advantages conferred by a respectable reputation.
Apart altogether from the question of gain, it is probable that Deacon Brodie, in adopting these criminal courses, was influenced by the dramatic possibilities of his new part. The minor duplicities which hitherto he had so successfully practised would thus be capable of development upon a larger stage; and, to one of his peculiar temperament, the prospect doubtless afforded fascinating opportunities for deception. To rob a friend’s house of an evening, and in the morning condole with him upon his loss; to carry through some daring burglary overnight, and gravely deliberate next day in the Council Chamber as to offering a reward for discovery of the perpetrator—these were situations after the Deacon’s heart.
Throughout the whole course of the robberies which we are about to consider, it is to be kept in view that Deacon Brodie retained the respect and esteem of his fellow-citizens—for his reputation among the associates of his secret life is immaterial; daily pursued his lawful avocations; and regularly attended the meetings of the Council, taking his share in the conduct of the town’s affairs. And so masterly was his performance of this dual rôle that no suspicion of the Deacon’s integrity was aroused, until the failure of the “last fatal” business of the Excise Office and the treachery of an accomplice shattered, at once and for ever, the elaborate fabric of his deceit.
We can form a vivid impression of the appearance of Deacon Brodie about this time from the description of him which was circulated some two years later. From this it appears that he was a small man—“about 5 feet 4 inches”—of a slender build, and looking younger than his age. He had “dark brown, full eyes, with large black eyebrows, and a cast with his eye that gave him somewhat the look of a Jew,” a sallow complexion, and a peculiar manner of speaking, “which he did full and slow.” From the minute details of his dress and toilet it is evident that the Deacon was something of a dandy, or, in the language of the day, “a macaroni.” He had also “a particular air in his walk, and moved in a proud, swaggering sort of style,” while the advertisement includes such particulars as the size of his ankles and the turn of his calves. We shall afterwards find that this very candid portrait was not appreciated by its original.
About the month of July, 1786, there arrived in Edinburgh a man who was to exercise a powerful influence for evil upon the Deacon’s fortunes. This was George Smith, a native of Boxford, near Newburgh, in Berkshire, who was travelling the country as a hawker with a horse and cart. He was a stranger to Edinburgh, and put up at Michael Henderson’s house in the Grassmarket, having heard it mentioned on the road as a traveller’s inn. Soon after his arrival he fell sick, and, his illness lasting for some four months, he was reduced to selling his goods, and finally his horse, in order to support himself and his wife, for whom he had meanwhile sent into England to join him. Among the frequenters of Michael Henderson’s tavern were two men, Andrew Ainslie and John Brown alias Humphry Moore, of whom, prior to their doings in connection with the robbing of the Excise Office, but little is known. Ainslie is designed in the Crown list of witnesses as “sometime shoemaker in Edinburgh,” but his attention to his professional practice was less marked than his addiction to dicing and the company of cheats. Brown—like Smith, an Englishman—was a noted sharper, and had been convicted of theft at the Old Bailey in April, 1784, and sentenced to transportation beyond the seas for a term of seven years. He had, however, contrived to escape from justice, and was then lurking in Edinburgh, ready for any villainy that might prove remunerative.
With these two agreeable acquaintances Smith beguiled the tedium of convalescence in various games of hazard, in which, owing to the skill of the players, but little was left to the blindness of Fortune; and at this time he first made the acquaintance of Deacon Brodie, who, in connection with his cock-fighting proclivities, had long been a patron of the house. It is probable that, at this juncture, the Deacon’s resources were at a low ebb. Notwithstanding the income he derived from his varied interests and pursuits, his passion for gambling was a constant drain upon his purse, and the expense of maintaining no less than three establishments at once must also have been considerable, while the success of his earlier robberies doubtless induced him to extend his future operations by the assumption of a partner.
Be that as it may, we have it from Smith’s second declaration that Brodie, early in the intimacy which, in spite of the disparity in their social positions, speedily sprang up between them, suggested to him in the course of conversation “that several things could be done in this place, if prudently managed, to great advantage, and proposed that they should lay their heads together for that purpose.” Smith is said to have been at one period of his career a locksmith in Birmingham, and his abilities in this direction may have first led the Deacon to select him as an accomplice. From the readiness with which Smith embraced this proposition we may assume that his past record was not so blameless as he would have us believe.
In the following account of the burglaries (other than that of the Excise Office) committed by Deacon Brodie and his associates, the details are given from the various statements made by Smith, and, so far as possible, in his own words; but there is good reason for believing that these by no means disclose the full extent of the depredations for which the gang was responsible.
When the invalid was sufficiently recovered, the new friends, “in consequence of this concert, were in use to go about together in order to find out proper places where business could be done with success.” In the course of these interesting excursions, Smith relates that one evening in November, 1786, they visited a hardware shop in Bridge Street belonging to Davidson M‘Kain, armed with false keys, an iron crow, and a dark lantern. Having opened the outer door, Smith entered the shop, his companion remaining outside to watch. Smith was inside for about half-an-hour, and Brodie, becoming impatient, called out what made him stay so long—was he taking an inventory of the shop? The result appears to have been disappointing; but among the goods removed was a red pocket-book, which Smith presented, as a token of gratitude, to “Michael Henderson, stabler in Grassmarket, his daughter.”
About a fortnight later the two worthies again repaired to M‘Kain’s shop with the view of making a more thorough clearance. The same methods were adopted; but before Smith could get to work he was disturbed by movements in a neighbouring room, and fled, shutting the shop door after him. Brodie had already beaten a retreat. A little later, however, the pair walked arm-in-arm down Bridge Street to reconnoitre the premises, but, seeing a man on the watch, “and a guard soldier standing opposite at the head of the stair which goes down to the Fleshmarket, they passed along the bridge, and afterwards went to their several homes, as nothing could be done further that night.” This, according to Smith, was their first joint depredation; but there is reason to believe that a much more important robbery, which was committed on 9th October, the previous month—when a goldsmith’s shop near the Council Chambers was broken into and many valuable articles carried off—was also the Deacon’s handiwork.
An ostensible occupation had been found for Smith, and he was established in a house in the Cowgate, where his wife and he kept a small grocery shop. Brodie had now introduced his new friend to his own favourite “howff”—Clark, the vintner’s at the head of the Fleshmarket Close—where it was their habit to foregather nightly for the purpose of gambling and discussing future opportunities for the exercise of their felonious talents. Hither, also, came Ainslie and Brown, from the lodging which they occupied together at the foot of Burnet’s Close, but who were not yet admitted to share the others’ councils. On 8th December, we read that “the shop of John Law, tobacconist in the Enchange, was broken into, and a cannister containing between ten and twelve pounds of money carried off.” This robbery, though not confessed to by Smith, was probably committed by him and Brodie.
Stimulated to further efforts by the inadequate results of these operations, the Deacon now proposed to Smith a more important undertaking. He had recently been employed by the magistrates, in consequence of the lowering of the streets, to alter the door of the shop in Bridge Street belonging to Messrs. John & Andrew Bruce, jewellers, there. This, he said, “would be a very proper shop for breaking into,” as it contained valuable goods, and his
