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events ought with propriety to happen; and in this spirit 

he made the LADY OF THE LAKE for Ben Venue; the HEART OF 

MIDLOTHIAN for Edinburgh; and the PIRATE; so 

indifferently written but so romantically conceived; for 

the desolate islands and roaring tideways of the North。  

The common run of mankind have; from generation to 

generation; an instinct almost as delicate as that of 

Scott; but where he created new things; they only forget 

what is unsuitable among the old; and by survival of the 

fittest; a body of tradition becomes a work of art。  So; 

in the low dens and high…flying garrets of Edinburgh; 

people may go back upon dark passages in the town's 

adventures; and chill their marrow with winter's tales 

about the fire: tales that are singularly apposite and 

characteristic; not only of the old life; but of the very 

constitution of built nature in that part; and singularly 

well qualified to add horror to horror; when the wind 

pipes around the tall LANDS; and hoots adown arched 

passages; and the far…spread wilderness of city lamps 

keeps quavering and flaring in the gusts。



Here; it is the tale of Begbie the bank…porter; 

stricken to the heart at a blow and left in his blood 

within a step or two of the crowded High Street。  There; 

people hush their voices over Burke and Hare; over drugs 

and violated graves; and the resurrection…men smothering 

their victims with their knees。  Here; again; the fame of 

Deacon Brodie is kept piously fresh。  A great man in his 

day was the Deacon; well seen in good society; crafty 

with his hands as a cabinet…maker; and one who could sing 

a song with taste。  Many a citizen was proud to welcome 

the Deacon to supper; and dismissed him with regret at a 

timeous hour; who would have been vastly disconcerted had 

he known how soon; and in what guise; his visitor 

returned。  Many stories are told of this redoubtable 

Edinburgh burglar; but the one I have in my mind most 

vividly gives the key of all the rest。  A friend of 

Brodie's; nested some way towards heaven in one of these 

great LANDS; had told him of a projected visit to the 

country; and afterwards; detained by some affairs; put it 

off and stayed the night in town。  The good man had lain 

some time awake; it was far on in the small hours by the 

Tron bell; when suddenly there came a creak; a jar; a 

faint light。  Softly he clambered out of bed and up to a 

false window which looked upon another room; and there; 

by the glimmer of a thieves' lantern; was his good friend 

the Deacon in a mask。  It is characteristic of the town 

and the town's manners that this little episode should 

have been quietly tided over; and quite a good time 

elapsed before a great robbery; an escape; a Bow Street 

runner; a cock…fight; an apprehension in a cupboard in 

Amsterdam; and a last step into the air off his own 

greatly…improved gallows drop; brought the career of 

Deacon William Brodie to an end。  But still; by the 

mind's eye; he may be seen; a man harassed below a 

mountain of duplicity; slinking from a magistrate's 

supper…room to a thieves' ken; and pickeering among the 

closes by the flicker of a dark lamp。



Or where the Deacon is out of favour; perhaps some 

memory lingers of the great plagues; and of fatal houses 

still unsafe to enter within the memory of man。  For in 

time of pestilence the discipline had been sharp and 

sudden; and what we now call 'stamping out contagion' was 

carried on with deadly rigour。  The officials; in their 

gowns of grey; with a white St。 Andrew's cross on back 

and breast; and a white cloth carried before them on a 

staff; perambulated the city; adding the terror of man's 

justice to the fear of God's visitation。  The dead they 

buried on the Borough Muir; the living who had concealed 

the sickness were drowned; if they were women; in the 

Quarry Holes; and if they were men; were hanged and 

gibbeted at their own doors; and wherever the evil had 

passed; furniture was destroyed and houses closed。  And 

the most bogeyish part of the story is about such houses。  

Two generations back they still stood dark and empty; 

people avoided them as they passed by; the boldest 

schoolboy only shouted through the keyhole and made off; 

for within; it was supposed; the plague lay ambushed like 

a basilisk; ready to flow forth and spread blain and 

pustule through the city。  What a terrible next…door 

neighbour for superstitious citizens!  A rat scampering 

within would send a shudder through the stoutest heart。  

Here; if you like; was a sanitary parable; addressed by 

our uncleanly forefathers to their own neglect。



And then we have Major Weir; for although even his 

house is now demolished; old Edinburgh cannot clear 

herself of his unholy memory。  He and his sister lived 

together in an odour of sour piety。  She was a marvellous 

spinster; he had a rare gift of supplication; and was 

known among devout admirers by the name of Angelical 

Thomas。  'He was a tall; black man; and ordinarily looked 

down to the ground; a grim countenance; and a big nose。  

His garb was still a cloak; and somewhat dark; and he 

never went without his staff。'  How it came about that 

Angelical Thomas was burned in company with his staff; 

and his sister in gentler manner hanged; and whether 

these two were simply religious maniacs of the more 

furious order; or had real as well as imaginary sins upon 

their old…world shoulders; are points happily beyond the 

reach of our intention。  At least; it is suitable enough 

that out of this superstitious city some such example 

should have been put forth: the outcome and fine flower 

of dark and vehement religion。  And at least the facts 

struck the public fancy and brought forth a remarkable 

family of myths。  It would appear that the Major's staff 

went upon his errands; and even ran before him with a 

lantern on dark nights。  Gigantic females; 'stentoriously 

laughing and gaping with tehees of laughter' at 

unseasonable hours of night and morning; haunted the 

purlieus of his abode。  His house fell under such a load 

of infamy that no one dared to sleep in it; until 

municipal improvement levelled the structure to the 

ground。  And my father has often been told in the nursery 

how the devil's coach; drawn by six coal…black horses 

with fiery eyes; would drive at night into the West Bow; 

and belated people might see the dead Major through the 

glasses。



Another legend is that of the two maiden sisters。  A 

legend I am afraid it may be; in the most discreditable 

meaning of the term; or perhaps something worse … a mere 

yesterday's fiction。  But it is a story of some vitality; 

and is worthy of a place in the Edinburgh kalendar。  This 

pair inhabited a single room; from the facts; it must 

have been double…bedded; and it may have been of some 

dimensions: but when all is said; it was a single room。  

Here our two spinsters fell out … on some point of 

controversial divinity belike: but fell out so bitterly 

that there was never a word spoken between them; black or 

white; from that day forward。  You would have thought 

they would separate: but no; whether from lack of means; 

or the Scottish fear of scandal; they continued to keep 

house together where they were。  A chalk line drawn upon 

the floor separated their two domains; it bisected the 

doorway and the fireplace; so that each could go out and 

in; and do her cooking; without violating the territory 

of the other。  So; for years; they coexisted in a hateful 

silence; their meals; their ablutions; their friendly 

visitors; exposed to an unfriendly scrutiny; and at 

night; in the dark watches; each could hear the breathing 

of her enemy。  Never did four walls look down upon an 

uglier spectacle than these sisters rivalling in 

unsisterliness。  Here is a canvas for Hawthorne to have 

turned into a cabinet picture … he ha

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