The Confessions of Isobel Gowdie

By Michael McGrinder

Isobel Gowdie has been unfairly labelled "The Witch Queen of Scotland," largely due to her confessions to witchcraft being a matter of historical record.

Michael McGrinder tells Isobel’s story on a grand canvas spanning a period of seventeen years. This full-length play is not for the prudish nor is it for the faint-hearted, but neither is it for those without a sense of humor or deep compassion. It is for those who like a good story well-told and for those especially who enjoy a love story.

It is definitely for all who appreciate great theatre!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael McGrinder
• Release date: Aug 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370188055

Michael McGrinder

Michael McGrinder grew up in the South Bronx, New York City. He spent his early twenties in England where he was part of a vital poetry scene and acquired a taste for and an interest in theatre.Returning to New York, he lived on the Lower East Side and quickly became involved in the developing Off-Off-Broadway scene, so new at the time it was generally referred to as café theatre.His first production, a double-bill of one-act plays, was given life at The Playwrights Workshop. He then began showing his work at the legendary Old Reliable Theatre Tavern, located in the funky back room of a Polish bar in a dangerous section of the East Village. “It’s easy to find. Just turn left at the burning automobile,” and “No wonder we get such good crowds. Everyone’s afraid to come here alone.” His plays were also produced at such leading theaters as La Mama, Bastiano’s Cellar, The Playbox Studio and at The Library Theatre of Lincoln Center.He published Proscenium, a newsletter which The Village Voice described as “Off-Off talking to itself.” He also hosted a weekly cable TV show of the same name presenting excerpts from Off-Off shows and interviews with the production’s writer, director and actors. The show was later rechristened Michael McGrinder Presents to allow for an expanded format.Along with artists Judy Pendleton and Helen Lau, he was a founding member of Artists Rights Association, an organization devoted to securing reproduction rights and royalties for artists as well as encouraging artists to use copyright symbols on their work.Michael McGrinder’s plays have been published by The Smith, Breakthrough Press and Dramatics Magazine and by And/Or Books.His concern for the preservation of vital plays from the early years of Off-Off-Broadway led to his founding The Old Reliable Press, online as oldreliableprss.com.He has several projects in the works and has a growing list of books available through Amazon Barnes & Noble, Smashwords.com and many other online booksellers.

Book preview

The Confessions

Of

Isobel Gowdie

Michael McGrinder

Published by And/Or Books

An imprint of

The Old Reliable Press

Copyright © 2016 Michael McGrinder

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1533090560

ISBN-10: 533090564

Cover Image: Mikhail Boltyshev/Shutterstock.com

contents

To The Actor

Act One

Act Two

Notes On The Play

Michael McGrinder

Also by Michael McGrinder

The Confessions

Of

Isobel Gowdie

Characters

Isobel Gowdie

Janet Breadheid

John Gilbert, Isobel Gowdie's husband

Harry Forbes, Minister of the Gospel at Auldearn

Gray

Alex Elder

Archie Taylor, Janet Breadheid's husband

John Young,Black John Officer of the Coven

Jean Marten, Maiden of the Coven

Barbara Ronald

Bessie Hay

Elspeth Nishie, Archie Taylor's mother

Catherine Finlay, Alex Elder's wife

Agnes Nicoll

Margaret Brodie

Donald Wilson

The King of Faerie

The Queen of Faerie

Ninn, a female Faerie

Quinn, a male Faerie

Mr. Paterson

Johannes Innes, Notary Public

Angus Brodie, Margaret Brodie's husband

A Soldier

Hunters/2

Torturers/4

Guard

Executioner

Wizard, an elf-dog

Hounds/3

Trial Officers

Male Parishioner

Female Parishioner

PLACE

Auldearn, Scotland

TIME

1645 to 1662

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

To The Actor

Scottish dialect can be tricky and it is all too easy to render dialogue incomprehensible. Caution is advised in the rolling of r's, speaking in a sing-song manner, and in projection of initial syllables. The play's dialogue is written in a manner which, if trusted, will easily lend itself to the flavor the Scottish dialect. Should it become absolutely necessary to attempt the dialect, try curling the tongue downward for some words, speaking from the back of the throat for others. Above all, do not hold a word in the throat or thrust it out forcefully. Bear in mind it is Irish that lilts off the tip of the tongue, and remember that your audience is more interested in hearing what you are saying than in admiring the authenticity of your accent.

Moray is pronounced Murray. The spellings are often interchangeable.

ACT ONE

VOICE OF JOHANNES INNES: Spokenf forth of the mouth of Isobel Gowdie at Auldearn the month of May, 1662 years.

(Lights rise: late morning. ISOBEL turns upstage   toward JANET BREADHEID.)

JANET: (Cheerfully) Ye’re about late in the day.

ISOBEL: I am that.

JANET: With a mischievous smile.

ISOBEL: A pleased one, y’mean. And my chores wantin’ for it.

JANET: That poor man! Ye’ll leave him no strength for plowin’.

(ISOBEL laughs.)

The fields!

ISOBEL: I canna reckon which is more the culprit. My desire or his endurance. He says in the night time it helps him to sleep. It does me, too. So long as we think to stop. In the morning, he says it helps him to face the day. Myself as well. When I take his noon meal to him, it helps us both to break up the day. Later in the afternoon, he says it renews his energy. It does mine.

Aye. And when we arrive home tis an aid for digestion.

JANET: Before supper or afterward?

ISOBEL: Both, of course

JANET: Of course. D’ye never do it just for the fun of doin’ it?

ISOBEL: Tis always fun. What better reason is there for doin’ it?

JANET: Aye. If ever he becomes too much for ye, I’ll be pleased to help a friend along.

ISOBEL: Ye’re a hussy, Janet Breadheid. Ye’ll stay away from my John Gilbert. That man of yours must be doin’ things right. Ye look often enough pleased yerself.

JANET: One day I’ll set yer ears to smokin’. Right now it would mar yer newlywed blush. A bit more heat and ye’ll be afire.

ISOBEL: So long as tis nae like those burnt for witches in Queensferry last year.

(A beat.)

JANET: Och! Those.

ISOBEL: Of the thirteen, they burnt eight. No one appears certain what happened to the rest, save the one more they burnt a bit later on. And they made that one’s husband pay for the burning. What makes them do it, Janet, d’ye think?

JANET: They’re given no choice. Tis pay or be locked in the Tollbooth.

ISOBEL: A fine thing havin’ t’pay for the killin’ of your own. But I meant turnin’ to witchcraft.

JANET: The surprise there, Isobel, is that more dinna.

ISOBEL: G’now! Tis said they fook the Divell.

JANET: Lucky Auld Cloven Cootie!

ISOBEL: And that they kiss his arse. Gaargghh!

JANET: And they fly through the air!

ISOBEL: They do no such thing!

JANET: To their sabbats. On cornstalks and on windle-straws. Some say on goats and on hump-backed women.

ISOBEL: Flyin’ goats! Flyin’ hump-backs! Those women are unable even to walk upright.

(Janet picks up two cornstalks, gives one to ISOBEL.)

And what is this for?

JANET: Fly with me, Isobel. Fly with me.

(Janet puts the stalk between her feet and starts hopping about.)

ISOBEL: Aren’t ye the daft one!

JANET: Do ye nae wish to fly, Isobel? Have a go.

ISOBEL: Janet, ye’re a madwoman. If that lot could fly, their weight would be too much for a straw, even were they the wee folk.

JANET: I feel weightless. I am weightless.

(ISOBEL puts the straw between her feet. Looks around.)

ISOBEL: If anyone were to see me, I’d leap into my grave with the shame of it.

JANET: Fly with me!

(ISOBEL starts hopping, clumsily at first.)

There’s no one to see. Close yer eyes and give yourself to it!

(ISOBEL closes her eyes and hops more freely.)

Hie-ho! Isobel, Hie-ho!

ISOBEL: (Getting into it) Hie-ho! Aye! Tis fun! Hie-ho!

JANET: Fly away, fly where ye would! Like a straw flyin’ upon the highway!

ISOBEL: Flyin’ on the highway! Flyin’ on a straw!

JANET: Windle-straws and cornstalks are our horses.

ISOBEL: Horses with wings! I feel as though I’m bein’ carried through the trees. I’m up over them, Janet, over the trees!

JANET: Fly, Isobel! Fly over the trees! Fly over the moon!

ISOBEL: Over the moon!

JANET: Fly over the moon, Isobel. Fly on to the sabbat!

(ISOBEL stops suddenly, opens her eyes.)

ISOBEL: What?! (A beat. Tosses the stalk away.) Witchcraft! May God have mercy on those poor souls.

(JANET shudders.)

I must get to my chores.

(Exit ISOBEL.)

JANET: Aye. The everyday world beckons. As it does every day. I reckon that’s why tis called the everyday world.

(Exit JANET.

Enter NINN, a female faerie, and QUINN, a male faerie, leap-frogging over each other. QUINN picks up the stalks and hands one to NINN. QUINN puts the stalk between his feet and imitates the women.)

QUINN: Hie-ho!

NINN: Quinn, dinna be actin’ like the human folk. It can lead only to trouble.

QUINN: Sometimes ye’re no fun at all, Ninn.

NINN: ye. Just as ye’re too concerned with havin’ it.

(They start off. QUINN playfully puts the stalk between NINN’S legs. She turns and takes it from him, then chases him off good-naturedly with it. Lights fade.

Lights rise on ISOBEL and her husband JOHN GILBERT at home. The bed and a chest are visible to the right. The house-door is upstage right. JOHN GILBERT is behind ISOBEL, his arms around her, kissing her on the neck.)

ISOBEL: Kiss me one more time, John Gilbert, and we’ll be crucified for missin’ the kirk.

JOHN GILBERT: If tis the price for the pleasure I enjoy with ye, Isobel, I’m thinkin’ crucifixion is a bargain.

ISOBEL: Whist with that manner of talk. We must go or we’ll be in trouble for it. Ye can fook me after kirk and into the night time if ye like.

JOHN GILBERT: I’ll like it all right. And on through the night and until the dawn as well.

ISOBEL: Hie-ho!

JOHN GILBERT: Hie-ho?

ISOBEL: We must hurry.

JOHN GILBERT: I am nae certain the kirk wants to see me in this condition.

ISOBEL: They can douse ye with holy water. I’ve never missed the kirk a Sunday in my life.

(Enter ALEX ELDER, his wife CATHERINE FINLAY, and several others as members of the congregation.)

JOHN GILBERT: Alex did. Went to do a bit of fishin’ instead, didn’t ye, Alex?

ALEX ELDER: I did, and they held me up to rebuke and ridicule before the entire congregation.

CATHERINE: FINLAY: I thought I would die with the shame of it. He was made to stand three Sundays in sackcloth. .

ALEX: I still dinna understand the fuss. Jesus was a fisherman.

ISOBEL: I thought he was a carpenter.

JOHN GILBERT: I was unaware he’d ever worked a day for wages.

ALEX: Ye never hear of him buildin’ anything, but ye hear often enough that he was out on a boat.

JOHN GILBERT: