The Strange Case of Deacon Brodie and Mr. Stevenson

The first of October 1788 dawned bright with expectation as close to 40,000 people began to gather in the streets of Edinburgh, Scotland. They were there to witness the execution of one of its most prominent citizens.

Those gathered expected to see a show and they were not disappointed. Standing five foot, four inches tall, with broad shoulders, dark brown eyes, and dressed in this best — black suit with matching silk vest and pants, white stockings, overcoat, powdered wig, and hat — he played to the crowd, bowing and calling out to those he knew.

At the gallows, he talked quietly with friends until time for what he called his “leap in the dark.” Bounding up the steps, he was forced to retreat as the rope wasn’t adjusted properly. After all, one has to get used to these new contraptions he was heard to say as he descended the stairs back to his friends.

Other witnesses heard him boast that he was about to be executed on the most efficient gallows in history. He should know; he had designed and bought the timber for the very gallows on which he was about to be hung.

Finally, everything is ready. He ascends the stairway only to be delayed again by further problems with the rope. Almost in a fit of frustration, he takes the noose from the executioner and fits it around his own neck.

In a last act of bravado, he asks that his hands not be tied behind him, which is granted. After a few parting words, he places his left hand on his coat, puts on his hat, and tosses his handkerchief to the crowd.

The lever is thrown, the trap door swings open, and William Brodie, in life a liar, womanizer, gambler, thief, and pillar of 18th century Edinburgh society, in death adds one more distinction to his name — the inspiration for one of the most enduring classics of English literature.

From a Life of Privilege to a Life of Crime

William Brodie was born in Edinburgh, Scotland on September 28, 1741, the eldest of 11 children whose family, it was said, could trace their roots back to Macbeth.

William’s father, Francis, a much-respected citizen and cabinetmaker, held the title of Deacon (or leader) of the Incorporation of Wrights and Masons (the local carpenters and masons union). Being a Deacon, Francis Brodie was entitled to collect money from public works (such as the local prison), a percentage of city monopolies (such as the printing establishment), and to hold a position on the City Council. Growing up in Brodie’s Close (a section of Edinburgh named for his family) young William learned the family business surrounded by the most notable poets and painters of his time. When his father died William assumed his father’s business, properties, ₤10,000 in cash, and title of Deacon of Wrights and Masons.

But the good Deacon had some bad habits.

Brodie had turned to stealing even before his father died. Entertaining lavishly during the day, he spent his nights throwing dice and betting on the cock fights held at Michael Henderson’s Place, one of the seedier taverns of Old Town Edinburgh. In addition to his gambling addiction, Brodie supported two mistresses and their five illegitimate children.

William Brodie’s thievery almost always followed a similar scenario. Most businesses of the time kept their keys on a nail by the door. Armed with a bit of wax, the good Deacon would visit the targeted shop and, while the owner was distracted, use the wax to make an impression of the key. From there, it was back to his workshop where it was a simple matter to fashion a duplicate key to be used for his after-hours “shopping.”

Dressed in black and using his newly minted keys, Brodie and his companions George Smith, Andrew Ainslie, and John Brown, spent their evenings stealing everything from money to tobacco to jewelry to China tea, shipping it off to England where it was sold and the money sent back to Scotland.

All Good Things…

And yet, as the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end; for the Deacon, that end was March 5, 1788, when Brodie and his gang attempted to burgle the local Excise Office, a government facility where tax money was stored. Earlier reconnaissance had revealed a two-hour gap between when the doorkeeper left at 8 pm and the guard reported for duty at 10 — plenty of time, Brodie believed, for him and his gang to complete their business.

Leaving Ainslie and his whistle as lookout, Brown, Brodie, and Smith entered the Excise Office. Once inside, they broke into the cashier’s desk, finding only ₤5 6 shillings, missing the ₤600 stashed away in a secret drawer.

To make matters worse, an employee suddenly returned for forgotten papers. Either fear or surprise kept Ainslie from sounding the alarm. Finally blowing his whistle three times, he took off for the pre-determined meeting place, leaving the others inside. Heeding the tardy signal left Brodie and his friends little choice but to run out the front door past the surprised secretary; neither recognized the other.

Honor Among Thieves

The narrow escape from the Excise Office that Wednesday evening must have flustered the entire gang, but for one it was especially upsetting.

Under a life deportation for his previous crimes, John Brown realized that if caught he would be sent back to England for execution. But he also knew British law; if he informed on his friends, his testimony wouldn’t be admissible unless his past crimes were cleared.

By turning King’s Evidence, Brown hoped he could convince the authorities of both countries to drop the charges and still collect the ₤200 reward. Leaving out Brodie’s involvement (for later blackmailing), Brown’s visit to the Sheriff lands both Smith and Ainslie behind bars within a day.

Now it was Brodie’s turn to panic. After trying unsuccessfully to visit his jailed “friends,” on Saturday, March 9th, 1788, Brodie fled Edinburgh. Hearing of his sudden departure, both Ainslie and Smith implicated Brodie for his role in the Excise Office robbery. Four days later a warrant was issued for Brodie’s arrest, but by this time he had reached London, where he disappeared.

Hiding out with an old girlfriend, Brodie planned his escape. Unable to find direct passage from London to New York, Deacon Brodie (now known as John Dixon) bribed the captain of the packet ship Endeavor to change his destination from Leith, Scotland to the Dutch port of Ostend. From there, Brodie had arranged passage aboard a ship bound for the New World and freedom.

But his plans go awry when the Endeavor ran aground on a sand bar soon after getting underway.

It is during this two-week imprisonment in the mud of the Thames that Brodie makes his fatal mistake. He passes the time detailing his escape plans in letters to his friends and family back home. When the Endeavor diverts to Flushing due to bad weather in the Channel, Brodie takes a skiff to Ostend, entrusting his correspondence to a couple named Geddes, who were traveling on to Scotland.

When the couple reached Edinburgh, the papers were still filled with accounts of Brodie’s description and activities. Slowly realizing that their John Dixon was the escaping Brodie, they turned the letters over to authorities a full three weeks after receiving them. Once alerted, Brodie was tracked to Amsterdam where he was arrested the night before he was to sail for America. Brodie fought extradition back to Scotland without success and by the 17th of July he was in Tolbooth Prison sharing a cell with George Smith, who had already confessed to his involvement.

By the time Brodie was returned to Edinburgh, Ainslie had decided to follow the example of his compatriot John Brown and turn King’s Evidence. Like Brown, Ainslie had a checkered past and knew that testifying against Brodie would mean clemency for his previous crimes and freedom from prison.

Trial, Death, and Resurrection

The trial of Deacon Brodie and George Smith began on August 27, 1788. The prosecution’s case relied on the testimony of Ainslie and Brown, Brodie’s fleeing from the country, and the results of a search of Brodie’s mansion that revealed pistols, a type of lantern commonly used by thieves, and dark clothes.

The defense devoted most of its effort in defaming the character of the prosecutor’s two witnesses and claiming that Brodie couldn’t have been at the Excise Office because he was at the homes of his brother-in-law Matthew Smith and mistress Jean Watt. Both testified that he was indeed in their presence that evening.

The trial took 21 hours and, in the end, the testimony of two hardened criminals, circumstantial evidence, and fate had decided that Brodie and Smith, with no criminal records, were to be hung on the first of October, 1788, for the theft of less than ₤6.

But Brodie wasn’t done for yet. After reaching out unsuccessfully to influential family and friends for help, sometime in the last 34 days of his life he or his few remaining friends may have devised a way to cheat the gallows of one of its prizes.

Here our story begins its slip from fact into legend. Some say that Brodie’s friends somehow managed to cut the gallows rope too short to cushion his fall through the trap door (which would explain why there was so much trouble adjusting the rope on execution day). Others say Brodie invented and had manufactured either an elaborate system of wires that ran through his clothes or a steel collar with wires that attached to the rope (both required the bribed hangman’s help).

This might explain why Brodie requested that his hands not be tied behind his back; he needed them free to hold the wires (or the collar) in place. Still, another story is that Brodie’s friends, either before he left his cell or before his trip up the gallows stairs, gave him cinnamon water and, when he gagged, slipped a silver tube down his throat to prevent his neck from breaking. Whether any of these stories are true cannot be proven, but it could explain why the Deacon met his fate with such bravado.

After the hanging Brodie’s body was immediately cut down by his friends and rushed to the presence of Pierre de Graves, professor of Anatomy and Physiology at the Medical School of the University of Paris, who tried various methods (including bleeding) to revive him. But his efforts proved unsuccessful and Deacon William Brodie was buried in unmarked grave #22 in the cemetery attached to the Church of St. Cuthbert.

But was Brodie ultimately successful? People returning from travels abroad reported “Brodie sightings” comparable to the “Elvis sightings” of today. Brodie was seen in London and Paris; he was reported to be walking the streets of New York and Philadelphia. Although none were ever proven, they only served to fuel the legend of Deacon Brodie.

A few years later, during repair work in the cemetery, Brodie’s grave was opened — and found empty. Had Brodie bested the hangman’s noose? No one ever knew, and the grave remains empty to this day.

From Legend to Literature

Sixty-two years later, on November 13, 1850, a child was born in Edinburgh to Thomas Stevenson and his wife Maggie Balfour.

Named Robert Lewis, he began life in poor health. Often bedridden, he spent the majority of his childhood in the care of his nurse, Allison Cunningham. To amuse her young patient, she told the tales and folklore of the time, including the story of Deacon Brodie, the maker of the cabinet that sat facing his bed.

Stevenson later used the legend of Deacon Brodie as the basis for The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the story of a respectable member of society by day who turns into a monster at night. Published in 1886, Stevenson’s morality tale of human nature and the inner conflict between good and evil was an immediate success, selling 40,000 copies in Britain and over two million in the United States by the turn of the century, more than the novels Dracula and Frankenstein combined.

Hundreds of movie adaptations, plays, and reprints have cemented Robert Lewis Stevenson’s (and Deacon Brodie’s) place in history.