Plain Language Version here!
Hugh Blair of Borgue was a 18th century Scottish Laird, a member of the landowning class, a son, brother, husband, and father, and he was most likely autistic. None of these traits are why we’re talking about Hugh 300 years later, though.
Details of Hugh’s life exist today because of the 1747-48 court case Blair v. Blair, in which Hugh’s younger brother John Blair successfully argued that Hugh’s marriage should be annulled because he lacked the capacity to understand a marriage contract. And details of Hugh’s life exist today in English and in print because of Uta Frith and Rab Houston’s 2000 book “Autism in History: The Case of Hugh Blair of Borgue”. Using evidence from this trial, Frith and Houston argue that Hugh Blair fit the DSM-IV criteria for autism.
Who was Hugh Blair?
Hugh Blair was, by all accounts, “different” than his peers. As a child and young man in school, he was a target of bullies. As an adult, he didn’t adhere to social norms, frequently participating in manual labor not fitting of his station, wearing strange clothes, and showing up to neighbor’s homes uninvited. He spent much of his time wandering the countryside, sometimes for days at a time, traveling up to ten miles from home on foot.
The landscape of Kirkcudbrightshire, less than 10 miles from Borgue, land Hugh Blair most likely walked. Photo credits alljengi, “Burnfoot of Dundrennan, Kirkcudbright”.
In the early 1740’s, Hugh’s younger brother John got into a fight with their mother, Grizell. We don’t know what the fight was about specifically, although multiple witnesses claim that Hugh stepped in to protect his mother when it appeared the fight might become physical. Shortly after this, Grizzel took on a much more active role in Hugh’s life. Most importantly, she found him a wife, a local surgeon’s daughter named Nickie Mitchell, effectively ensuring his continued welfare after her death.
Whether this arrangement was an attempt to protect Hugh or to spite her younger son, it certainly angered John. He brought the case to the Supreme Court of Scotland, and after hearing from thirty witnesses, the court annulled the marriage. Despite this, Hugh and Nickie remained together, raising two children and, over a decade later, were still referred to as husband and wife–because at that time, marriage could also be established by “cohabitation with habit and repute”.
Hugh Blair as Autistic
Frith and Houston argue that based on the information we have, Hugh Blair fits the diagnostic criteria for autism extremely well. For the most part, I agree with this analysis, even though the DSM criteria for an autism diagnosis has changed significantly in the 25 years since their book was published. The current definition relies on two primary areas of difference–in social communication and in patterns of repetitive behavior or interest–both of which Hugh had. I’ll cover these briefly; for more detail, I recommend reading the book. For an updated take on Hugh’s autism, check out this 2024 article from Disability Studies Quarterly. I don’t agree entirely with the author’s assessment, but there’s no doubt it’s more empathetic and holistic than Houston and Frith’s.
Social Communication
Hugh struggled with social communication in multiple aspects of his life. Frith and Houston describe his social relations:
Despite his gregariousness Hugh lacked the social insight to know whether his presence [in specific social situations] was wanted. Hugh did not seem to realize that his visits to neighbors at all times of day or night were inappropriate. He also did not seem to be aware of his own status in relation to the servants and to other members of the community. While he knew about social customs, such as wearing a hat and a wig, he did not necessarily follow these customs. He knew how to bow and take of his hat, but he had to watch others for clues and depended on signs from his mother. He wore the correct clothes to work, yet he sometimes wore the same clothes for stable work. (Houston and Frith, 142)
He also struggled to understand social cues, or at least cared very little about them, in his home and work life–he often ate alone or with his pets, he gave strange gifts to his acquaintances, and seemed to enjoy doing menial work not fitting of his station.
Repetitive Behavior & Restricted Interests
Hugh engaged in a number of repetitive behaviors and had several special interests. He collected objects like feathers and sticks and enjoyed building stone walls without any apparent purpose. He attended every funeral in town, regardless of whether he was invited, without wearing the appropriate mourning clothes. He always sat in the same pew at church. He regularly copied out the Lord’s prayer onto paper. He didn’t like others entering his room, and was frequently insistent on “sameness” in the house, wanting everything to be in order at all times.
Hugh Blair as a person with an Intellectual Disability
Now, let’s take a look at the current DSM-V guidelines for diagnosing intellectual disability, and see if Hugh meets these criteria. Obviously, I cannot diagnose him–I’m not a clinician and he’s been dead well over two hundred years–but we can get a sense of how he might be diagnosed today. These are the three criteria for a diagnosis of an intellectual disability, copied directly from the DSM-V:
A. Deficits in intellectual functions, such as reasoning, problem solving, planning, abstract thinking, judgment, academic learning, and learning from experience, confirmed by both clinical assessment and individualized, standardized intelligence testing.
B. Deficits in adaptive functioning that result in failure to meet developmental and sociocultural standards for personal independence and social responsibility. Without ongoing support, the adaptive deficits limit functioning in one or more activities of daily life, such as communication, social participation, and independent living, across multiple environments, such as home, school, work, and community.
C. Onset of intellectual and adaptive deficits during the developmental period.
Deficits in Intellectual Functions
Hugh Blair’s acquaintances all agreed that he struggled with reasoning. He enjoyed building walls–a common job that he certainly saw others doing to divide property and cattle–but he didn’t appear to connect the act of building the wall with its purpose. In the same way, he couldn’t always make the logical connections between words that were spoken to him and their meanings. In his deposition, he answered questions, but his responses were sometimes illogical. For example, upon being asked if it was a “fair day or rainy”, he responded “Fair”. The question was immediately repeated–“Is this a fair day or a foul?”, and he responded “Foul”. Although he clearly understood that he was supposed to answer either “Fair” or “Foul”, he wasn’t able to connect the question with the actual weather outside the courthouse.
He also struggled with planning and problem solving. He often went on long walks on the moor, but didn’t seem to plan for his personal needs or consider timing on these excursions. Usually he would stop at the house of whomever lived nearby, and they would take him in for the night, often feeding and clothing him too. He understood that he was expected to wash and wear his wig, but he wouldn’t execute the task in a logical manner. Witnesses described Hugh washing his wig and hanging it on a tree to dry, while walking around the town without a wig on.
Hugh’s academic abilities were certainly different than his peers. He attended school through his 20’s, which was relatively normal for a man of his class. His teachers and classmates, some of whom testified at his trial, noted that he could write very neatly and could copy down certain texts, like the Lord’s Prayer, from memory. However, he was never able to compose–that is, write down his own thoughts or ideas. On the other end of the academic spectrum, Hugh had a limited knowledge of mathematics. He could count, and was often seen counting repeatedly. At his trial, he was asked how many fingers he had. At first he appeared not to understand the question, until someone in the courtroom pointed at his hands. Then, he counted each finger on both hands twice without stopping. He was able to understand generally what he was being asked–he was able to count his fingers–but couldn’t understand the specifics of the question.
Deficits in Adaptive Functioning
The deficits in Hugh’s adaptive functioning are perhaps easier to discuss; since they are more behavioral and less abstract, they require less conjecture on our part.
For the first forty-odd years of his life, Hugh and his mother lived in the family home at Borgue. Hugh wore his brother’s cast-off clothing, and his bed was “very ill made up and nasty” (84). However, this doesn’t mean that he was lazy or didn’t care about hygiene; rather, the evidence suggests that he lacked the necessary skills to take care of himself. One witness at the trial described an instance where he saw Hugh “carrying up to his room… a flagon of water and upon the deponent’s asking him what he was going to do with it he answered ‘bed, bed, lice, lice, flea, flea’” (85). He also described Hugh using sticks as curtain rods without removing the bark first, which seemed odd to him. In both of these examples, Hugh tried unsuccessfully to complete expected self-care tasks.
Around the time of the trail, Hugh moved into town with his mother and would-be wife Nickie Mitchell, at which point townspeople report his hygiene and dress improved. Frith and Houston speculate, in my opinion reasonably, that either his mother or his wife began helping him learn these skills. His mother had a vested financial interest in Hugh’s appearance as a gentleman, and his relationship with his wife was, by multiple accounts, one of mutual care and affection. That his self-care improved with support is further evidence that he didn’t always buck social norms by choice, but because he lacked adaptive functioning skills due to intellectual disability.
At school, Hugh struggled socially as well as academically. He was frequently the butt of jokes, and he was mocked even by classmates 15 years his junior. One witness at the trial openly admits to bullying Hugh:
[The deponent] has frequently for his own diversion desired the defender to dance before him which the defender as often as desired did and which was several times done in his presence. He did this in a very foolish and ridiculous manner and it was for that reason that the deponent asked him to dance, meaning thereby to divert himself and the company. He has several times bid Hugh Blair discover his nakedness or privities which he did without any ceremony or seeming to know that there was any indecency therein (87)
While this anecdote is disturbing to read about, it is not particularly surprising. Both autism and ID are associated with a significantly higher likelihood of being bullied.1 In any case, this is clear evidence of difficulty with social adaptation, particularly since this happened repeatedly and Hugh did not seem to understand how or why he was being bullied or what about the behaviors (both his own and the perpetrator’s) were abnormal.
In terms of profession, it could be argued that the existence and result of the trail itself is evidence that Hugh’s disability impeded his ability to work–which for him, was being a landowner and producing valid heirs. But there was never really anyone who argued that Hugh was able to complete his class duties effectively. Long before this trial, Hugh had been given a curator (ironically, his younger brother, John, who later brought the lawsuit) to manage his affairs. At that time, no one protested this arrangement, indicating that everyone involved agreed this was logical and necessary.
Onset
The evidence is pretty clear that Hugh Blair’s cognitive difficulties were present from the developmental period. He was described most frequently as a “natural fool”, meaning that he had always had this disability, and did not acquire it later in life.
Frith and Houston on an ID Diagnosis
Despite the strong case for ID as a diagnosis for Hugh, the evidence for which they present, Frith and Houston barely spend three paragraphs throughout the whole book discussing it. In one place they note that Hugh’s physical appearance was “normal”, and that “no one deponent mentions the physical stigmata which often accompany mental disability”, incorrectly implying that most people with intellectual disabilities have facial differences or other anomalies. Later, in the differential diagnosis, they contrast the diagnosis of ID (at the time of publishing still called mental r*****ation) with autism, and suggest that perhaps Hugh did not have “a restricted capacity to process information in general”, which, after reviewing the evidence, is not particularly compelling to me. Ultimately, they brush aside the diagnosis, claiming Hugh “may have suffered from mental r*****ation as well… some three-quarters of people with autism also suffer from some degree of mental r*****ation as well” (148).
To me, this is not a satisfying conclusion. Hugh Blair’s capacity for decision making and specifically his capacity to process information was the reason for his trail. Although the case for an autism diagnosis is strong, autism alone does not explain the reasoning for the trial, because autism alone is not an indicator of mental capacity. Hugh Blair was on trial for his intellectual disability, which was perhaps made more obvious by his autism. Failing to acknowledge Hugh’s intellectual disability is a mistake.
Why does Hugh’s ID matter?
In Frith and Houston’s description of autism, they contend that autistic children sometimes convey “the impression of intelligence despite evident failure at school and maladaptation to everyday life”, and how mid-20th century parents often hoped that there was a key to “unlock” their real, intelligent child beneath the autism. In this, Frith and Houston claim, the parents were to be “cruelly disappointed” (101). Their approach to the connection between autism and intelligence reveals an underlying bias towards intelligence, which is not surprising, given the overly high value our society places on academics and intelligence in general. It supposes that the worst part of autism is the possibility of an accompanying intellectual disability. Autism is the barrier between the child and the world, while the presence or absence of the intellectual disability describes the value of the child within.
This troubling conclusion is why I think Hugh Blair’s intellectual disability matters. The framework harms autistic people and people with intellectual disabilities. Acknowledging that Hugh Blair was targeted because of his intellectual disability is just as important as recognizing his autism. So is acknowledging that Hugh Blair’s value as a human is not diminished because of his intellectual disability.
People who have intellectual disabilities today have the right to view Hugh as one of their own. He was a man who faced a lot of adversity in his life, and who still lived a good life. He had strengths and weaknesses, and he was valued by his community. He had a wife and two children, a son David and daughter Grizell. And he had an undoubtedly happy ending–when he was asked in trial “whom do you love best?” he answered, of course, “Nickie Mitchell”.