S05 Episode 14 Extra: Thou Shalt Get Kings - podcast episode cover

S05 Episode 14 Extra: Thou Shalt Get Kings

Apr 23, 202118 min
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Episode description

WARNING: Please be advised this episode contains disturbing and graphic scenes of torture. Parental discretion is advised.

In Scotland, England, and Wales, one powerful individual's fear of witchcraft almost single-handedly set off a series of witch panics throughout the 16th and 17th centuries, resulting in the torture and death of thousands of innocent people.  And it all began one stormy night back in 1589...

Featuring the story of King James VI and the North Berwick Witch Trials

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Transcript

Speaker 1

Please be advised that this episode contains disturbing and graphic scenes of torture. Parental discretion is advised. Welcome to Unexplained Extra with Me Richard McClane Smith, where for the weeks in between episodes we look at stories and ideas that, for one reason or other, didn't make it into the previous show. In last week's episode, The Devil's Kiss, we ventured out into the depths of the Lancashire countryside in the northwest of England, to the sprawling country estate of

Cluworth Hall. During an especially turbulent period of British history. It was there that, in fifteen ninety seven, seven individuals were said to have become possessed by demonic spirits, with the blame for their ailment being firmly placed at the feet of a man named Edmund Hartley, a local conjurer who was accused of inviting the devil into the bodies of the afflicted. Ostensibly, Hartley's crime was the practice of maleficium, an act of witchcraft performed with the intention of causing

damage or injury. However, to the courts and by extension, the ruling powers of the time, Hartley's real crime was not so much that he'd endangered or harmed anyone, but simply that he'd supposedly entered into a covenant with the devil in order to do so. This act, argued the court, was a deliberate rejection of Christianity and, more specifically, for

the time, Protestantism, thereby establishing Hartley as a heretic. Notions of witchcraft and sorcery had been around for millennia, however, it wasn't really until Heinrich Kramer's fourteen eighty six book Mallius Maleficarum, meaning in English the Hammer of Witches, that a framework was suggested for how its practice pertained to Christianity.

Though it was rejected by a number of Christian scholars at the time, Kramer's book essentially established the idea that witchcraft was almost always committed with help from the devil, and was therefore an inherently heretical act. This book was adopted with great fervor by many European powers and contributed hugely to the brutal persecution of perceived witchcraft that would

sweep the continent over the next three centuries. This persecution of supposed witches therefore was very much a political act, encouraged as a way to promote Christianity and the authority of the Church, which at the time was one of the key frameworks in which the ruling powers operated and asserted control. To be a witch essentially was to be

someone operating outside the desired status quo. Despite the overtly political connotations of this assault on perceived witchcraft and those arbitrarily deemed witches, most of whom were women, for reasons we'll get far deeper into on a later episode, I should stress that for most Europeans at the time, the fear of the power of witches was very much real. Such beliefs in illusory threats are never more dangerous than when held by individuals who can also wield significant power.

For the British Isles, there was one individual, more than most, whose fear of witchcraft during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is thought to have almost single handedly contributed to the torture and death of thousands of innocent people. And it all began one stormy night back in fifteen eighty nine. In September fifteen eighty nine, Princess Anne of Denmark departed Copenhagen on board a ship bound for Scotland, when soon after her vessel was hit by severe and unexpect acted storms.

Unable to continue, the fleet was forced to take shelter on the south coast of Norway, from where the Queen and her entourage eventually made their way to Oslow to hold up. The princess had recently been married by proxy to King James the sixth of Scotland and had been due to arrive there that month to formally complete their union. Alarmed by news of the princess's troubles, King James promptly set sail for Denmark, but was also forced back by

furious storms. It wasn't until October twenty second, almost a month later, that he was finally able to depart, arriving in Oslo in mid November. Unsure about risking an immediate return journey, the couple decided to complete their marriage in Oslow instead, where they remained for a few months before attempting the return journey to Scotland in April the following year. No sooner had they set sail, however, they were once again hammered by a mighty tempest that seemed to rise

up from nowhere, forcing them back to Norway. Two weeks later, they finally made it to Scotland, with Anne, formerly crowned in May. The couples soon settled into their new life together at Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. Back in Denmark, however,

strange things were beginning to stir. After the embarrassment of the initial failed trip to Scotland, the Admiral of the fleet, Peder Monk, accused the Minister of Finance, Christophe Falkendorff, of failing to provide him with the ship suitably equipped for the weather. Eager to absolve himself of responsibility, Falkendorff quickly set about trying to build a case as to why he couldn't possibly be to blame, and soon alighted on

the perfect explanation. Clearly, he argued, it had all been fault of witches with Catholic sympathies desperate to disrupt the union between Anne and the Protestant King James. He knew this because one of the witches involved had told him.

In early May fifteen ninety Anna Coldings had been arrested for witchcraft and was languishing in a Copenhagen prison awaiting her execution, Folkendorf suggested to the Mayor of Copenhagen that he quiz her too about any possible involvement with disrupting the princess's fleet, and after some not so gentle persuasion, Coldings finally admitted to it, saying that she and some other women gathered at the home of fellow witch Karen Viver were together they cast a spell on Anne and

James's ships. The spell, she said, had released a series of tiny demons from out of barrels on board the vessels, who then climbed up the rigging and concocted a storm above their very heads. Colding's additional confession did nothing to alter her plight, and in July she was burned at the stake. In September, two of those she named in her confession to Wolkendorf were also burned alive a few

weeks later. The news arrived in Scotland. In November fifteen ninety, David Seaton, the deputy bailiff of Tranant, a town about ten miles to the east of Edinburgh, began hearing unusual stories about his servant, Gillis Duncan. It was said that she often used magical charms to cure friends and family if they became sick. After spying on her one night, Seton witnessed her taking a late night's stroll alone, which

she considered deeply suspicious. Convinced she'd been communing with the devil, Seaton confronted her about it a few days later, and when she denied it, he had her arrested. One morning, Duncan was wrenched out of her cell and rigorously stripped, whereby a mark was found on the front of her throat that Seaton claimed was the mark of the devil. Duncan was then placed in a chair and asked again

if she'd ever communed with Satan. When she once again insisted that she hadn't, the tips of her fingers were placed one by one into an iron vice and crushed repeatedly, but still she would not confess. Then a rope was placed around her head and pulled tort with her head, then wrenched back and forth in excruciating twists. Duncan finally confessed it was all true. She said all her cures and workings had been done with the help of the devil.

Despite her confession, Duncan spent the next three months being repeatedly tortured for her apparent crimes, during which time, most likely in the hope of a reprieve, she accused eight other individuals of practicing witchcraft. Believing he now had a witch epidemic on his hands, Deputy Bailiff Seaton had all of the accused arrested and thrown in jail with Duncan.

With King James already alarmed by the stories filtering through from Denmark regarding the apparent witch plot to sink his and Anne's fleet, when news broke of the arrested witches only ten miles from his home, he began to wander if they might also be involved. He started by calling for Agnes Sampson, the oldest of the accused. Sampson was brought to the Royal court and asked directly by James if she was a witch. Sampson denied it, however, and

was promptly thrown back into jail. Soon after all, Sampson's body hair was unceremoniously sha, after which the devil's mark was said to have been found on her genitals. She was then fastened to the wall of her cell by a witch's bridle an iron headpiece comprised of four sharp prongs that were forced into her mouth, two pressing against her cheeks and two against her tongue, then kept awake

for days on end. After prolonged sessions of head wrenching and the thumbscrew, she too eventually confessed and confirmed all the others as witches as well, and they had all participated in an effort to murder the king. Next, James called for Agnes Thompson. Unlike Agnes Sampson and Gillis Duncan,

Agnes Thompson wasted no time in offering her confession. It was back on all hallows for the previous year that she and two hundred other witches from all across the local area gathered by the ocean at north Berwick, a coastal town twenty miles to the east of Edinburgh. There the witches had danced and sang all night, drinking gallons and gallons of wine, before all flying off together in large sieves to the kirk of north Berwick, where the

devil was waiting for them. As they continued to dance and sing, with Gillis Duncan leading the procession playing a jew's harp. The devil beckoned them inside, where he then lay down over the pulpit with his backside in the air. One by one, the witches took it in turns to kiss the devil on the buttocks as a sign of devotion, as he loudly declared to them all that King James the sixth was the greatest enemy he ever had, and

must be stopped at all costs. On the orders of the devil, said, she tried at first to assassinate the king with the venom of a black toad, but failed in her efforts. Then, having heard who was en route from Denmark, she called for her witch companions to join her at the port town of Leith, where the King's

fleet were heading. Taking pieces of a dead man, she tied them to a cat and flung them into the sea as her compatriots chanted spells into the wind, whereupon a violent tempest was cast out across the waters, so devastating it even sunk a nearby ship that was carrying jewels for the king. Satisfied with her account, the King had Thompson thrown back in jail, Intrigued that only one man was said to have taken part among the two hundred witches. James then called for him to be brought

to the palace. The man was John Cunningham, a local schoolmaster from nearby Preston Pans. When Cunningham refused to confess, they called for the boot, an instrument constructed of four pieces of wood crudely nailed together, which was then placed tightly around his leg. A wedge of wood was then placed between the boards and hammered repeatedly, crushing the leg inside until Cunningham could not take anymore, and he too confessed, Yes,

it was all true. He said he had also danced and sang with the devil in North Berwick, and was even tasked with the responsibility for recording the oaths of all the other witches who'd participated that night. Cunningham was thrown back in jail, where he renounced his ways, vowing to be a good Christian from that day forward. A few weeks later, he managed to escape and flee back to Preston Pans. His break for freedom was short lived, however, and it was a decision he would soon come to regret.

After being found in Preston Pans and re arrested, Cunningham was brought back to the King convinced that he'd used his time away to commune with Satan, James asked him once more to confess, but Cunningham refused. Very well, said the King. After being put back in his cell, Cunningham was visited once again by the King's torturers. First, his nails were crushed and split apart before being wrenched off

one by one with pincers, but he would not confess. Next, under what was left of each nail, two needles were thrust into his fingers up to their heads, but still he would not confess, and so once again they called for the boot. With the contraption in place and a wedge jammed between the boards, the hammer was brought down. Cunningham screamed in agony. Then again the hammer came down and Cunningham screamed once more, but still he would not confess.

The wedge was hammered so many times it is written that the bones and flesh was so crushed that the blood and marrow spouted forth in great abundance, whereby his legs were made unserviceable forever. Despite issuing no confession, Cunningham was convicted of treason and witchcraft, and in January fifteen ninety one, was placed in a cart and strangled as required by law for the crime of treason, before being thrown onto a fire at Castle Hill in Edinburgh, the

required punishment for practicing witchcraft. Over a hundred women were investigated for their supposed involvement in the apparent plot to sink King James's ship, and though it isn't known exactly how many were executed as a result, Agnes Sampson was burned at the stake, and most likely Gillis Duncan too.

In fifteen ninety seven, having been utterly convinced of the danger of witches at what became known as the North Berwick Trials, King James published his now infamous dissertation Demonology. In it, the King outlined his understanding of the history and practice of witchcraft, as well as his reasons as to why the persecution of witches was entirely justified in

a Christian society. In what many believed to be a direct consequence of King James's obsession with witches, over the next eighty odd years, a series of witch panics gripped Scotland, England and Wales, with as many as three and a half thousand, mostly women estimated to have been killed as a result. If you enjoy Unexplained and would like to help support us, you can now do so via Patreon.

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