As we closed our last chapter we saw
a body of colonists leaving the north of Scotland in the early summer of
1815 to join the colony on the far Red River. However strenuous and
difficult their life may have been, and however much the struggle to gain
a livelihood was accentuated by the oppressive landlordism of the time, it
requires no vivid imagination to see how sadly they took leave of their
beloved strath. No people in the world are more strongly attached to their
native land than the Scotch, and as their vessel, outward bound, carried
these emigrants beyond sight of the heath-clad hills, many a group such as
the painter of "Lochaber no more" furnishes us, might be seen on its deck
with wistful eyes gazing back toward the coastline of dear old Scotland.
But as the days wore on in that long voyage their expectation would turn
also to the new land to which they were going. Some of their kindred had
gone before them as if to prepare the way, and those coming
now
looked forward to finding their friends in free and happy homes in the
colony on a new continent. With these friends they might well hope to find
a cheerful resting-place, renewing old memories, until they, too, could
have homes of their own in the free land of the West.
But alas! how cruelly disappointing
to them would the scene of ruined homes and desolate hearthstones be, and
how deadly a blow would be given to all their hopes when they would find
their friends scattered whither not even the few
remaining
could tell! It is impossible to let the mind dwell upon
scenes like these, and then on the ultimate triumph of these people,
without thinking of the splendid valor of the Scottish blood and of the
supreme faith in God which carried them through to the end. As they landed
on the bleak shores of Hudson’s Bay and after a weary journey stood amidst
the snow and ice of November on the spot where they had expected to find
the homes of their friends; but where they found only a scene of
desolation, the very north wind with freezing breath might seem to howl
across the bleak plains the old question of infidelity, "Where is now thy
God?" But these people had been from their childhood indoctrinated in a
great creed whose central truth was the sovereignty of God, and in many a
solitary place the wilderness heard from their hearts the old psalm of the
fathers:
"Why art thou then cast down,
my soul,
What should discourage thee?
And why with vexing thoughts art thou
Disquieted in me?
Still trust in God: for Him to praise
Good cause I yet shall have;
He of my countenance is the health,
My God who doth me save."
Lest it might be supposed that the
sympathies of the present writer would lead him to picture too highly the
struggles of the colonists, let us hear what Begg, a recent writer, in his
"History of the North-West," says at this point: "Instead of finding a
thriving settlement they found only ruins; but, worse than all, there was
no food to feed them, and they had to continue their journey, in company
with those who had returned from Jack River, in cold and snow to Pembina,
70 miles farther. Here they set to work to erect rude huts to shelter
themselves, but in a month or so they had to leave these temporary houses
and journey to the plains in the hope of securing food, there being a
scarcity of provisions at Pembina, and no means of procuring any near that
place. These unfortunate people had to journey a distance of 150 miles,
and as they were ill-provided with suitable clothes to protect their
persons from the cold they sufièred dreadfully. Meeting with a party of
hunters they remained with them during the rest of the winter, performing
such work as they were capable of doing, in return for which they were fed
and sheltered till spring, when they returned to Pembina, and from thence
descended the Red River to Fort Douglas. They then began to cultivate the
soil, and everything seemed propitious to their becoming comfortably
settled in their new home, when, on the 19th of. June, 1816, an event
happened which once more brought desolation to the colony." That event was
a collision between armed forces of the Hudson’s Bay and NorthWest
companies at Seven Oaks, in Kildonan. The actual collision was partly the
result of an accident, but it ended in the killing of Governor Semple, of
the former company, and the killing or wounding of twenty-one out of
twenty-seven men who accompanied him. This gave the North-West Company for
a time the upper hand, and the colonists had to abandon their homes once
more, and go out to Jack River, where they suffered great hardships during
the winter. Next spring, however, the tables were turned, and the Hudson’s
Bay Company got control, Lord Selkirk, on his way back from Montreal with
his hired De Meuron soldiers, capturing Fort William and afterwards Fort
Douglas from his rivals. Things had become so bad between these companies
that the Imperial Government interfered by commissioners, and the settlers
once more returned to their holdings. Law-suits innumerable ensued between
the two companies until after the death of Lord Selkirk (who had always
steadfastly opposed union), when a coalition was formed, the Hudson’s Bay
Company ultimately absorbing the others and continuing unto this day.
During all this fighting between the rival companies the colonists endured
constant hardships, and experienced one set-back after another. The
historian before quoted tells us that "in the winter of 1817 they were
forced to go again to Pembina owing to scarcity of food, but on their
return to the settlement in the spring managed to sow a considerable area
of land with wheat, etc. The summer was favorable, and the fields soon
assumed a promising appearance, but on the 18th of July, 1818, the sky
suddenly became darkened by clouds of grasshoppers, and as they descended
on the earth in dense swarms they destroyed every green thing before them.
The settlers managed to save a little grain, but not a vegetable was left
in the gardens." It seemed as if everything was going against them and
once more they went for refuge to Pembina during the winter. In the spring
of 1819 they returned and sowed again, but the young grasshoppers in
swarms began to appear, and devoured everything on the fields and plains.
Again they were forced to go to Pembina, and so continued the struggle,
subsisting on the products of the chase, until three years afterwards,
when they gained sufficient from their fields to keep them from fear of
starvation. This was in 1822, or about ten years after the first of them
had arrived in the country. Things went fairly well to the year 1826, when
a winter of great severity and unusual depth of snow led to great distress
in the country. The plain hunters, who depended nearly altogether on the
buffalo for food supply, were the chief sufferers, for the storms drove
the buffalo beyond reach and killed the horses of the hunters. The
settlers did all they could to relieve their brethren on the plains, but
in the spring they themselves suffered the severest loss in their history.
The sudden thaw of the great snow and ice accumulation caused the Red
River to overflow its banks and become a raging torrent of wide extent.
The settlers barely escaped with their lives and some of their stock, but
their houses and stables were swept away in total wreckage into Lake
Winnipeg. Yet, when the flood went down, these undaunted men came back and
began all over again; and though we have had floods and grasshoppers, and
civil disturbances, since that time the colony was never again uprooted.
When we read over this hurried history of disastrous years, we feel that
the most sympathetic and vivid imagination cannot conceive the sufferings
these settlers endured, and we know that those who passed through the
experience found no language adequate to the task of describing it. In my
father’s closing years he was often visited by tourists from the Old
Country, seeking information as to the early days, and I recall the
attempts he made to depict the scenes, concerning which he could say, with
the hero of Virgil, "Quorum magna pars fui." I can see him yet, a
strongly-built, massive figure, in the old wooden chair, on the arm of
which he brought down his hand now and again to give Celtic emphasis, to
his words. I can hear the story flow on till he felt the inadequacy of
language as recollections rushed upon him, and then he would stop short,
saying, "It’s no use talking, gentlemen, I can’t tell you half of it; but
I will say one thing, and that is that no people in the world but the
Scotch could have done it," and the last party of Englishmen that came to
the old farm-house, seeing his earnestness, applauded him with unselfish
enthusiasm. Whether my father was unduly partial to his own race or not
may be a matter of opinion, but there can be no two opinions as to the
difficulties these colonists triumphantly battled with, and if you seek
their monument, look around you on the religious and educational as well
as the material greatness of the North-West. |