2016년 2월 25일 목요일

The History of the Highland Clearances 4

The History of the Highland Clearances 4


The notorious Mr. Sellar was at this time sub-factor, and in the
spring of 1814 he took a large portion of the parishes of Farr and
Kildonan into his own hands. In the month of March the old tenantry
received notices to quit at the ensuing May term, and a few days after
the summonses were served the greater portion of the heath pasture
was, by his orders, set on fire. By this cruel proceeding the cattle
belonging to the old tenantry were left without food during the spring,
and it was impossible to dispose of them at a fair price, the price
having fallen after the war; for Napoleon was now a prisoner in Elba,
and the demand for cattle became temporarily dull, and prices very
much reduced. To make matters worse, fodder was unusually scarce this
spring, and the poor people’s cattle depended for subsistence solely on
the spring grass which sprouts out among the heather, but which this
year had been burnt by the factor who would himself reap the benefit
when he came into possession later on.
 
In May the work of ejectment was again commenced, accompanied by
cruelties hitherto unknown even in the Highlands. Atrocities were
perpetrated which I cannot trust myself to describe in my own words. I
shall give what is much more valuable--a description by an eye-witness
in his own language. He says:--In former removals the tenants had been
allowed to carry away the timber of their old dwellings to erect houses
on their new allotments, but now a more summary mode was adopted by
setting fire to them. The able-bodied men were by this time away after
their cattle or otherwise engaged at a distance, so that the immediate
sufferers by the general house-burning that now commenced were the
aged and infirm, the women and children. As the lands were now in the
hands of the factor himself, and were to be occupied as sheep farms,
and as the people made no resistance, they expected, at least, some
indulgence in the way of permission to occupy their houses and other
buildings till they could gradually remove, and meanwhile look after
their growing crops. Their consternation was therefore greater, when
immediately after the May term-day, a commencement was made to pull
down and set fire to the houses over their heads. The old people, women
and others, then began to preserve the timber which was their own; but
the devastators proceeded with the greatest celerity, demolishing all
before them, and when they had overthrown all the houses in a large
tract of country they set fire to the wreck. Timber, furniture, and
every other article that could not be instantly removed was consumed
by fire or otherwise utterly destroyed. The proceedings were carried
on with the greatest rapidity and the most reckless cruelty. The cries
of the victims, the confusion, the despair and horror painted on the
countenances of the one party, and the exulting ferocity of the other,
beggar all description. At these scenes Mr. Sellar was present, and
apparently, as sworn by several witnesses at his subsequent trial,
ordering and directing the whole. Many deaths ensued from alarm,
from fatigue, and cold, the people having been instantly deprived of
shelter, and left to the mercies of the elements. Some old men took
to the woods and to the rocks, wandering about in a state approaching
to, or of absolute, insanity; and several of them in this situation
lived only a few days. Pregnant women were taken in premature labour,
and several children did not long survive their sufferings. “To these
scenes,” says Donald Macleod[2], “I was an eye-witness, and am ready to
substantiate the truth of my statements, not only by my own testimony,
but by that of many others who were present at the time. In such a
scene of general devastation, it is almost useless to particularise the
cases of individuals; the suffering was great and universal. I shall,
however, notice a very few of the extreme cases of which I was myself
an eye-witness. John Mackay’s wife, Ravigill, in attempting to pull
down her house, in the absence of her husband, to preserve the timber,
fell through the roof. She was in consequence taken in premature
labour, and in that state was exposed to the open air and to the view
of all the by-standers. Donald Munro, Garvott, lying in a fever, was
turned out of his house and exposed to the elements. Donald Macbeath,
an infirm and bed-ridden old man, had the house unroofed over him, and
was in that state exposed to the wind and rain until death put a period
to his sufferings. I was present at the pulling down and burning of the
house of William Chisholm, Badinloskin, in which was lying his wife’s
mother, an old bed-ridden woman of nearly 100 years of age, none of the
family being present. I informed the persons about to set fire to the
house of this circumstance, and prevailed on them to wait until Mr.
Sellar came. On his arrival, I told him of the poor old woman being
in a condition unfit for removal, when he replied, ‘Damn her, the old
witch, she has lived too long--let her burn.’ Fire was immediately set
to the house, and the blankets in which she was carried out were in
flames before she could be got out. She was placed in a little shed,
and it was with great difficulty they were prevented from firing it
also. The old woman’s daughter arrived while the house was on fire, and
assisted the neighbours in removing her mother out of the flames and
smoke, presenting a picture of horror which I shall never forget, but
cannot attempt to describe.” Within five days she was a corpse.
 
[2] Author of “Gloomy Memories,” etc.
 
In 1816 Sellar was charged at Inverness, before the Court of
Justiciary, with culpable homicide and fire-raising in connection
with these proceedings, and, considering all the circumstances, it
is not at all surprising that he was “honourably” acquitted of the
grave charges made against him. Almost immediately after, however, he
ceased to be factor on the Sutherland estates, and Mr. Loch came into
power. Evictions were carried out from 1814 down to 1819 and 1820,
pretty much of the same character as those already described, but the
removal of Mr. Young, the chief factor, and Mr. Sellar from power was
hailed with delight by the whole remaining population. Their very
names had become a terror. Their appearance in any part of the county
caused such alarm as to make women fall into fits. One woman became
so terrified that she became insane, and whenever she saw any one she
did not recognise, she invariably cried out in a state of absolute
terror--“_Oh! sin Sellar_”--“Oh! there’s Sellar.” The people, however,
soon discovered that the new factors were not much better. Several
leases which were current would not expire until 1819 and 1820, so that
the evictions were necessarily only partial from 1814 down to that
period. The people were reduced to such a state of poverty that even
Mr. Loch himself, in his “Sutherland Improvements,” page 76, admits
that--“Their wretchedness was so great that, after pawning everything
they possessed to the fishermen on the coast, such as had no cattle
were reduced to come down from the hills in hundreds for the purpose
of gathering cockles on the shore. Those who lived in the more remote
situations of the county were obliged to subsist upon broth made of
nettles, thickened with a little oatmeal. Those who had cattle had
recourse to the still more wretched expedient of bleeding them, and
mixing the blood with oatmeal, which they afterwards cut into slices
and fried. Those who had a little money came down and slept all night
upon the beach, in order to watch the boats returning from the fishing,
that they might be in time to obtain a part of what had been caught.”
He, however, omitted to mention the share he and his predecessors had
taken in reducing the people to such misery, and the fact that at this
very time he had constables stationed at the Little Ferry to prevent
the starved tenantry from collecting shellfish in the only place where
they could find them.
 
He prevailed upon the people to sign documents consenting to remove
at the next Whitsunday term, promising at the same time to make good
provision for them elsewhere. In about a month after, the work of
demolition and devastation again commenced, and parts of the parishes
of Golspie, Rogart, Farr, and the whole of Kildonan were in a blaze.
Strong parties with faggots and other combustible material were set
to work; three hundred houses were given ruthlessly to the flames, and
their occupants pushed out in the open air without food or shelter.
Macleod, who was present, describes the horrible scene as follows:--
 
“The consternation and confusion were extreme; little or no time was
given for the removal of persons or property; the people striving to
remove the sick and the helpless before the fire should reach them;
next, struggling to save the most valuable of their effects. The cries
of the women and children, the roaring of the affrighted cattle,
hunted at the same time by the yelling dogs of the shepherds amid the
smoke and fire, altogether presented a scene that completely baffles
description--it required to be seen to be believed. A dense cloud
of smoke enveloped the whole country by day, and even extended far
out to sea; at night an awfully grand but terrific scene presented
itself--all the houses in an extensive district in flames at once.
I myself ascended a height about eleven o’clock in the evening, and
counted two hundred and fifty blazing houses, many of the owners of
which were my relations, and all of whom I personally knew, but whose
present condition--whether in or out of the flames--I could not tell.
The conflagration lasted six days, till the whole of the dwellings were
reduced to ashes or smoking ruins. During one of these days a boat
actually lost her way in the dense smoke as she approached the shore,
but at night was enabled to reach a landing-place by the lurid light of
the flames.”
 
The whole of the inhabitants of Kildonan, numbering nearly 2000 souls,
except three families, were utterly rooted and burnt out, and the whole
parish converted into a solitary wilderness. The suffering was intense.
Some lost their reason. Over a hundred souls took passage to Caithness
in a small sloop, the master humanely agreeing to take them in the
hold, from which he had just unloaded a cargo of quicklime. A head
storm came on, and they were nine days at sea in the most miserable
condition--men, women, and helpless children huddled up together, with
barely any provisions. Several died in consequence, and others became
invalids for the rest of their days. One man, Donald Mackay, whose
family was suffering from a severe fever, carried two of his children
a distance of twenty-five miles to this vessel. Another old man took
shelter in a meal mill, where he was kept from starvation by licking
the meal refuse scattered among the dust on the floor, and protected
from the rats and other vermin by his faithful collie. George Munro,
the miller at Farr, who had six of his family down with fever, had to
remove them in that state to a damp kiln, while his home was given to
the flames. And all this was done in the name of proprietors who could
not be considered tyrants in the ordinary sense of the term.
 
General Stewart of Garth, about a year after the cruelties perpetrated
in Sutherland, writes with regret of the unnatural proceedings as
“the delusions practised (by his subordinates) on a generous and
public-spirited proprietor, which have been so perseveringly applied,
that it would appear as if all feeling of former kindness towards the
native tenantry had ceased to exist. To them any uncultivated spot of
moorland, however small, was considered sufficient for the support of a
family; while the most lavish encouragement has been given to all the
new tenants, on whom, with the erection of buildings, the improvement
of lands, roads, bridges, &c., upwards of £210,000 had 

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