I should be writing; instead I got dragged into a research vortex looking at 19th century Scottish Broadside accounts of executions (find them here).
I should be writing
These have a morbid fascination, but also provide insight and detail into social attitudes and expectations, especially about the expectation that the condemned will exhibit a dignified mien on the scaffold. And the descriptions, which at first seem precise in a way that is alien to us now, also fall into clichéd turns of phrase to describe the moment of death of the accused:”launched into eternity” is frequent, although a copywriter excelled himself with “closed her eyes on sublunary objects.”
It is also clear that some hangmen were more skilled than others. As throwing the victims from a ladder gave way to a scaffold with a mechanical drop, it took a while for the skills to be developed to ensure a quick death. Some of the descriptions make it clear that not all of the condemned died quickly on the end of the rope, but struggled and convulsed until “the world closed upon the wretched man forever.”
One poor woman, Margaret Myles, executed in 1702 for incest with her brother (David, also executed) is excoriated because she “dyed obdurately and obstinately and gave little or no satisfaction to the spectators.” Good for her, I thought.
The difficulty with getting lost in the 19th century accounts is that my story is set in the 17th century.
The problem with 17th century, and early 18th century, accounts, is that they retain the capacity to cause upset when read, particularly the cases of Hellen Marishal (aged 19) and Jannet Shank, executed in 1720 and 1711 respectively, both in the Grass Mercat in Edinburgh. In both of these cases, I found myself oddly pleased to have read the accounts, not because they’re in any way pleasurable, but because by reading them these poor women are, in a small way, still remembered after 300 years.
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