An Historical Account of the Settlements of Scotch Highlanders in America. J. P. Maclean
lessees introduced sheep on a large scale, involving the junction of many small farms into one, each of which had been hitherto occupied by a number of tenants. This engrossing of farms and consequent depopulation was also a fruitful source of discontent and misery to those who had to vacate their homes and native glens. Many of those displaced by sheep and one or two Lowland shepherds, emigrated like the discontented tacksmen to America, and those who remained looked with an ill-will and an evil eye on the intruders. Some of the more humane landlords invited the oppressed to remove to their estates, while others tried to prevent the ousted tenants from leaving the country by setting apart some particular spot along the sea-shore, or else on waste land that had never been touched by the plow, on which they might build houses and have an acre or two for support. Those removed to the coast were encouraged to prosecute the fishing along with their agricultural labors. It was mainly by a number of such ousted Highlanders that the great and arduous undertaking was accomplished of bringing into a state of cultivation Kincardine Moss, in Perthshire. At that time, 1767, the task to be undertaken was one of stupendous magnitude; but was so successfully carried out that two thousand acres were reclaimed which for centuries had rested under seven feet of heath and vegetable matter. Similarly many other spots were brought into a state of cultivation. But this, and other pursuits then engaged in, did not occupy the time of all who had been despoiled of their homes.
The breaking up of old habits and customs and the forcible importation of those that are foreign must not only engender hate but also cause misery. It is the uniform testimony of all travellers, who visited the Highlands during the latter half of the eighteenth century, especially Pennant, Boswell, Johnson, Newte, and Buchanan, that the condition of the country was deplorable. Without quoting from all, let the following lengthy extract suffice, which is from Buchanan:
"Upon the whole, the situation of these people, inhabitants of Britain! is such as no language can describe, nor fancy conceive. If, with great labor and fatigue, the farmer raises a slender crop of oats and barley, the autumnal rains often baffle his utmost efforts, and frustrate all his expectations: and instead of being able to pay an exorbitant rent, he sees his family in danger of perishing during the ensuing winter, when he is precluded from any possibility of assistance elsewhere. Nor are his cattle in a better situation; in summer they pick up a scanty support amongst the morasses or heathy mountains: but in winter, when the grounds are covered with snow, and when the naked wilds afford neither shelter nor subsistence, the few cows, small, lean, and ready to drop down through want of pasture, are brought into the hut where the family resides, and frequently share with them the small stock of meal which had been purchased, or raised, for the family only; while the cattle thus sustained, are bled occasionally, to afford nourishment for the children after it hath been boiled or made into cakes. The sheep being left upon the open heaths, seek to shelter themselves from the inclemency of the weather amongst the hollows upon the lee-side of the mountains, and here they are frequently buried under the snow for several weeks together, and in severe seasons during two months and upwards. They eat their own and each other's wool, and hold out wonderfully under cold and hunger; but even in moderate winters, a considerable number are generally found dead after the snow hath disappeared, and in rigorous seasons few or none are left alive. Meanwhile the steward, hard pressed by letters from Almack's or Newmarket, demands the rent in a tone which makes no great allowance for unpropitious seasons, the death of cattle, and other accidental misfortunes: disguising the feelings of his own breast—his Honor's wants must at any rate be supplied, the bills must be duly negotiated. Such is the state of farming, if it may be so called, throughout the interior parts of the Highlands; but as that country has an extensive coast, and many islands, it may be supposed that the inhabitants of those shores enjoy all the benefits of their maritime situation. This, however, is not the case; those gifts of nature, which in any other commercial kingdom would have been rendered subservient to the most valuable purposes, are in Scotland lost, or nearly so, to the poor natives and the public. The only difference, therefore, between the inhabitants of the interior parts and those of the more distant coasts, consists in this, that the latter, with the labors of the field, have to encounter alternately the dangers of the ocean and all the fatigues of navigation. To the distressing circumstances at home, as stated above, new difficulties and toils await the devoted farmer when abroad. He leaves his family in October, accompanied by his sons, brothers, and frequently an aged parent, and embarks on board a small open boat, in quest of the herring fishery, with no other provisions than oatmeal, potatoes, and fresh water; no other bedding than heath, twigs, or straw, the covering, if any, an old sail. Thus provided, he searches from bay to bay, through turbulent seas, frequently for several weeks together, before the shoals of herring are discovered. The glad tidings serve to vary, but not to diminish his fatigues. Unremitting nightly labor (the time when the herrings are taken), pinching cold winds, heavy seas, uninhabited shores covered with snow, or deluged with rain, contribute towards filling up the measure of his distresses; while to men of such exquisite feelings as the Highlanders generally possess, the scene which awaits him at home does it most effectually. Having disposed of his capture to the Busses, he returns in January through a long navigation, frequently amidst unceasing hurricanes, not to a comfortable home and a cheerful family, but to a hut composed of turf, without windows, doors, or chimney, environed with snow, and almost hid from the eye by its astonishing depth. Upon entering this solitary mansion, he generally finds a part of his family, sometimes the whole, lying upon heath or straw, languishing through want or epidemical disease; while the few surviving cows, which possess the other end of the cottage, instead of furnishing further supplies of milk or blood, demand his immediate attention to keep them in existence. The season now approaches when he is again to delve and labor the ground, on the same slender prospect of a plentiful crop or a dry harvest. The cattle which have survived the famine of the winter, are turned out to the mountains; and, having put his domestic affairs into the best situation which a train of accumulated misfortunes admits of, he resumes the oar, either in quest of herring or the white fishery. If successful in the latter, he sets out in his open boat upon a voyage (taking the Hebrides and the opposite coast at a medium distance) of two hundred miles, to vend his cargo of dried cod, ling, etc., at Greenock or Glasgow. The product, which seldom exceeds twelve or fifteen pounds, is laid out, in conjunction with his companions, upon meal and fishing tackle; and he returns through the same tedious navigation. The autumn calls his attention again to the field; the usual round of disappointment, fatigue, and distress awaits him; thus dragging through a wretched existence in the hope of soon arriving in that country where the weary shall be at rest."[9]
The writer most pitiably laments that twenty thousand of these wretched people had to leave their homes and famine-struck condition, and the oppression of their lairds, for lands and houses of their own in a fairer and more fertile land, where independence and affluence were at their command. Nothing but misery and degradation at home; happiness, riches and advancement beyond the ocean. Under such a system it would be no special foresight to predict a famine, which came to pass in 1770 and again in 1782–3. Whatever may be the evils under the clan system, and there certainly were such, none caused the oppression and misery which that devoted people have suffered since its abolishment. So far as contentment, happiness, and a wise regard for interest, it would have been better for the masses had the old system continued. As a matter of fact, however, those who emigrated found a greater latitude and brighter prospects for their descendants.
From what has been stated it will be noticed that it was a matter of necessity and not a spirit of adventure that drove the mass of Highlanders to America; but those who came, nevertheless, were enterprising and anxious to carve out their own fortunes. Before starting on the long and perilous journey across the Atlantic they were first forced to break the mystic spell that bound them to their native hills and glens, that had a charm and an association bound by a sacred tie. A venerable divine of a Highland parish who had repeatedly witnessed the fond affection of his parishioners in taking their departure, narrated how they approached the sacred edifice, ever dear to them, by the most hallowed associations, and with tears in their eyes kissed its very walls, how they made an emphatic pause in losing sight of the romantic scenes of their childhood, with its kirks and cots, and thousand memories, and as if taking a formal and lasting adieu, uncovered their heads and waived their bonnets three times towards the scene, and then with heavy steps and aching hearts resumed their pilgrimage towards new scenes