Part 32

Occasionally he was very cruel to them. ‘Sometimes, among ourselves,’ says Isobel, ‘we would be calling him _Black John_, or the like, and he would ken it, and hear us weel eneuch, and he even then come to us and say: “I ken weel eneuch what ye are saying of me!” And then he would beat and buffet us very sore. We would be beaten if we were absent any time, or neglect anything that would be appointed to be done. Alexander Elder in Earl-seat would be beaten very often. He is but soft, and could never defend himself in the least, but would greet and cry when he would be scourging him. But Margaret Wilson would defend herself finely, and cast up her hands to keep the strokes off her; and Bessie Wilson would speak crusty, and be belling again to him stoutly. He would be beating us all up and down with cords and other sharp scourges, like naked ghaists, and we would still be crying: “Pity, pity, mercy, mercy, our Lord!” But he would have neither pity nor mercy. When angry at us, he would girn at us like a dog, as if he would swallow us up. Sometimes he would be like a stirk, a bull, a deer, a rae,’ &c.

Isobel stated that when the married witches went out to these nocturnal conventions, they put a besom into their place in bed, which prevented their husbands from missing them. When they had feasted in a house and wished to depart, a corn-straw put between their legs served them as a horse; and on their crying, ‘Horse and hattock in the devil’s name!’ they would fly away, ‘even as straws would fly upon a highway.’ She once feasted in Darnaway Castle, and left it in this manner. On another occasion, the party went to the Downy Hills, where the hill opened, and they went into a well-lighted room, where they were entertained by the queen of Faery. This personage was ‘brawly clothed in white linens and in white and brown clothes;’ while her husband, the king of Faery, was ‘a braw man, weel-favoured, and broad-faced.’ ‘On that occasion,’ says Isobel, ‘there were elf-bulls routing up and down, and affrighted me’--a trait which bears so much the character of a dream, as to be highly useful in deciding that the whole was mere hallucination.

The covin were empowered to take the shapes of hares, cats, and crows. On assuming the first of these forms, it was necessary to say:

‘I sall go intill a hare, With sorrow, sich, and mickle care; And I sall go in the devil’s name, Aye while I come home again.’

‘I was one morning,’ says Isobel, ‘about the break of day, going to Auldearn in the shape of ane hare, and Patrick Papley’s servants, going to their labour, his hounds being with them, ran after me. I ran very long, but was forced, being weary, at last to take my own house. The door being left open, I ran in behind a chest, and the hounds followed in; but they went to the other side of the chest, and I was forced to run forth again, and wan into ane other house, and there took leisure to say:

“Hare, hare, God send thee care! I am in a hare’s likeness now, But I sall be a woman even now! Hare, hare, God send thee care!”

[Sidenote: 1662.]

And so I returned to my own shape again. The dogs,’ she added, ‘will sometimes get bits of us, but will not get us killed. When we turn to our own shape, we will have the bits, and rives, and scarts in our bodies.’

Sometimes they would engage in cures, using of course the power derived from their infernal master. For a sore or a broken limb there was a charm in verse, which they said thrice over, _stroking the sore_, and it was sure to heal. They had a similar charm for the _bean-shaw_ or sciatica:

‘We are three maidens charming for the bean-shaw, The man of the middle earth, Blue bearer, land fever, Manners of stoors, The Lord flegged the Fiend with his holy candles and yird-fast stone; There she sits and here she is gone: Let her never come here again!’

Another was for cases of fever:

‘I forbid the quaking-fevers, the sea-fevers, the land-fevers, and all the fevers that ever God ordained, Out of the head, out of the heart, out of the back, out of the sides, out of the knees, out of the thies, Frae the points of the fingers to the nebs of the taes: Out sall the fevers go, some to the hill, some to the hope, Some to the stone, some to the stock, In St Peter’s name, St Paul’s name, and all the saints of heaven, In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Haly Ghaist!’

More generally, however, they were employed in planting or prolonging diseases. Isobel Gowdie told the minister that, in the preceding winter, when he was sick, they made a bagful of horrible broth of the entrails of toads, parings of nails, the liver of a hare, pickles of beir and bits of rag, and, at the dictation of the devil, pronounced over it this charm:

‘He is lying in his bed, he is lying sick and sair, Let him lie intill his bed two months and three days mair,’ &c.

[Sidenote: 1662.]

‘Then we fell down upon our knees, with our hair down over our shoulders and eyes, and our hands lifted up, and our eyes steadfastly fixed upon the devil, and said the foresaid words thrice over.... In the night-time, we came into Mr Harry Forbes’s chalmer, with our hands all smeared, to swing [the bag] upon Mr Harry, where he was sick in his bed; and in the daytime [there came ane of our number] to swing the bag [upon the said Mr Harry, as we could][204] not prevail in the night-time against him.’

Isobel stated the charm for taking away a cow’s milk. ‘We pull the tow [rope] and twine it, and plait it the wrong way in the devil’s name; and we draw the tether, sae made, in betwixt the cow’s hinder feet, and out betwixt the cow’s forward feet, in the devil’s name; and thereby takes with us the cow’s milk.... The way to give back the milk again is to cut the tether. When we take away the strength of any person’s ale, and gives it to another, we take a little quantity out of each barrel or stand of ale, and puts it in a stoup, in the devil’s name; and, in his name, with our awn hands, puts it amang another’s ale, and gives her the strength and substance of her neighbour’s ale. [The way] to keep the ale from us, that we have no power of it, is to sanctify it weel.’

One of their evil doings was to take away the strength of the manure of such as they wished ill to, or to make their lands unproductive. ‘Before Candlemas, we went be-east Kinloss, and there we yoked a pleuch of paddocks. The devil held the pleuch, and John Young in Mebestown, our officer, did drive the pleuch. Paddocks did draw the pleuch as oxen. Quickens [dog-grass] were soams [traces]; a riglen’s [ram’s] horn was a coulter; and a piece of a riglen’s horn was a sock. We went several times about, and all we of the _covin_ went still up and down with the pleuch, praying to the devil for the fruit of that land, and that thistles and briers might grow there.’ When they wished to have fish, they had only to go to the shore just before the boats came home and say three several times:

‘The fishers are gone to the sea, And they will bring home fish to me; They will bring them home intill the boat, But they sall get of them but the smaller sort.’

Accordingly, they obtained all the fishes in the boats, leaving the fishermen nothing but slime behind.

[Sidenote: 1662.]

Having conceived a design of destroying all the Laird of Park’s male children, they made a small effigy of a child in clay, and having learned the proper charm from their master, fell down before him on their knees, with their hair hanging over their eyes, and looking steadily at him, said:

‘In the devil’s name We pour this water amang the meal, For lang dwining and ill heal; We put it intill the fire, That it may be burned baith stick and stour. It sall be brunt with our will, As any stickle[205] upon a kiln.’

‘Then, in the devil’s name,’ says the culprit, ‘we did put it in, in the midst of the fire. After it was red like a coal, we took it out in the devil’s name. Till it be broken, it will be the death of all the male children that the Laird of Park will ever get.... It was roasten each other day at the fire; sometimes one part of it, sometimes another part of it, would be wet with water, and then roasten. The bairn would be burnt and roasten, even as it was by us.’ One child having died, the hags laid up the image till the next baby was born, and ‘within half a year after that bairn was born, we took it out again, and would dip it now and then in water, and beek and roast it at the fire, each other day once, untill that bairn died also.’

The devil made elf-arrows for them, and, learning to shoot these by an adroit use of the thumb, they killed several persons with them, also some cattle. ‘I shot at the Laird of Park,’ says Isobel, ‘as he was crossing the Burn of Boath; but, thanks be to God that he preserved him. Bessie Hay gave me a great cuff because I missed him.’ She spoke of having herself shot a man engaged in ploughing, and also a woman.

[Sidenote: 1662.]

Not satisfied with what they had done against the Laird of Park, they held a diabolic convention at Elspet Nisbet’s house, to take measures for the entire destruction of his family and that of the Laird of Lochloy. Taking some dog’s flesh and some sheep’s flesh, they chopped it small and seethed it for a whole forenoon in a pot. Then the devil put in a sheep’s bag, which he stirred about for some time with his hands. ‘We were upon our knees, our hair about our eyes, and our hands lifted up, and we looking steadfastly upon the devil, praying to him, repeating the words which he learned us, that it should kill and destroy the Lairds of Park and Lochloy, and their male children and posterity. And then we came to the Inshoch in the night-time, and scattered it about the gate, and other places where the lairds and their sons would most haunt, and then we, in the likeness of craws and rooks, stood about the gate and in the trees opposite. It was appointed so that if any of them should touch or tramp on any of it, it should strike them with boils, &c., and kill them. Whilk it did, and they shortly died. We did it to make that house heirless. It would wrong none else but they.’

We are not informed of the fate of Isobel Gowdie, or her associate, Janet Braidhead, from whose confession the last particulars are extracted; but there can be no doubt that they perished at the stake. Theirs are clearly cases of hallucination, mistakes of dreams and passing thoughts for real events, the whole being prompted in the first place by the current tales of witchcraft, and then made to assume in their own eyes a character of guilt because the witches themselves believed in witchcraft and all its turpitude, as well as their neighbours.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: APR. 15.]

The new-made Archbishop of St Andrews (Sharpe) commenced a sort of progress from Edinburgh, to take possession of his see. Dining with Sir Andrew Ramsay at Abbotshall, he came to lodge at Leslie, attended by several of the nobility and gentry. The anxiety of the upper classes to do honour to the new system is shewn in the cortège which accompanied the prelate next day to St Andrews. He had an earl on each hand, and various other nobles and lairds, and at one time between seven and eight hundred mounted gentlemen, in his train. Next Sunday, he preached in the town-church of St Andrews, on the text, ‘I am determined to know nothing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.’ ‘His sermon did not run much on the words, but in a discourse vindicating himself, and pressing Episcopacy and the utility of it.’--_Lam._

* * * * *

[Sidenote: MAY 20.]

By an act of parliament, this day was henceforth to be held as a holiday, both as the king’s birthday and as the anniversary of his majesty’s restoration. All over Scotland, the ordinance seems to have been heartily complied with. Everywhere there were religious services and abstinence from labour, and in most places active demonstrations of rejoicing, as beating of drums, shooting of cannon, sounding of trumpets, setting up of bonfires, and ceremonial drinkings of royal healths in public places.

[Sidenote: 1662.]

Through a peculiar loyal zeal, there was an extraordinary demonstration at Linlithgow. Not merely was the fine public fountain of that ancient burgh set flowing with divers coloured wines of France and Spain; not merely did the magistrates, accompanied by the Earl of Linlithgow and the minister of the parish, come to the market-place and there drink the king’s health at a collation in the open air, throwing sweetmeats and glasses among the people, but an arch had been constructed, with the genius of the Covenant (an old hag) on one side, a Whiggamore on the other, and the devil on the top--on the back, a picture of Rebellion ‘in a religious habit, with turned-up eyes and a fanatic gesture,’ while on the pillars were drawn ‘kirk-stools, rocks, and reels,’ ‘brochans, cogs, and spoons,’ with legends containing burlesque allusions to the doings of the zealous during the preceding twenty years: and at the drinking of the king’s health, this fabric was set fire to and consumed, together with copies of the Covenants, and all the acts of parliament passed during the Civil War, as well as many protestations, declarations, and other public documents of great celebrity in their day. When the fire was over, there appeared, in place of the late fabric, a tablet supported by two angels, and presenting the following inscription:

‘Great Britain’s monarch on this day was born, And to his kingdom happily restored; His queen’s arrived, the matter now is known, Let us rejoice, this day is from the Lord!

Flee hence all traitors, that did mar our peace; Flee, all schismatics who our church did rent; Flee, Covenanting remonstrating race; Let us rejoice that God this day hath sent.’

Then the magistrates accompanied the earl to the palace, where he, as keeper, had a grand bonfire, and here the loyal toasts were all drunk over again. Finally, the magistrates made a procession through the burgh, saluting every man of account.[206]

Wodrow tells us that this ‘mean mock of the work of reformation,’ was chiefly managed by Robert Miln, then bailie of Linlithgow, and Mr James Ramsay, the minister of the parish, subsequently bishop of Dunblane; both of whom had a few years before ‘solemnly entered into, and renewed these covenants, with uplifted hands to the Lord.’ ‘The first in some time thereafter came to great riches and honour [as a farmer of revenues], but outlived them, and the exercise of his judgment too, and died bankrupt in miserable circumstances at Holyroodhouse.’

[Sidenote: 1662.

JUNE 16.]

One Grieve, a maltman at Kirkcaldy, was deliberately murdered by his son, in consequence of family quarrels. The wretched youth took some cunning measures for concealing the murder, but in vain. ‘He is had to the corpse; but the corpse did not bleed upon him (for some affirm that the corpse will not bleed for the first twenty-four hours after the murder): however, he is keepit, and within some hours after, he is had to the corpse again, and, the son taking the father by the hand, the corpse bleeds at the nose; but he still denies. Also, the man’s wife is brought, and they cause her touch her husband; but he did not bleed.’ The lad afterwards confessed, and was hanged.--_Lam._

* * * * *

This was a year of uncommon abundance, in both grain and fruit, ‘the like never seen heretofore.’ ‘The streets of Edinburgh were filled full of all sorts of fruits ... sold exceeding cheap.’--_Nic._

* * * * *

[Sidenote: JULY 3.]

Decision was given in the Court of Session of a singular case, in which several of the peers of the realm were concerned. ‘Lord Coupar, sitting in parliament, taking out his watch, handed it to Lord Pitsligo, who refusing to restore it, an action was brought for the value. Lord Pitsligo said, that Lord Coupar having put his watch in his hand to see what hour it was, Lord Sinclair putting forth his hand for a sight of the watch, Lord Pitsligo put it into Lord Sinclair’s hand, in the presence of Lord Coupar, without contradiction, which must necessarily import his consent. Lord Coupar answered that, they being then sitting in parliament, his silence could not import his consent. The Lords repelled Lord Pitsligo’s defence, and found him liable in the value of the watch.’[207]

* * * * *

[Sidenote: 1662.]

The check lately imposed on the cruelty of proceedings in witch cases was not everywhere effectual; but in one instance of alleged wizardry in the Highlands, the tyranny of the usual process was controlled in a most characteristic manner. A group of poor people, tenants in the parish of Kilmorack and Kiltarnity, in Inverness-shire--namely, Hector M‘Lean; Jonet M‘Lean, his spouse; Margaret M‘Lean, sister of Jonet; and ten or twelve other women of indescribable Highland names--had been apprehended and imprisoned for the alleged crime of witchcraft, at the instance of Alexander Chisholm, of Commer; Colin Chisholm, his brother; John Valentine, and Thomas Chisholm, cousins of Alexander. The women had been put into restraint in Alexander Chisholm’s house, while Hector M‘Lean was confined in the Tolbooth of Inverness. Donald, a brother of John M‘Lean, was searched for as being also a wizard, but he kept out of the way. The Chisholms then set to torturing the women, ‘by waking them, hanging them up by the thumbs, burning the soles of their feet in the fire,’ drawing some of them ‘at horses’ tails, and binding of them with widdies [withes] about the neck and feet.’ Under this treatment, one became distracted, another died; the rest confessed whatever was demanded of them. Upon the strength of confessions extorted by ‘tortures more bitter than death itself’--such is the language of the sufferers--the Chisholms had obtained a commission for trying the accused.

It was alleged in a petition from M‘Lean and the other prisoners, that the whole of this prosecution arose from inveterate hatred on the part of the Chisholms, because they could not get them in a legal way put out of their lands and possessions, where they had been for between two and three hundred years past--so early was the fashion of eviction in the Highlands. And here comes in the characteristic feature of the case. These M‘Leans, though so long removed from the country of their chief and dwelling among strangers, were still M‘Leans, owning a fealty to their chief in his remote Mull fastness, and looking for protection in return. Accordingly, we have this insular chief, Sir Rory M‘Lean of Dowart, coming in with a petition to the Privy Council in behalf of these poor people, setting forth their case in its strongest light, and demanding justice for them. The Council ordered proceedings under their commission to be stopped, and sent to require the Chisholms to come before them along with the prisoners.

How this matter ended we do not learn; but it is evident that the clan feeling was effectual in saving the M‘Leans from further proceedings of an arbitrary and cruel nature.--_P. C. R._

[Sidenote: 1662.]

Early in the ensuing year, there occur a number of petitions to the Council from individuals who had been confined a long time on charges of witchcraft, either untried for want of evidence, or who had been tried and acquitted, but were further detained in hope of evidence being obtained. One of these was from a burgess of Lauder named Wilkison, in favour of his wife, who was kept in a miserable condition in prison, even after her accuser had expressed penitence for ‘delating’ her! The Council generally shewed a disposition to liberate such persons on petition; but there were cases which lay long neglected. We hear in January 1666 of a poor woman named, Jonet Howat, who had been a prisoner in Forfar jail on suspicion of witchcraft for _several years_, and was now ‘redacted to the extreme of misery,’ never having all the time been subjected to trial.[208] Jonet was ordered to be liberated, if her trial could not be immediately proceeded with. It is rather remarkable to find in the ill-reputed government of this time traits of a certain considerateness and humanity towards women under charges of witchcraft--for example, taking care that they should not be tortured by unauthorised persons, and making sure that even their voluntary confessions should appear as proceeding from a sane mind; thus shewing a feeling which was to all appearance unknown during the late _régime_.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: JULY.]

[Sidenote: 1662.]

Jon Ponthus, a German, styling himself professor of physic, but who would now be called a quack-doctor, was in Scotland for the third time, having previously paid professional visits in 1633 and 1643. His proceedings afford a lively illustration of the state of medical science in our island, and of the views of the public mind regarding what is necessary to a good physician. Erecting a stage on the High Street of Edinburgh, he had one person to play the fool, and another to dance on a rope, in order to attract and amuse his audience. Then he commenced selling his drugs, which cost eighteenpence per packet, and Nicoll allows that they ‘proved very good and real.’ This honest chronicler seems to have been much pleased with the antics of the performers. Upon a great rope fixed from side to side of the street, a man ‘descended upon his breast, his hands loose and stretched out like the wings of a fowl, to the admiration of many.’ Most curious of all, ‘the chirurgeons of the country, and also the apothecaries, finding thir drugs and recipes good and cheap, came to Edinburgh from all parts of the kingdom and bought them,’ for the purpose of selling them again at a profit. ‘Thir plays and dancings upon the rope continued the space of many days, whose agility and nimbleness was admirable to the beholders; ane of these dancers having danced sevenscore times at a time without intermission, lifting himself and vaulting six quarter heigh above his awn head, and lighting directly upon the tow, as punctually as gif he had been dancing upon the plain-stones.’--_Nic._ The quack subsequently exhibited in like manner at Glasgow, Stirling, Perth, Cupar, and St Andrews.--_Lam._