45 pages • 1-hour read
Zoe Venditozzi, Claire MitchellA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of gender discrimination, ableism, child abuse, graphic violence, death, and physical abuse.
Doug Speirs explained how Lilias’s grave was robbed in 1852 by a phrenology and witchcraft enthusiast (who was also very religious) named Joseph Neil Paton, and the grave robber he hired, Robert Baxter Brimer. Grave robbing was a major business at the time, largely because it was an easy way to make money for those who didn’t believe in the possibility of offending the deceased. Brimer and his crew were ordered to take Lilias’s skull, and they also took a couple of other bones and a piece of her coffin. Paton kept the skull for several years before eventually passing it to his son, the famous painter Joseph Noel Paton. The skull is said to be included in Paton’s painting, Luther at Erfort.
Paton eventually passed the skull to Dr. William Dow, who worked at the Fife Medical Association and studied it for several years. It was then given to the University of St. Andrew’s and remained there until it was apparently lost. Brimer apparently gifted the wood he took to Andrew Carnegie. The authors were directed to Dunfermline and the Andrew Carnegie Birthplace Museum, where they were shown a cane made from that same wood, and which included an inscription dedicated to those affected by the trials.
The authors also include a 2017 rendering of Lilias’s face, created using photographs of her skull that were taken in the early 1900s.
The chapter opens with an account of Victoria Helen MacFarlane (known as “Hellish Nell” or Helen Duncan), who was born in the late 1800s in England and claimed to have psychic abilities, such as talking to the deceased and seeing into the future. Helen married a man named Henry who also claimed to have visions and encouraged Helen to begin holding seances. Helen would climb into a cabinet and come out with what was supposedly “ectoplasm” in her mouth. The material turned out to be just white cloth, and after first being fined, Helen was later arrested in 1944 after claiming to speak to a deceased soldier from a ship that the public was not meant to know about. She was then charged using the Witchcraft Act of 1735, for the use of fraudulent witchcraft. She became the last person to ever be charged under the act, as it was repealed in 1951. Helen was used as an example to ensure that the public would be too fearful to try anything like it again, and was sentenced to nine months in prison.
While this was going on, the Spiritualists’ National Union (SNU) took the opportunity to prove the legitimacy of spiritualism and push for it as part of British culture. After two world wars, people were understandably desperate to reconnect with lost loved ones, and were thus eager to go along with spiritualism as an idea. The SNU backed Helen during the trial, while the Crown used John Maude KC, an M15 officer and lawyer. Helen denied the charges laid against her, though her fraudulent acts were likely the result of pressure to prove and keep her reputation. The goal of the Crown was to prove that Helen had made fraudulent attempts at witchcraft, while the defense claimed she was a genuine medium. Helen was found to be performing seances again after her release, and died in 1956.
Helen’s case continues to hold public fascination and speculation today, and reflects a seemingly undying desire to condemn the vulnerable members of society.
The chapter opens with a passage from the UN’s Human Rights Council, which universally condemned accusations of witchcraft and their associated atrocities, citing that countries who continued to allow it were violating human rights. Countries such as Ghana, China, India, Nigeria, and more still face major issues related to witchcraft accusations and even executions. Poverty, a lack of healthcare, and civil unrest also contribute to the issue.
A man named Leo Igwe works out of Nigeria for the Advocacy for Alleged Witches group to educate villages and school-age children in critical thinking, in the hopes they will question commonly held beliefs about witchcraft. He also challenges the idea that witchcraft is simply “part of African culture,” arguing that Western influence is responsible for the strong negative emphasis on it in Africa today and that Africans used to look upon healers favorably. Leo’s group also intervenes in accusations with the hope of saving peoples’ lives, helping them reconcile with the community or helping them escape, exposing the story on social media and to law enforcement, and educating the community.
A professor named Charlotte Baker studies albinism and the persecutions against people with albinism, and began a network of experts to advocate and educate in order to protect those affected. People with albinism are targeted in various African countries and elsewhere, primarily due to spiritual beliefs that they are evil or that their bodies are useful in occult practices.
The authors end with the reminder that history continues to repeat itself through these examples of brutality and targeting of vulnerable people, and that all that can be done, should be done to prevent them from occurring again.
The Afterword opens with the account of Miss B, an adolescent girl in Nigeria who was accused of witchcraft in 2023. She was tortured with fire by members of her own family, and though the incident was reported, it took the fighting power of the AfAW to assure that her case led to an arrest. The organization also helped pay for her medical bills.
The Survey of Scottish Witchcraft is a massive database online dedicated to the Scottish witch trials and bringing a voice to those affected. The people who work to build the database gather articles and information from a wide array of sources, such as church records and government databases, as well as news articles and more. Though much of the information is missing or partially given, they are slowly piecing together a picture of the trials and providing a way for people in Scotland and elsewhere to learn about them.
The authors reiterate that more must be done to remember those who were affected by the Scottish witch trials, including memorials to educate and remind people of how easily a society can fall into a state of panic and blame. One memorial exists in Edinburgh, but it directly implies that many of those accused were in fact evil witches and is thus not sufficient at all.
The authors point to the Steilneset memorial in Norway, which draws school groups, tourists, and all kinds of other people to learn about the trials that took place there. They explain how easily a country could fall into a state of witch panic today, with the rise of extremism, social media, and the continuation of targeting vulnerable people. They end by encouraging women everywhere to be “quarrelsome dames” and refuse to allow patriarchal ideals to hold them down.
Part 3 expands the scope of the book beyond Scotland to emphasize that witch persecution is a continuing global issue, thereby bringing attention to the ongoing problem of The Persecution and Scapegoating of Vulnerable Populations. The authors ground this section in the present day by citing the United Nations Human Rights Council’s 2021 condemnation of witchcraft accusations, which still occur in the 21st century. The authors stress that these modern persecutions are often driven by poverty, lack of healthcare, social unrest, and extremist ideologies, which are conditions strikingly similar to those that fueled early modern witch hunts.
This international framing reinforces the book’s argument that the mechanisms of scapegoating and fear are persistent and adaptable rather than historically isolated. The work of Leo Igwe and the Advocacy for Alleged Witches (AfAW) is presented as a contemporary counter-agent to witch persecution, demonstrating how education and intervention can save lives. The authors emphasize that AfAW also focuses on teaching critical thinking to children to help them learn to challenge the idea that witchcraft accusations are an inherent part of African culture. The authors also reference ritual abuse accusations in the UK and elsewhere, demonstrating that western societies are not immune to moral panic even in the modern era.
The authors employ strong visual symbolism to reinforce the human cost of persecution, including a reconstructed image of Lilias Adie based on photographs of her skull and the painting Luther at Erfurt, which allegedly includes her skull. Tracing the journey of Lilias’s skull shows how even in death, her body was exploited for male profit and curiosity. The cane made from the wood of her coffin is one of few symbols that exist to remember these people and this era. These images force people to confront the lingering consequences of historical violence.
The authors also draw attention to the importance of Connecting Past Atrocities to Modern Issues by emphasizing the value of remembering and learning from history. Memorialization becomes a central idea in the final chapters, particularly through the critique of Scotland’s only official witch trial memorial in Edinburgh. The fountain depicts a binary of “good and evil” and includes an inscription stating that “some used their exceptional knowledge for evil purposes while others were misunderstood” (255). The authors argue that this wording is deeply problematic because it implies both that witchcraft was real and that not all of the accused were innocent. In contrast, the Steilneset Memorial in Norway is presented as an example of ethical remembrance, one that educates visitors and fosters empathy through art, architecture, and storytelling. The authors suggest that meaningful memorials are essential for resisting future moral panics.
The final chapters rely heavily on direct moral appeal, culminating in the reminder that, “If we don’t learn from our past, we are doomed to repeat it” (249). The authors offer a step-by-step outline of how a witch panic could occur in the modern world, emphasizing that no one would be immune. They close with a call to action, urging women everywhere to resist silence and compliance, encouraging them instead to “be a quarrelsome dame” (271). This phrase reframes defiance as survival and frames active resistance as the only meaningful response to injustice.
Throughout Part 3 and the Afterword, the authors repeatedly return to the importance of personalizing history. They argue that people are more likely to understand injustice when they can emotionally connect to individual stories, stating that readers must “make a personal connection to what happened. If they can personalize it, they can see the humanity and the human cost” (263). By ending the book with real names, real bodies, and real consequences, the authors ensure that those affected by witch hunts are remembered as people.



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