Why Palace of Holyroodhouse was Scotland's last sanctuary for debtors

Holyrood was a potential refuge for people with debts they could not pay until 1880

If your credit card is creaking under the stress of your Fringe visit, stroll down to the Palace of Holyroodhouse. Stand on the Abbey Strand with the great gates behind you and look down at the cobbles. There are three brass ‘S’ letters set into the road.

Congratulations. You have reached Sanctuary, where once you were beyond the reach of persistent letters from the bank manager about your overdraft. Throughout Europe, churches, cathedrals and abbeys were well-known in history as places of sanctuary, sacred places where those accused of crime fled for safety.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

It made sense, even for murder. After all, if a young man apparently killed the son of a rich and powerful neighbouring family, the chances of a fair trial were slim. Being sheltered by a local abbey meant that at the very least, justice could be brought in from further afield, involving people who didn’t have skin in the game. 

In Scotland, sanctuary could be extended to those in debt. Holyrood was the last survivor, sheltering debtors until well into the 19th century. In the grounds of the church or the abbey, you could claim ‘girth’, an Old English term meaning ‘immunity from harm’.

It didn't just cover places. Kings could announce ‘Yule Girth’, a sort of Christmas truce for a whole range of naughty deeds and misdemeanours, including debt. In medieval Scotland, girth became associated more with the royal presence than the spiritual world. Holyrood was a sanctuary because of the palace, not the abbey, which in part explains its post-Reformation survival. 

‘Closest and most severe confinement’

Our ancestors were always in debt, even more than we are, so owing money wasn’t particularly shameful, it was just a fact of life. Peasants owed money to their landlords. Landlords owed money to their tailors. Tailors, notoriously, owed money to publicans, who seem to have owed money to everyone. 

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

If the financial merry-go-round had caught you out, you’d be keen to avoid a debtors cell. Until 1839, the law stated that debtors were to be held in what was known as squalor carceris, or, as we would call it today, particularly horrible conditions – “consigned to the closest and most severe confinement.. in a close and fetid room... never allowed to quit".

Paying off your debts whilst stuffed in a stinking cell was a tricky business, made even harder by the expenses of actually being banged up in the first place. Food and drink had to be brought in, and turnkeys had to be paid (bribed) to remove stinking straw or provide more comfortable leg irons.  

Sanctuary cost money

Outside, your family and friends would be trying to sell your goods to cover the bills, or borrow more money. Debtors would be released, but if they were tradesmen they could have lost the tools of that trade, couldn’t work, and therefore couldn’t pay off the new debt. Back to square one. Those incarcerated might be able to call in debts from other people, but that might just land them in debtor’s cell next door. Well, at least it would be company.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

The sanctuary of Holyrood was a much better option. You got in by surrendering yourself and getting “booked in” by the bailie. In the early 19th century, Peter Halkerston held the office of bailie at Holyrood Abbey, and in 1831 he published A Treatise on the History, Law, and Privilege's of the Palace and Sanctuary of Holyrood House.

In it, he outlines the procedure. Debtors had to apply, and the bailie could turn him down. The applicant had to be declared bankrupt, but still cough up two guineas for a place. These days your family and friends would launch a Crowdfunder appeal for the fee. Peter was a bit of softy at heart, and admitted a hard-luck story often had him reduce the fee to a few shillings. 

Romantic walks

You were now in sanctuary, and it gave you the privilege of protection. If someone did turn up and try to hustle the debtor out, “the officers of the jurisdiction, the constables of the bounds, the Abbey guards, and the whole inhabitants are bound to turn out and protect the debtor; and should any person seize upon him in those circumstances, they are authorised to resist and detain him by force”.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

It was a sort of prison, but it wasn’t a cell. The sanctuary boundaries extended five miles around the palace, including Arthur's Seat and Salisbury crags. Inmates of the sanctuary, known as ‘Abbey Lairds’ could take strolls and even, as Halkerston says, “extensive romantic walks”.

The creditors would still be there, beyond the boundaries. They could nab you if you left. Once a week, the Abbey Lairds could rejoin the world beyond the Girth. Not surprisingly, it was the Sabbath. Like everything else secular, the law in Scotland stopped on a Sunday.

Laying a trap

However, if the creditor had his wits about him, he could catch his debtor. Patrick Halyburton, a denizen of Holyrood Sanctuary, was a silly man. In 1709, he accepted an invitation from a Mr Stewart to dinner at his house one Sabbath eve.

He really should have remembered just how much he owed Mr Stewart. They dined well. Too well, it would seem. Patrick lost track of time. The town clock chimed midnight. Patrick had lost the privilege of sanctuary.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

A messenger-at-arms, secreted in the house, stepped out and seized Mr Halyburton. The fetid cell awaited. Patrick appealed to law and the court was appalled. The seizing of Mr Halyburton was “a most illegal and treacherous practice, all the preparatory steps being done on the Lord's-day, which is all one as if he had executed his caption on the Sunday, contrary to our law and decisions.” Mr Halyburton was returned to the Abbey. 

Holyrood stood as a refuge for debtors until the law changed in 1880. Scotland’s last sanctuary was no longer needed.

Related topics:

Comments

 0 comments

Want to join the conversation? Please or to comment on this article.

Dare to be Honest
Follow us
©National World Publishing Ltd. All rights reserved.Cookie SettingsTerms and ConditionsPrivacy notice