of thieves.
It is nearly a hundred and twenty years since Deacon Brodie played out his twofold part at the west end of the Luckenbooths one grey October afternoon in 1788; but the close in the Lawnmarket which bears his name remains to this day. Here he was born and lived, man and boy, robber and decent burgess, for many reputable years; here his old father passed away, happy in the possession of so excellent a son; and from hence did the son essay that “last fatal” adventure, the issue of which was, for him, discovery and the scaffold.
The house itself has long since vanished—a victim to the indiscriminate destruction which has swept away so much else worthy of preservation. You can no longer see the heavy oaken door with the cunning lock of the Deacon’s own contriving, and the turnpike stair down which, with mask and lantern, he so often stole at midnight upon his secret and criminous affairs. But if you follow him in fancy down the High Street and past the Nether Bow, to where a gloomy “pend” leads into Chessel’s Court, you will find the tall front of the old Excise Office still rising within its “palisadoes,” behind which lurked the trembling Ainslie; and if it be about the dusk of the evening, and your imagination is informed with the spirit of the place, you may even see the man rush wildly forth from the doorway up the court, and hear, in the succeeding silence, the three blasts of an ivory whistle.
The trial of Deacon Brodie has many claims upon the attention of a later age. It is of value to the antiquarian for the vivid picture it presents of the manners and customs of our forbears at a time when the life of Edinburgh yet flowed in the ancient arteries of the old city on the ridge, although beginning to circulate more freely in the spacious thoroughfares of the New Town already invading the fields across the valley. To the lawyer it is notable as affording a singularly graphic view of the old-time practice of our criminal Courts, as well as for the galaxy of legal talent engaged upon its conduct—with such men as Braxfield on the bench and Henry Erskine and John Clerk at the bar the proceedings could lack neither picturesqueness nor importance. The psychologic interest of the chief actor’s character and the dramatic elements in which his career abounds make a more general appeal; and so long as human nature remains the same will the story of the Deacon’s downfall be accorded an indulgent hearing.
That story had for Robert Louis Stevenson a strong attraction. As early as 1864 he prepared the draft of a play founded upon it, which—after being at various times re-cast—finally took shape in the melodrama, “Deacon Brodie, or the Double Life,” written in collaboration with the late W. E. Henley, and published in 1892. It may even be that the conception of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” was suggested to Stevenson by his study of the dual nature so strikingly exemplified in his earlier hero; while in other of his writings he has touched the Deacon with a felicitous and kindly hand.
The birth of Deacon Brodie is thus recorded in the Register of Births for the city of Edinburgh—
“Monday, 28th September, 1741. To Francis Brodie, wright, burgess, and Cecil Grant, his spouse, a son named William. Witnesses—William Grant, writer in Edinburgh, and Ludovick Brodie, Writer to the Signet. Born the same day.”
It is an inexplicable circumstance, although by no means uncommon, that so goodly a family tree as that of the Brodies should, in due course of nature, bear such degenerate fruit as the subject of this entry was destined to prove. His great-grandfather, Francis Brodie of Milnton, Elginshire, was a member of a family well known in the North of Scotland, and his grandfather, Ludovick Brodie of Whytfield, was a much respected Writer to the Signet in Edinburgh, who, on his death in 1758, was the oldest member of the Society. His father, Francis Brodie, was born in 1708, and in 1740 married Cecil, daughter of William Grant, writer in Edinburgh, with whose family he was already connected. Both the Deacon’s grandfathers, therefore, were members of the legal profession.
There will be found in the Appendix a copy of a MS. Register of Births and Deaths kept by Francis Brodie in his family Bible, together with some account of that interesting volume, from which it appears that William was the eldest of eleven children, most of whom died in infancy. The entry relating to his birth has been cut out of the Register, presumably on his public disgrace some forty-seven years later.
Francis Brodie was a substantial wright and cabinetmaker in the Lawnmarket of Edinburgh, where he carried on an extensive and prosperous business. In 1735 he was made a Burgess, and in 1763, a Guild Brother of his native burgh. That he stood high in the estimation of his fellow-craftsmen is evidenced by his being, in 1775 and 1776, elected a member of the Town Council as Deacon of the Incorporation of Wrights, and again in 1779 and 1780, in the same capacity; while in 1776 he also represented the Incorporated Trades of the city as their Deacon Convener. A further proof of the position and circumstances of the family is to be found in the fact that the close in which their house was situated became known by their name.
This mansion, the most important in the close, was originally the town residence of the Littles of Craigmillar, having been built by William Little, a magistrate of Edinburgh, in 1570, whose brother, Clement Little, was the founder of the University Library. In the earlier titles of the property the close bears the name of its old residenters; but in Edgar’s map of 1742 it appears as Lord Cullen’s Close, from the eminent judge, Sir Francis Grant of Cullen, who in turn resided there. Brodie’s Close was formerly a “throwgang” or thoroughfare passing from the Lawnmarket to the Cowgate, the upper portion of which alone has escaped the “improvements” that have so effectively changed the features of this part of the Old Town. The area occupied by the Deacon’s dwelling is now covered by Victoria Terrace, the building having been demolished about 1835, when the principal carved stones of the mansion were transported by Clement Little’s descendants, in whose possession the property remained, to the garden of the family seat, Inch House, near Liberton, as relics of the habitation of their ancestors. The lower extremity of the close, in which were situated the Deacon’s workshops and woodyard, survived until a later date, the last traces of it disappearing to make way for the foundations of the Free Library.
In the fine old tenement at the head of the close—often erroneously described as Brodie’s residence—is still to be seen the decorated hall of the Roman Eagle Lodge, a famous Masonic society of the eighteenth century, immediately beyond which, on the east side of an open court, stood the Deacon’s house. It is thus described by Chambers in his “Traditions of Edinburgh” as it existed in 1825—“Brodie’s house is to be found in its original state, first door up a turnpike stair in the south-east corner of a small court near the foot of the close. The outer door is remarkable for its curious, elaborate workmanship. The house is well built, and the rooms exhibit some decorations of taste. The principal apartment, of which the ceiling is remarkably high, contains a large panel painting of the ‘Adoration of the Wise Men,’ and has an uncommonly large arched window to the west.” What became of this painting, which was attributed to Alexander Runciman, is now unknown.
Of the early years of William Brodie we have, unfortunately, no record, but it may be assumed that he received an education suitable for the son of a well-to-do burgess. He was apprenticed
to his father’s trade, and in due time became associated with him in his thriving business. In those days no self-denying ordinance obtained in the Town Council, and Francis Brodie’s municipal connection secured for him and his son the most of the city work. The young man had the ball at his foot, as the saying goes, and only good behaviour and application to business were required for the attainment of an assured position. Unhappily for himself, however, he soon exhibited that taste for dissipation which ultimately led to such dire results; and while his days were occupied in following his respectable employment, in which he speedily obtained proficiency, his nights were largely devoted to gambling and kindred pursuits.
The social customs of the time were not conducive to steadiness and sobriety among the youthful citizens. It was the Edinburgh of Humphrey Clinker and of Topham’s Letters; the “Auld Reikie” of Fergusson’s convivial muse—
Auld Reikie! wale o’ ilka town