Massacre of Glencoe: 78 MacDonalds Killed at Dawn

The soldiers had been guests for twelve days. They had eaten MacDonald food, slept in MacDonald homes, warmed themselves by MacDonald fires. Then, at five o’clock on the morning of February 13, 1692, Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon and his men rose in the darkness and began killing their hosts. The Massacre of Glencoe killed 38 members of the MacDonald clan, though dozens more — including women, children, and elderly — died of exposure fleeing into the Highland winter. The massacre had its roots in politics, not clan rivalry. William III, the Dutch Protestant who had taken the English and Scottish thrones from the Catholic James VII in 1688, demanded that all Highland clan chiefs swear an oath of allegiance by January 1, 1692. Most complied, however reluctantly. Alasdair MacIain, chief of the Glencoe MacDonalds, tried to swear the oath but was delayed by bureaucratic obstacles — he went to the wrong official first and did not reach the sheriff at Inveraray until January 6, five days late. The government, particularly Secretary of State John Dalrymple, saw an opportunity. Dalrymple wanted to make an example of a clan to terrorize the Highlands into submission, and the MacDonalds’ late oath gave him a legal pretext. He obtained orders from William III authorizing the extirpation of the Glencoe MacDonalds, then sent 120 soldiers under Campbell of Glenlyon — whose niece was married to one of MacIain’s sons — to be quartered among the MacDonalds under the guise of collecting taxes. The killing began before dawn. MacIain was shot in his bed. His wife was stripped of her clothes and her rings bitten from her fingers. Soldiers bayoneted men, women, and children, though many escaped into the glen because the planned blocking forces arrived late due to a blizzard. About 300 to 400 survivors fled into the mountains in freezing conditions, and an unknown number perished from exposure. The massacre violated the most sacred law of Highland culture — the duty of hospitality — and the betrayal of trust ensured that Glencoe would be remembered with particular horror for centuries after far bloodier events were forgotten.