Life in the Burghs of Auld

A 17th century dictum from the council of the royal burgh of Dumbarton ruled that the ‘bailies’ of the town must be informed, by all means possible, of ‘All idill maisterless men or unprofitable men within the parische.’

The town authorities were not merely reviewing local unemployment figures, but were enacting a much older law dating back to the time of King David I (1124~53). David was a younger son of Malcolm III (Canmore) by his second wife, Margaret (later canonised as Saint Margaret). Young David spent much of his youth among his mother’s folk in England, where he seems to have become firmly addicted to the doctrines of Feudalism ~ a system of government brought into Britain from France in 1066 by William the Conqueror.

The basic credo of feudalism demanded that ‘every man should find him a lord, who would take him under his protection’ ~ in theory, the king was seen as lord of lords who ruled supreme. Thus, young David saw the personal benefits of such a programme, and no sooner had his regal posterior warmed the cushion on the Scottish throne than he set about putting his newfound ideas into effect.

Civilised

To offset possible hassle from the unsuspecting native Scots, he brought a few mercenaries from across the Border, each of whom was well-drilled in the most up-to-date methods of warfare. Such men are often remembered as being chivalrous types, (noblesse oblige and all that) but they were also experts in the noble art of serf-bashing, having been involved in the earlier takeover and ‘downsizing’ of England, when most of the Anglo-Saxons were turfed off their communal lands and were governed by the new Norman intelligentsia. It was now Scotland’s turn to be ‘civilised’.

It mattered not that the native families had occupied specific lands, almost since the beginning of time. Just as the incomers had sworn fealty to the king, so must every indigenous Scot (now a mere bondsman) honour his new master ~ being of course careful to avoid eye-to-eye contact with the noble lord, thereby keeping his gaze no higher than waist level in his presence?

It could be argued that written laws really took off in Scotland during King David’s reign. This was now a period in Scottish history when the extremes of human cruelty and imagination often flourished unchecked. With the new landlords having the power of ‘pit and gallows.’ over their vassals, anyone unfortunate enough to find himself convicted of an offence against the king’s or his master’s law could expect nothing less than draconian punishment ~ designed  more out of revenge than any notion of rehabilitating the offender.

So successful were the newly installed royal burghs (Scottish spelling), instituted during the reign of David I, that the landed barons and senior ecclesiastics sought permission to set up similar lucrative ventures on their own lands. These came to be known as burghs of barony and burghs of regality respectively.

The freedom enjoyed within the new towns was greatly envied by the landward serfs. To be accepted as a burgess (town dweller) was seen as an escape from serfdom. Yet, harsh though the laws were, they often produced some strange anomalies. For instance, although a stray bondsman was allowed fifteen days to ‘get himself a master’, it was further ruled that if he went to a burgh, bought a house and lived there ‘unchallenged for a year and a day,’ he was free from bondage. This may well be the origin of the more modern ceremony Freedom of the Burgh.

Outlaws and Traitors

Another unusual facet of burghal life meant that while trades fairs were being run, petty criminals received temporary amnesty for the duration. They could not therefore be arrested within the burgh precincts. However, the same privilege was not extended to outlaws and traitors.

Lepers and beggars were banned from the streets and were only permitted to beg alms at the town gate. In some areas a ‘spital’ was provided for them, usually at some distance from the town. A statute, as late as 1663, was enacted in respect of several ‘leaprous and foull peopill’ residing within Dumbarton burgh.

In this instance the burgesses were being warned against associating with known ‘leaparis’ and to refrain from drinking and eating with them, except in relation to whatever charity might be given. This ruling was given under pain of banishment, with the added instruction that the Act was to be ‘intimat oot of the pulpit be the meenister cum the next Lordis day, that non pretend ignorance.’

Christian Charity?

The type of charity unfortunate lepers might expect from their Christian brethren was frugal in the extreme. A rule existed whereby ‘gif any rotten meat or salmon be brocht intae the burgh’  it was to be seized by the bailies and sent to the ‘lipper-folk.’ In the meantime, the town fathers were diligent in their concern over the health of the more able and affluent members of society, it being a serious offence for ‘coukes’ (cooks) to keep meat or fish pies ‘attour’ (beyond) an allotted time, or to reheat any such item and ‘selle it tae the mainifest deception of the peopill.’

Thus, we find that certain regulations to do with quality and quantity of foodstuffs were often strictly adhered to. The brewing of ale always came under strict authoritarian scrutiny, and we find certain town worthies being appointed as official ‘quality control’ officers.

However, it would seem that such delicate adjudication was seldom entrusted to one person, but invariably fell to a sub-committee of sometimes four ‘experts’. We are told that, during their frequent inspection tours, great debate often arose over the merits of a particular brew. In many cases the discourse continued inside the brewer’s house until agreement was reached ~ by which time the examiners had difficulty finding their way home.

In contrast to the above, we come across some curious trading rules. ‘Na marchande uncouth’ (disreputable?) was allowed to buy wool or hides or ‘ony uther marchandyse’ out of the burgh, or even within the burgh ‘but fra burgeses.’ The severity with which the cartel was managed makes the modern Mafia syndicates look like corner-shop Christmas clubs!

Each burgh had exclusive rights or monopoly of trade in a defined area around it, and could prevent outside traders from entering without paying toll. Thus did the burgh of Perth have the privilege of trade within the whole county of Perth. None but the burgesses were allowed to buy or sell inside the entire sheriffdom. No tavern was permitted in the landward areas except where there was a baron.

Judicial Punishment

Punishment for theft had degrees of severity, depending on the value of the property stolen and whether the culprit was a known thief. One way or another, anyone found guilty could, at the very least, expect to be ‘dungyn (driven or beaten) aw throu the toun.’

Another phase of punishment might involve the ‘cuk stull’ (cucking stool), being a special chair designed for ducking offenders in a river or pond. More serious thefts might result in the thief being led through the town to a certain location where his accusers would ‘cut his eyr (ear) of.’

Most of the foregoing relates to burgh life during the Middle Ages. In later years, although many of the old by-laws remained extant, the pattern of judicial punishment changed little, but methods of court trial had changed somewhat. Nevertheless, Scots law still produced many strange and harsh penalties.

In 1556, we find one Henry Wynd, burgess of Dysart, was convicted of ‘striking’ (coining) false and forged money called ‘balbies’ (bawbees = halfpenny Sterling or sixpence Scots) and further issuing them ‘amang the lieges’ (public). He was beheaded for his effort. Even today, forgery alone is not an offence in Scotland, and only becomes so when the false item (or document) is ‘uttered’ (tendered as real).

During the same year, two Morayshire lads, Adam Sinclair and Henry Elder, were convicted of ‘theftuously’ breaking into the parish kirk (church) at Forres. They stole among other things ‘sundry soms of money’ gold, silver, and certain ‘chalices belanging tae the Queen’s lieges.’  Adam was sentenced to be drowned, while Henry was hanged. It seems that Adam, due to his youth, may have been given this option, which normally applied to women.

In April 1628, Isabella Cunningham and Janet Campbell, both of Dumbarton Burgh, were jointly accused of theft and reset of items of clothing. When examined by the procurator fiscal (public prosecutor), Cunningham was seen to have ‘brand marks’ on each side of her face, which she readily admitted were the result of earlier punishments awarded for like offences committed elsewhere. Nevertheless, she was further sentenced to be ‘brunt and scrugit’  (burned and whipped).

Witchcraft

During the 17 century nothing, it seems, excited the lieges more than the occasional witchcraft trials. In spite of almost eight centuries of Christianity in Scotland, the degree of basic ignorance that nurtured such superstition was quite remarkable. And the lengths to which the local courts went to secure convictions were staggering. The situation was not helped in any way by the hysterics of King James VI, with his own handling of several so-called witches at Berwick, who he believed were plotting against him. There followed brutal witch-hunts throughout the country that persisted for almost a century. Even children as young as seven were tortured by means of thumbscrews and other devices. Between 1590 and 1700, some 3,000 cases of witch-hunting are on record, and about a third of the accused were executed. It is said 89 per cent of them were women.

In Dumbarton, 1620, we find poor Janet Neill, the wife of a burgess, being accused of ‘witchcraft and sundrie presumptions’ (presumptions no doubt on the part of her accusers). Finding that she gave no satisfactory answers during interrogation ‘bot obstinate denyall which gies mair occasioun of suspicioun,’ it was deemed that she be further tried and examined and searched to see if she ‘hes the devilles mark’ on her body, or some area of her anatomy which was insensitive when pricked by needles. And for the better trial to ‘cut and cow hir hair gif need be.’

At the same time Janet was being held in the Dumbarton’s Tolbooth ~ which also served as a jail ~ three other burgh ladies were also under suspicion. They were Marioun McLintock, Margaret Hunter and Janet Donald, all said to be ‘lykewayes examinat.’

The last-named woman is recorded as having ‘a young bairne sukkand hir breist.’ (Suckling a baby). The subsequent fate of these poor women is not now evident, although Janet Donald appears to have been executed, her child being placed in the care of the co-accused Hunter to ‘caus it to be nurshit til the said Janet be ferder tryit (further tried).’ Hunter was apparently released under caution with the baby.

Another Dumbarton lady who was lucky to escape burning or hanging was Margaret Cowper, suspected of certain ‘poyntes of charming and witchcraft.’ It was 1639 and a time of Covenanter strife in Scotland. Thus, Margaret was fortunate that the burgh officials were otherwise too occupied by a threat of ‘troubills of the kingdom’ which resulted in her release under caution of good behaviour into the custody of her two sons, she being a widow. Failing this, she accepted that she would be put ‘to daith and brunt.’

It is interesting to note this last statement, which suggests that, while some districts preferred to burn witches at the stake, others more ‘humanely’ hanged them before casting their bodies to the flames. There are also instances on record, which show that some were merely banished or transported overseas.

Misery and Mirth

Those who found little fascination in witch-hunt procedures were more likely to pay heed to the numerous sex scandals emanating from the workings of the district kirk sessions, who exercised wide judicial powers in days of yore. It seems that, of all God’s creatures on earth, mankind alone seems least able to cope with the natural urge to procreate. Our fumbling often brings both misery and mirth.

To conclude this prowl among the dusty archives of Auld Scotia, the following extracts might strike familiar chords among those of us who pander to the notion that modern man is unique in matters of sex.

In 1620, we find John McInduller and Agnes Gawye whose marriage had been proclaimed and who were due to be married inside a week, were suddenly ‘challengit for comiting fornication afore mariage an confessit the same.’ They were both ordered to repent openly on the day of their marriage under pain of being fined ‘twentie merks.’ In Dumbarton, same year, we note one William Scott was convicted of ‘haunting’ suspect places with Elspeth Stewart, with whom he had ‘befoir fallen in fornicationne.’

The Kirk’s holy-Willies probably savoured the juicy details surrounding yet another Dumbarton pair of worthies. During October 1667, Janet Allan ‘relict’ (widow) was summoned to answer charges of ‘scandelous carriage’ (behaviour) with William Campbell. It seems the bold Campbell, a married man, came to Janet’s abode one night and was with her until midnight.

The lady, in her defence, told how she had lain ‘doun in her nakit bed,’ and that the said Campbell came and lay down beside her ‘abune the cloithes’ and had offered money to get under the blankets with her. She seems to have at first refused his advances, but that he eventually got under the sheets with her ‘wi hes coat and drawers on.’ This must have been a picturesque sight. But the plot thickens!

One female witness claimed that she had spied the couple through a window and that they were there for three hours. She thereafter alerted Campbell’s father-in-law, who claims he ‘brak up the door on them,’ when he found Janet ‘in hir bare shirt’ and Campbell with his ‘cloithes on and makin fast his breeches,’ also his ‘muckell coat (overcoat) wis unbuttonet.’

Campbell appears to have used the time-worn excuse that he was drunk, claiming that Janet had ‘desyred’ him to later visit ‘hir chalmer’ (chamber). The matter was passed to the Presbytery, and Campbell, ‘shewing gret signes of humiliationne’ appears to have been ‘absolvit’ due the fact that his vessel was ready to sail for the West Indies. Janet, on the other hand, entered penance in January the following year upon a ‘publick plaice in sackcloith’ for the scandal. Strangely, she was not fully absolved until 1678, some ten years after the event.

One of the interesting aspects arising from a study of our history is that we can relate so much of the past with modern social behaviour. The main problem, however, is that we appear to benefit so little from the mistakes of our forebears.

Revised edition 2005, for ‘The Scots Link’
First published in ‘The Scottish Banner’ USA January 1995.

Copyright: Malcolm Lobban, 9 Davies Place, Pooraka, South Australia 5095.