Witches of Fife

by Stuart MacDonald

  If she had given me ane groat (a more valuable coin), it sent have vantaged her ane thousand punds. This is your doing, evil tidings come upon you.

  This curse was followed by action. Alison went into the close and ‘pissed at their meal cellar door’. The curse worked with serious results as they were meal-makers but could no longer keep meal in that cellar. The curse was also seen to have affected a horse they bought shortly thereafter, whose death had everyone saying ‘that he was witched’.20

  The final accusations brought against Alison also had to do with disputes, often over money or payment, followed by curses which came true. Euphen Boswell recounted how her husband’s ship had been loaded with salt, when Alison came and asked for money. Alison had been one of the labourers who had helped load the ship with salt. When Euphan gave her meat, she asked for money. Euphan’s reply was that her husband had already paid her. A curse was uttered, and the next day the ship sank, with the loss of the salt, though not the crew. James Wilson was not so fortunate. A wave swept him away in Caithness, leaving the boy next to him standing safe on the shore. This event was linked to Alison, for she and James had had a violent encounter. Again it began over money. Alison approached James and asked for silver and when he refused she, in the words of the session clerk, ‘abused him with language’. His response was to strike her, after which she cursed him saying his hand would ‘do him little good’ on his next voyage. The hand mysteriously swelled yet nothing could be done about it. Before his next voyage he saw Alison walk between him and the ship, an action which James interpreted as a further act of vengeance. As Thomas Mustard recounted, James said

  Yon same witch thief is going betwixt me and the boat. I must have blood of her; and he went and struck her, and bled her, and she cursed and banned him.

  It was on that voyage that James was swept away to sea.21

  Such was the testimony presented against Alison Dick and William Coke. Throughout the period since October 2, 1633 Alison had been incarcerated within the church steeple. (No mention is given where or if William was being held.) The executioner from Culross, Thomas Robertson, had been sought in late September and had apparently been in Kirkcaldy for references are made to expenses paid to him on October 2nd. The expenses were very minimal, 12s, and the final accounting in the church records notes ‘when he went away the first time’. Whether Robertson gave advice or used any kind of force or torture or indulged in ‘witch-pricking’ is uncertain. If torture was employed, it would have been illegal. Witch-pricking is a possibility although there is no evidence of this. It is possible that Robertson’s presence was simply premature. Whatever his advice or purpose, Alison Dick made her confession to the session shortly thereafter on October 8 ‘freely without compulsion’.22 The session moved on to the next step in the process. The presbytery was informed of the situation at the meeting of October 17, 1633.23 Two days prior to this Alison had not only affirmed her confession, but asked forgiveness:

  The which day also Alison Dick having ane great combat with hirself and even at the poynt of confession, she was (therefore?) confessing that she had renounced god and prayed to god to forgive hir all hir witchcrafts.24

  Despite the confession, she remained in ward and further expenses were incurred in watching her. On October 29, Robert Douglas was appointed to go to the Archbishop with the information that had been gathered.25 A commission was sought from the Privy Council and issued on November 8, 1633.26 The presbytery was informed on November 14 that both Coke and Dick were to go to trial.27 That trial must have taken place shortly thereafter for Alison Dick and William Coke were burned as witches on November 19, 1633.28 The executioner was paid £8/14s by the town. Other costs included £9/3s for the commission and 24s for coals for the watches. The total costs incurred were £16/18s for the session and £17/1s/4d for the burgh.29

  So much time has been spent discussing this case, both for the details it offers and the process it demonstrates. All but the trial records themselves (if indeed there were any) have survived. This helps us to better understand other cases where there is only the record of a commission or the accusations made before the session or the presbytery which enables us to place these documents within some kind of context. It also demonstrates how vital the role of the church courts could be in the witch-hunt. The evidence in the case of Alison Dick and William Coke and in many other instances in Fife demonstrates the central role church courts played in hearing and dealing with accusations of witchcraft. Sessions and presbyteries served as a crucial pre-trial body, and were even able with the assistance of the burgh to incarcerate subjects. This warding and watching, as has already been argued, proved vital. In the case just discussed, Alison Dick was warded. Alison Dick eventually confessed. While William Coke was executed, there is no mention of either his confession or of him being held. The completeness of the records allow us to see how the process might work.

  This case is also rich in the details, both of burgh life and the kinds of activity that might be labelled as witchcraft. Both Coke and Dick were extremely stormy individuals, fighting with each other, their families, and their neighbours. Alison Dick also seems to have been poor: so many of the accusations had their origin in a dispute over money, either owed or which Alison felt she deserved or was entitled to. Her age may be guessed at as middle-aged, both from the fact of her grown children and that she was suspected as a witch for over ten years. This reputation as a witch stands out dramatically. It seems everyone knew she was a witch, and some clearly feared her and attempted to avoid encounters with her. Janet Whyt fled into a house when Alison came begging, gave her money, then was cursed because she was not more generous. Christian Ronaldson’s husband did not want her living nearby. Some of her neighbours not only recognised her as a witch but had strategies to deal with her. James Wilson believed the curse would go away if he physically struck her and drew blood. From the evidence it is clear that Alison to a certain extent revelled in the power that the reputation gave her. As the English historian J.A. Sharpe has suggested, because we do not believe in the reality of witchcraft we tend to see the witch as victim, whereas their contemporaries understood them to be people with power.30 William Coke and Alison Dick were victims, in the sense that they were executed. At the same time, however, we need to acknowledge the power they wielded, or claimed to wield, in the lives of their neighbours. Curses were frequent, whether because a son had forgot to buy a round of ale before departing or because of some slight, and because enough of the curses seemed (at least in the eyes of the neighbours) to come true, were to be feared. It must not have been pleasant to have had it stated that soon one’s husband would be drowned, or that merchant voyages would fail. Sharp tongued and quick to take offence, Alison Dick would have been a troublesome neighbour.31

  The question of timing remains. Why were Alison Dick and William Coke accused at this particular moment in 1633? Although long suspected and definitely quarrelsome, the exact trigger is unclear. The public spat between Coke and Dick may have been the key. Three witnesses swore to what they heard, and the accusations between husband and wife were clearly that the other was responsible for the deaths and drownings of sailors from the port. Alison Dick, when she first appeared was challenged about this dispute, the content of which was seen as ‘tending to Witchcraft’. Kirk sessions cared about many aspects of public life and morality. The trigger may have been this spat. Once Alison Dick had been warded those who had evidence came forward. The frequent mention of tragedy – the loss of ships, the failures of voyages, the drowning of sailors – may also have stimulated interest in having those seen at the heart of these calamities removed from the community. While this theme will be explored more fully in the discussion of witch-hunters, it is worthwhile noting that while the case of Dick and Coke took a great deal of energy from the session, other matters continued to be discussed. These included the usual spate of sexua
l offences, and as well, an accusation about harsh speech: on November 12, 1633, the session ordered one woman, Christian Kirk, to cease ‘troubling’ Agnes Young, with her tongue.32 Rather than victims of a specific hunt for witches, Coke and Dick were brought before the session on account of their public argument and only as events evolved did this move into a full-fledged case of witchcraft.

  The maritime nature of the accusations is clearly central. The details of accusations in Scotland have often focused on farming communities and the tensions over cows who gave no milk and animals who died. It has been noted by Robertson in terms of Orkney and by Naess in terms of Norway that among those who made a living by the sea the accusations against witches could be markedly different.33 Commerce and fishing, ships lost and sailors drowned were the sources of apprehension and concern as the livelihood of the entire village was threatened. The primary accusations against both Dick and Coke dealt with shipping and sailors. It would be interesting to see if other maritime disasters precipitated witch-hunts in other burghs along the coast of Fife, in particular the South coast.

  While this case is so rich in detail, we should also note what is not mentioned, or mentioned only in passing. The Devil is not absent from this case, but he has little more than a symbolic part. Even more fascinating, the Devil no sooner appears then he promptly walks off stage. While the margin of the session minutes may note ‘Paction’ at the time of Alison’s confession, no-one explored this dramatic declaration further. There was no (or at least if there was it was not thought worthy to record, something which strains credulity) exploration of when this act of paction happened, what the Devil looked like, when and with whom Alison attended sabbats, let alone references to carnal copulation. Alison Dick had given herself to the Devil, as opposed to God. Once established, the concern for her specific acts of malice against her neighbours continues. The accusation that she was a servant of the Devil met a technical requirement, but Alison Dick was executed for her curses and acts of malice against her neighbours. No attempt seems to have been made to turn this into a hunt by asking for names of other witches. In terms of how Scottish and English witchcraft cases have been depicted in the literature, this case could easily have existed in England. If there was a uniquely Scottish feature to this case it was not judicial torture or the demonic pact but the role played by the church court. Church courts were interested in a far broader range of human activity than the legal understanding that witchcraft involved heresy, or a pact made with the Devil. Sessions and presbyteries were concerned with all human activity which did not meet a narrow definition of being godly.

  Shortly after William Coke and Alison Dick were executed in Kirkcaldy, William Hutchen of Kinghorn was found guilty before the session of charming. Hutchen, who stated he was unaware that what he had done was evil, had used a charm to cure someone. The penalty was not harsh. He was made to do public penance before the pulpit, however it was made clear that further incidents would be counted as witchcraft.34 One incident was charming; but a second made one a witch or warlock? The logic seems difficult to follow, as does the fact that Isobel Hevrie, first brought before the session of Kirkcaldy for witchcraft, was eventually sent on to the presbytery for charming.35 Around the same time and also in Kirkcaldy presbytery some women were accused of consulting with the ‘wyse wyff’ Janet Layng. Those who consulted Janet were called to make public penance, but no indication exists that Janet was punished, nor does the word ‘witch’ appear in the record.36 Yet David Zeman of St. Andrews, known for his cures and his ability to detect those who had been ‘witched’, was himself referred to as a warlock.37 Alexander Drummond, held in Edinburgh as a charmer in 1629, was also referred to as a ‘witch’.38 Yet, several individuals appeared before the presbytery of Dunfermline who were charged with charming but not with the more serious offence of witchcraft. Margaret Fields of Culross confessed in 1636 to charming the servant William Osbourne. Also from Culross, William Drysdale was forced to repent five years later because he ‘had robbed God of his glory by seeking his health by suspect means’ and in 1646 a husband and wife were brought before the session for using charms on a child.39

  It is difficult to understand how the line between charming and witchcraft was drawn in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.40 The search for patterns, for a clear answer remains elusive. Cases exist of charming in Fife in the midst of major hunts; isolated cases also exist in years where there was no major concern regarding witchcraft.41 The vagabond Dorothy Oliphant was the only person accused in Kirkcaldy in 1604, yet within that same presbytery Christian Wilson was warded in 1638 in the midst of a major witch-hunt on the basis of an overheard explanation of a charm.42 The reason may simply be because the words ‘witchcraft’, ‘witch’ and ‘warlock’ were elastic in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. These were umbrella terms which included everything from formalized demonic pacts to evil spells cast against ones neighbours, from cures for illness to the use of charms. Perhaps we cannot find the line because there was no line, only a conviction among the elite that this spectrum of activity was wrong and needed to be suppressed. Those who could heal or offer assistance, sometimes known as white witches or cunningfolk, were as likely to be charged as witches as those with a reputation for malice and cursing. At other times, they were simply referred to as charmers – but nevertheless they were charged, and though the penalties were much less severe, they still represented an attack on what was clearly a common activity. Among those we now consider and catalogue as ‘witches’ were many whom their communities considered to be healers or helpers. Still, those who could cure an illness certainly were understood to be capable of casting the same on someone with whom they were at enmity. Margaret Douglas of Kirkcaldy was charged with both being able to cure and to cause calamity.43 The skills and activities attributed to the witch were very broad.

  It is also worth considering the charms which were used by those accused as witches. Several have survived from Fife. Isobel’s Hevrie claimed to have learned the following charm from a ‘wayfairing man’:

  Three bitter has the bitten,

  Evil hart, evill eye, and evil Tongue,

  Almost three ply,

  But wyl be Father, Sone and Holy Ghost.44

  The charm which Janet Brown of Kinghorn used to cure a foot was much simpler: ‘flesh to flesh, blood to blood and bone to bone in our Lord’s name’.45 The record never refers to Janet as a witch, nor was Adam Donaldson so named, despite his use of charms and the witnesses who spoke of them. Though people sought him out for their own health, Donaldson’s specialty seems to have been curing cows and horses. If a cow gave no milk, Donaldon’s cure was to place a piece of rowan under the tail, and recite ‘Lord Jesus, send me milk’ three times on ones’ knees. When buying a horse, Donaldson suggested that when one came to the first south-running water one should dismount while the horse’s back legs were still in the water, take some of the sand from the riverbed, and strike the horse three times to drive away any evil spirits.46 Marion Cunningham of Dunfermline, whose charm or prayer has already been noted, also was accused of using the line ‘Ladie sweet st marie’ in some of her prayers.47

  What is striking about all of these ‘charms’ is their essentially religious nature. There is nothing even remotely demonic about them. Rather, they seem to be expressions of popular or folk Christianity, even survivals from practices which pre-date the Reformation. The reliance on ‘three’ (a symbol of the Trinity, for which there is no inverse or demonic equivalent), the address to God or Christ, all signify these as prayers. Yet in the eyes of the sessions, such prayers were suspect. In some cases those using these words or a physical charm to aid in curing were punished only mildly, and not even referred to as witches. Yet, in other instances they were seen as involved in more sinister practices. The line was again unc
lear. Still, one thing we can say with some certainty is that cunning folk, and those who sought them out, as well as scolds and those associated with malefice, were all considered to be worthy of discipline by the church authorities in Fife.

  We have dealt in detail in this chapter as well as those which told the stories of the witch-hunt in each of the presbyteries, with those who were designated in seventeenth century Fife as witches. A picture, however shadowy, has emerged of the kind of individual most likely to be accused of witchcraft. The Fife witch was as likely to cure as harm, and sometimes the line between those two functions was confused by both the populace and the elite. Equally noteworthy was the characteristic of being a nuisance or scold or troublemaker. William Coke and Alison Dick both had sharp tongues. Elspeth Seath sat down in front of gates. Jonnet Dampstar of Dysart was accused of fighting with a woman in the village, then using her spinning wheel without permission, then causing the death of a cow.48 Helen Birrell, another witch from Kirkcaldy, was known to have a sharp tongue (she did penance for it in 1616) a decade before being accused as a witch.49 This characteristic of accused witches is one that has been recognised, both in Scotland and in Europe as a whole.50 Many of the accused about whom we have information seem to fall into this category.

  It is also clear Fife witches were women. Three hundred and fifty-one (351) of the four hundred and twenty (420) known witches from Fife, or eighty-four per cent (84%), were women. Given that in another thirty six instances (8.5 percent of the total) the gender of the accused is unknown, it seems reasonable to assume that some, if not most, of these suspects were also women. To suggest that ninety percent of those suspected as witches in Fife were women does not seem unreasonable. Only in thirty-three situations (7.5 percent) were males named as witches. Witch-hunting in Fife was gender based. Given the discussion in Enemies of God and in the literature on the European witch-hunt at large, this comes as no real surprise. Christina Larner’s comment that ‘witch-hunt is to some degree a synonym for woman-hunting’ is apposite.51 What is more difficult to determine is the significance of this reality or how we interpret it.52 References to the misogyny found in the Malleus Malleficarum seem unhelpful, as there is no known incident of anyone quoting from the Malleus in Fife. Even James VI’s Daemonology, where it was argued that women were more likely to be witches than men, does not seem to have been influential in Fife, at least in terms of the other ideas expressed in the tract.53