The Man Who Was Jekyll and Hyde (14 page)

Erskine – ‘And what was your reason for doing so?’

Geddes – ‘I opened them and delivered them to the Sheriff for the good of my country.’

Erskine – ‘And would it not have been as much for the good of the country to have delivered them without opening them?’

Geddes – ‘I just opened them, and that’s all; I can give no other reason.’

Erskine – ‘Did you inform any person that you had such letters?’

Geddes – ‘I did. I informed John Tweddle, my brother-in-law, who advised me to deliver them to the persons for whom they were intended. I afterwards showed them to a gentleman named Mr Learmonth in Linlithgow, who wrote a letter by me to a gentleman of this place. By him I was carried to Mr Erskine, but he would give me no advice, and therefore I returned home to Mid-Calder. That same evening, or early next morning, Mr Scott, Procurator-Fiscal, and Mr Williamson, messenger, called upon me, and I accompanied them to Edinburgh and delivered the letters to the Sheriff.’

Erskine – ‘My Lords, as Mr Geddes has mentioned his having called upon me, I beg leave to state to the Court what passed upon the occasion. He was brought to my house by a gentleman, and he showed me the letters. I informed him that I was counsel for Mr Brodie; that he himself knew best the directions that he had received from the person who committed these letters to his charge; and that I could give him no other advice than this, that he ought to do in the matter that which his own conscience should point out to him as most proper.’

The judge, Lord Braxfield, then commented: ‘That was a very proper advice, and was just what I would have expected from Henry Erskine.’

So what did they say? While the letters written during Brodie’s seaborne getaway had taken on a certain curiosity value and provided something of a window into his state of mind, their importance in reinforcing his alleged guilt was not immediately apparent – until it was noted that one of them seemed to contain a slipped-out implicit admission of involvement in one of the gang’s ‘depredations’.

Not unexpectedly then, Brodie himself was keen to minimise their significance by feigning memory lapses in their regard. In his declaration reported by Archibald Cockburn, sheriff-depute of the shire of Edinburgh, he admits:

Before he [Brodie] left the vessel, he gave some letters, at present he does not recollect the number, written by himself, to one Geddes, a passenger on board … And being shown a letter directed to Michael Henderson, signed W. B., dated Thursday, the 10th of April last, declares that he cannot say that the letter was not wrote by him and given to Geddes. And, being interrogated, if one of the letters given to Geddes was not directed to Mr Matthew Sheriff, upholsterer in Edinburgh, and signed John Dixon, dated Flushing, Tuesday, the 8th of April, 1788? – [he] cannot give any positive answer to that question, and he does not suppose he would have signed any letter at that time by the name of John Dixon, especially as he had wrote some letters at the same time, and given them to Geddes, signed by his initials W.B.

‘And, being shown … another, dated Thursday, 10th April, 1788, directed to Mrs. Anne Grant, Cant’s Close, Edinburgh, signed W. B., and, desired to say whether or not the said three letters are holograph of the declarant? – declares he does not incline to give any positive answer, the appearance of writing varies so much. This he declares to be truth.

Reproduced on the following pages are two of the three letters from his shipboard adventure – the one addressed to Anne Grant was deemed by the court ‘too personal’ to publish – as well as several ‘scrolls’ (tantalisingly unaddressed and oddly signed) originating from his trunk after his arrest in Amsterdam. There are also notes from his prison cell, where he was afforded the rare luxury of a desk and writing facilities.

Among the cast of names referred to in the letters are his two mistresses, the aforementioned Anne Grant and Jean Watt; George Williamson, the king’s messenger for Scotland who initially pursued him in vain for eighteen days; Sir James Harris, British ambassador in The Hague; Mr Rich, British consul in Amsterdam; Sir Sampson Wright, chief magistrate at Bow Street, London; Robert Smith, Brodie’s foreman; Mr Learmonth, adviser to the Geddes couple; William Martin, bookseller and auctioneer who was to buy and sell a property of Brodie’s for his creditors; the Rev Nairn, who facilitated his getaway from Edinburgh and would help brother-in-law Mathew Sheriff organise the fugitive’s finances; and Brodie’s cousin Milton, supplier of moral support and an introduction to William Walker, attorney in the Adelphi, London, who busied himself in the fugitive’s affairs, lent him twelve guineas and arranged for his passage to the Continent as soon as the coast was thought to be clear.

The earliest letter from the ship’s destination of Flushing – or Vlissingen, to use its Dutch name, or the port of Helvoetsluys, to be precise – was addressed to Edinburgh upholsterer Matthew Sheriff, Brodie’s brother in-law as husband of his sister Jacobina. It stressed the fugitive’s regret, among several other loose-end concerns, at now being unable to dress to his normal high standards and his consequent requirement for ‘liberal remittances’, presumably to relieve this and other inconveniences. It was apparently the first (and last?) time Brodie had signed off a letter with his briefly adopted name of John Dixon, and it revealed that, under that name, he had been planning to head for New York, where – hopefully – money and goods requested of his contacts would be awaiting him, ready to help him start his new life.

Flushing, Tuesday, 8th April, 1788,

12 o’clock forenoon.

My dear Friend,

Sunday, the 23rd ult., I went on board a ship cleared out for Leith, but by a private bargain with the captain was to be landed at Ostend. I have been on board ever since the 23rd. Most of the time we lay aground a little below Gravesend. Owing to thick weather and cross wind, we are obliged to land here; but this afternoon I will set off, by water, for Bruges, and then for Ostend (so I begin my travels where most gentlemen leave them off), where I shall remain, for some time at least, until I hear from Mr Walker; and, indeed, I will require three weeks to recruit, for I have suffered more from my sore throat than sufficient to depress the spirits of most men.

There was for twenty days I did not eat ten ounces of solid meat; but, thank God, I am now in a fair way. My stock is seven guineas, but by I reach to Ostend will be reduced to less than six. My wardrobe is all on my back, excepting two check shirts and two white ones, one of them an old rag I had from my cousin Milton, with an old hat (which I left behind), my coat, an old blue one, out at the arms and elbows, I also had from him, with an old striped waistcoat, and a pair of good boots. Perhaps my cousin judged right, that old things were best for my purpose. However, no reflections; he is my cousin, and a good prudent lad, and showed great anxiety for my safety; rather too anxious, for he would not let me take my black coat with me, nor Mr Nairn’s great-coat, which makes me the worse off at present; but I could not extract one guinea from him, although he owes me twenty-four pounds for three years past.

He turned me over to Mr Walker, who supplied me with twelve guineas. He is a gentleman I owe much to. I wish I may ever have it in my power to show my gratitude to him and Mr Nairn. Had Milton been in my place, and me in his, my purse, my credit, and my wardrobe, my all, should have been at his disposal. However, let not this go farther, lest it should have an appearance of reflection upon a worthy man. He cannot help his natural temper.

I would have wrote to Mr Nairn, but for certain reasons I believe it is not proper at present. Please to communicate this to him. And I beg that everything may be sent to me that you, Mr Nairn, and my sisters may think useful to me, either in wearing apparel, tools, or even a small assortment of brass and iron work. Please send my quadrant and spirit level; they lie in a triangular box in my old bedroom. My brass-cased measuring line, and three-foot rule, my silver stock buckle, it is in the locker of my chest, and my stocks, they will save my neckcloths. If my sister pleases to send me some hand towels, they will be serviceable to me, whether I keep a house or a room.

I most earnestly beg of Mr Nairn that my remittances be as liberal as possible; for without money I can make but a poor shift; for, you must think, my days for hard labour is near expiring, although, with my constitution, I may be able to carry on business for many years, and perhaps with success.

I have not yet received the trunk with my shirts and stockings, but will write Mr Walker to forward it to Ostend, where I will be under the necessity of buying some things. And I hope by the time I come to New York I will have some things waiting me there. Whether it is best to send them by the Clyde or Thames, you and Mr Nairn will judge best. And I hope to have a long letter from each of you, and one from my sister Jeany; and your’s will include your wife’s. They may be put in with my things, and any other letters my friends are pleased to send. Direct for Mr John Dixon, to the care of the Revd. Mr Mason, at New York. I am not sure of settling there, but will make for it as soon as I can.

I have no more time, the boat just going off for Bruges or Ostend.

I am,

Dear Sir,

Yours for ever,

John Dixon.

On the back of this sheet he had written: ‘Let my name and destination be a profound secret, for fear of bad consequences.’

The following is a two-part letter, signed W.B., to his constant friend Michael Henderson, owner of the Grassmarket stables where fighting cocks (including those bred and entered by Brodie) had made many a man bankrupt as they were set against each other in a noisy pit of blood, flying feathers and death. The faraway Brodie was clearly still excited by the spectacle and not yet so concerned with his own plight as to forget that one of his birds was recently in action – and he enquires here as to how it fared. He also asks about the welfare of his various children, and to see this man of many conflicting parts as a deeply ‘uneasy’ father is to see him in yet another light. The letter also reveals that, while George Williamson failed to catch sight of him on their near-parallel travels, Brodie had seen his pursuer ‘twice’ but had not, of course, introduced himself.

Thursday, 10th April, 1788.

Dear Michael,

I embrace this opportunity of writing you, and I make no doubt but it will give you, Mrs. Henderson, and a few others satisfaction to hear that I am well.

Were I to write you all that has happened to me, and the hairbreadth escapes I made from a well-scented pack of bloodhounds, it would make a small volume.

I left Edinburgh Sunday, the 9th, and arrived in London Wednesday, the 12th, where I remained snug and safe in the house of an old female friend until Sunday, 23rd March (whose care for me I shall never forget, and only wish I may ever have it in my power to reward her sufficiently), within 500 yards of Bow Street. I did not keep the house all this time, but so altered, excepting the scar under my eye, I think you could not have rapt [swore] to me. I saw Mr Williamson twice; but, although countrymen commonly shake hands when they meet from home, yet I did not choose to make so free with him, notwithstanding he brought a letter to me; he is a clever man, and I give him credit for his conduct.

My female gave me great uneasiness by introducing a flash man to me, but she assured me he was a true man, and he proved himself so, notwithstanding the great reward, and was useful to me. I saw my picture [his description in a newspaper] six hours before exhibited to public view, and my intelligence of what was doing at Bow Street Office was as good as ever I had in Edinburgh. I left London on Sunday, 23rd March, and from that day to this present moment, that I am now writing, have lived on board a ship, which life agrees vastly well with me. It is impossible for me at present to give you my address, but I beg you will write me, or dictate a letter to Thom, and let it be a very long one, giving me an account of what is likely to become of poor Ainslie, Smith, and his wife; I hope that neither you, nor any of your connections, has been innocently involved by those unfortunate men, or by that designing villain Brown; I make no doubt but he is now in high favour with [sheriff-depute] Mr Cockburn, for I can see some strokes of his pencil in my portrait. May God forgive him for all his crimes and falsehoods.

I hope in a short time to be in Edinburgh, and confute personally many false aspersions made against me by him and others. Write me how the main [cockfight] went; how you came on in it; if my black cock fought and gained, &c., &c.

As I can give you no directions how to write me, you’ll please seal your letter, give it to Robert Smith, and he will deliver it to my sister, who will take care that it be conveyed safe to me wherever I may happen to be at the time, for I will give such directions that everything that is sent to me shall be forwarded from place to place until it come to my hand. I have lived now eighteen days on board of ship, and in good health and spirits, although very bad when I came on board, having my tongue and throat in one ulcer, not a bit of skin upon either, and the medicines I took in my friend’s and by her direction (for she is one of experience), just beginning to operate; but I found it necessary, at all events, to remove, so I underwent a complete salivation on board ship. During all my trials since I left Edinburgh, my spirits nor my presence of mind never once forsook me, for which I have reason to be thankful. My best compliments to Mrs Henderson, and I will order payment of the two guineas as soon as I have accounts from the gentleman I have intrusted with my affairs; let her not be anxious about it, for, if I live, it shall be paid.

The letter breaks here into a second part:

Dear Michael