One of the earliest, as she was one of the noblest, victims of this
delusion, politics and jealousy had as much to do with her death as had
superstition. Because she was "one of the Douglases," and not because she
was convicted as a sorceress, did William Lyon find her so easy a victim
to his hate. For it was he--the near relative of her first husband,
"Cleanse the Causey" John Lyon, Lord Glammis,--who ruined her, and brought
her young days to so shameful an end. And had he not cause? Did she not
reject him when left a widow, young and beautiful as but few were to be
found in all the Scottish land? and, rejecting him, did she not favour
Archibald Campbell of Kessneath instead, and make over to him the lands
and the beauties he had coveted for himself, even during the life of that
puling relative of his, "Cleanse the Causey"? Matter enough for revenge in
this, thought William Lyon: and the revenge he took came easy to his hand,
and in fullest measure. For Lady Glammis, daughter of George, Master of
Angus, and grand-daughter of that brave old savage, Archibald
Bell-the-Cat, was in no great favour with a court which had disgraced her
grandfather, and banished her brother; and consequently she found no
protection there from the man who was seeking her ruin. Perhaps, too, she
had mixed herself up with the court feuds and parties then so common, and
thus had given some positive cause of offence to a government which must
crush if it would not be crushed, and extirpate if it would not be
destroyed. Be that as it may, William Lyon soon gathered material for an
accusation, and Lady Glammis found that if she would not have his love he
would have her life. She was accused on various counts; for having
procured the death of her first husband by "intoxication," or unholy
drugging, for a design to poison the king, and for witchcraft generally,
as a matter of daily life and open notoriety; and for these crimes she was
burnt, notwithstanding her beauty and wealth and innocence and
high-hearted bravery, notwithstanding her popularity--for she was beloved
by all who knew her--and the honour of her stainless name. And once more,
as so often, hatred conquered love, and the innocent died that the guilty
might be at rest.
I must omit any lengthened notice of the trial of Janet Bowman in 1572, as
also of that of a notable witch Nicneven, which name, "generally given to
the Queen of the Fairies, was probably bestowed upon her on account of her
crimes, and who, when 'her collore craig with stringis whairon wes mony
knottis' was taken from her, gave way to despair, exclaiming, 'Now I have
no hoip of myself,' saying, too, that 'she cared not whether she went to
heaven or to hell.'" The Record has preserved nothing beyond the mere
fact of the first, while the foregoing extract is all that I can find of
the second; so that I am obliged to pass on to the pitiful tale of--