Crime and Punishment

Historically, it was less than wise to commit a crime in Edinburgh. At one point, there were some 200 crimes that came with the death penalty in the city. Among the last to suffer this sentence were two juvenile boys named Mair and Aitchison, who, in 1818 were hanged to protect the public form their heinous acts of…housebreaking. However, there were those for whom a simple hanging would have seemed a kind and lenient alternative…

Witness the Mercat Cross. The one which now stands in the High Street, at the entrance to St Giles Cathedral is not the original cross, that having been, for some reason, torn down many years ago. Perhaps it is best that this is so, since the cross had seen so much blood and pain as to be certain to be haunted nowadays were it not long since consigned to dust. A common practice was for petty criminals (beggars, for example) to be dragged to the Mercat Cross and have their ears nailed to the door for a proscribed period of time, which was deemed fitting for their crime. Some were also forced to wear a sign proclaiming their crime, so as to elicit a suitable amount of abuse and derision from passers by. Many others were hanged here or burned at the stake, but Edinburghers were usually at least civilised enough to strangle them first, so that they were not burned alive. Usually.

However, punishment itself was often not enough for the city's elders. Prevention was the key to good crime control, which was rife in the overcrowded, squalid Old Town. To that end, many criminals were beheaded and had their heads placed atop spikes around the walls of the city, so that others would be "dissuaded" from repeating their crimes. (Presumably, it had the fringe benefit of keeping the flies away from the market stalls…) This policy was taken to a slightly extreme conclusion in one particular instance.

In 1603, one Francis Maubray was charged with treason against the crown. During an unsuccessful attempt to escape his prison cell in Edinburgh Castle, Maubray was killed. Not much point in pursuing a trial against a deceased defendant, one would imagine. However, a royal warrant was in force here and although Maubray had denied all charges prior to his unsuccessful escape bid, there were surviving witnesses against him and his attempted escape was deemed to be further evidence of his guilt. Thus was Maubray's lifeless husk dragged into court, where a trial took place, the witnesses gave testimony and sentence was pronounced…upon a corpse. Found guilty of treason, the cadaver was duly hanged and quartered, with the pieces staked around conspicuous places in the city. Not even death could help you escape justice in Edinburgh. Of course, with treason considered the worst crime possible, actual regicide, or murder of the ruling regent, was an effective way of committing painful, slow suicide, unless you could rightfully claim the throne afterwards.
James I vacated his throne somewhat unceremoniously when he was assassinated near Perth by a group led by Robert Graham and instructed by his grandfather, Walter, the Earl of Atholl. It seems Walter had been told by a group of witches that he was to be king of Scotland, and he lacked the patience to wait his turn. (Where have I heard that story before?) So, you're thinking, why don't I remember hearing of a King Walter? Didn't James II follow James I? Indeed he did.

Atholl and his grandson were quickly discovered as the perpetrators of the crime and their punishment was brought down on them with extreme prejudice. Graham, the actual murderer, had his hand nailed to a gallows, which was transported on a cart, with Robert dragged behind it, through the city. The executioner spent the entire journey sticking red-hot iron spikes into "various fleshy parts of his body", before he was eventually beheaded and quartered. Walter was not treated so well. As the brains behind the operation, his fate was to be much more grievous.
On the first day, he was attached by rope to a crane, which repeatedly lifted him by his ankles and allowed him to drop back to the ground. Broken bones and dislocated joints obviously followed. On day two he was pilloried and then crowned with a red-hot iron bearing the inscription "The King of Traitors". This was as close as he was to come to royalty. Then they attached him to a horse's hurdle and dragged him through the streets, like his grandson. On the third day, he was stretched out and while alive and awake, drawn open and had his vital organs removed before his eyes and thrown onto a fire. His head was then cut off and displayed around the town, while his body was quartered; with one part remaining in Edinburgh while the other three were sent to Perth, Stirling and Aberdeen. One assumes Walter learned patience for his stint in the afterlife…

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