Witches of Fife

by Stuart MacDonald

  141.

  Torryburn KS CH23552, 102. ‘Minutes and Proceedings’, 144. Margaret Humble was also accused of calling Margaret Black a bitch.

  142.

  NAS GD124151214.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Role of ‘Torture’ in the Witch-Hunt in Fife

  On the last day of December 1648 Walter Grieg, the minister of Balmerino, informed the Presbytery of Cupar of some disturbing news. Helen Young, one of the women in his parish, had confessed to being a witch. The presbytery was understandably concerned. Several members of the presbytery were appointed to meet with Helen Young and report back. The report came five days later on January 4, 1649. Helen Young still claimed to be a witch yet when pressed on particular details she seemed either ‘to dissemble or els[e] be distracted’. Of greater significance, she stated that two other local women – Helen Small, of the neighbouring parish of Monimail, and Elspeth Seath of Balmerino – were also witches.1

  What began that last day of December 1648 took over a year and a half to resolve. The story, the legal procedures and investigations of the church courts, becomes somewhat confusing because of the three individuals involved. Besides its startling origin the events raise as many questions as they answer, not only in terms of the details that emerged over the course of the investigation, but in terms of whether or not such cases were in any way representative of the ‘normal’ accusation of witchcraft in Scotland during this period. We shall return to discuss the fate of these three women later in the chapter.

  The particular events from Balmerino as well as our discussions of the witch-hunt in the various presbyteries of Fife raise serious questions about several of the current interpretations of the role torture played in the Scottish witch-hunt. In part, these interpretations seem to arise out of the need to explain why Scotland produced more cases than England. This need to explain the differences between Scottish and English witch-trials dates to the nineteenth century when ‘a dreadful and hostile geography’ was considered the cause for the greater number of accusations in Scotland.2 Because of the extent to which this issue has dominated the historiography or writing of the history of the Scottish witch-hunt, it is important to take the time to discuss it thoroughly.

  While a ‘hostile geography’ is no longer considered the key determinant, the ‘uniqueness’ of England’s experience of witch-hunting remains a major feature of English-language historiography. This position was summarized in 1979 by Alan Anderson and Raymond Gordon in their reply to a criticism of their work, in particular their contention of the difference between English and European (including Scottish) witch trials. They reiterated that ‘English witch persecution was different quantitatively, legally and conceptually to European’.3 The authors dismissed their critics, in part, because their English evidence came primarily from Essex, which, citing Keith Thomas, they referred to as ‘one, unusually ‘Europeanized’ English region’.4 This position was by no means unique. Alan Macfarlane, a major contributor to our understanding of the witch-hunt in England, has suggested that, again apart from Essex in 1645, the English witch-hunt was distinct from that on the continent and in Scotland.5

  Many authors have argued that it was the different legal systems in England and Scotland which caused this distinction, and have pointed in particular to the role played by judicial torture in the latter. Judicial torture may be defined as the use of physical coercion that is sanctioned by the legal system in order to gain a confession from a suspect who might otherwise remain uncooperative. The use of torture to obtain confessions was accepted in many legal systems, in particular those which had evolved out of Roman law. Elliot Currie differentiates between the inquisitorial system common to Europe and the more ‘restrained control’ in England.6 Robert Muchembled extends the argument to Sweden and Denmark, and suggests that few witches were executed in those countries where judicial torture was prohibited.7 In the summaries of the historical literature this theme is accepted. Brian Levack suggests that, as there was no torture in England, large scale witch-hunts were unlikely to occur, ‘and indeed very few did’.8 Joseph Klaits suggests that England shows us how ‘witch trials might have been conducted everywhere had torture not been introduced’. He contrasts this with Scotland, in particular citing the cases which occurred between 1590 and 1597.9 Geoffrey Quaife gives us a much more gripping image:

  In Scotland, an often insensible victim had his confession mumbled to him by an inarticulate clerk and the sagging of the former’s head was taken as an indication that such a confession was now offered freely.10

  This stereotypical picture lacks only one thing – accuracy. Or to be more precise, which specific instance is the author referring to? Quaife’s authority is Russell Robbins article on ‘Torture’ in his The Encyclopaedia of Witchcraft and Demonology (1959), yet nowhere in that article does Robbins describe this scene.11 The subject of the accuracy of this portrait is one to which we shall turn in a moment.

  This distinction between English and European witch persecution has come under serious scrutiny in recent years. In the introduction to the volume of essays which explored the theme of witchcraft in the peripheries of Europe, Bengt Ankarloo and Gustav Henningsen wrote:

  This leads directly to another question: the so called ‘peculiarities’ of English witchcraft. That it greatly differed from Continental traditions is obvious, but England was not a special case. Most of what has so far been identified as peculiar to English witchcraft should from now on be considered a characteristic for large parts of northern Europe . . . In other words, while studying the case of England, several generations of Anglo-Saxon historians have unwittingly been engaged in a comparison between central and peripheral variants of a phenomenon common to most of Europe.12

  Later in the same volume Peter Burke argues that the pattern described by Keith Thomas and Alan Macfarlane is not peculiar to England, but in fact is the ‘traditional pattern which survived best on other parts of the geographical and legal periphery (defining the legal ‘centre’ with reference to Roman law)’.13 In an article which appeared several years prior to this in History Today entitled ‘Witch Beliefs & Witch-hunting in England and Scotland’ Christina Larner argued the same essential position. Pointing to the recent scholarship arising out of the criminal archives in Europe, she suggested the distinction between continental and English (or even British) ‘witchcraft control’ was artificial. She argued against the use of the word ‘unique’, and instead commented that English witchcraft was ‘merely taken less seriously by the authorities than in some European countries, and more seriously than in some others’.14

  While there seems to be a movement away from always talking about the European situation in contradistinction to England, the issue of different legal systems, in particular the use of torture, remains one of the differences stressed. Indeed, judicial torture is often used to explain why there are more cases of witchcraft in Scotland than in England.15 One of the distinctions between the English and Scottish situations which Larner continued to stress was the difference in legal systems, including the possibility of torture.16 The problem is, as we saw in chapter 2, the pattern of the Scottish the witch-hunt argues against it merely being a series of large serial hunts. If the use of judicial torture was the main cause of the severity of the Scottish witch-hunt, we should expect to see concentrated hunts involving large numbers of witches in only a few specific years. Instead we see a complex mixture of these panics, as well as scattered cases and isolated witches spread out over significant periods of time. The application of torture can certainly be limited to an individual or small group of suspected witches, but this on its own cannot be used to explain why the Scottish witch-hunt was so intense. Were this the case, some other factor or factors would have to have been present. It is important, ho
wever, to remember that historians have discussed judicial torture within the context of one accused naming others, leading to a serial witch-hunt. The data does not support this understanding. When we move from the national scene to consider the shape of the hunt in Fife these misgivings multiply. The number of isolated witches and the number of small cases suggests that the kind of scenario usually portrayed, a serial hunt where one accused under torture implicates her neighbours who in turn implicate others, cannot be used to explain all of these cases. There are, as we have seen, some situations where torture may have been a factor. But other than one instance when a laird illegally seized a prisoner, we have encountered no direct evidence of torture. The role of torture, at least as traditionally conceived, needs to be questioned.

  Part of the difficulty lies in the imprecise manner in which the term ‘torture’ has been used to cover everything from brutal treatment to sleep deprivation, from ‘swimming’ a witch to an inquisitorial procedure in which physical harm was used in order to procure a confession. For example, to return to the article ‘Torture’, Robbins contrasts Scotland, where witches were tortured, with England where they were not. Yet a few pages later he uses the phrase ‘commonest tortures’ in reference to England, then modifies it with the interjection – ‘perhaps indignities is a better word’ – before cataloguing these as pricking, ‘walking’ (sleep deprivation, more generally referred to as waking) and sitting. This is followed by the comment that sleep deprivation should be considered ‘real torture’.17 Robbins’ is a notable, though by no means unique, example of this imprecision. Even a normally careful historian such as Christina Larner succumbs to the confusion. In her discussion she distinguishes between ‘direct torture’ and sleep deprivation. In the midst of a discussion of direct torture, however, she cites an example of the brutal treatment of Marion Hardie. Yet this treatment was, as Larner noted, an instance of brutality at the hands of a mob intent on inflicting pain, not a judge intent on extracting a confession. That this incident should be preceded by a discussion of the devices used in attempts to extract confession and followed by the particularly famous case of Alison Balfour, where brutal methods were used to extract a confession, only heightens the confusion.18

  Precise definitions are crucial. While all of these activities can legitimately be understood as torture, without careful distinction the discussion becomes confused. We therefore need to distinguish between six elements: judicial torture (what Larner called direct torture, that is the application of physical coercion as part of the broadly understood legal process in order to extract a confession); searches for a witch-mark (witch-pricking); sleep deprivation (waking and watching); harsh jail conditions, including cold, poor treatment by guards, and lack of food; mob violence; and finally, the method of execution, however cruel. These distinctions are not intended to in any way downplay what must have been a brutal experience for those involved. Why they must be made is so that a fair comparison can be made between the Scottish witch-hunt and those in other parts of Europe.

  An examination of those accused as witches in Fife shows that they did indeed experience harsh conditions, mob actions, and, in many cases, sleep deprivation. There is strong evidence that some were searched by witch-prickers in order to search for the mark the Devil supposedly placed on their bodies. There is, however, no evidence that any of those in Fife accused of witchcraft ever underwent judicial torture. While the pattern and shape of the witch-hunt in Fife clearly suggested that we would not find this in every case, it is still startling given the prominent place that judicial torture has had in explaining the severity of the Scottish witch-hunt to state that there is no evidence of any case where it was used – and this in a shire where the witch-hunt was so intense.

  It is tempting to fall back on issues such as the silence of the records and the paucity of sources. And it is true that the records for two of the major panics, the one which afflicted Inverkeithing in 1649 and the one which spread through Cupar Presbytery in 1662 are missing key elements and woefully inadequate. Yet, this should not prevent us from facing the fact that judicial torture was not needed. Other mechanisms, witch-pricking and in particular sleep deprivation, were adequate to drive the witch hunt. (The latter, in particular, was vital within the context of the Scottish witch-hunt. How vital we shall see when we consider more fully the case of Elspeth Seath.) For the moment, though, it needs to be noted: there is no evidence of judicial torture in Fife.

  Was Fife unique in this regard? It is tempting to say that it was not, but the simple fact is that we do not know. While the shape of the national hunt suggests that the use of judicial torture was probably not that extensive, within individual shires it may have been a factor. We know this to be true of Haddington where the royal witch-hunt of 1590 originated. Many of the North Berwick witches were brutally tortured in order to extract confessions. Amazingly enough, John Cunningham or Fian held up under this torture.19 Brian Levack, who has studied the extensive hunt which occurred in 1661 and 1662 in Haddington suggests that torture played a role here. Unfortunately, his otherwise excellent article does not detail or describe any specific instances occurring.20 When these cases in Haddington are charted the large number of cases in a relatively few years does suggest that serial hunts, driven by either judicial torture or witch-prickers, predominated (see Appendix D). More case studies of the situation in Haddington, in particular the massive hunt in 1649, may shed further light on this subject.

  While the extent of judicial torture in Haddington may remain unclear, the main point needs to be reiterated: a lengthy, numerically significant witch-hunt occurred in Fife involving over four hundred cases without judicial torture ‘causing’ it or even playing a discernable role. The obvious question to then ask is, where and when did judicial torture play a role? Surprisingly few cases are ever cited in the literature dealing with the Scottish witch-hunt and they include the North Berwick witches, Alison Balfour of Orkney, and an alleged incident during the Cromwellian occupation.21 There is no doubt, as Edward Cowan has suggested, that the use of judicial torture in the trials of the North Berwick witches coupled with the introduction of continental witch theory profoundly affected the witch-hunts which subsequently occurred in Scotland.22 The ‘reality’ of witches had been confirmed in the minds of the elite, allowing them to cooperate in or become the driving force behind future hunts. What is surprising is the lack of cases after this date which mention that torture was used to extract confessions. There are no records of a judicial torture similar to that experienced by Alison Balfour and family being repeated in Orkney.23 Finally, there is the mysterious case involving sixty individuals which occurred in 1652 during the occupation. It is impossible to say more about it, as we do not know where it occurred or the names of any of those supposedly tortured. Until we know more, too much should not be made of this incident.24 Judicial torture happened in Scotland. What is lacking is any direct evidence of it occurring apart from these and a few other cases. A careful reading of the excerpts provided in George Black’s Calendar of Cases of Witchcraft in Scotland 1510–1727 confirms that torture is rarely mentioned, and sometimes the reference is only to indicate that it was illegal.25 Perhaps it has taken such a prominent place in the literature on Scottish witchcraft, as Clive Holmes has argued was the case with demonic possessions,26 not because it was common but because it was the exception. If so few examples are cited, how has the idea of the prominent place of judicial torture developed?

  Many of the arguments historians have advanced for the use of judicial torture arise out of Privy Council recommendations on the subject. In October 1591 the Privy Council issued a general commission which included the explicit direction to apply physical torture in order to extract a confession.27 Larner is correct in speaking of this as a ‘licence for an indiscriminate witch-hunt’, and given that there are no documents detailing the activiti
es which followed in Larner’s words, ‘the full extent of the hunt can never be known’.28 Still, it seems logical to assume that this direction to use torture would also be part of what was rescinded when this general commission was revoked in August of 1597. After 1597, each case required its own commission.29 Privy Council motions enter the debate again in reference to the 1661 witch-hunt. On April 10, the council ruled that a suspected witch could not be arrested without special warrant, and included a prohibition against pricking, torture or other means to coerce confessions.30 Given the generic meaning of the word torture, and the inclusion of the concept of pricking, and in the commission cited by Larner of sleep deprivation,31 we need to be careful not to leap to the conclusion that this proves judicial torture was thus driving the Scottish witch-hunt.

  There is one further question that needs to be considered: assuming for a moment the existence of judicial torture in Scotland, when was it applied? As noted, after 1597 a special commission was required in order to try a witch. If torture was to be applied, should we not expect to find this permission granted in the commission? Or, was this done earlier upon the arrest of the suspect, and if so, by whom? Answers to these questions are hard to come by. In the chart ‘Processing a witch’ Larner has torture occur before a commission was granted, at the same time other methods, including sleep deprivation and pricking, might also be used.32 The difficulty with this model is that the literature on Scots law and criminal cases notes that the use of torture in other instances, for example the trials of the MacGregors, was generally considered a prerogative of the Privy Council.33 It should have been part of the actual trial or interrogation for the trial once a commission had been granted. If the text of most commissions is to be taken literally, however, it would have been redundant to resort to any form of judicial torture – the standard form granting a commission to put a witch on trial in Fife includes the notation that the individual was a ‘confessed witch’. Why then would one need to use judicial torture to bring her to a confession? This issue needs to be addressed. Mechanisms other than judicial torture were far more commonly used. The role of witch-prickers and sleep deprivation needs to be considered. Both of these practices occurred in England.34