Visiting London, I am under the spell of great art, while back in God’s own country a mother’s son is on death row… We normally regard the issue of having a legal death penalty as a binary: Yes or No.
But long ago I challenged that binary: Maybe our society could protect itself by giving special protection to those who would safeguard us all. While a death penalty might provide scant comfort and scant protection, maybe, in the eyes of innocent prison guards and peace officers, scant is better than nothing. Maybe there is a case for having a special penalty for killers of innocent guards and cops.
Still, capital punishment—from “cap”’ or removing a “head”—is harsh. Could Twelve Angry Men be swayed to go easy if a guilty verdict meant a possible execution? Perhaps it would depend on how much emotion the judge would allow in court, in these changing times. In my day “witness impact statements” were unheard of.
Today I was at the National Gallery at Trafalgar Square seeing pictures created centuries ago. From Biblical and historic times I witnessed portrayals of death and dying, grief and tragedy. Surely a jury would be influenced if certain National Gallery paintings, one by one, were shown to them.
Upon entering the gallery I went, as always, straight to Room 38 to sit again on a hard backless bench in a hushed room to see a larger than life picture of young Lady Jane Grey. Only Seventeen. While viewing at length, I mused on modern life and ancient history…
…While I commonly think of soldiers as being young like olympic athletes —except right now in Ukraine— in the republic of Rome the middle aged men served too, standing in the third row; they would move to the front when the younger men tired.
No conscription. The citizen-soldiers of Rome were volunteers, and they were unpaid.
What if a sub-unit of Roman volunteers, in frightful battle, broke and ran? There would be consequences. In the aftermath, in safety, the entire sub-unit would be lined up… and decimated. Not every tenth soldier in line—instead, a lottery. The guilty would stand in ranks, perhaps shivering and weak in their knees, as an upturned helmet was slowly walked down the line. They drew lots. Thus did their society protect itself.
Over the horizon in Ukraine, a lottery is striking too many people, day after day. My mind recoils from the randomness, I shrink from imagining friends around me falling, choking on dust and blood….Over here, seated on a polished bench in a silent room with sanitary air, I know: It’s obscene to sign a personal death warrant for Lady Jane.
I beheld a mother’s daughter, of sweet complexion, wearing a blindfold; …a kindly man guiding her hand to the place to lay her head; …as another man, who should be distancing himself, is instead looking on with a hardened mix of emotions, his hand on his ax; …as to the left, two young ladies act out what I would be feeling were I not so uptight and civilized.
The full title, painted by a Frenchman, Paul Delaroche, in 1833, during living memory of the Reign of Terror, is The Execution of Lady Jane Grey.
Were it not for the priceless picture, I think Jane would be forgotten: Her only crime was to be Queen of England for nine days. Forever young, Jane will always be a mute witness.
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Sean Crawford
In the Bloomsbury district,
Central London
February
2024
Gallery note: Temporarily, among some art rooms in the Imperial War Museum a brief war time documentary (with female names in the end credits) is playing: The film starts by showing, among civilians, young men and women in uniform entering through the timeless Greek columns at the front of the National Gallery, and then standing in various rooms. Wow, I’ve walked amongst those columns too! The narrator begins by asking why the servicemen are giving up precious leave time to see art… The rest of the film showed how artists create.
