The “Beggar’s Opera,” the well-known work of the poet and dramatist, John Gay, appears to have been a special favourite with the Deacon, for it will be remembered that he sang a stave from it on the night of the robbery of the Excise Office. The opera was frequently performed at the Old Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, at this period, and he had, no doubt, had many opportunities of hearing it. Commenting on this incident, the Edinburgh Advertiser remarks—“Brodie seemed to take the character of Captain Macheath as his model, and the day before his death was singing one of the songs from the ‘Beggar’s Opera.’ This is another proof of the dangerous tendency of that play, which ought to be prohibited from being performed on the British stage. It is inconceivable how many highwaymen and robbers this opera has given birth to.” The editor of the Advertiser was evidently less gifted with a sense of humour than the Deacon, and had never read Fergusson’s lines “To Sir John Fielding, on his attempt to suppress the ‘Beggar’s Opera.’ ”
On the night before the execution, Deacon Brodie complained of the noise made by the workmen in effecting the alterations on the gibbet necessitated by the reprieve of the other prisoners, Falconer and Bruce; and it is stated in a contemporary report of the trial, published by Robertson on 2nd October, 1788, the day after the execution, that Brodie then said “he planned the model of the new place of execution, he purchased the wood, and gave his assistance in finishing it—but little did he imagine at the time that he himself would make his exit on it.” The Edinburgh Advertiser of 3rd October, 1788, describing the execution, says—“It is not a little remarkable that Brodie was the planner, a few years since, of the new-invented gallows on which he suffered”; and Robert Chambers, in his “Minor Antiquities of Edinburgh,” (1833, p. 168), remarks—“As the Earl of Morton was the first man executed by the ‘Maiden,’ so was Brodie the first who proved the excellence of an improvement he had formerly made on the apparatus of the gibbet. This was the substitution of what is called the ‘drop’ for the ancient practice of the double ladder. He inspected the thing with a professional air, and seemed to view the result of his ingenuity with a smile of satisfaction.” William Chambers, however, in his “Book of Scotland” (1830, pp. 327-8), takes a different view, holding that the drop was first employed at Newgate in 1784, and had already been used in Edinburgh at an execution in 1785.
Popular tradition, with a fine sense of the requirements of poetic justice, has steadfastly held that Deacon Brodie was the first to test the efficacy of the drop which he himself invented, and was thus, in a double sense, the artificer of his own downfall. And although such a circumstance would be well in keeping with the Deacon’s singularly dramatic career, it must unfortunately be dismissed as a picturesque improvement on the literal truth.
A careful examination of the Council records discloses the following facts, now for the first time published:—On 18th August, 1784, the Town Council remitted to Convener Jameson (mason), Deacon Hill (wright), and Deacon Brodie to inspect the west wall of the Tolbooth and consider in what manner a door or passage could be made in order that criminals might be executed there, and to report. Up till that time all public executions had taken place in the Grassmarket at the foot of the West Bow; and it was now proposed that criminals should be executed upon a platform to be erected on the low building which projected from the west gable of the Tolbooth. The report of the committee on the subject does not appear on the record; but in September the new Council was elected for the ensuing year, and Deacon Brodie was not chosen a member of it.
On 24th November, 1784, “pursuant to a late remit to the Magistrates to consider as to fitting up a place adjoining to the Tolbooth of this city for the execution of criminals,” estimates by Convener Jameson and Deacon Hill (who were members of the new Council) were accepted for the mason and wright work respectively. On 11th April, 1785, estimates by the same two Councillors were accepted for rebuilding the shops affected by the proposed alterations, “exclusive of the wright work for the platform and the machinery for an execution, conform to a former estimate.” On the 13th of the same month, the Dean of Guild having inspected the work and reported favourably upon it, the magistrates passed an Act of Council appointing the west end of the Tolbooth to be the common place of execution in all time coming; and ordained Archibald Stewart, then under sentence of death for housebreaking, to be executed there in pursuance of his sentence. The execution was accordingly carried out on 20th April, 1785, but not, it would appear, upon the moveable platform or drop. On 7th September of that year, five months after Stewart’s death, the Council for the first time authorised Deacon Hill “to make a moveable platform for the execution of criminals in terms of his estimate”; and among certain accounts ordered to be paid by the City Chamberlain on 13th September, 1786, we find one due “To Thomas Hill for erecting a second platform, west end of the Tolbooth, twenty-one pounds, seven shillings and elevenpence halfpenny”—his account for the former work being also mentioned.
This was, without doubt, the drop upon which, two years later, Deacon Brodie was to suffer the penalty of the law. It is possible, and indeed, from the contemporary evidence already quoted, probable that he himself designed the model, adopting the improvement recently introduced in England. He may even have sent in an estimate for the work, but, as he was not that year a member of Council, Deacon Hill had the better chance of securing the contract, and certainly obtained it.
It was, therefore, on the platform above referred to that the execution of William Brodie and George Smith took place, at half-past two o’clock on the afternoon of Wednesday, 1st October, 1788, in presence of an immense crowd of spectators, great numbers having come from all parts of the country to witness the event. The Caledonian Mercury observes—“The crowd on this occasion was the greatest ever known; the whole space from the prison to the Castle Hill being filled with spectators, pressed together in one compact and immoveable column.” The proceedings were conducted with more than usual solemnity; the magistrates attended in their robes of office, “with white gloves and white staves”; ministers of divers denominations were present in their gowns and bands; and the City Guard formed a cordon round the place of execution. We read that “the great bell tolled during the ceremony, which had an awful and solemn effect.” This is said to have been the first occasion of the kind on which the bell of St. Giles’ Church was tolled. It is characteristic of the man that, on his last public appearance, we are informed, “Mr. Brodie appeared in a handsome suit of black clothes, and had his hair powdered and dressed with taste.” Twice, owing to some defect in the adjustment of the ropes, did the Deacon descend from the platform and enter into conversation with his friends; but, notwithstanding this dreadful delay, his fortitude remained unshaken, and he met his fate with a courage and equanimity worthy of a better cause:
Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it.
With his hand thrust carelessly into the open front of his vest, as we see him in his portrait, the Deacon calmly took that step out of the world which his own ingenuity is said to have shortened.
The Edinburgh Evening Courant of 2nd October, 1788, voices the popular sentiment of the time as follows:—“Thus ended the life of William Brodie, whose conduct, when we consider his situation in life, is equally singular and contradictory. By the low and vicious connections he formed he had everything to lose—he could gain little even if successful; for, from the moment he embarked in the enterprises of his desperate associates, his property, his life, was at their mercy. Indeed, his crimes appear to be rather the result of infatuation than depravity; and he seemed to be more attracted by the dexterity of thieving than the profit arising from it. To excel in the performance of some paltry legerdemain or slight-of-hand tricks, to be able to converse in the cant or flash language of thieves, or to chant with spirit a song from the ‘Beggar’s Opera,’ was to him the highest ambition. Those who knew him best agree that his