by Rick Wilson
My dear Sir,
By short instructions sent me when I left London, which I think were drawn up in my cousin Milton’s hand, I was forbid writing to any one in Britain, Mr Walker excepted, for a year or two; but this order, if necessary, I find it not easy for me to comply with, for I must correspond with my friends in whatever part of the globe I am, and I hope they will do so with me, and write them when an opportunity offers. I have gone through much, in every sense of the word. – J. D. and M.
I wrote Mr Walker from this the 12th current. I received an answer the 18th, and wrote again the 23rd current, and upon receiving his next I hope to be enabled 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; and notwithstanding the climate is very hot, and not so salutary to British constitutions, especially at the time I will arrive, which will be about the dog days. I will settle there if I think I can do better than at Philadelphia or New York. Longevity to me is now no object; but, at any rate, I will be at New York, and I hope to find there letters, and, if possible, some clothes and tools, otherwise I will be badly off indeed.
It grieves me to hear my creditors were so rigorous hasty, but well pleased on hearing the deed and conveyance had the proper effect. I hope all my creditors will be paid, and a reversion, which can be no object to the Crown. Were an application made to the Solicitor, and, if needful, a supplication in my name to his mother, and uncle the Treasurer, perhaps it might be a means either of quieting or getting easier through the threatened suit with the Crown; but this is only my idea.
At any rate, if my clothes and tools must go to sale, a proper assortment of tools, put into my best chest, might be put up in one lot, and my wearing apparel and linens in another lot. They are worth more to me than any one, and I think few in Edinburgh will bid for them if known they are designed for me; but if any one bids their value, in God’s name let them have them, otherwise I hope they will be bought for me. I wish it were possible for me to know, before I left this, if I might expect them at New York; if otherwise, I will be under an absolute necessity of laying out what little money may remain, after paying my passage and clearing my board and lodging here, to my last shilling, and buying a few necessaries, otherwise I will land almost naked; and, if possible, to reach a few tools, both of which, I am informed, are £50 per cent, dearer in America than here.
I received from Mr Walker, in all, £12 16s., and he would pay something for three days I slept in Mr Rose’s, though I am at present three guineas in debt to my landlord, and not a stiver in my pocket for four days past. This is the dearest place I was ever in.
I beg I may hear from you when at New York, and, if directed to Mr John Dixon, to the care of the Reverend Dr. Mason, I will certainly receive it (as I know no other name there to desire you to direct it to), for I will certainly call there, whatever part I land or settle in, in expectation of letters, &c., and, in particular, a long letter from you, in which please answer the following questions without reserve. I am prepared to hear the worst: – How does my dear sisters keep their health? I hope the shock of my departure, and what followed, has not injured either of them in health. How did they stand it? Where does my sister Jeany live? I hope there is no alteration in Mr Sheriff’s friends to my dear Jamie. If money is an object, it is all in his favour. How is Mr and Mrs Grant, and Mr William, to whom I am for ever much obliged for settling my passage. It was a deep cut, but the more I am obliged to him and shall never forget it. He is a feeling and a generous gentleman.
I am sorry I cannot say so much of my cousin Milton, although he, too, was anxious for my off-going. How does my uncle and Mrs. Rintoull keep their health? From his conduct and repeated expressions, I never had much reason to expect anything from him, but now far less, although I be more needful. I believe few at my age ever went out more so. At present I am destitute of everything. I can put every article I have upon my back, and in my pocket. How does Mrs Campbell and her son’s family?
Who were the most forward of my creditors to attach? How does my affairs turn out in the whole? If Robert Smith [his foreman] is employed, has he been active and attentive? He would need to be looked after, although he may be useful; and any news or alterations relating to my friends that may have happened.
What has been done, or likely to be done, with the two unfortunate men, Smith and Ainslie, and the greater villain, John Brown alias Humphry Moore? Was John Murray alias Jack Tasker [the Chesterfield fence] brought from England? Whatever these men may say, I had no hand in any of their depredations, excepting the last, which I shall ever repent, and the keeping such company, although I doubt not but all will be laid to me. But let me drop this dreadful subject. S. W., T. L., R. S., J. M., J. S.
An Ironic Comment
In the following draft letter, the second from his trunk, he said it again, in slightly different words: ‘I had no direct concern in any of their depredations, excepting the last fatal one, by which I lost ten pounds in cash.’ Unlike the general, damning admission, the word ‘direct’ had obviously been thought about – and scored out. And there seemed to be another general confession of bad behaviour in his statement that ‘I often went in retregard’. His handwriting was also established in this case, and it seems ironic that – as a man who was to be historically notorious for his double life – here he caustically commented that his foreman ‘is double and would need looking after’.
Pray write me what is become of Anne Grant, and how is her children disposed of. Cecill [their elder daughter] is a sensible, clever girl, considering the little opportunity she has had of improving. My dear little Willie [their son] will be, if I can judge, a brave and hardy boy.
Jean [their younger daughter] is her mother’s picture, and too young to form any opinion of. What has become of Jean Watt? She is a devil and I can form no opinion of Frank or his young brother; but pray write me how they are disposed of.
If you please, write me what is become of the two unhappy men, Smith, and his wife, and Ainslie. Are they yet? Is their trial come on? and the greater villain John Brown alias Humphry Moore? 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 but all will be laid to my charge, and some that I never heard of.
The following is written at the foot of the page:
I often went in a retregard. I have been all my life in a reteregard motion.
And what follows is written on the other side:
Does Mr [William] Martin stand his bargain? Is any of my late property sold? Who is making out my accounts? Has Robert Smith been useful and active in my affairs? He is double and would need looking after.
Perhaps, in the course of making out and settling my accounts, some questions may occur that I may solve. If there is any such, please write them down, and I will answer them in course. Has any settlement taken place with Mr Little? I am afraid my affairs will be a laborious task to you; but I hope all my creditors will be paid, and a reversion.
If all my moveables are not yet sold, I beg my clothes and linen, and a set of useful tools may be preserved for me; they are worth more to me than another.
I wrote more fully some time ago to Mr Walker on this head, and also Mr Sheriff, the 8th April; but I know not if he received it. Pray let me know if he did, and how he stands affected towards me. Whatever be his sentiments, I shall always esteem him and regard him as my brother, but I shall never write another friend until I hear from you, and have your opinion how they will take it.
Pray, did Captain Dent ever make any discovery who I was when he arrived at Leith.
[Signed]: ??????????
To Auld Acquaintance
There were also, of course, the less contentious and less personal letters he managed to write from his prison cell to old acquaintances rather than friends or relatives, and one of them – written
shortly before his trial but showing his sense of humour to be still intact – was addressed to his one-time fellow town councillor, ‘Don. Smith Esq.’ …
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 mortifications 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
As the hour of his ‘dissolution’ drew near – indeed, on the very morning of his execution – Deacon Brodie wrote to Edinburgh’s Lord Provost [Mayor] asking that his body be delivered to his friends to be ‘decently dressed and interred’. This was readily granted – unlike his earlier last-minute pleas for help to the Right Hon Henry Dundas (Viscount Melville) and the Duchess of Buccleuch. All three letters appear in the final chapter of this book.
The Will, with Five Days to Go
For most people, the writing of a last will and testament is surely a matter of serious reflection and balanced intent, ‘being of sound mind and body’. Perhaps that time-honoured phrase is brought into sharp focus on a reading of the sardonic will of William Brodie written in the Tolbooth prison, a month after he was sentenced to death and five days before he stepped up to the gallows:
I, William Brodie, late Deacon of the Wrights in Edinburgh, and sometime member of the Town council of said burgh, considering the certainty of my death and the propriety and expediency of recommending my memory by some good offices to my friends when I am no more, do hereby execute my last will and testament in manner following, that is to say –
1. Having a Royal Successor to my means and estates, an nothing else to dispose of but my good and bad qualifications, I dispose of these as follows:–
To the Right Honourable, (for a few days to come), John Grieve, Esq., I give and bequeath all my political knowledge in securing magistrates and packing corporations, hoping he will use the same in effecting a seat for himself at a certain board, to which he has long had an eye, on the first vacancy.
2. To James Donaldson, I freely bequeath my sobriety and good breeding, which may save him from being kicked out of company on occasion of his petulance and ill-manners, as was lately the case at Archers’ Hall.
3. My charity and good deeds I humbly bequeath to the ministers of the Gospel, in Scotland, with this injunction, that they do not retail them among their hearers, but put them in practice amongst themselves.
4. To the Magistrates of Edinburgh, present and to come, I leave and bequeath all my knowledge of the law, which may prevent their being under the necessity in future of borrowing from any of their Jameos [their clerks], who are as ignorant as themselves.
5. To my late landlord, William Charles Little of Liberton, Esq., I leave my whole stock of economy, pride, and self-conceit, knowing he has very little of his own.
6. To William Creech, bookseller, who has favoured the public with an account of my trial, I give and bequeath my honour and generosity, referring the world to the note prefixed to Mr Morrison’s appendix.
7. To Hamilton, the chimney sweep, I leave and bequeath my dexterity in cards and dice, which may enable him to refund himself of the five guineas, two half-guineas, and six shillings which he prosecuted me for, when he meets a pigeon, which I advertise him he is not likely to do either at Clerk’s or Michael Henderson’s.
8. To my good friends and old companions, Brown and Ainslie, I freely bequeath all my bad qualities, not doubting, however, but their own will secure them a rope at last.
My neck now being about to embrace the halter, I would recommend it to all rogues, sharpers, thieves, and gamblers, whether in high or low station, to take care of theirs, by leaving-off their wicked practices, and becoming good members of Society in future.
Written with my own hand, and dated Sept. 26, 1788.
WILLM BRODIE
It had to be remarkable, did it not, that this unusual character could still employ his impish sense of humour when about to pay his debts to an aggrieved society? Why would his imminent confrontation with the Grim Reaper be anything for him or his relatives to laugh about? But there were, as we know, a good few dubious sides to William Brodie, and one of them was his innate inability to pay his debts on time.
6
THE TRIAL: YOU STAND ACCUSED
Theirs had been the worst of evil crimes. The calculated targeting and befriending of unsuspecting victims who would be persuaded to join in convivial drink marathons, then, when totally befuddled or asleep, end up being ‘burked’ – smothered and compressed about the chest until they realised (perhaps) that they were drawing their last, wide-eyed, silent-screaming breath. A series of sixteen such murders for money made the bodysnatcher-killers William Burke and William Hare the most notorious criminals in the annals of Edinburgh’s history – thoroughly deserving of the death penalty, though the latter even managed to avoid it by turning Crown’s evidence against his partner-in-crime.
But did William Brodie and George Smith deserve to be hanged after their trial exactly forty years before? However reprehensible their crimes, they were merely burglars and had not killed, nor even physically hurt, anyone. Certainly, a batch of loaded pistols had accompanied them on their most ambitious job – the robbing of Scotland’s General Excise Office – and it could therefore be argued that there was a readiness, if not an intention, to shoot anyone getting in their way. But the weapons may have been there for romantic effect and, in the event, were not used. Indeed, the job itself was something of a damp discharge, yielding a lot less money than expected (see page 71) but was it, ultimately, the how-dare-they audaciousness of it that seeded the seriousness of the sentencing?
And despite the allegations of at least ten break-ins, the focus of their trial was constantly on that particular incident that had indelibly insinuated itself into the outraged minds of Edinburgh’s citizenry, and particularly its legal establishment; all classes seemed utterly transfixed by the sharpness of the social and character contrasts displayed by Brodie: respectable town councillor by day, sleazy burglar by night. There was definitely a large school of resentment in all camps’ thinking: not just theft but betrayal of class. Many thought: why shouldn’t he pay the ultimate price for that?
It couldn’t happen today, of course, no matter how shocked society might be by a crime short of murder; even back then – in the absence of a not-proven verdict or appeals procedures – there was the option of transportation to the Colonies, which was apparently never considered. But chief among the five judges on the bench was the Lord Justice Clerk, Lord Braxfield, a bulldog of a man with widely acknowledged common sense – being the grandson of an earl’s gardener – but a fearsome reputation; indeed, he was often called ‘The Hanging Judge’. And having been a friend of Brodie’s father, he was not beyond passing his influence and opinion – that the son was guilty of disgracing the memory of the father – to his fellow judges: Lords Hailes, Eskgrove, Swinton and Stonefield.
And another move that would be seen as irregular today was Braxfield’s choosing of the jury’s fifteen male members, including William Creech, the bookseller and publisher who had been a resentful enemy of Brodie on the city council and who was to write and publish hi
s own version of the trial only a few days after it ended.
Outside and in, the Court of Justiciary was overwhelmed by an excited public whose appetite for the trial had been whetted by the double-life tales and escape and capture of the main man, who was now being transported by sedan chair across Parliament Close from the Tolbooth prison; likewise, his co-accused. But neither of them could be seen, escorted as they were by ‘sentinels of the City Guard on the right and left, with naked bayonets, and a sergeant’s guard behind, with muskets and fixed bayonets’ – responsible for keeping the parties apart. From the castle, a detachment of the 7th Regiment of Foot lined Parliament Square to ease the passage to court of lawyers and jurymen and help calm the great crowds.
What the public within the court eventually saw was a well-dressed, confident-looking Brodie emerge from the sedan chair to take his seat alongside a dejected-looking Smith. ‘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’, according to a contemporary report, ‘while Smith was poorly clothed, having had no money since his confinement, which had already lasted six months’.