The Unseen Hand

By the middle of the 19^th century Glasgow had become one of the largest and most productive industrial cities in Europe and its population had swollen to nearly 500,000; but beyond the sandstone palaces of the Merchant City it was a filth ridden slum. In places like the Gorbals people were often forced to sleep 14 to a room; sanitation was all but non-existent and clean water was a luxury. Diseases like dysentery and typhoid were rife; but worse was coming.

In 1832 a new and genuinely frightening disease arrived into the city: Cholera. Originating in India, the disease spread quickly through the Middle East to Egypt, and then by ship to most of the industrial cities of northern Europe. Not since the days of the plague was there such a trail of death and panic. This first epidemic took over 3100 lives; and when it visited Glasgow again in 1848 another 3800 succumbed. It is a horrible illness, comes out of nowhere and often kills within hours. Yet, in 1865 when cholera came to Britain once more the death toll in Glasgow had dropped to a mere 53 – and the reason was a marvel of the Victorian age.

In the 1850s the City of Glasgow Corporation constructed an aqueduct system from Loch Katrine in the Trossachs. Queen Victoria herself switched the system on and from 1859 the clean, fresh water of the Southern Highlands flowed through 35 miles of pipeline to the masses. It was an incredible achievement, and once again modern ingenuity and science tackled a deadly disease and reduced it to insignificant. The unseen hand of disease and our reaction to it is an underlying part of the Scottish story.

The City of Glasgow - The Broomielaw Bridge

Disease, whether endemic or epidemic has always been part of the human condition: it affects population growth, debilities the labour force, causes widespread misery and fear, and alters the course of history. We know little about the epidemiological history of early Scotland, except to say that there would have been disease: although few big killers due to the climate. The same could not be said for the Mediterranean.

Although Scotland was not really part of the Roman Empire, it was still strongly affected by it, and its collapse would have severe implications for the political development of the British Isles. In 165AD a new and devastating disease, probably Smallpox, hit the Mediterranean ports and spread quickly through the provinces. Mortality was high, and it cut a swathe through the main administrative centres. The epidemic lasted for 15 years and was a severe blow; then in 251 another serious outbreak hit the Roman world. This time the culprit was Measles, and with its arrival into Europe the consequences were truly horrific.

Between the two outbreaks the death toll exceeded five million, and it almost certainly led to a breakdown in order; one that was never fully recovered and with Malaria rampant it proved too much and in the 5^th century the house of cards came tumbling down. The Romans were forced to import Germanic peoples to provide manpower for farming and military service. It wasn’t enough and the Empire failed; the inheritors would be these same tribes and peoples, and they would shape the Europe to come.

Smallpox and Measles probably entered the Scottish population as well, and wreaked havoc among the countryside; but, it was the influx of the Anglo-Saxons into Britain on the back of the collapse of Roman authority, and the formation of England that would shape Scotland’s future for centuries to come. It also meant that Scotland’s principal market disappeared and this seems to have initiated a more aggressive, warlike age among the various tribes and kingdoms north of Hadrian’s Wall.

Across Europe these two diseases would erupt over 40 times from 600 to 1000AD and more than certainly contributed to the poor productivity, high mortality and increase in brutality associated with the so called Dark Ages. It would also appear that Malaria gained a stronghold across Europe at this time. The mosquito that carried the disease can only thrive in warm climates, and there is enough reason to suggest that southern Scotland was affected as well – a staggering thought today. Things though were about to get a whole lot worse.

The Plague of Justinian (542-43) all but annihilated the populations of the Mediterranean, and is the first identifiable outbreak of the Bubonic Plague in Europe. With a death toll of over 25 million it was the beginning of the end of the Byzantine Empire of Constantinople and the true harbinger of the Dark Ages. Its devastation however was confined to the Mediterranean and Danube: northern Europe was left unscathed. The reason being that the black rat, which carries the flea, which hosts the disease, Yersinia Pestis, being a native of India had not made it that far. This saw the balance of power in Europe shift irrevocably to the north. Rome, once a city of over a million was reduced to a town of 25,000.

Scotland, like all European countries went through a baptism of constant warfare to be born; and much of this was a direct result of the lack of a ‘super-power’: it was every man, chief, king and country for themselves. It is hard to imagine, far less explain how grim the years from 500 to 1000 really were for people and how precarious life was. Despite the genuine harshness of life, the populations of northern Europe, Britain included, continued to grow over this time; and by 1300 the population of Scotland was around a million: but the Grim Reaper, as ever, was waiting in the wings.

The Bubonic and Pneumonic (airborne version) plagues are extremely contagious and extremely deadly. The disease originates in the southern Himalayas, and was spread by increases in trade and inter-continental warfare. The Black Death which hit Europe certainly came from Asia, and arrived into the Mediterranean ports in 1346. This time however, with the black rat firmly established it would hit an entire continent. By the time it had run its course, over a third, and probably nearer a half of Europe was dead; and Scotland, which had just gone through a series of bloody wars with England wasn’t spared. The population was scythed to around 600,000 by 1360.

That said, pre-plague populations were high and initially the social implications weren’t too severe. However, it came back again, and again, with monotonous regularity throughout the 14^th and 15^th centuries and this did lead to a severe and lasting reduction in population (the low point is estimated around 1450). This in turn led to a shortage of labour, which means the economy becomes a sellers’ market. Serfdom vanishes, some peasants have opportunities to become land owners or merchants and a middle class begins to emerge; central government takes the opportunity to eliminate rivals; and religious unrest ultimately leads to the Reformation. It was a gloomy time, and both art and gravestone decoration often depict the so called ‘Dance of Death’. And death was an ever contestant part of life, on a scale and prevalence we’d find hard to fathom today.

 The Dance of Death Artwork

While Scotland was dealing with one epidemic after another, the population was acclimatising to other diseases such as mumps, whooping cough and measles; and this in itself allowed the population to rebound. Leprosy also vanished – probably due to the arrival of Tuberculosis (a bacteria similar to leprosy, but much more contagious and lethal). TB would prove particularly stubborn to combat; even today.

As the country began to recover from recurrent visitations of the plague, and disease like smallpox developed into childhood illnesses, the likes of typhoid and dysentery took hold in the very unsanitary cities that were emerging. Plague too found a home in these rat infested warrens. However, following the infamous outbreak of 1665 it simply vanishes from Britain and most of Europe north of the Alps – never to return: a true epidemiological mystery. In all probability the disease mutated to cope better with the increased cooling associated with the ‘Little Ice Age’ and that this new version happened to be non-lethal (it isn’t in the bacteria’s interest to kill off 100% of a population anyway, so this may have accelerated the mutated form’s success). Also, improvements in house building, including the move away from timber and thatch to stone and slate widened the ‘distance’ between rat and man; thus, breaking the chain of contagion.

By around 1700 Scottish society was beginning to emerge from the shadow of the great killers; fear was replaced by optimism and it would have a profound affect. Across Britain, including Scotland, money was invested in emerging industries and innovative techniques. As the population began to rise, more food was required to feed the masses and this led to a revolution in the countryside. There were numerous improvements to machinery and a huge programme of walled enclosures for cattle and sheep was instigated by landlords which improved the health of the livestock. With better knowledge on how to rotate crops, fodder production, such as turnips went through the roof.

 Dry Stane Dyke - Field Enclosure Revolution

All of this led to a huge rise in cattle numbers, which had the unexpected effect of eradicating malaria from the British Isles – our mosquito (found in the south east of Scotland) prefers cattle to humans, but the malaria plasmodium doesn’t. It was the end of the road for a chronic disease which was known as ague. More cattle also meant more meat and milk on the menu, which in turn meant a higher protein diet. This allows the body to manufacture more antibodies, and so become more resistant to infection and illness. Better storage also meant that any meat or produce could be transported further. It was a striking transformation and led to a population boom.

This dramatic rise in agricultural output meant that cities like Glasgow, Edinburgh and Dundee could feed and clothe its rapidly growing population. Greater efficiency in the countryside also meant less labour was required, which provided these cities with much needed manpower. Disease in the industrial slums kept mortality rates high, and death rates far exceeded birth rates – thus migration from the surrounding countryside was vital. By 1801 Scotland’s population had risen to 1,600,000, within 50 years it had nearly doubled to 2,900,000. The phenomena wasn’t restricted to the industrial heartlands – the population of the Isle of Skye rose from 14,470 in 1794 to over 23,000 by 1841: a rise of nearly 60%. It was however unsustainable in the Highlands and led to large-scale, voluntary emigration.

One disease still haunted the imagination of the country at large – Smallpox. It is a scary looking illness, mostly contracted in childhood and while it has a relatively high mortality most people lived. It did leave people scarred for life though, with at least a third left blinded. There is no doubt that had an impact on society. An English doctor, Edward Jenner observed that milkmaids bore none of the scarring, and were essentially immune; the result of contracting the far less lethal cowpox. This would lead first to inoculations and ultimately vaccinations. The fight against the infectious and often mortal illnesses had begun.

Without the agricultural revolution there could have been no industrial revolution and certainly not enough people to make it happen. Death control was winning in the age-old battle. Other European countries were slow to implement vaccination programmes, improve their sanitation and failed to enclose the pastureland. Only in Britain was the advancement possible; and thus British, and by that, Scottish wealth and influence grew. And with this advancement, the population continued to soar, reaching 4,500,000 by 1900. A rise of nearly three million in less than a century must by its very nature alter society and politics; it also fuelled the huge emigrations to America, Canada and Australia, and provided people for the ever growing British Empire.

How disease was actually transmitted, and indeed what they were, was one of the great leaps forward of the late 18^th century; allowing science to create vaccinations, and governments to improve living conditions. Cholera, diphtheria and many others could now be battled on several fronts. It would have been impossible to have so many men entrenched in such confined and poor conditions as was experienced in the First World War had it not been for such advances – typhoid would simply have wiped them out, as it had done Napoleon’s Grand Army a hundred years early.

By this time, with improved sanitation, vaccinations, cures and ultimately the arrival of penicillin for the first time in Scotland’s history the birth rate exceeded the death rate in her cities. The growing industrial base meant that there was still work for both migrant and city born; and when industrial decline set in, families had significantly reduced the number of children they were having.

From this distance in time we are really oblivious to the danger that disease posed to our ancestors: it could come out of nowhere, and no-one was safe. Life expectancy rates were in the mid 30s, and death was commonplace. It debilitated the labour force, affected political decision-making and held the people in a thrall. It plays a huge part in the story of the Scottish people, and the changes that occurred from 1700 to 1900 altered the landscape, created our cities and built modern Scotland. The role of disease and our battle against it is an often overlooked part of our history, but is very important; both from a national, and a personal point of view.

The Lords of Time

Our modern world is so ordered by time, our lives parcelled out by the ticking of the clock, that we forget that it wasn’t always so. We take it so much for granted: all of us humbly subservient to deadlines, timetables, alarms and schedules that it barely registers. Like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland we are betrothed to the ceaseless demands of time; foot-soldiers, as it marches towards an unknown conclusion. Yet, within scholarly minds a debate rages as to whether time even exists: is it a force majeure, or a construct of the human mind, a way to register and order the world around us? We may never know.

To us, time is linear and can only head in one direction – it has a past, a present and a future. This is our sense of it, and it may be built into us from an evolutionary point of view. We all have an internal body clock – we slowly age towards our inevitable demise, and we have the ability to contemplate that mortality and so ‘feel’ that passage of time. On a day to day basis, we understand instinctively when it’s time to wake up, when to eat and when to retire once more to bed. Over longer periods, we as hunter gatherers appreciated the changes in the seasons, something that becomes increasingly apparent the further north you go; and cyclical natural events like floods and famine were remembered from one generation to the next. However, it wasn’t until the arrival of farming into Scotland around 6000 years ago, and all the social re-arranging it brought did time begin to order and dominate people’s lives. And, consequently those who could command time, could command that new society.

Farming, or at least the farming revolution that would affect Scotland, began around 10,000 years ago in the Fertile Crescent of Egypt and the Middle East. The innovations, plants and animals slowly spread up the Danube Valley into Central Europe, and eventually to the British Isles. Switching from hunter-gathering to farming, requires a substantial re-ordering of the way peoples live and how they live. There are swings and roundabouts, but one of the results is the stratification of society, and the creating of niche roles. Farming increases the population of a community significantly, but requires specialisation – blacksmiths, leather-makers, a mercantile class to facilitate trade and above all a ruling class to organise, govern and protect all the diverse elements of this new set up. There is one other powerful element that draws its strength from this arrangement – a clerical class of priests that establishes, enhances and propagates the community’s religious beliefs.

To our ancestors the gods were everywhere. There were river gods, fertility gods, gods of the forest and the seas, gods that brought pestilence and flood, and other that commanded the heavens and provided the harvest. They all had to be appeased and worshiped through a complex set of rituals, feasts, festivals and daily observance. Failure to comply could only result in disaster – so ran the dogma. Belief in these unseen forces was huge, both from a survival point of view, but also from a social conditioning point of view – and at the heart of the process, then as now was power. Knowledge was everything, and the more you had in comparison to the layman in the fields and villages, the more influential, powerful and ultimately wealthy you became. Time was the most valuable of all that knowledge.

The source of the priestly power resided in their ability to commune with the myriad of gods controlling the lives of the majority of the population. Farmers, their families and the symbiotic traders that relied on farming were governed by the ebb and flow of the seasons and on the predictability of events, such as harvest. By incorporating this need to know into the overall religious settlement allowed the priests to punctuate the calendar with festivals and feasts. Ritual and ceremony was the way by which the ruling and clerical classes could demonstrate to the lay folk their covenant with the gods, and how best to appease them in order to guarantee good harvest, benign winters, fertility of spring and so on. This of course was the smoke and mirrors part of the trick, but the real genius lay with their ability to read the heavens.

Orion's Belt - One of the most obvious features in the night sky

The landscape of Scotland is littered with standing stones, ancient burial chambers and henge features; constructed and laid out with uncanny precision between approximately 6000 and 4500 years ago. Many sites were used virtually continuously throughout the period, others abandoned or reclaimed from time to time. Either way, they marked a significant presence in the landscape and took a hell of a lot of community effort to erect and maintain. What we see today in places like Kilmartin Glen or on the Orkney Islands is surely the tip of an iceberg – the remnant fragments of what would have been far larger sites. Perhaps less than 10% now survives from our Neolithic past. At first glance we can wonder from this distance in time at the ingenuity and effort of our ancestors to construct these incredible monuments; but, on closer inspection the true wonder reveals itself.

Most, if not all of the megalithic sites in Scotland are in some way aligned to major astronomical events – equinoxes, solstices, lunar stand-stills and eclipses. Some, such as the Maes Howe burial chamber built over 5000 years ago are perfectly aligned with these celestial moments that it beggars belief. We are but touching the surface in our understanding of their understanding – there are hints that some of the sites, like Calanais may have been built to predict solar eclipses, the transit of Venus and perhaps recurrence of comets. Many more seem to track various stars, like those on Orion’s Belt, or Sirius across the night sky. This is complex astronomical stuff – and this ability allowed the priests to calculate time.

From here, it is a case of pick your calendar. It takes approximately 365 days for the earth to go around the sun and return to the same point against the fixed stars, this equates to 12 to 13 moon cycles, giving us months. The symmetry however doesn’t quite work, and in order celebrate festivals consistently at the right times it is important first to understand the motion of the heavenly bodies, and then insert man-made adjustments (like leap years for example). That not only requires knowledge of astronomy, but phenomenal insight into mathematics and the ability to cater for things like procession, that can only be measured in hundreds of years. We can have no idea what sort of calendar ordered the lives of our distant ancestors, but it can be assured that there was one – and that the stones were aligned to help keep that calendar accurate.

How this wisdom reached Scotland is a mystery – but, both the early Egyptians and Babylonians were adept at astronomy and time measurement. It is likely that this knowledge was carried north by a select few, almost by osmosis until it crossed the North Sea. The nature of the sites seems to suggest that the knowledge came, but a home-grown way to interpret was devised. It would appear, for example that the setting of the sun on one particular day ended a ‘season’, and the rising on the next the rebirth of the new. This was a feature that may have been adapted to that greatest of mysteries – death. Various annual events were not only observed, but possibly coincided with funereal ritual – this may account for the lack of remains in so-called ‘burial chambers’. It is also possible that these communal chambers were holding units where the dead waited in limbo for the appointed moment in the year to ascend to the next stage. Again, this was a powerful hold on the people as a whole.

The great stones and henges thus had a dual purpose – one functional, the other ceremonial – after all, where better to keep the locals in awe than in the very place where the commune was happening (for commune read astronomical observation)? Similarly, medieval cathedrals were not only places of worship and thus built for maximum effect, but also the local headquarters of the biggest business in Europe – the Catholic Church: an institution propped up by power and wealth as well as faith. This was nothing new, and our ancestors were duped just the same – Stonehenge for example took 18 million man hours to build: that’s quite a commitment, that’s a lot of faith. The return on the deal must have been as equally impressive.

 The Stones of Stenness - Orkney

However, something went wrong – horribly wrong, around 2500BC. For millennia, the celestial clock had revolved with determined precision, and with each turn of the wheel events on earth reflected both the ability to read that clock and in turn to deliver on the promise that by being able to please the gods all would be right. When this part of the deal failed, the house of cards came tumbling down. It would appear that climate deterioration brought a sequence of failed harvests and extreme winters across northern Europe and that social cohesion broke down, paving the way for the advance new innovations from the Mediterranean. It is pure conjecture of course, but the evidence of the move from communal burial and cremations to more private interment, and to seemingly more defensive settlement enclosures would suggest a greater degree of self-reliance.

There is a suggestion through changes in artefactual remains, that the British Isles experienced a wave of new-comers known as the Beaker People around 2500BC; but the genetic evidence doesn’t bear this out. A change in technology and culture with the coming of metal work certainly occurred, but how much was local adaption and how much was via immigration is still unknown. Some settlements seem to be on the fringes of older habitations: that might reflect newcomers; while a dramatic change in burial technique and the total collapse of mega-structure building by the community seems to suggest a re-ordering of the native hierarchy. The likely scenario is that the native population growing ever more cynical of the old order adopted the new ideas and religions, and in doing so ushered in the Bronze Age.

The Bronze Age wasn’t just about the use of bronze, but the cataclysmic change from stone to metal use, from bone and antler for jewellery to gold and silver and all the social implications. We may never know how the change affected those who once read the skies, but the evidence would seem to point to more terrestrial answers, and perhaps the detailed knowledge of celestial movement was lost – the abandonment of the megalithic sites would seem to bear that out. The vast majority of people remained farmers, and relied on time as they had always done – you can’t farm without it. Perhaps now it was a universal wisdom: simplified, with religious implications removed; making it just another tool in the farming year. Religion still played a part in people’s lives of course, and the gods still existed: but, the Lords of Time were dead.