On a dark and stormy night, the fearful townspeople gathered in the town square. The air was thick with tension and murmurs of disbelief filled the air. They were all here to witness the execution of the accused witch. Rumors had spread like wildfire, claiming that she had cast spells on innocent townsfolk and caused tremendous harm. The accusations against her were grave, and many believed that her actions were the cause of the recent misfortunes that had plagued the town. Superstition and fear clouded their judgment, fueling a desire for retribution.
Superstition and fear clouded their judgment, fueling a desire for retribution. As the accused witch was brought forward, a hushed silence fell upon the crowd. The townspeople's eyes were fixed upon her, as if trying to discern her true nature from her appearance.
300 years on, will thousands of women burned as witches finally get justice?
It spanned more than a century and a half, and resulted in about 2,500 people – the vast majority of them women – being burned at the stake, usually after prolonged torture. Remarkably, one of the driving forces behind Scotland’s “satanic panic” was no less than the king, James VI, whose treatise, Daemonologie, may have inspired the three witches in Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
Now, almost 300 years after the Witchcraft Act was repealed, a campaign has been launched for a pardon for those convicted, an apology to all those accused and a national memorial to be created.
“There should be an acknowledgement that what happened to these women was a terrible miscarriage of justice,” Claire Mitchell QC, the campaign’s founder, told the Observer. She pointed out that in Salem, the Massachusetts town where a series of infamous witchcraft trials took place in the 1690s, a formal apology for the 200 accused and 20 executed was issued in 1957. In Scotland – where 3,837 people were accused, two-thirds of whom are believed to have been put to death – there has been no such recognition.
“In Princes Street Gardens in Edinburgh, there are monuments to all sorts of men on horseback, and even a full-size statue of a named bear. But there is nothing to commemorate the hundreds, if not thousands, who died as a result of one of the most horrible miscarriages of justice in Scottish history,” Mitchell said.
A digital reconstruction of the face of Lilias Adie, who died in jail in 1704 before she could be burned for her ‘crimes’. Photograph: University of Dundee/BBC
A plaque at the Witches Well at Edinburgh Castle marks the spot where more than 300 women were burned at the stake. But, said Mitchell, “it’s not a commemoration, not a memorial, not an apology”.
Support for an acknowledgement of the injustices of the Witchcraft Act, in force between 1563 and 1736, is growing. Last weekend, three plaques commemorating 380 executed women from the communities of Culross, Torryburn and Valleyfield were unveiled on the Fife coastal path at an event organised by Remembering the Accused Witches of Scotland.
An online conference is planned for November, and a podcast will be launched in the coming weeks. An application to the Scottish parliament’s justice committee for a pardon for those executed is expected to be lodged next year.
Mitchell said she “always had an interest in Scottish history but felt a growing disquiet about the lack of female visibility in public spaces”. As a lawyer who mainly handles miscarriage of justice cases, “I thought it would be a good idea if I tried to harness what I know from my day job to bring more public awareness and recognition to what happened to women convicted as witches”.
There was precedent for pardons, she added. In 2017, thousands of men convicted of offences under laws that criminalised homosexuality were pardoned under a new law passed by the UK parliament.
Those arrested under the Witchcraft Act were usually tortured into making confessions. Women, who made up 84% of the accused, were not permitted to give evidence at their own trials. Those convicted were strangled and burned at the stake so there was no body to bury.
According to Mitchell, accusations of witchcraft were four times higher in Scotland than elsewhere, and “they cut across society, from members of the nobility to paupers and vagrants”. Those interrogated were urged to identify other “witches” among their neighbours and relatives. “People were terrified of finding themselves accused of being a witch.”
Three plaques were placed on the Fife Coastal Path to commemorate the women of Culross, Torryburn and Valleyfield who were accused of witchcraft. Photograph: Kathryn Rattray
In Culross, a tiny village on the Firth of Forth, 32 women were accused and executed at the height of the witch hunts. A couple of miles away, in Torryburn, Lilias Adie “confessed” to witchcraft and fornicating with the devil in 1704, and died before trial. Her body was buried in a wooden box under a huge slab on Torryburn beach.
More than a century later, grave robbers opened the grave and took her remains. Her skull went on display at Glasgow’s Empire Exhibition in 1938 and then disappeared, but a reconstruction of Adie’s face was created two years ago from early 20th-century photographs.
James VI – later James I of England – became obsessed with witchcraft after the execution of his mother, Mary Queen of Scots, in 1587. He blamed a violent storm when sailing back from Denmark with his new wife, Anne, on evil spells and ordered a vicious witch hunt.
Macbeth, thought to be first performed at court in 1606, three years after James became king of England, catered to the new monarch’s witch obsession. It was another 130 years before the law was changed and the executions ended.
“It was an incredibly sad period in the history of women,” said Mitchell. “These women were voiceless, unable even to speak in their own defence. We need to publicly recognise the terrible wrong done to them.”
A digital reconstruction of the face of Lilias Adie, who died in jail in 1704 before she could be burned for her ‘crimes’. Photograph: University of Dundee/BBC
Her jet-black hair cascaded down to her waist, contrasting sharply against her pale skin. Her eyes, once filled with a spark of mischievousness, were now filled with resignation. The judge stepped forward, his voice quivering with authority. He recounted the alleged crimes committed by the witch, each word dripping with disdain. The townspeople listened intently, their anger growing with every accusation. The evidence against her, though circumstantial at best, was enough to condemn her in the eyes of the vengeful crowd. The accused witch, clad in tattered rags, stood defiantly in front of her accusers. She pleaded her innocence, her voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd. But her words fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the cries of those seeking justice. With a heavy heart, the judge pronounced the sentence - death by hanging. A wave of satisfaction swept through the crowd as their thirst for vengeance was temporarily quenched. The witch, stoic and unyielding, was led to the gallows, her steps faltering but not broken. As the noose was placed around her neck, a sudden stillness descended upon the square. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as if in mourning. The capitulation of the accused witch stirred something deep within the hearts of the onlookers. In that moment, doubt crept into the minds of some. Was she truly guilty? Was this act of violence justified? But these thoughts were quickly suppressed, drowned beneath the sea of emotion that had consumed the town. The will of the majority prevailed, and the execution was carried out. As the life force slipped away from the accused witch, a collective gasp echoed through the square. Some turned away, unable to bear the weight of their actions, while others rejoiced in their victory. The witch's life had been claimed, but the truth, the whole truth, would forever remain cloaked in mystery. The execution of the witch, a symbol of fear and hatred, ended that night. But the consequences of that fateful decision would linger in the hearts of the townspeople, haunting them long after the flames of their anger had faded..
Reviews for "The Legal System and Witch Executions"
1. Jennifer - 2 stars
"The witch executed" was a disappointment for me. The storyline lacked depth and the characters felt one-dimensional. I found it difficult to connect with any of the characters or their struggles. The dialogue also left much to be desired, often feeling forced and unnatural. Overall, I felt the film failed to live up to its potential and left me feeling unsatisfied.
2. Mark - 2.5 stars
I had high hopes for "The witch executed", but unfortunately, it fell short for me. The pacing was uneven, with long stretches of boredom followed by rushed, confusing scenes. The atmosphere and visuals were certainly creepy, but that alone couldn't salvage the film. The plot was convoluted and left many loose ends, leaving me frustrated and confused by the end. Overall, I felt let down by the film and wouldn't recommend it to others.
3. Sarah - 1 star
"The witch executed" was one of the worst movies I've seen in recent memory. The acting was terrible, with wooden performances and zero chemistry between the actors. The story was disjointed and lacked any coherent narrative. The ending was particularly unsatisfying, leaving me wondering what I had just wasted my time watching. Save yourself the trouble and skip this film.