The infamous Massacre of Glencoe and the events that led up to it

It was not, by Highland standards, an especially heinous crime. But the Scottish government had been since 1688 a revolutionary government, though some way from being totally secure in charge of the country and meaning to show any renegade subjects it would stand no nonsense from them. The two sides were already called Whigs and Tories, terms with a long future ahead of them, so that the second of them is still in everyday use in the 21st century.

Tories had once been able to mobilise whole Scottish armies, but by now this was no longer so easy. Only in the remote Highlands did they cling on more stubbornly, which made them also an expensive embarrassment to the Whig government in Edinburgh. In the end it decided to cut its losses and pay the disloyal clans a subsidy if they would swear allegiance to the latest Scottish sovereigns. So far, so good, but their squabbles about how to divide these unmerited spoils meant that by the end of 1691 they had got no further.

READ MORE: The truth about state-sponsored massacre in the snow of Glencoe

Under pressure from King William in London, the Scottish Secretary, John Dalrymple, later Lord Stair, decided he had to make an example of somebody or other. There was more than one possibility but he chose the MacDonalds of Glencoe. He could see the Highlands already becoming more peaceful as the chiefs took up trade with neighbours near and far, mainly in cattle, instead of fighting them and robbing them. The old tribal customs were already on their way out along the primrose path of a budding capitalism, enhanced not least by a monetary system to distinguish it from the former barter and payment in kind.

But there were pitfalls too. The deposed King James still sought to regain his thrones, mainly by launching the Jacobite movement that would recognise only him as the legitimate sovereign. In 1689 he sailed from his exile in France to land in Ireland, while in Scotland clans rose up to support him under the leadership of John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee.

From the Highlands they debouched into the Lowlands to mark up a gory victory on a sunny afternoon in 1689 at the Battle of Killiecrankie (painted below), against a force of stern Covenanters sent north to stand against them or to die. These the clansmen duly slaughtered in the pass of the River Garry. More men fell here than in any other Scottish battle up to Culloden in 1746. Claverhouse was among the dead, struck down by a stray bullet in his moment of triumph.

Left leaderless again, the Jacobite chiefs were surely justified in doubting whether James could ever win back his crown. In that case, there was little to be gained in refusing to take an oath of allegiance to somebody else. Instead the chiefs asked James to approve a fresh course of action, that they might take the oath unless he could reach Scotland in person before a deadline at the end of 1689.

It was a condition they knew to be impossible. What most of them meant to do was to turn up, one by one, in front of a local magistrate to do, more or less cynically, what they had to do and utter the verbal formula that would get them off the hook of treason.

Some chiefs were quicker and some slower off the mark. Among the slowest was Alasdair MacDonald of Glencoe, head of a small, insolent clan settled in the strategic position at a Highland crossroads with few friends and powerful enemies. Delayed by one thing and another, he only got to Fort William on December 30, there to discover the governor was not authorised to accept his oath. He had to press onwards, through terrible weather, to swear before a more senior functionary at Inveraray – by this time six days late.

Other chiefs had been tardy, but only MacDonald of Glencoe was left out from the official record of these dealings later published in Edinburgh. It suggests a reason, that for this particular clan there was a special plan. If defiant Tories resisted, they would soon learn from ruthless Whigs what their grim reward was going to be.

READ MORE: The story of the Campbells, one of the mightiest of all the clans of Scotland

It could still take time. Two military corps each of 120 Campbells, hereditary enemies of the MacDonalds, were stationed in Glencoe by the end of 1692. They carried orders for “free quarter”, an established alternative to paying taxes in a society that still did not use much cash. Here there seemed to be little problem: the visitors were received with Highland hospitality, graciously given by the clansmen, cordially collected by the soldiers.

And their commander was Robert Campbell of Glenlyon, a hapless laird who was also son-in-law to MacDonald of Glencoe. In the Highlands, ties of kinship were always the strongest. Hereditary enemies of the MacDonalds the Campbells might be, but up to this point the people of the glen felt safe.

Then, on February 12, orders arrived from Fort William for detachments of the troops to take up position on the two main paths into and out of Glencoe. Glenlyon later received the commands in written form. Later still messages came once again with instructions from another officer, evidently uneasy that even Highland soldiers might blanch at the directives they were expected to follow.

He wrote: “See that this be putt in execution without feud or favour, else you may expect to be dealt with as one not true to King nor Government, nor a man fitt to carry Commissione in the Kings service.”

Once the massacre started in the middle of that night, it was indeed unlikely to be something a clansman might be proud of. For example, MacDonald of Glencoe was killed getting out of bed to greet soldiers he supposed were just passing by: they shot him at sight. His wife was beaten and robbed, but his two sons ran and saved themselves.

Outside in the glen most able-bodied men managed to flee, leaving their crofts to be set on fire behind them. Death was then dealt out to widows and children left shivering in the snow. If they did still escape they might perish from cold as they sought over the hills to find refuge with neutral neighbours.

It all added up to criminal action, which had been planned in secret, if also to official action, which could not be kept secret. For the sake of law and order, the government had to decide. It set up a commission of inquiry on the premise this was a case of “slaughter under trust”, an offence in Scotland since 1587 – ironically, as a curb to feuding. It had introduced to Scots law the term of “cold blood” to define the worst class of murder, such as after hospitality had been accepted or surrender had been agreed. It might have been formulated with Glencoe in mind.

The only trouble was that soon everybody in Scotland knew the truth about Glencoe, that the king signed the orders and the lord advocate took charge of the dirty work. The commission therefore focused on whether the men in the glen had exceeded orders, not whether the orders were legal.

While Dalrymple was dismissed as Scottish Secretary, he at length made a comeback and was created Earl of Stair by the last Stewart to rule the two realms, Queen Anne.