These trials had the most pernicious consequences all over Scotland. The

lairds and ministers in their districts, armed with due power from the

privy council, tried and condemned old women after the most summary

fashion. Those who still clung to the ancient faith of Rome were the

severest sufferers, as it was thought, after the disclosures of the fierce

enmity borne by the devil towards a Protestant king and his Protestant

wife, that all the Catholics were leagued with the powers of evil to work

woe on the realm of Scotland. Upon a very moderate calculation, it is

presumed that from the passing of the act of Queen Mary till the accession

of James to the throne of England, a period of thirty-nine years, the

average number of executions for witchcraft in Scotland was two hundred

annually, or upwards of seventeen thousand altogether. For the first nine

years the number was not one quarter so great; but towards the years 1590

to 1593, the number must have been more than four hundred. The case last

cited was one of an extraordinary character. The general aspect of the

trials will be better seen from that of Isabel Gowdie, which, as it would

be both wearisome and disgusting to go through them all, is given as a

fair specimen, although it took place at a date somewhat later than the

reign of James. This woman, wearied of her life by the persecutions of her

neighbours, voluntarily gave herself up to justice, and made a confession,

embodying the whole witch-creed of the period. She was undoubtedly a

monomaniac of the most extraordinary kind. She said that she deserved to

be stretched upon an iron rack, and that her crimes could never be atoned

for, even if she were to be drawn asunder by wild horses. She named a long

list of her associates, including nearly fifty women and a few warlocks.

They dug up the graves of unchristened infants, whose limbs were

serviceable in their enchantments. When they wanted to destroy the crops

of an enemy, they yoked toads to his plough, and on the following night

Satan himself ploughed the land with his team, and blasted it for the

season. The witches had power to assume almost any shape; but they

generally chose either that of a cat or a hare, oftenest the latter.

Isabel said, that on one occasion, when she was in this disguise, she was

sore pressed by a pack of hounds, and had a very narrow escape with her

life. She reached her own door at last, feeling the hot breath of the

pursuing dogs at her haunches. She managed, however, to hide herself

behind a chest, and got time to pronounce the magic words that could alone

restore her to her proper shape. They were:

"Hare! hare!

God send thee care!

I am in a hare's likeness now;

But I shall be a woman e'en now!

Hare! hare!

God send thee care!"

If witches, when in this shape, were bitten by the dogs, they always

retained the marks in their human form; but she had never heard that any

witch had been bitten to death. When the devil appointed any general

meeting of the witches, the custom was that they should proceed through

the air mounted on broomsticks, or on corn or bean-straws, pronouncing as

they went:

"Horse and pattock, horse and go,

Horse and pellats, ho! ho! ho!"

They generally left behind them a broom or a three-legged stool, which,

when placed in their beds and duly charmed, assumed the human shape till

their return. This was done that the neighbours might not know when they

were absent.

She added that the devil furnished his favourite witches with servant imps

to attend upon them. These imps were called, "The Roaring Lion," "Thief of

Hell," "Wait-upon-Herself," "Ranting Roarer," "Care-for-Naught," &c., and

were known by their liveries, which were generally yellow, sad-dun,

sea-green, pea-green, or grass-green. Satan never called the witches by

the names they had received at baptism; neither were they allowed, in his

presence, so to designate each other. Such a breach of the infernal

etiquette assuredly drew down his most severe displeasure. But as some

designation was necessary, he re-baptised them in their own blood by the

names of "Able-and-Stout," "Over-the-dike-with-it," "Raise-the-wind,"

"Pickle-nearest-the-wind," "Batter-them-down-Maggy," "Blow-Kale," and such

like. The devil himself was not very particular what name they called him,

so that it was not "Black John." If any witch was unthinking enough to

utter these words, he would rush out upon her and beat and buffet her

unmercifully, or tear her flesh with a wool-card. Other names he did not

care about; and once gave instructions to a noted warlock that whenever he

wanted his aid, he was to strike the ground three times and exclaim, "Rise

up, foul thief!"

[Illustration: SIR G. MACKENZIE.]

Upon this confession many persons were executed. So strong was the popular

feeling, that no one once accused of witchcraft was acquitted; at least

acquittals did not average one in a hundred trials. Witch-finding, or

witch-pricking, became a trade, and a set of mercenary vagabonds roamed

about the country provided with long pins to run into the flesh of

supposed criminals. It was no unusual thing then, nor is it now, that in

aged persons there should be some spot on the body totally devoid of

feeling. It was the object of the witch-pricker to discover this spot, and

the unhappy wight who did not bleed when pricked upon it was doomed to the

death. If not immediately cast into prison, her life was rendered

miserable by the persecution of her neighbours. It is recorded of many

poor women, that the annoyances they endured in this way were so

excessive, that they preferred death. Sir George Mackenzie, the Lord

Advocate, at the time when witch trials were so frequent, and himself a

devout believer in the crime, relates, in his _Criminal Law_, first

published in 1678, some remarkable instances of it. He says, "I went, when

I was a justice-depute, to examine some women who had confessed

judicially; and one of them, who was a silly creature, told me, under

secrecy, that she had not confessed because she was guilty, but being a

poor creature, who wrought for her meat, and being defamed for a witch,

she knew she should starve, for no person thereafter would either give her

meat or lodging, and that all men would beat her and set dogs at her, and

that, therefore, she desired to be out of the world; whereupon she wept

most bitterly, and upon her knees called God to witness to what she said."

Sir George, though not wholly elevated above the prejudices of his age

upon this subject, was clear-sighted enough to see the danger to society

of the undue encouragement given to the witch prosecutions. He was

convinced that three-fourths of them were unjust and unfounded. He says,

in the work already quoted, that the persons who were in general accused

of this crime were poor ignorant men and women who did not understand the

nature of the accusation, and who mistook their own superstitious fears

for witchcraft. One poor wretch, a weaver, confessed that he was a

warlock, and, being asked why, he replied, because "he had seen the devil

dancing, like a fly, about the candle!" A simple woman, who, because she

was called a witch, believed that she was, asked the judge upon the bench

whether a person might be a witch and not know it? Sir George adds, that

all the supposed criminals were subjected to severe torture in prison from

their gaolers, who thought they did God good service by vexing and

tormenting them; "and I know," says this humane and enlightened

magistrate, "that this usage was the ground of all their confession; and

albeit, the poor miscreants cannot prove this usage, the actors in it

being the only witnesses; yet the judge should be jealous of it, as that

which did at first elicit the confession, and for fear of which they dare

not retract it." Another author,[31] also a firm believer in witchcraft,

gives a still more lamentable instance of a woman who preferred execution

as a witch to live on under the imputation. This woman, who knew that

three others were to be strangled and burned on an early day, sent for the

minister of the parish, and confessed that she had sold her soul to Satan.

"Whereupon being called before the judges, she was condemned to die with

the rest. Being carried forth to the place of execution, she remained

silent during the first, second, and third prayer, and then, perceiving

that there remained no more but to rise and go to the stake, she lifted up

her body, and, with a loud voice, cried out, 'Now all you that see me this

day, know that I am now to die as a witch, by my own confession; and I

free all men, especially the ministers and magistrates, of the guilt of my

blood. I take it wholly upon myself. My blood be upon my own head. And, as

I must make answer to the God of heaven presently, I declare I am as free

of witchcraft as any child. But, being delated by a malicious woman, and

put in prison under the name of a witch, disowned by my husband and

friends, and seeing no ground of hope of ever coming out again, I made up

that confession to destroy my own life, being weary of it, and choosing

rather to die than to live.'" As a proof of the singular obstinacy and

blindness of the believers in witches, it may be stated that the minister

who relates this story only saw in the dying speech of the unhappy woman

an additional proof that she was a witch. True, indeed is it, that "none

are so blind as those who will not see."

[31] _Satan's Invisible World Discovered_, by the Rev. G.

Sinclair.

It is time, however, to return to James VI., who is fairly entitled to

share with Pope Innocent, Sprenger, Bodinus, and Matthew Hopkins the glory

or the odium of being at the same time a chief enemy and chief encourager

of witchcraft. Towards the close of the sixteenth century, many learned

men, both on the continent and in the isles of Britain, had endeavoured to

disabuse the public mind on this subject. The most celebrated were Wierus,

in Germany; Pietro d'Apone, in Italy; and Reginald Scot, in England. Their

works excited the attention of the zealous James, who, mindful of the

involuntary compliment which his merits had extorted from the devil, was

ambitious to deserve it by still continuing "his greatest enemie." In the

year 1597, he published in Edinburgh his famous treatise on Demonology.

Its design may be gathered from the following passage in the introduction:

"The fearful abounding," says the king, "at this time and in this country

of these detestable slaves of the devil, the witches or enchanters, hath

moved me, beloved reader, to despatch in post this following treatise of

mine, not in any wise, as I protest, to serve for a show of mine own

learning and ingene [ingenuity], but only (moved of conscience) to press

thereby, so far as I can, to resolve the doubting hearts of many, both

that such assaults of Satan are most certainly practised, and that the

instrument thereof merits most severely to be punished, against the

damnable opinions of two, principally in our age; whereof the one called

Scot, an Englishman, is not ashamed in public print to deny that there can

be such thing as witchcraft, and so maintains the old error of the

Sadducees in denying of spirits. The other, called Wierus, a German

physician, sets out a public apology for all these crafts-folks, whereby

procuring for them impunity, he plainly betrays himself to have been one

of that profession." In other parts of this treatise, which the author had

put into the form of a dialogue, to "make it more pleasant and facile," he

says: "Witches ought to be put to death, according to the law of God, the

civil and imperial law, and the municipal law of all Christian nations:

yea, to spare the life, and not strike whom God bids strike and so

severely punish in so odious a treason against God, is not only unlawful,

but doubtless as great a sin in the magistrate as was Saul's sparing

Agag." He says also that the crime is so abominable, that it may be proved

by evidence which would not be received against any other

offenders,--young children, who knew not the nature of an oath, and

persons of an infamous character, being sufficient witnesses against them;

but lest the innocent should be accused of a crime so difficult to be

acquitted of, he recommends that in all cases the ordeal should be

resorted to. He says, "Two good helps may be used: the one is the finding

of their mark, and the trying the insensibleness thereof; the other is

their floating on the water,--for, as in a secret murther, if the dead

carcass be at any time thereafter handled by the murtherer, it will gush

out of blood, as if the blood were crying to Heaven for revenge of the

murtherer (God having appointed that secret supernatural sign for trial of

that secret unnatural crime), so that it appears that God hath appointed

(for a supernatural sign of the monstrous impiety of witches) that the

water shall refuse to receive them in her bosom that have shaken off them

the sacred water of baptism, and wilfully refused the benefit

thereof;--no, not so much as their eyes are able to shed tears (threaten

and torture them as you please), while first they repent (God not

permitting them to dissemble their obstinacy in so horrible a crime);

albeit, the womenkind especially, be able otherwise to shed tears at every

light occasion when they will, yea, although it were dissembling like the

crocodiles."

[Illustration: PIETRO D'APONE.]

When such doctrines as these were openly promulgated by the highest

authority in the realm, and who, in promulgating them, flattered, but did

not force the public opinion, it is not surprising that the sad delusion

should have increased and multiplied until the race of wizards and witches

replenished the earth. The reputation which he lost by being afraid of a

naked sword, he more than regained by his courage in combating the devil.

The Kirk shewed itself a most zealous coadjutor, especially during those

halcyon days when it was not at issue with the king upon other matters of

doctrine and prerogative.

On his accession to the throne of England in 1603, James came amongst a

people who had heard with admiration of his glorious deeds against the

witches. He himself left no part of his ancient prejudices behind him; and

his advent was the signal for the persecution to burst forth in England

with a fury equal to that in Scotland. It had languished a little during

the latter years of the reign of Elizabeth; but the very first parliament

of King James brought forward the subject. James was flattered by their

promptitude, and the act passed in 1604. On the second reading in the

House of Lords, the bill passed into a committee, in which were twelve

bishops. By it was enacted, "That if any person shall use, practise, or

exercise any conjuration of any wicked or evil spirit, or shall consult,

covenant with, or feed any such spirit, the first offence to be

imprisonment for a year, and standing in the pillory once a quarter; the

second offence to be death."

The minor punishment seems but rarely to have been inflicted. Every record

that has been preserved mentions that the witches were hanged and burned,

or burned, without the previous strangling, "alive and quick." During the

whole of James's reign, amid the civil wars of his successor, the sway of

the Long Parliament, the usurpation of Cromwell, and the reign of Charles

II., there was no abatement of the persecution. If at any time it raged

with less virulence, it was when Cromwell and the Independents were

masters. Dr. Zachary Grey, the editor of an edition of "Hudibras," informs

us, in a note to that work, that he himself perused a list of three

thousand witches who were executed in the time of the Long Parliament

alone. During the first eighty years of the seventeenth century, the

number executed has been estimated at five hundred annually, making the

frightful total of forty thousand. Some of these cases deserve to be

cited. The great majority resemble closely those already mentioned; but

two or three of them let in a new light upon the popular superstition.

Every one has heard of the "Lancashire witches," a phrase now used to

compliment the ladies of that county for their bewitching beauty; but it

is not every one who has heard the story in which it originated. A

villanous boy, named Robinson, was the chief actor in the tragedy. He

confessed many years afterwards that he had been suborned by his father

and other persons to give false evidence against the unhappy witches whom

he brought to the stake. The time of this famous trial was about the year

1634. This boy Robinson, whose father was a wood-cutter, residing on the

borders of Pendle Forest, in Lancashire, spread abroad many rumours

against one Mother Dickenson, whom he accused of being a witch. These

rumours coming to the ears of the local magistracy, the boy was sent for

and strictly examined. He told the following extraordinary story without

hesitation or prevarication, and apparently in so open and honest a

manner, that no one who heard him doubted the truth of it. He said, that

as he was roaming about in one of the glades of the forest, amusing

himself by gathering blackberries, he saw two greyhounds before him, which

he thought at the time belonged to some gentleman of the neighbourhood.

Being fond of sport, he proposed to have a course; and a hare being

started, he incited the hounds to run. Neither of them would stir. Angry

at the beasts, he seized hold of a switch, with which he was about to

punish them, when one of them suddenly started up in the form of a woman,

and the other of a little boy. He at once recognised the woman to be the

witch Mother Dickenson. She offered him some money to induce him to sell

his soul to the devil; but he refused. Upon this she took a bridle out of

her pocket, and shaking it over the head of the other little boy, he was

instantly turned into a horse. Mother Dickenson then seized him in her

arms, sprang upon the horse, and placing him before her, rode with the

swiftness of the wind over forests, fields, bogs, and rivers, until they

came to a large barn. The witch alighted at the door, and, taking him by

the hand, led him inside. There he saw seven old women pulling at seven

halters which hung from the roof. As they pulled, large pieces of meat,

lumps of butter, loaves of bread, basins of milk, hot puddings, black

puddings, and other rural dainties, fell from the halters on to the floor.

While engaged in this charm, they made such ugly faces, and looked so

fiendish, that he was quite frightened. After they had pulled in this

manner enough for an ample feast, they set-to, and shewed, whatever might

be said of the way in which their supper was procured, that their

epicurism was a little more refined than that of the Scottish witches,

who, according to Gellie Duncan's confession, feasted upon dead men's

flesh in the old kirk of Berwick. The boy added, that as soon as supper

was ready, many other witches came to partake of it, several of whom he

named.

In consequence of this story, many persons were arrested, and the boy

Robinson was led about from church to church, in order that he might point

out to the officers by whom he was accompanied the hags he had seen in the

barn. Altogether, about twenty persons were thrown into prison; eight of

them were condemned to die, including Mother Dickenson, upon this evidence

alone, and executed accordingly. Among the wretches who concocted this

notable story, not one was ever brought to justice for his perjury; and

Robinson, the father, gained considerable sums by threatening persons who

were rich enough to buy off exposure.

Among the ill-weeds which flourished amid the long dissensions of the

civil war, Matthew Hopkins, the witch-finder, stands eminent in his

sphere. This vulgar fellow resided, in the year 1644, at the town of

Manningtree, in Essex, and made himself very conspicuous in discovering

the devil's marks upon several unhappy witches. The credit he gained by

his skill in this instance seems to have inspired him to renewed

exertions. In the course of a very short time, whenever a witch was spoken

of in Essex, Matthew Hopkins was sure to be present, aiding the judges

with his knowledge of "such cattle," as he called them. As his reputation

increased, he assumed the title of "Witch-finder General," and travelled

through the counties of Norfolk, Essex, Huntingdon, and Sussex, for the

sole purpose of finding out witches. In one year he brought sixty poor

creatures to the stake. The test he commonly adopted was that of swimming,

so highly recommended by King James in his _Demonologie_. The hands and

feet of the suspected persons were tied together crosswise, the thumb of

the right hand to the toe of the left foot, and _vice versa_. They were

then wrapped up in a large sheet or blanket, and laid upon their backs in

a pond or river. If they sank, their friends and relatives had the poor

consolation of knowing they were innocent; but there was an end of them:

if they floated, which, when laid carefully on the water, was generally

the case, there was also an end of them; for they were deemed guilty of

witchcraft, and burned accordingly.

Another test was to make them repeat the Lord's prayer and creed. It was

affirmed that no witch could do so correctly. If she missed a word, or

even pronounced one incoherently, which in her trepidation it was most

probable she would, she was accounted guilty. It was thought that witches

could not weep more than three tears, and those only from the left eye.

Thus the conscious innocence of many persons, which gave them fortitude to

bear unmerited torture without flinching, was construed by their

unmerciful tormentors into proofs of guilt. In some districts the test

resorted to was to weigh the culprit against the church Bible. If the

suspected witch proved heavier than the Bible, she was set at liberty.

This mode was far too humane for the witch-finders by profession. Hopkins

always maintained that the most legitimate modes were pricking and

swimming.

Hopkins used to travel through his counties like a man of consideration,

attended by his two assistants, always putting up at the chief inn of the

place, and always at the cost of the authorities. His charges were twenty

shillings a town, his expenses of living while there, and his carriage

thither and back. This he claimed whether he found witches or not. If he

found any, he claimed twenty shillings a head in addition when they were

brought to execution. For about three years he carried on this infamous

trade, success making him so insolent and rapacious that high and low

became his enemies. The Rev. Mr. Gaul, a clergyman of Houghton, in

Huntingdonshire, wrote a pamphlet impugning his pretensions, and accusing

him of being a common nuisance. Hopkins replied in an angry letter to the

functionaries of Houghton, stating his intention to visit their town; but

desiring to know whether it afforded many such sticklers for witchcraft as

Mr. Gaul, and whether they were willing to receive and entertain him with

the customary hospitality, if he so far honoured them. He added, by way of

threat, that in case he did not receive a satisfactory reply, "he would

waive their shire altogether, and betake himself to such places where he

might do and punish, not only without control, but with thanks and

recompense." The authorities of Houghton were not much alarmed at this

awful threat of letting them alone. They very wisely took no notice either

of him or his letter.

Mr. Gaul describes in his pamphlet one of the modes employed by Hopkins,

which was sure to swell his revenues very considerably. It was a proof

even more atrocious than the swimming. He says, that the "Witch-finder

General" used to take the suspected witch and place her in the middle of a

room, upon a stool or table, cross-legged, or in some other uneasy

posture. If she refused to sit in this manner, she was bound with strong

cords. Hopkins then placed persons to watch her for four-and-twenty hours,

during which time she was to be kept without meat or drink. It was

supposed that one of her imps would come during that interval and suck her

blood. As the imp might come in the shape of a wasp, a moth, a fly, or

other insect, a hole was made in the door or window to let it enter. The

watchers were ordered to keep a sharp look out, and endeavour to kill any

insect that appeared in the room. If any fly escaped, and they could not

kill it, the woman was guilty; the fly was her imp, and she was sentenced

to be burned, and twenty shillings went into the pockets of Master

Hopkins. In this manner he made one old woman confess, because four flies

had appeared in the room, that she was attended by four imps, named

"Ilemazar," "Pye-wackett," "Peck-in-the-crown," and "Grizel-Greedigut."

[Illustration: MATTHEW HOPKINS.[32]]

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