The Man Who Was Jekyll and Hyde (22 page)

Lett me again intreat you to Pardon my Boldness. My time flies apace, and the hand of Death presses upon me. Think for one moment, but no longer, what it is to be wretched, doomed to Death, helpless and in Chains, and you will excuse an effort for life from the most Infatuated and miserable of Men, who can confer no Compliment insubscribing Himself.

Madam,

Your Ladyships Devoted

Huble Sert

Will:m Brodie

To stress the misery of his situation, he added to his sign-off: ‘Edinr Tolbooth in the Iron Room and in Chains’. But even without such a note, it was obvious that, all in all, the Old Tolbooth was not a wonderfully cheering spot in which to spend your last days and hours while fighting off depression, especially while the clock ticked on inexorably and the ensuing silence spoke loudly of the futility of appeals.

What of the good French doctor, then? His visit to this forbidding place – if it happened at all – was said to have concerned more body than mind or soul. It was reported that he had undertaken, presumably for a good price, to revive Brodie after his body’s release from the rope and that, to effect helpful bleeding, he had pencil-marked the condemned man’s arms and temples to indicate where he would make the cuts.

It is tempting to conclude that Brodie’s puzzlingly relaxed manner on the scaffold in defiance of his bleak future had something to do with such an apparently reassuring strategy, though this unexpected behaviour at that critical juncture may also have reflected his perverse enjoyment of the limelight after all these dark days lurking and hiding from people down damp, pitch-black closes with only fearful accomplices and a small flickering lantern to relieve the gloom.

So where was his big farewell speech to the thousands of onlookers? Such an egotist would surely have wanted to speak out boldly (yet humbly) in his own defence and take his leave with something of a swagger. The absence of such a piece of theatre seemed to confirm that he intended to return from his appointment with the Grim Reaper.

The nearest he got to that kind of showing off was when – just before pulling the nightcap over his face – he took a nearby friend by the hand, bade him farewell and requested that he acquaint the world with the view that he was still the same and that he died like a man.

To other friends whom he had seen more privately that morning, he had seemed remarkably self-possessed, cool, contained and almost indifferent to his fate, speaking of it light-heartedly as ‘a leap in the dark’. He had shown real emotion only when visited, for the last time, by his pretty 10-year-old daughter Cecill on the Friday before his execution, ‘and here nature and the feelings of a father were superior to every other consideration; and the falling tear which he endeavoured to suppress gave strong proofs of his sensibility – he embraced her with emotion and blessed her with the warmest affection’. That observation was courtesy of
The Scots Magazine
, an extract from the first of two contemporary accounts, reprinted below, that described the dramatic moments and circumstances around the execution of Brodie and his accomplice George Smith:

When Mr Brodie came to the scaffold, he bowed politely to the magistrates and the people. He had on a full suit of black – his hair dressed and powdered. Smith was dressed in white linen, trimmed with black. Having spent some time in prayer, with seeming fervency, with the clergymen, Mr Brodie then prayed a short time by himself.

Having put on white nightcaps, Brodie pointed to Smith to ascend the steps that led to the drop, and, in an easy manner, clapping him on the shoulder, said: ‘George Smith, you are first in hand.’ Upon this, Smith, whose behaviour was highly penitent and resigned, slowly ascended the steps and was immediately followed by Brodie, who mounted with briskness and agility, and examined the dreadful apparatus with attention, and particularly the halter designed for himself. The ropes being too short-tied, Brodie stepped down to the platform and entered into conversation with his friends. He then sprang up again but the rope was still too short; and he once more descended to the platform showing some impatience.

During this dreadful interval Smith remained on the drop with great composure and placidness. Brodie having ascended a third time, and the rope being at last properly adjusted, he deliberately untied his neckcloth, buttoned up his waistcoat and coat, and helped the executioner to fix the rope. He then pulled the nightcap over his face and placed himself in an attitude expressive of firmness and resolution.

Smith, who during all this time had been in fervent devotion, let fall a handkerchief as a signal, and a few minutes before three they were launched into eternity, almost without a struggle.

Brodie on the scaffold neither confessed nor denied his being guilty, and the justice of his sentence, and showed in all his conduct proper expressions of penitence, humility, and faith. Smith, with great fervency, confided in prayer his being guilty, and the justice of his sentence, and showed in all his conduct the proper expressions of penitence, humility, and faith.

‘This execution was conducted with more than usual solemnity; and the great bell tolled during the ceremony, which had an awful and solemn effect. The crowd of spectators was immense.

Considering his long-term antipathy towards Brodie, juryman William Creech’s report of the hanging – published within days and within his
Account of the Trial of William Brodie and George Smith
– might not have been entirely objective; indeed it was nuanced with a touch of
Schadenfreude
, though it also gave an occasionally sympathetic summing up of the raw atmosphere that prevailed among key characters at the time, beginning as it did with the condemned man’s trying days in the Old Tolbooth jail before the big event:

On the Sunday preceding his execution a respite of six weeks arrived for Falconer and Bruce [fellow-prisoners condemned for robbing a Dundee Bank]. The news made Brodie more serious for a little time than he had before been, and he expressed his satisfaction at the event. – Smith said, six weeks is but a short period. Brodie, with emotion answered, George, What would you and I give for six weeks longer? Six weeks would be an age to us.

On Tuesday morning, the day before his execution, a gentleman who was visiting him occasionally remarked on the fatal consequences of being connected with bad women, and in how many instances it had proved ruinous. – Yes, said Brodie, ’Tis woman that seduces all mankind [from
The Beggars’ Opera
]. The gentleman reproved this levity; but he sung out the song:

’Tis woman that seduces all mankind

By her we first were taught the wheedling arts

Her very Eyes can cheat; when most she’s kind,

She tricks us
…

On the Tuesday evening, the 30th of September, the Magistrates gave an order that none should be admitted to him but clergymen: A report having prevailed that there was an intention of putting self-destruction in his power. But of this order he complained, and declared that, if poison was placed on one hand, and a dagger at the other, he would refuse them both – he would submit to the sentence of the laws of his country. Late in the evening he was suddenly agitated by hearing some noise; and turning to Smith, he said – George, do you know what that noise is? No, said Smith – Then I’ll tell you. It is the drawing out of the fatal beam on which you and I must suffer tomorrow – I know it well.

Soon after eleven he went to bed, and slept till four in the morning, and continued in bed till near eight. At nine (Wednesday, October 1.) he had his hair fully dressed and powdered. Soon after, a clergyman entered, and offered to pray with him. He desired that it might be as short as possible. At eleven o’clock he wrote the following letter to the Lord Provost in a strong, firm hand:

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 [name deleted] to attend, it will be some consolation in my last hour; and that your Lordship will please give order that my body after be delivered to [name deleted] and by no means to remain in jail; that he and my friends may have it decently dressed and interred. This is the last favour and request of

Your most obedient

But most unfortunate

[Signed] Will. Brodie

Much to his relief, this request was granted, and he considered it one of the more humane acts he had encountered of late; it would certainly soften the blow that was about to fell him … or not. Creech’s account continued:

At about one o’clock he ate a beef-steak, and drank some port wine; and during this last repast he made some ludicrous remarks to Smith, &c.

At two o’clock the guard marched up and surrounded the place of execution; and soon after the Captain on duty informed the Magistrates in the Council Chamber that all was ready.

The Magistrates then put on their robes of office, with white gloves, and white slaves, and followed by the clergymen in black gowns and bands, proceeded from the Council Chamber to the prison, attended by the proper officers.

The Magistrates reached the scaffold at about ten minutes after two. The criminals were soon brought out –

Brodie, at the first view of the immense multitude of spectators, and the dreadful apparatus, said, This is awful! – On passing a gentleman he asked how he did, and said he was glad to see him. – The gentleman answered, he was sorry to see Mr Brodie in that situation. Brodie replied, It is
fortune de la guerre
.

Brodie had on a full suit of black, his hair dressed and powdered; Smith was dressed in white, with black trimming. They were assisted in their devotions by the Rev. Mr Hardie, one of the ministers of the city, the Rev. Mr Cleeve of the Episcopal, and Mr Hall of the Burgher persuasion. They spend some time in praying with seeming fervency. Brodie kneelt, laying a handkerchief under his knees. He prayed by himself, nearly as follows:

O Lord, I acknowledge thee as the Great Ruler of the world; although I lament much that I know so little of thee. This much, however, I know, that thou art a merciful God, and that, as I am a great sinner, thou wilt have mercy upon me, through the merits of they Son Jesus Christ! O Lord, receive my soul! Into they hands I resign it. Amen.

When the devotions were over, the great bell began to toll, at half-minute pauses, which had an awful and solemn effect. The criminals put on white caps, and Smith, whose behaviour was highly penitent and resigned, slowly ascended the platform, raised a few feet above the scaffold, and placed immediately under the beam where the halters were fixed …

[It was at this point that Brodie tapped his accomplice on the shoulder, saying, ‘Go up, George, you are first in hand.’]

He was followed by Brodie, who mounted with alertness and examined the dreadful apparatus with attention, particularly the halter designed for himself, which he pulled with his hand. It was found that the halters had been too much shortened and they were obliged to be taken down to alter.

Smith remained on the platform trembling, but Brodie stepped briskly down to the scaffold, took off his night-cap and again entered into conversation with his friends, till the ropes were adjusted. He then sprung up again upon the platform, but the rope was still improperly placed, and he once more descended, showing some little impatience, and observed, that the executioner was a bungling fellow and ought to be punished for his stupidity. – but that it did not much signify. Having again ascended, he deliberately untied his cravat, buttoned up his waistcoat and coat, and helped the executioner to fix the rope; then pulling the night-cap over his face, he folded his arms and placed himself in an attitude expressive of firmness and resolution.

Some aspects of the whole affair were so murky it was hardly surprising that rich conspiracy stories kept emerging and circulating – such as the widespread suspicion that the hangman had been bargained with to arrange for a short fall, thus the inordinate time spent fiddling with the rope. Thus also perhaps the showy condemnation of the man’s ‘stupidity’ – to suggest that someone so maligned by Brodie could not possibly have been in league with him. In any case, ‘the excess of caution exercised by the executioner, in the first instance, in shortening the rope, proved fatal by his inadvertency in making it latterly too long’, observed one witness to the scene.

Creech went on:

Smith, (who during the interruption, had been in fervent devotion,) soon after the adjustment of the halters, let fall a handkerchief as a signal, and a few minutes before three the platform dropt, and they were launched into eternity.

Thus ended the life of William Brodie and of George Smith.

Brodie had neither confessed not denied the crimes for which he suffered. To a gentleman who visited him a day before his execution, he said, he thought it was hard to suffer so for such a paltry sum, and appealing to Smith, he said – George, it was not more than £4 apiece. – Smith answered that he did not think it was so much, but he, Brodie, should know, as he coveted the money.

The following elaboration is extracted from Robert Chalmers’
Traditions of Edinburgh
:

His dress and deportment at the gallows displayed a mind at ease, and gave some countenance to the popular notion that he had made certain mechanical arrangements for saving his life …

When placed on that insecure pedestal, and while the rope was adjusted around his neck by the executioner, his courage did not forsake him. On the contrary, even there he exhibited a sort of levity; he shuffled about, looked gaily around, and finally went out of the world with his hand stuck carelessly into the open front of his vest.

Or did he? Roughead reported that an early plan to rescue the Deacon – by overpowering the city and guard and breaking into the Tollbooth – had been abandoned by his friends in favour of a more sophisticated strategy; this was the one that now (allegedly) went into operation. When cut down, Brodie’s body was handed over to two of his own workmen, who quickly placed it on a cart, and drove it at a full, bone-shaking pace round the back of the castle, presumably with the idea that such a rough ride might provoke resuscitation à la Maggie Dickson. That was not to be, but the corpse was then taken to one of Brodie’s workshops in the Lawnmarket, where Dr Degravers was – reportedly – in attendance. However, all attempts at bleeding failed; Brodie had not been breathing for many long minutes and was finally pronounced to be ‘fairly gone’.