his sides from head to foot to save the jerk from the scaffold. The executioner was to be induced to give him a short drop, and other liberties were to be taken with the fatal rope. A surgeon—doubtless the philanthropic Degravers—was to be in attendance to bleed him as soon as the body was cut down; and, if this succeeded, the Deacon was to lie quiet in his coffin, exhibiting no symptom of life, till such time as it could be safely removed to his own house for presumed interment by his relatives. Whether or not this remarkable programme was ever carried out is not recorded.

It would appear from these reports that an attempt of some kind was made with a view to resuscitate the Deacon; and there is no doubt that many people believed at the time that he had “cheated the wuddy” after all. It was said that he had actually revived and made good his escape from Scotland; that he was afterwards seen and conversed with in Paris. His coffin was certainly interred in the north-east corner of the burying-ground of St. Cuthbert’s Chapel of Ease—now Buccleuch Parish Church; but there is a tradition that, on a subsequent occasion, the grave was opened, when no trace of his body could be found.

These stories are probably apocryphal; but they are curious as showing the exceptional interest which the Deacon’s strange career aroused in the minds of his fellow-townsmen. And although his mortal remains, wheresoever situated, must long since have crumbled into dust, the name and doings of Deacon Brodie are indissolubly associated with the annals of that ancient city in which, to a conclusion so disastrous, he played his double part.