‘There came with the king and queen’s majesty, Callipier, the admiral of Denmark, Peter Monk, the captain of Elsinburgh, Stephen Brahe, Braid Ransome Maugaret, Nicolaus Theophilus, doctor of laws, and Henry Goodlister, captain of Bocastle, as principal and of the council of Denmark; William Vanderwant, who was appointed to wait upon her majesty, with sundry other gentlemen to the number of thirty or thereby, all in gold chains of good fashion. The number of the haill train was two hundred and twenty-three persons, who were all entertained by the king and noblemen of Scotland, and banquetted daily. They were twelve hundred merks every day for their furnishing, during the time of their remaining.’—Moy.163

The young queen, who had been crowned on the 16th, made her ceremonial entry into Edinburgh by the West Port, sitting in her chariot, which was drawn by eight splendidly caparisoned horses. She was attended by thirty-six Danes on horseback, each accompanied by some Scottish lord or knight. The citizens gave her welcome ‘with great triumph and joy, pageants being erected in every place, adorned with all things befitting. Young boys with artificial wings did fly towards her, and presented two silver keys of the city’164—‘as use is, under a veil.’ The Castle fired repeatedly in honour of the day, and forty-two young men of the town, dressed in white taffeta and cloth of silver, with gold chains, and disguised as Moors, danced before her along the streets. When she came to the Over Bow,165 ‘Mr Hercules Rollock, master of the Grammar School, made his orison. Thereafter [she] came to a scaffold at the Butter Tron,166 whilk was plenished with the fairest young women of the town, fitly apparelled, with organs playing and musicians singing; where ane bairn made ane Latin orison. At the Tolbooth was younkers on ane scaffold, in women’s claithing, representing Peace, Plenty, Policy, Justice, Liberality, and Temperance [who likewise made her an oration]. Thereafter, [they] passed to the kirk, where Mr Robert Bruce, minister, made the sermon.’167 At the Cross, to which the party next came, there was ‘a covered table, whereon stood cups of gold and silver full of wine, with the goddess of corn and wine sitting thereat, and the corn in heaps by her, who, in Latin, cried that there should be plenty thereof in her time; and upon the side of the Cross sat the god Bacchus upon a puncheon of wine, winking, and casting it by cups full upon the people, besides other of the townsmen, that cast apples and nuts among them; and the Cross itself ran claret wine upon the causey for the loyalty of that day.’168

The variety of instruments here specified as in use in Edinburgh in 1590, will probably excite surprise.

From the Cross the queen proceeded to the Salt Tron, ‘where was represented the king’s grace’ genealogy in the form of a tree, from the Bruce till himself ... ane bairn at the root of the tree made ane orison in Latin describing the haill bairns and branches. And syne [they] come to the Nether Bow, where the seven planets were, and gave the weird [fortune] in Latin. All their reasons was to the thanking of God and loving of the king and queen’s grace, and spoken in Latin because the queen understood na Scots.’171

This evening, being a Sunday, the Danish nobles and gentlemen who had convoyed the queen to Scotland, received a formal entertainment from the magistrates of Edinburgh. A handsome alcoved room, which still exists, in the house of the Master of the Mint, in the Cowgate, was appropriated for the purpose. The style of the banquet seems to have been more remarkable for abundance than for elegance. There was simply bread and meat, with four boins of beer, four gang of ale, and four puncheons of wine. The house, however, was hung with tapestry; and the tables were decorated with chandlers and flowers. We hear, too, of napery, of ‘twa dozen great vessels,’ and of ‘cupbuirds, and men to keep them.’ The furnishing of all these articles was distributed among the city dignitaries, apparently with some reference to their respective professions.172

It forms an amusing commentary on the late grand proceedings of King James, when we find him now trying to squeeze voluntary contributions out of his courtiers and richer subjects generally, for the purpose of getting the expenses paid. Under the date marginally noted, he entreats the Laird of Barnbarroch to send immediately the remaining half of his subscription of two hundred pounds to Alexander Lawson, ‘for the relief of him and sic others as had the charge and oversicht of their houses, that, in default thereof, they be not troubled by the furnishers, wha, being for the maist part puir folks, shores [threatens] daily to use the rigour and extremity of the law against them.’173 There is a similar letter written in October to the Laird of Caldwell, to quicken him in sending, what had formerly been asked, ‘according to the custom observit of auld by our maist noble progenitors;’ namely, ‘ane hackney for transporting of the ladies accompanying the queen our bedfellow.’ ‘In doing whereof,’ he goes on to say, ‘ye will do us richt acceptable pleasure, to be rememberit in any your adoes, where we may give you proof of our remembrance of your guid will accordingly. Otherwise, upon the information we have receivit of sic as ye have, we will cause the readiest ye have to be ta’en by our authority and brought in till us.’174

After reading these curious missives, it is not difficult to believe in the existence of a third, which unfortunately has escaped print, in which James addresses his cousin the Earl of Mar, beseeching the loan of ‘the pair of silken hose,’ in order to grace his royal person at the reception of the Spanish ambassador!

In this month commenced a feud which for many years disturbed the peace of the upper part of the valley of the Tweed. The fact in which it took its rise was the slaughter of Patrick Veitch, son of William Veitch of Dawick (now New Posso), by or through James Tweedie of Drumelzier, Adam Tweedie of Dreva, William Tweedie of the Wrae, John Crichton of Quarter, Andrew Crichton in Cardon, and Thomas Porteous of Glenkirk. These persons were in prison in Edinburgh for the fact in July of this year; but the case was deferred to the aire of Peebles. Meanwhile, on the 20th of the month just mentioned, two relatives of the slain youth—James Veitch, younger, of North Synton, and Andrew Veitch, brother of the Laird of Tourhope—set upon John Tweedie, tutor of Drumelzier and burgess of Edinburgh, as he walked the streets of the capital, and killed him. Thus were the alleged murderers punished through a near relative, probably uncle, of the principal party. Six days after, the two Veitches were delated for the fact, and we find Veitch of Dawick taking their part in true Scottish style, by joining in surety for their appearance at trial to the extent of ten thousand merks. After some further procedure, the king was pleased to interfere with an order for the liberation of the Veitches; whereupon a Presbyterian historian cuttingly remarks: ‘He had soon forgot his promises made in the Great Kirk.’175

It would appear that, within a short space of time, the Tweedies of Drumelzier took revenge to a considerable extent on the Veitches: in particular they effected the slaughter of James Geddes of Glenhegden, who seems to have been brother-in-law to a principal gentleman of that family. The recital of James Geddes’s death in the Privy Council Record, affords by its minuteness a curious insight into the manner of a daylight street-murder of that time. ‘James,’ it is stated, ‘being in Edinburgh the space of aught days together, haunting and repairing to and fra openly and publicly, met almaist daily with the Laird [of Drumelzier] upon the Hie Street. The said laird, fearing to set upon him, albeit James was ever single and alane, had espies and moyeners [retainers] lying await for him about his lodging and other parts where he repairit. Upon the 29th day of December [1592], James being in the Cowgate, at David Lindsay’s buith, shoeing his horse, being altogether careless of his awn surety, seeing there was naething intendit again him by the said laird divers times of before when they met upon the Hie Gait; the said laird, being advertised by his espies and moyeners, divided his haill friends and servants in twa companies, and directit John and Robert Tweedie, his brothers-german,176 Patrick Porteous of Hawkshaw, John Crichton of Quarter, Charles Tweedie, household servant to the said James, and Hob Jardine, to Cow’s Close, being directly opposite to David Lindsay’s buith, and he himself, being accompanied with John and Adam Tweedie, sons to the Guidman of Dreva, passed to the Kirk Wynd, a little bewest the said buith, to await that the said James sould not have escaped; and baith the companies, being convenit at the foot of the said close, finding the said James standing at the buith door with his back to them, they rushit out of the said close, and with shots of pistolets slew him behind his back.’

The guilty parties were summoned, and, not appearing, were denounced as rebels.

In June 1593, we find James Tweedie of Drumelzier released from Edinburgh Castle, under surety that he should presently enter himself in ward in the sheriffdom of Fife. We next hear of the two belligerent parties in January 1600, when they were commanded to come and subscribe letters of assurance ‘for the feid and inimitie standing betwixt them.’ The king seems to have been content with the consideration that they had now done pretty full justice upon each other, and it was therefore unnecessary for him to trouble himself any further in the matter. It was probably with some surprise that, many years after, while residing in England, he heard that these two Tweeddale clans continued to keep up their feud. (See under March 1611.)

Two extraordinary trials took place, affording the most striking illustrations of the vices and superstitions of the time.

The family of Monro of Foulis, in Ross-shire, which still flourishes, was even then one of great antiquity, being represented by the seventeenth baron in succession. Holding possessions on the borders of the Highlands, it hovered between the characters of the Celtic chief and the Lowland gentleman. Ross of Balnagowan was a rich neighbour of similar character. The Lady Foulis of the year 1576—to use her common appellation—was Catherine Ross of the latter family, the second wife of her husband. She had a son named George; but the succession was barred to him by two sons of the previous marriage of her husband, Robert and Hector.

Her husband and his eldest son were dead when, at the above date, she and Hector, then representative of the family, were tried separately for sundry offences, Hector being, strange to say, the private pursuer against his step-mother, although he had immediately after to take his own place at the bar as a criminal. The dittay against the lady set forth a series of attempts at serious crime, partly prosecuted by natural means, and partly by superstitious practices. It appeared that she desired to put her eldest step-son out of the way, not, as might have been supposed, to favour the succession of her own offspring, but that her brother, George Ross of Balnagowan, might be free to marry Robert Monro’s wife; to which end she also took steps for the removal of the wife of George Ross. It appears that she was not only prompted to, but assisted in her attempts by George Ross himself, although no judicial notice was taken of his criminality. Catherine Ross, described as daughter of Sir David Ross of Balnagowan, was also concerned. Having formed her design some time in the year 1576, Lady Foulis opened negotiations with various wretched persons in her neighbourhood, who practised witchcraft; and first with one named William M‘Gillivray, whom she feed with a present of linen cloth, and afterwards with sums of money. One Agnes Roy, a notorious witch, was sent by her to secure the services of a particularly potent sorceress, named Marion M‘Kean M’Alister, or more commonly Lasky Loncart, who was brought to Foulis, and lodged with Christian Ross Malcomson, that she might assist with her diabolic arts. Christian, too, was sent to Dingwall, to bring John M‘Nillan, who appears to have been a wizard of note. Another, named Thomas M‘Kean M‘Allan M‘Endrick, was taken into counsel; besides whom there were a few subordinate instruments. Some of the horrible crew being assembled at Canorth, images of the young Laird of Foulis and the young Lady Balnagowan were formed of butter, set up and shot at by Lasky Loncart with an elf-arrow; that is, one of those flint arrow-heads which are occasionally found, and believed by the ignorant to be fairy weapons, while in reality they are relics of our savage ancestors. The shot was repeated eight times, but without hitting the images; so this was regarded as a failure. On another day, images of clay were set up, and shot at twelve times, yet equally without effect. Linen cloth had been provided, wherewith to have swathed the images in the event of their being hit; after which they would have been interred under the bridge-end of the stank of Foulis. The object of all these proceedings was of course to produce the destruction of the persons represented by the images. This plan being ineffectual, Lady Foulis and her brother are described as soon after holding a meeting in a kiln at Drimnin, to arrange about further procedure. The result was a resolution to try the more direct means of poison with both the obnoxious persons. A stoup of poisoned ale was prepared and set aside, but was nearly all lost by a leak in the vessel. Lady Foulis then procured from Lasky Loncart a pipkin of ranker poison, which she sent to young Monro by her nurse on purpose to have destroyed him. It fell by the way and broke, when the nurse tasting the liquor, was immediately killed by it. It was said that ‘the place where the pig [pipkin] brake, the gerse that grew upon the samen was so heich bye [beyond] the nature of other gerse, that neither cow nor sheep ever previt [tasted] thereof yet; whilk is manifest and notorious to the haill country of Ross.’ Lady Foulis is accused of afterwards making renewed attempts, not merely to poison young Monro, but many of his relations, particularly those who stood in the way of her own son’s succession. There seems, however, to have been no success in this quarter. Matters turned out better with the innocent young Lady Balnagowan. Regarding her, Lady Foulis is represented as thus expressing herself, that ‘she would do, by all kind of means, wherever it might be had, of God in heaven or the devil in hell, for the destruction and down-putting of Marjory Campbell.’ By corrupting a cook, Lady Foulis contrived that some rat-poison should be administered to her victim in a dish of kid’s kidneys. Catherine Niven, who had brought this poison, ‘scunnerit [revolted] with it sae meikle, that she said it was the sairest and maist cruel sight that ever she saw, seeing the vomit and vexation that was on the young Lady Balnagowan and her company.’ By vomiting, death seems to have been evaded, but the lady contracted in consequence what is described at the trial as an incurable illness.

Not long after these events, they became the subject of judicial investigation, and Christian Ross and Thomas M‘Kean were apprehended, brought to trial, convicted, and burnt, November 1577. It is alleged that, a few days before they suffered, Lady Foulis came into their presence, and referring to the common reports against her, accusing her of sorcery and poisoning, declared herself ready to abide a trial; when, there being no one present to accuse her, she asked instruments to that effect; after which, mounting a horse which had been kept ready, she rode away to Caithness, and remained there three-quarters of a year. By the intercession of the Earl of Caithness, she was then taken back by her husband; and there seems to have been no further notice taken of her case for several years. At length, in 1589, her husband being dead, his successor, Robert Monro, purchased a commission for the trial of certain witches and sorcerers, aiming evidently at retribution upon his wicked step-mother. According to the dittay: ‘Before any publication thereof, and ere he might have convenient time to put the same in execution, in respect of the troubles that occurred in the north, thou, knawing thyself guilty, and fearing to bide the trial of ane assize, fand the moyen [found the means] to purchase ane suspension of the said commission; and causit insert in the said suspension, not only thy awn name, and sic others as was specified in the said commission, but also certain others who were not spoken of ... whilk, gif thou had been ane honest woman, and willing to abide trial, thou wald never have causit suspension of ony sic commission, but wald rather have fortherit the same.’ In the same year, Robert Monro died, under what circumstances does not appear, leaving the succession to his brother Hector, who now appeared as nominal prosecutor of his mother-in-law.

In the circumstances under which the trial took place, the jury being a packed one of humble dependents on the Foulis family, a conviction was not to be expected. Lady Foulis was ‘pronounced to be innocent and quit of the haill points of the dittay; whereupon she asked instruments.’

The dittay against Hector Monro of Foulis sets forth sundry affairs of necromancy, in which he was alleged to have been concerned along with reputed sorcerers. He had, in August 1588, communed with three notorious witches for the recovery of his elder brother, the then young laird. For this purpose, they ‘pollit the hair of Robert Monro, and plet the nails of his fingers and taes;’ seeking by these devilish means to have cured him of his sickness. Meeting no success, they told him he had been too late in sending for them. He, for fear of his father, conveyed them away under silence of night.

Having himself taken sickness in the ensuing January, while lying at a house in Alness, he had Marion M‘Ingarroch, a notorious witch, brought to him for the purpose of obtaining the benefit of her skill. ‘She, after her coming to you,’ says the dittay, ‘gave you three drinks of water forth of three stanes, whilk she had; and, after lang consultation had with her, she declarit that there was nae remede for you to recover your health, without the principal man of your blude should suffer death for you.’ Having pitched upon his half-brother George, he sent for him from the hunting, and, as a means of working his destruction, gave his left hand into George’s right hand, taking care at the same time not to be the first to speak. ‘That night, at ane after midnight, the said witch, with certain of her complices, passed forth of the house where ye lay, and took with them spades, and passed to ane piece of earth, lying betwixt twa sundry superiors’ lands ... and made ane grave of your length, and took up the ower [upper] part thereof, and laid it aside; the said earth being near the sea-flood. And, this being done, she came hame, and convenit certain of your familiars, that knew thir secrets, and informit them what should be every ane’s part, in taking of you forth to be eardit in the foresaid grave, for your relief and to the death of your brother George.

Whase [that is, the accused’s] answer was, that gif George should depart suddenly, the bruit [report] wald rise, and all thir lives wald be in danger; and therefore willit her to delay the said George’s death ane space; and she took in hand to warrant him unto the 17th day of April next thereafter. And after thir plats, laid by the said witch, she and certain of your servants ... pat you in ane pair of blankets, and carried you forth to the said grave. And they were all commanded to be dumb and never to speak ane word, unto the time that she and your foster-mother should first speak with her master, the devil. And being brought forth, [you] was laid in the said grave; and the green earth which was cuttit, was laid aboon, and halden down with staves, the said witch being beside you.... Christian Neill, your foster-mother, was commanded to run the breadth of nine rigs, and in her hand Neill younger, Hector Leith’s son. And, how soon Christian had run the breadth of the nine rigs, she came again to the grave, and inquirit at the said witch, “Whilk was her choice?” Wha answered and said, that Mr Hector was her choice to live, and your brother George to die for you. And this form was used thrice that night; and thereafter ye was carried hame, all the company being dumb, and was put in your bed.’

Contrary to what one would expect of an invalid exposed in this manner on a January night, Hector Monro recovered. His brother George took ill in April 1590, and lingered to the beginning of July, when he died. No doubt being entertained that his mortal illness was caused by witchcraft, his mother, the subject of the preceding trial, appears to have immediately commenced a prosecution against Hector, now laird; and the result was a trial following immediately that in which he had appeared as prosecutor against her. This trial had the same issue as the other, the jury being composed in a similar manner.—Pit.

Bessie Roy, nurse in the family of Lesly of Balquhain, was tried for sundry points of witchcraft, leading to the death of several persons. One minor offence, particularly insisted on in this woman’s case, was her being ‘a common away-taker of women’s milk.’ It was alleged that, while living in the family of William King at Barra, she had bewitched away the milk of a poor woman named Bessie Steel, who came seeking alms. ‘Sitting down by the fire,’ says the dittay, ‘to give her bairn souk [suck], thou being ane nourice thyself, and perceiving the poor woman to have mair abundance of milk than thou had; and seeing that the goodwife, thy hussie [housewife], should have deteinit the poor woman and given her the bairn to foster; thou, by thy devilish incantations and witchcraft, abstracted and took away her milk. And immediately after the poor woman was past out of the house, she perceived her milk to be taken away, came again to the said house, and compleinit to the goodwife, that the nurse had taken away her milk, and said: “Gif she were not restorit to her milk, she should divulgate the same through the country, and shaw how ye had used her.” And thou, fearing thy devilish craft to be revealed, said to the poor woman: “Gif I have thy milk, come sic a night to me to this house, and ask it for God’s sake, and thou sall have it.” Likeas the poor woman, being glad to receive her milk again, came that same night as thou appointed her, and lay in the house beside ye all night; and about the mids of the night, thou cried upon her and wakened her, and bade her receive her milk; and incontinent she wakened, and her paps sprang out full of milk, and remained with her thereafter.’

Bessie was pronounced innocent by the jury.—Pit.

The great Highland family now represented by the Marquis of Breadalbane had at this time for its head Sir Duncan Campbell of Glenurchy, ordinarily called Donacha Dhu nan Curich (Black Duncan of the Cowl), a man of considerable force of character, and, for his time, large means, who died at an advanced age in 1631. He was distinguished for building, planting, and improving; had the taste to hire artists to decorate his house; and, some years after this time, was one of the most prominent patrons of the Scottish Vandyke, George Jameson.

The household books of this great Celtic chief exhibit his style of life about the time here noted. His rents were principally paid in kind, and the corn, cattle, and poultry thus supplied by the tenantry went directly to the support of the laird and his household. ‘In 1590, the family spent their time between Balloch and Finlarig. The oatmeal consumed was 364 bolls; the malt, 207 bolls (deducting a small quantity of struck barley used in the kitchen). They used 90 beeves (“neats,” “stirks,” or “fed oxen”), more than two-thirds consumed fresh; 20 swine; 200 sheep; 424 salmon, far the greater portion being from the western rivers; 15,000 herrings; 30 dozen of hard fish; 1805 “heads” of cheese, new and old, weighing 325 stone; 49 stones of butter; 26 dozen loaves of wheaten bread; of wheat flour, 3-1/4 bolls. The wine brought from Dundee was claret and white wine, old and new, in no very large quantities. [The malt furnished abundance of ale of three kinds—ostler ale, household ale, and best ale, serving, doubtless, for the different grades of persons in the family.] Of spices and sweetmeats, we find only notice on one occasion of small quantities of saffron, mace, ginger, pepper, “raises of cure,” plumdamas, and one sugar-loaf.’177

While the Laird of Glenurchy thus kept house in Strathtay, Lord Lovat supported a ménage not greatly different in Inverness-shire. The weekly expenditure of provisions in his house included seven bolls of malt, seven bolls of meal, and one of flour. Each year seventy beeves were consumed, besides venison, fish, poultry, kid, lamb, veal, and all sorts of feathered game in profusion. His lordship imported wines, sugars, and spices from France, in return for the salmon produced by his rivers. He was celebrated for a liberal hospitality; and when he died in 1631, five thousand armed followers and friends attended his funeral, for all of whom there would be entertainment provided.178

The rude abundance shewn in these two establishments, taken in connection with the account presently to be given of the outward state of the Marquis of Huntly,179 the reports afforded by the Water Poet of the hospitalities he experienced in the braes of Aberdeenshire and Morayshire,180 and other particulars involved in our chronicle, ought somewhat to modify the prevalent notions as to the poverty of the Celtic part of Scotland in this age. There was, indeed, no manufacturing industry worth speaking of; but the natural wealth of the country, the cattle, the wild animals, and the grain, seem to have furnished the people with no inconsiderable share of the comforts of life. It will be found, too, that the mansions of Glenurchy and Huntly, a few years after this date, exhibited elegant architecture and decoration.

The rich temporalities of the Abbey of Deir, in Aberdeenshire, had been held since the Reformation by one who was no friend to the Reformed clergy—Robert Keith, second son of William, fourth Earl Marischal. In 1587, they had been erected into a temporal lordship, under the name of the Lordship of Altrie, in their possessor’s favour, to descend, after his death, to his nephew, George Earl Marischal. There was one malcontent with this arrangement—Robert Keith of Benholm, brother of the earl—probably because he had concluded in his own mind that the abbey-lands formed a more appropriate estate for a cadet than for the chief of the family, the latter being already a rich man. It would appear, however, that the earl was understood to have requited the king for the gift by the splendid style in which he conducted his ambassage to Denmark, when negotiating the royal marriage.

At the present date, Robert Keith made an attempt to take forcible possession of the abbey—an act which would have been rash and dangerous at any ordinary time, but might look feasible enough in an age so full of violences of all kinds as the present. We learn that he kept the abbey for six weeks, at the end of which he was driven out by an armed company brought against him by the Earl Marischal. Then retiring to the castle of Fedderat, he stood a siege of three days, which ended in his coming to a truce with his brother, upon what terms does not appear.

The abbacy was well worthy of a struggle, as in 1565 it comprehended a rental of £572, 8s. 6d., with thirteen and a half bolls of wheat, fourteen chalders and ten bolls of beir, and sixty-three chalders nine bolls of meal. The revenue of the earldom to which this became an addition on the death of Lord Altrie in 1593, has been stated at an amount for which there may be some difficulty in obtaining credence—namely, 270,000 merks. Lord Marischal could enter Scotland at Berwick, and travel in the leisurely style of those days through the country to John o’ Groat’s House, and never need to take a meal or a night’s rest off his own lands. That he used his wealth generously, no one can deny, when it is remembered that he bestowed part of it in founding the Marischal College in Aberdeen. Yet, in the eyes of the common people, a weird hung over him. It was thought he did ill to stain his hands with the plunder of the old Cistercian monastery on the banks of the Ugie.

‘This Earl George, his first wife, daughter to the Lord Home, being a woman of a high spirit and of a tender conscience, forbids her husband to have such a consuming moth in his house as was the sacrilegious meddling with the abbacy of Deir. But fourteen score chalders of meal and beir was a sore tentation; and he could not weel endure the rendering back of such a morsel. Upon his absolute refusal of her demand, she had this vision ... she saw a great number of religious men, in their habit, come forth of that abbey to the strong craig of Dunnottar, which is the principal residence of that family. She also saw them set themselves round about the rock, to get it down and demolish it, having no instruments but only penknives; wherewith they foolishly (as it seemed to her) began to pick at the craig. She smiled to see them intend so fruitless an enterprise, and went to call her husband, to scoff and jeer them out of it. When she had fand him, and brought him to see these silly monks at their foolish work, behold! the whole craig, with all his strong and stately buildings, was by their penknives undermined and fallen in the sea, so as there remained nothing but the rack of their rich furniture and stuff floating on the waves of a raging and tempestuous sea.’181

The earl is believed to have mocked the popular notions and his wife’s foreboding dream, by inscribing on a tower he built at Deir, and likewise on the wall of his new college, the defying legend:

THAY. HAIF. SAID : QUHAT. SAY. THAY : LAT. THAME. SAY.

The greatness of the Keith Marischal family probably seemed to him as firmly set as the old Castle of Dunnottar itself on its conglomerate basis beside the sea. When the above story was put down in writing, sixty years had elapsed, and the narrator could not but remark the reduction which the civil war and usurpation of Cromwell had by that time wrought upon the once enormous wealth of the house of Keith Marischal. What would he have felt, could he have known that in sixty years from his time, the family would be out of lands and titles, exiles from their native country; or that in sixty more, there would not be a male descendant of the Earls Marischal in existence, of cadency later than the fifteenth century, while the ancient fortress of Dunnottar would stand roofless and grass-grown, and, except for the melancholy interest of the passing visitor, might as well be crumbled beneath the waves that beat upon the subjacent cliffs!

A series of extraordinary trials for witchcraft and other crimes commenced at this date.

One David Seaton, dwelling in Tranent, suspected his servant-maid, Geilie Duncan, of a supernatural power of curing sickness, and, having subjected her to the torture of the pilniewinks (a screw for the fingers), soon extorted from her, not only a confession that the devil had given her the power of a witch, but information inculpating a number of persons in the like criminality. Among these were John Fian (alias Cunningham), schoolmaster at Prestonpans; Agnes Sampson, a midwife at Keith; Barbara Napier, the wife of a citizen of Edinburgh; and Eupham M‘Calyean, a lady of rank, daughter of a deceased judge of the Court of Session. The confessions of these persons, for the most part wrung from them by torture, form a strange jumble of possible and impossible, of horrible and ludicrous things; nor are they even devoid of historical importance, seeing that they involved the honour of the Earl of Bothwell, who was thus apparently led into those troubles from which he never got free, and by which the peace of the king and his kingdom was for some years seriously compromised.

Fian, who was a young man, confessed to some wicked arts which he had practised for obtaining the love of a young woman of his neighbourhood. There was nothing in them or their effects but what is easily reconcilable with natural fact, even to the striking of a rival with a sort of madness, under which, when brought into the king’s chamber, where Fian was under examination, he fell abounding and capering with an energy which it required many persons to restrain, and this for an hour together, at the end of which he declared that he had been in a sound sleep. But Fian also admitted, though only under torture, his having had conferences with the devil; he had attended various meetings of witches with the Enemy of Man, some of which took place in North Berwick Kirk, and on these occasions he had acted as registrar or clerk of proceedings. He had also been one of a party of witches which went off from Prestonpans one night to a ship at sea, which they sunk by their incantations. He had chased a cat at Tranent, with the design of throwing it into the sea, in order to raise storms for the destruction of shipping; and in this chase it was alleged that he was borne above the ground, and had leaped a wall, the head of which he could not, but for witchcraft, have touched with his hand. Out of many facts laid to his charge at his trial, there is one which modern science has no difficulty in explaining upon natural principles—‘Passing to Tranent on horseback, and ane man with him, [he] by his devilish craft, raisit up four candles upon the horse’s twa lugs [ears], and ane other candle upon the staff whilk the man had in his hand, and gave sic licht as gif it had been daylicht; like as the said candles returnit with the said man at his hame-coming, and causit him fall dead at the entry within the house.’

After his first examination and confession, Fian was put into a separate room, where he quickly came to a state of penitence, renounced the devil and his works, and professed to have returned to God. Next day he told his keepers that he had had a vision of the devil, who, finding him a determined rebel against his authority, said: ‘Once ere thou die thou shalt be mine;’ after which he broke a white wand which he held in his hand, and vanished. Fian soon after contrived to escape from prison, but was retaken and brought back, when, being found to deny his former confession, the king expressed his belief that he must have entered into a new compact with the Prince of Darkness. His person was searched for marks, but in vain; and he was then subjected to tortures of the direst kind, with a view to bringing him back to his confession. The nails of the poor wretch were torn away with pincers; needles were thrust up to the heads in his fingers, and his legs were crushed in the boots till ‘the blood and marrow spouted forth.’ He resisted all, and thus only impressed the king and others with the conviction that the devil had entered into his heart. He was then arraigned, condemned, and burned.

The trials of three of the women inculpated took place in the course of a few ensuing months—that of Agnes Sampson on the 27th of January 1591. At the previous examinations, the king presided, manifesting a deep interest in the declarations of the prisoners, as if he read therein the materials of a new branch of science; and, indeed, there can be little doubt that what he now learned formed the groundwork of his subsequent work on Demonology.

The cases were the more remarkable on account of the apparent character and station of the culprits. Sampson was a grave, matron-like woman, who gave composed, pertinent answers to all that was put to her; while Napier and M‘Calyean belonged to the upper class of society. Sampson’s dittay consists of no fewer than fifty-three articles, each charging some distinct form or act of sorcery, most of them cures or attempts to cure, or else prophecies of events which actually came to pass, all being done with the assistance of her familiar, the devil. The various articles, numerous as they are, must have been founded on the confessions previously drawn from the accused by means of the inhuman torture of a rope twisted round the head, which she is said to have endured for an hour unmoved. It was alleged that for her cures she uttered incantations in rhyme; but these appear to have had nothing devilish in them, one being merely a rough version of the Apostles’ Creed, while another runs as follows:

In two or three cases, one is reminded of the doctrines of modern mesmerism. Being called to see a sick boy at Prestonpans, she only graipit him—that is, felt him over—and he was healed. Some cattle she had cured by going up between them in their stalls, ‘straking their backs and wames [stroking their backs and bellies], and saying Ave Maria oft ower.’ The thirty-fifth count charges her with ‘curing Robert Kerse in Dalkeith, wha was heavily tormented with witchcraft and disease laid on him by ane westland warlock, when he was in Dumfries; whilk sickness she took upon herself, and keepit with great groaning and torment till the morn; on whilk time there was ane great din heard in the house; whilk sickness she cast off herself in the close, to the effect ane cat or dog might have gotten the same; and, notwithstanding, the same was laid upon Alexander Douglas in Dalkeith, wha dwined and departed therewith, and the said Robert Kerse was made hale.’

A curious affair is related as taking place at a gentleman’s house near Edinburgh. ‘When she was sent for to heal the auld Lady Edmestone, when she lay sick, before the said Agnes departit she tauld to the gentlewomen that she should tell them that night whether the lady wald heal or nocht; and appointit them to be in the garden after supper, betwix five and sax at even. She passit to the garden to devise upon her prayer, on what time she chargit the devil, calling him Elva, to come and speak to her; wha came in ower the dyke, in likeness of ane dog, and came sae near her, that she was afraid, and chargit him “on the law that he lived on,” to come nae nearer, but to answer her; and she demandit “whether the lady wald live or not.” He said: “Her days were gane.” When he demandit: “Gif the gentlewomen her dochters, where they were?” And she said: “That the gentlewomen said, that they were to be there.” He answerit: “Ane of them sould be in peril, and that he sould have ane of them.” She answerit: “It sould not be sae;” and sae [he] departit frae her yowling. Frae this time till after supper, he remainit in the wall [well]. When the gentlewomen came in, the dog came out of the wall, and appearit to them; whereat they were affrayit. In the meantime, ane of the said gentlewomen, the Lady Torsonce, ran to the wall, being forcit and drawn by the devil, wha wald have drownit her, were not the said Agnes and the rest of the gentlewomen gat ane grip of her, and with all their forces drew her back again, whilk made them all affrayit. The dog passit away thereafter with ane yowl. Then she said to the gentlewomen that she could not help the lady, in respect that her prayer stoppit, and that she was sorry for it....’

On Sampson’s trial, some of the transactions first revealed in Fian’s case came out in greater detail, particularly the night-meeting of the sorcerers of the district with their grisly master at North Berwick Kirk. What follows was the woman’s own confession before the king: ‘The devil, in man’s likeness, met her going out in the fields from her awn house in Keith, betwix five and sax at even, being her alane, and commandit her to be at North Berwick Kirk the next nicht. She passit there on horseback, convoyit by her good-son, called John Couper, and lichtit at the kirk-yard: a little before she came to it, about eleven hours at even, they dancit alangs the kirk-yard. Geilie Duncan playit to them on ane trump. John Fian, missalit [masked], led all the rest; the said Agnes and her daughter followit next; besides thir, wee [little] Kate Gray, George Mowat’s wife, Robert Grierson, Catherine Duncan, Bessie Wright, Isobel Gylour, John Ramsay’s wife, Annie Richardson, Jonet Gaw, Nicol Murray’s wife tailor, Christian Carrington alias Lukit, Maisie Aitchison, Marion Paterson, Alexander Whitelaw, Marion Nicholson, Marion Bailie, Jonet Nicholson, John Graymeal, Isobel Lauder, Helen White, Margaret Thomson, Marion Shiel, Helen Lauder, Archy Hennel’s wife, Duncan Buchanan, Marion Congleton, Bessie Gullan, Bessie Brown the smith’s wife, Thomas Burnhill and his wife, Gilbert M‘Gill, John M‘Gill, Catherine M’Gill, with the rest of their complices, above ane hundred persons, whereof there was sax men, and all the rest women. The women first made their homage, and next the men. The men were turned nine times withershins about [contrary to the direction of the sun], and the women sax times.’ Another account, from Sampson’s confessions, states that the witches took hands and danced a reel to Geilie Duncan’s music, singing in one voice: