‘She laid upon Beatrix Nisbet a fearful disease, so that she lost the power of her tongue! because she paying the said Agnes two dollars owing her by her father, would not give her annual rent [interest] therefor. She laid a grievous sickness upon Jonet Grinton, whom ye threatened that she should never eat more in this world, because she had brought again two herring she had bought from you, they not being caller [fresh], and sought back her eight pennies. [two-thirds of a penny sterling], and of which she died, without eating or drinking conform to your threatening.

‘Ye came in to visit John Buchanan’s bairn, being sick of a palsy, and bade the, father and mother go ben the house [remove to the inner apartment] a while and pray to God for him; and in the meanwhile ye stayed with him, and when they returned, they fand him violently sick that he could neither stir hand nor foot, and that by your devilry; and fand on his right buttock about the breadth of one’s loof, the same so sore as if a collop had been ta’en out of it; and he died in eight days in great dolour.

‘Falling a scolding with Betty Currie, the said bairn’s mother, about the changing of a sixpence which ye alleged to be ill, ye, in great rage, threatened that ye should gar [cause] the devil tak a bite of her. Ye laid a grievous sickness on her husband, John Buchanan, that he burned a whole night as if he had been in a fire, for taking his wife Betty Currie’s part against you, and boasting [threatening] to cast you over the stair, and calling you a witch; whereon ye threatened to make him repent his speeches; and for taking the same off him, he coming the next day and drinking a pint of ale with you, and telling you that if you tormented him so another night, he should make all the town hear tell of it; whereon he was weel. The said John being offended at you because ye would not trust his wife a twelvepenny cake [penny roll], ye bade him go his way, and as he had begun with witches, so he should end; after which threatening, he straight contracted a long and grievous sickness, whereof he was like to melt away in sweating.

‘In your scolding with Euphame Kincaid, ye calling her a drunkard, and she calling you a witch, ye replied: "That if ye was a witch, she and hers should have better cause to call ye so;" accordingly, a great joist fell on the said Euphame’s daughter’s leg, being playing near your house, and crushed the same, and that by your sorcery.

‘Ye, ending an account with Isobel Acheson, and because ye could not get all your unreasonable demands, bade the devil ride about the town with her and hers; whereupon, the next day, she brake her leg by a fall from a horse, and ye came and saw her, and said: "See that ye say not that I have bewitched you, as other neighbours say."

‘Robert Watt, deacon of the cordwainers, having fined Robert Pursell, your son-in-law, for a riot, ye came where he and the rest of the craft were convened, and cursed them most outrageously, whereon Robert Watt broke the cap upon your head; since which time he fell away in his worldly means, till long after, he being in your good-son’s house, where ye likewise was, ye asked "if he remembered since he broke the cap on your head? and that he had never thriven since, nor should, till you had amends of him;" whereon, he being reconciled with you, he prospered in his worldly state as before.

‘The laying on of a grievous sickness on Christian Harlaw, for sending back a plack’s worth of salt which ye had sent her, it being too little; ye having threatened her that it should be the dearest salt that ever she saw with her eyes, and then, at her entreaty, ye came to her house, and she became presently weel; whereon Christian said, that "if ought ailed her thereafter, she should wyte [blame] you." Christian Simpson being owing you some money, and because she craved only eight days’ delay to pay it, ye threatened in great rage, that "she should have a sore heart ere that day eight days;" according whereto, the said Christian’s husband broke his leg within the said eight days.

‘John Robison, having called you a witch, you, in malice, laid a flux on him by your sorcery. Appearing to John Cockburn in the night, when both doors and windows were fast closed, and terrifying him in his sleep, because he had discorded with your daughter the day before. Causing all William Smith’s means to evanish, to the intent he might never be able to relieve some clothes he had pawned beside you, worth an 100 lb., for 14 merks Scots only. Onlaying a grievous sickness on Janet Walker lying in childbed.; and then ye being sent for, and the said Janet’s sister begging her health at you for God’s sake, ye assented, and she recovered of her sickness presently by your sorcery.

‘Being disappointed of having Alexander Johnston’s bairn’s flame, ye, in a great rage and anger, told him, that "it should be telling him 40 lb. betwixt and that time twelvemonth, that he had given you his bairn’s name;" whereon he took a strange sickness, and languished long; and at length, by persuasive of neighbours, he came to your house, and after he had eaten and drunken with you, ye with your sorcery made him whole. Item, the child whose name ye got not was past eleven years ere he could go.

‘Having fallen in a controversy with Margaret Williamson, ye most outrageously wished the devil to blow her blind; after which she by your sorcery took a grievous sickness, whereof she went blind. Laying a madness on Andrew Wilson, conform to your threatening, wishing the devil to rive the soul out of him (which words, the time of his frenzy, were never out of his mouth), and that because he had fallen in a brawling with your daughter. Item, for taking off it.

‘Bearing company with the devil these twenty-eight years by-past; for consulting with him for laying on and taking off diseases, as weel on men as women and bestial; which is notourly known.’

It clearly appears that this woman had, at the utmost, been guilty of bad wishes towards her neighbours, and that if these had any effect, it was only through their superstitious apprehensions. We may suppose such to be the type of a class of cases—the simply maledictory. It is fairly presumable, however, that, while the community was so ignorant as to believe that malediction could have positively injurious effects, it would occasionally have these effects by its influence on the imagination, and consequently become an active evil. In this we can see a possible cause of the long persistence of the belief in witches. The ignorant, seeing an effect, and not observing the influence of the imagination in the case, would of course find no objection to laying it all to the account of witchcraft. The enlightened, again, disbelieving witchcraft, but at the same time ignorant of the influence of imagination,  would have no alternative but to deny the facts; and this unreasoning and unsound scepticism, being contrary to the experience of the ignorant, would fall to disabuse them of their superstitions.

In this year (December 31, 1643) is an entry in the parish register of Markinch, Fifeshire—’ Compeared Janet Brown, and being posed if she used charms, she confessed that she did charm two several persons—Viz., James Hullock and Janet Scott, but no moe. The words of the charm are these:

"Our Lord forth raide,
His foal’s foot slade:
Our Lord down lighted,
His foal’s foot righted;
Saying: Flesh to flesh, blood to blood, and bane to bane,
In our Lord his name."

Being posed who learned her the foresaid charm, answered, ane man in the parish of Strathmiglo.’

There is reason to believe that this is a charm of great antiquity for the healing of bruises and sprains.

The faith in necromantic power being wholly a part of the religious earnestness of the time, it is only to be expected that the clergy should appear deeply interested in prosecutions of this class, and sedulous that suspected persons should be duly tried and the guilty brought to punishment. In October 1644, Margaret Young, spouse of William Morison, merchant in Dysart, described herself, in a petition to the Privy Council, as having lain miserably in prison for ten weeks, in consequence of a false accusation got up against her as ‘a consulter of spirits,’ by a few neighbours acting under a feeling of ‘spleen and envy,’ ‘albeit she is ane honest young woman, of good reputation, without any scandal or blot, and never knew nothing of that is put to her charge.’ She had petitioned the Privy Council to have the bailies and ministers of Dysart summoned before them, and ordained to set her at liberty; and on an appointed day, one of the ministers came forward, and craved to have a longer time ‘to see if any dittay sould be given in against her? Even that time was now expired, and yet, with no charge against her, she continued to languish in her wretched imprisonment. The lords agreed to liberate Margaret, on her husband giving security to the extent of five hundred merks, that she would compear if afterwards called upon.— P. C. R.

In the ensuing mouth—so frequent were accusations of witchcraft at this time—one Margaret Thomson, wife of Alexander Gray in Calder, complained before the same tribunal, against the Tutor of Calder and the minister of that parish, for ‘waking her the space of twenty days naked, and having nothing on her but a sackcloth,’ under a charge of witchcraft. She had been ‘laid in the stocks, and kept separate from all company and worldly comfort;’ nor could she ‘see any end of her misery by lawful trial.’ The lords, having the woman’s husband before them, and also the tutor and minister, and no regular charge being forthcoming, ordained her to be liberated upon security.

1644, July 7
(Sunday) A solemn fast and humiliation was kept throughout Scotland, on account of backsliding from the Covenant, and the prevalence of vice and godlessness; as also to entreat the favour of Heaven for the parliamentary arms, and to pray for the filling of the king’s heart with the love of reformation. A fast in those days was a reality. In Old Aberdeen, the people entered the church at nine o’clock, and continued hearing prayers and sermons till two. They might have then dismissed for a space, but they sat still hearing ‘reading’ till the commencement of afternoon service, which ended at six. Then the bell rang for evening-prayers, which continued till seven. ‘Thus was the people wearied with fasting and praying, under colour of zeal, whilk rather appeared a plain mockery of God.’ On the ensuing Thursday, a similar fast was kept, when the king and queen were prayed for, in a manner, it may be suspected, for which their majesties would not be duly thankful. ‘No prayer to confound the armies raised against him, but rather prayer for their good success.’— Spal.

Sep
Immediately after Montrose had gained his first victory at Tippermuir, and while his army lay at Collace, in Perthshire, his adherent, Lord Kilpont, eldest son of the Earl of Airth, lost his life in a lamentable manner. His friend and associate in arms, James Stewart of Ardvoirlich, had been incensed at some outrages committed on his lands by the Irish auxiliaries under Alaster Macdonald or MaeCol-keitoch, while they were advancing to join Montrose. He had complained to Montrose, had had a violent altercation with Alaster MacCol, and it had been found necessary to place both him and MacCol under arrest. This step was taken at the recommendation of Lord Kilpont. To pursue the narrative of a descendant of Stewart: ‘Montrose, seeing the evil of such a feud at such a critical time, effected a sort of reconciliation between them, and forced them to shake hands in his presence; when it was said that Ardvoirlich, who was a very powerful man, took such a hold of Macdonald’s hand as to make the blood start from his fingers. Still, it would appear, Ardvoirlich was by no means reconciled.

‘A few days after the battle of Tippermuir, when Montrose with his army encamped at Collace, an entertainment was given by him to his officers, in honour of the victory he had obtained, and Kilpont and his comrade Ardvoirlich were of the party. After returning to their quarters, Ardvoirlich, who seemed still to brood over his quarrel with Macdonald, and being heated with drink, began to blame Lord Kilpont for the part he had taken in preventing his obtaining redress, and reflecting against Montrose for not allowing him what he considered proper reparation. Kilpont of course defended the conduct of himself and his relative Montrose, till their arguments came to high words; and, finally, from the state they were both in, by an easy transition to blows, when Ardvoirlich with his dirk struck Kilpont dead on the spot. He immediately fled, and under cover of a thick mist escaped pursuit, leaving his eldest son, Henry, who had been mortally wounded at Tippermuir, on his death-bed." [On the 8th of June 1643, a case came before the Privy counciI, at the instance of Lawrence Mercer and others, students at St Andrews, who complained of a scandalous charge got up against them by James Stewart of Ardvoirlich and his two sons, Robert and Harry, to the effect that umwhile Alexander Stewart, son of the first party, and brother of the two others, had received deadly injuries from them in a college tumult, and died in consequence. It was shewn that Alexander had provoked a tumult by his insolent speeches, and afterwards lay for a day or two in bed, but was found on inspection to be quite well, and he had lived in good health for nine months after. The lords accordingly declared the complainers to be innocent of what was laid to their charge.]

This story will be generally recognised as one which has supplied some leading incidents in the Legend of Montrose. The present version of it, more favourable in some features to Ardvoirlich than that which occurs in Wishart’s Life of Montrose, was communicated to Sir Walter Scott in 1830 by Robert Stewart of Ardvoirlich, who stated that it had come to his father from a man who lived to a hundred years of age, the great-grandson of the homicide laird by a natural son, who was present with him at the time of the deplorable incident.

Oct
After the taking of Newcastle in this month by the Scottish Covenanting army, ‘the pest’ came from that place [In a curious and rare pamphlet, by William Lithgow, descriptive of the siege of Newcastle (Edinburgh, printed by Robert Bryson, 1645), we get some idea of the wretched state to which the place was reduced in consequence of its investiture of several months. ‘We found great penury and scarcity of victuals, ammunition, and other necessaries within that dejected town; so that they could not have held out ten days longer, unless the one half had devoured the other. The plague was raging in Gateside, Sandside, Sunderland, and many country villages about.’ For this reason, Tynemonth was obliged to surrender also; ‘the pestilence having been five weeks there with a great mortality, they were glad to yield and to scatter themselves abroad, bnt to the great undoing and infecting of the country about.’ Lithgow, by the way, was dissatisfied with the treatment of Newcastle by his countrymen. ‘As they abused their victory,’ says he, ‘in storming the town, with too much undeserved mercy, so they as unwisely and imprudently overreached themselves, in plundering the town with an ignorant negligence and careless omission. . .. And as they thus defrauded themselves with a whistle in their mouths, so they pitifully prejudged, by this their inveigled course, the common soldiers of their just due and dear-bought advantages.’] into Scotland, where it met a field highly calculated for its diffusion. There had been dearth the preceding year from deficient harvest, and since then, what with the drawing away of men for the army, the grievance of a heavy excise to support it, the incessant harassment of many districts by hostile and plundering armies, and the extreme anxiety and distress of mind occasioned by the civil war, assisted, doubtless, by the generally depressing effect of incessant preachings, prayings, fastings, and thanksgivings, by which the whole sunshine of life was, as it were, squeezed out of the community—those vital powers which resist and beat off disease must have been reduced to a point much below average. It is not surprising, therefore, that the plague took deadly hold of the country, and rapidly spread from Edinburgh to Borrowstounness, Kelso, Perth, and other towns, all of which were grievously afflicted by it during the next year.

1645
Of the ecclesiastical discipline of this period, and its bearing upon the habits of the people, we get a good idea from the Presbytery Record of Strathbogie, which has been published by the Spalding Club. The whole moral energy of the country appears as concentrated in an effort to fix a certain code of theological views, including a rigid observance of the Sabbath, the suppression of witchcraft, the maintenance of a serious style of manners, and the extirpation of popery.

A committee of the presbytery made periodical visits to the several parishes, called the minister and chief parishioners before them, and examined the parties separately as to each other’s spiritual condition and religious practice. For example, at Rhynie, the minister, Henry Ross, being removed, the elders were sworn and interrogated as to his efficiency. They ‘all in ane voice deponed that concerning his literature he was very weak, and gave them little or no comfort in his ministry; but, as concerning his life, he was mended, and was blameless now in his conversation.’ The elders being in their turn removed, the minister was called in and examined regarding them. He ‘regretted that the parishioners frequented not the church, nor assisted him in his discipline, but despised him.'

To be absent any considerable number of times from church was punishable; and if the parishioner proved contumacious, he was liable to be excommunicated—a doom inferring a loss of all civil rights, and a complete separation from human converse. To refuse to take the Covenant, or to have any dealings with the loyalist Huntly, brought men into similar troubles. Old women using charms for healing, persons ‘kindling needfire’ for the cure of cattle, or reserving a field for the devil (the Guidman’s Croft), and females pilgrimising to holy wells, according to old custom, were all vigorously proceeded against, in obedience to refrated acts of the General Assembly for uprooting of all superstition. Irregularities between the sexes, and even quarrelling and scolding, had to be expiated in sackcloth before the congregation. Drunkenness and swearing were also censured. In dealing with these offences, an unsparing inquisition into domestic and family matters was used, and no rank, age, or sex seems to have afforded the subject any protection.

As specimens of religious offences—a gentleman was prosecuted for bringing home a millstone on a Sunday; another, for gathering gooseberries in time of sermon. It was found regarding Patrick Wilson, that he had sat up with a company drinking till after cockcrow, consuming in all eleven pints—that is, about two dozen quart bottles—of ale; he had struck a man, and railed in his drink at several gentlemen of the parish. ‘The brethren ordained Patrick to stand in sackcloth two Sabbaths, and pay four merks penalty.’

The Lady Frendraught,’ who now lived at Kinnairdie, in the parish of Aberchirder, is a conspicuous subject of the discipline of the Strathbogie presbytery, on account of her being a papist. To leave this inoffensive lady in the quiet exercise of her own religious forms was not within the capabilities of the Christian charity of that day. It is no over-statement of the case that this ecclesiastical body set themselves to simply harass her out of her peculiar convictions - or rather professions; for they seem to have been content when they could effect an external conformity, and the horrible guilt of forcing a fellow-creature into a mere hypocrisy, seems never to have been present to their minds.

So early as 1636, the synod had sent one of their number to deal with her, and induce her to go to church; for a time she conformed. Two years after, a similar visitation of the lady had become necessary; so she and her daughter Elizabeth were summoned for ‘not hearing of the word, and not communicating.’ What came of this does not appear; but in 1643, a deputation of ministers was sent to deal with her according to the ordinance of the General Assembly, and to report her answer. It was soon after reported that ‘she promised to hear the word, and desired a time for further resolution.’ It was then agreed to give her some short space to decide on becoming ‘a daily hearer,’ but ‘if she refused, the process to go on against her.’ The poor lady once more promised ‘to hear the word, as she had done before,’ and it was resolved to ask the advice of the General Assembly on the point. Years passed on, without bringing her further than to agree to go to the church which her husband frequented—which was out of the bounds of this presbytery. What immediately happened after this does not appear; but, on the presbytery resolving (January 1647) again to proceed against her ladyship, it was reported that she was out of the country. A few months later, the commissioners of the General Assembly ‘granted her liberty to be ane ordinar hearer of the word at Forgue for a time.’ This, however, did not stop the process. The lady was hunted into another presbytery, where she seems to have kept them at bay for a little while. In June 1648, Mr John Reidford reported that he had spoken her, but ‘found no effect of his travels;’ he required further time. Soon after, the same minister reported that on a second interview, she expressed herself as ‘willing to bear the word in any kirk save Aberchirder and such as are within the presbytery of Stratbbogie.’ This was not to be endured. She was immediately summoned as a contumacious person. On the day of call, she ‘compeared not;’ and Mr John Reidford, her parish minister, proceeded to give from his pulpit, on successive Sundays, a series of three admonitions addressed to her; then, in like manner, a series of three prayers. As her ladyship continued to disregard all proceedings in her case, the presbytery prepared itself to pass the awful doom of excommunication, when, behold! another act of concession on her part stays all: she agrees to be present at family worship in her own house—her husband was all this time a leading Covenanter and promised also to hear sermon; whereupon the sentence was suspended for a time. In August 1649, the minister Reidford reported that she had ‘keepit sermon at Innerkeithing the last Lord’s day, and daily keepit family worship.’ This was not enough. They instruct Reidford ‘to shew her that, if she did not conform in all points, the sentence of excommunication would be pronounced before the next assembly.’ Reidford soon after pleaded for her, that she had heard three sermons; but the brethren ‘thought not that kind of bearing satisfactory.’ They ordained him to put her to a decided test at once, by offering her the Covenant: failing her subscribing that, Reidford was to pronounce sentence.

The lady, with the ingenuity of her sex, contrived once more to put them off—she told Reidford she would take a thought about it. Meanwhile, she amused them with hopes by continuing to attend church; telling them ‘she was not fully satisfied for subscribing the Covenant.’ But even female wit could not bold out for ever against such a siege. In June 1650, after an incessant harassment of fourteen years, she gave them ‘satisfaction’ by subscribing the Covenant, and thus abjuring in words the faith she still held in her heart. Little more than two years had elapsed, when the presbytery learned that she had ‘relapsed to popery,’ and appointed commissioners to confer with her on the subject. It was found she was now obstinate in her original belief ‘professing, moreover, that she repented of her former repentance more than of any sin that ever she committed, and thought that she had reason to repent all her lifetime for subscribing the National Covenant and Solemn League and Covenant.’ Then took place a renewal of the same tedious dealings with the lady, ending at last in 1654, in a peremptory order for her excommunication. By that time, however, excommunication had lost much of its terrors, as Cromwell, then master of Scotland, would not allow the sentence to have any consequences in respect of civil rights.