Their bizzing craigs and mou’s to weet:
And blythly gar auld Care gae bye
Wi’ blinkit and wi’ bleering eye.
The early hours of the evening were at that period universally spent by Edinburgh tradesmen in one or other of the innumerable taverns of the old town. So soon as the business of the day was over, as Fergusson tells us—
When auld Saunt Giles, at aught o’clock,
Gars merchant louns their shopies lock,
There we adjourn wi’ hearty fock
To birle our bodies,
And get wharewi’ to crack our joke,
And clear our noddles.
“All the shops in the town,” says Chambers, “were then shut at eight o’clock, and from that hour until ten—when the drum of the Town Guard announced at once a sort of licence for the deluging of the streets with nuisances, and a warning of the inhabitants home to their beds—unrestrained scope was given to the delights of the table.” At the latter hour the more reputable roysterers sought their homes; but it was then that the clubs, which formed so prominent a feature of the old city life, began the business of the evening. Fergusson, who has given us in his incomparable “Auld Reikie” a glowing picture of the Edinburgh of his day, thus alludes to the subject—
Now Night, that’s cunzied chief for fun,
Is wi’ her usual rites begun;
Thro’ ilka gate the torches blaze,
And globes send out their blinking rays.
Now some to porter, some to punch,
Some to their wife, and some their wench,
Retire, while noisy ten-hours drum
Gars a’ your trades gae dandring home.
Now mony a club, jocose and free,
Gi’e a’ to merriment and glee;
Wi’ sang and glass, they fley the pow’r
O’ care that wad harass the hour.
But chief, O Cape! we crave thy aid,
To get our cares and poortith laid:
Sincerity, and genius true,
Of Knights have ever been the due:
Mirth, music, porter deepest dy’d,
Are never here to worth deny’d;
And health, o’ happiness the queen,
Blinks bonny, wi’ her smile serene.
Of this, the most famous of the Edinburgh social clubs, Brodie was admitted a member on 25th February, 1775. The Cape Club usually held its festivals in James Mann’s tavern, facetiously known as “The Isle of Man Arms,” situated in Craig’s Close. The roll of the Knights Companions of the Cape contains many celebrated names, including those of David Herd, the antiquarian; Robert Fergusson, the poet; Alexander Runciman, the painter; and Sir Henry Raeburn—William Brodie’s election occurring four months after Fergusson’s death. Each member was required to assume some fanciful title, Brodie taking that of “Sir Lluyd.” On the margin of the roll prefixed to the minute-book an ingenious member has drawn a representation of his last public appearance on the new drop, some thirteen years later. The insignia of the Sovereign of the Cape are in the possession of the Society of Antiquaries, together with the club records, excerpts from which relating to Deacon Brodie will be found in the Appendix.
Had young Brodie been satisfied with the legitimate and very ample convivialities afforded by the Cape Club it would have been better for himself. But he became a frequenter of a disreputable tavern kept by James Clark, vintner, at the head of the Fleshmarket Close, where gambling by means of
dice was nightly practised in a select company of sharpers and their dupes. It is probable that this house still survives in the truncated portion of the close remaining between the High Street and Cockburn Street. He also developed, among other “gentlemanly vices,” a passion for cock-fighting, at that time a fashionable recreation among the young bloods of the capital, and was a regular attender at the mains held in the cock-pit belonging to Michael Henderson, stabler in the Grass-market, of whom we shall hear further in the sequel. Brodie, who is said to have lost large sums in betting on his favourite sport, was present, among other “eminent cockers,” at the historic match between the counties of Lanark and Haddington, of which an account is given in “Kay’s Portraits.” In allusion to this contest, Kay observes—“It cannot but appear surprising that noblemen and gentlemen, who upon any other occasion will hardly show the smallest degree of condescension to their inferiors, will, in the prosecution of this barbarous amusement, demean themselves so far as to associate with the very lowest characters in society.” Brodie himself kept game-cocks in a pen in his woodyard, and retained to the last his attachment to the “art of cocking.” Between his bets at the cock-pits and his gambling at Clark’s, the young man must have got rid of a good deal of money; and it is believed that he had already begun to supplement his income by the nefarious means which later he certainly employed.
One night in August, 1768, the counting-house of Johnston & Smith, bankers in the Exchange, was entered by means of a false key, and upwards of £800 in bank notes carried off. Two nights afterwards £225 of the money was found, wrapped in paper, at the door of the Council Chamber; but the balance was never recovered, and no clue to the delinquent could be obtained. The discovery, many years afterwards, of Deacon Brodie’s exploits induced a strong suspicion that he was concerned in the affair. It was then recollected that, prior to the robbery, the Deacon had been employed in making various repairs on the premises, and had frequent occasion to be in the bank. The key of the outer door, from which it was ascertained he had taken an impression in putty, usually hung in the passage, a custom of which the Deacon, as we shall find, often afterwards took unscrupulous advantage.
At this time, however, no one dreamt of suspecting Brodie, whose secret dissipations were known only to his disreputable associates. Outwardly he was following worthily in his father’s footsteps, and, on 9th February, 1763, was, like him, made a Burgess and Guild Brother of Edinburgh. In September, 1781, he also became a member of the Town Council as Deacon of the Incorporation of Wrights, and his connection with the Council continued from that date till the year before his apprehension, as follows:—Deacon of the Wrights in 1782 and 1783; Trades Councillor in 1784, and, again, Deacon of the Wrights in 1786 and 1787. In 1785 he was not a member of the Town Council. Robert Fergusson, in his poem, “The Election,” has, with his usual felicity, portrayed the humours of an Edinburgh municipal election according to the old mode, when—
... Deacons at the counsel stent
To get themsel’s presentit:
For towmonths twa their saul is lent,
For the town’s gude indentit.
The minute of Deacon Brodie’s last election, on 20th September, 1786, will be found in the Appendix, together with other excerpts from the Council records, bearing upon his official life.
In the new Deacon’s first year of office occurred the political contest between Sir Laurence Dundas, who had represented the city in Parliament from 1760 to 1780, and William Miller, afterwards Lord Glenlee. The Town Council was divided into two hostile camps, and extraordinary efforts were made by each party to secure the return of its own candidate. Both claimed to have been duly elected member for Edinburgh; but, as the result of a parliamentary inquiry, Sir Laurence retained the seat. Deacon Brodie made a conspicuous figure in this election by keeping back his promise to vote for either party, in consequence of which he became a man of great moment to both the candidates, because upon his vote the election turned.