Oh cruel is the snow that sweeps Glencoe
And covers the grave o' Donald
And cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe
And murdered the house o' MacDonald
They came in the night when the men were asleep
That band of Argyles, through snow soft and deep.
Like murdering foxes, among helpless sheep
They slaughtered the house o' MacDonald
Chorus
They came through the blizzard, we offered them heat
A roof ower their heads, dry shoes for their feet.
We wined them and dined them, they ate of our meat
And slept m the house O' MacDonald
Chorus
They came from Fort William with murder mind
The Campbell's had orders, King William had signed
Put all to the sword, these words underlined
And leave none alive called MacDonald
Chorus
Some died in their beds at the hands of the foe
Some fled in the night, and were lost in the snow.
Some lived to accuse hlm, that struck the first blow
But gone was the house of MacDonald
Chorus
Words and music Jim Mclean, Publisher Duart Music 1963
© Scotland Talking 1992
"You are hereby ordered
to fall upon the rebels, the MacDonalds of Glencoe, and put all to the
sword under seventy. You are to have a special care that the old fox
and his sons do upon no account escape your hands. You are to secure
all the avenues that no man escape."
There is no valley in Scotland which nature has
endowed with more majesty, more savage beauty than Glencoe. The
mountains rise in stupendous masses all around forming an amphitheatre,
vast in extent and preserving a stillness and an awesome solemnity.
But
that stillness, that solemnity which impresses itself upon every
traveller can never, with any certainty, be attributed solely to the
desolate appearance of the glen. It's not hard to imagine that it
emanates, rather, from something much more intangible. Three hundred
years ago, in the early hours of a cold February morning, the snow
covered valley of Glencoe was stained with the blood of the unsuspecting
MacDonalds, executed by order of the Sovereign.
At the end of
August 1691, King William III had published a proclamation, offering an
amnesty to the highlanders who had fought for James VII (&II of
England), conditional upon their swearing an oath of allegiance before
the 1st of January, and on penalty of military execution after that
date.
The taking of such an oath must have seemed, to someone not
particularly troubled by a sense of honour, a simple task to which
there could be no impediment other than obstinacy but, to the
Highlanders, there was more than just the distasteful matter of their
submission to the Crown. The Jacobite clans had already sworn an oath
of allegiance to King James, now in exile in France. A further oath to
King William could clearly have no meaning unless James could be
persuaded to release them from the first.
Ambassadors were sent
to await the exiled King's decision, a decision which was not
forthcoming until the 12th of December, 19 days before the amnesty was
due to expire. It would take nine of these for the ambassador to
journey back to Edinburgh and then several days more before messengers
could reach the first of the chieftains. It was no earlier than the
29th of December when Alexander MacDonald, traditionally known as
MacIain, clan chief of the MacDonalds of Glencoe received word that King
James had considered the safety of the clans and that they were all
discharged of their allegiance to him. In common with other chiefs who
had supported the Jacobite cause, MacDonald, perhaps with as much relief
as reluctance, resolved to accept the amnesty and swear his allegiance
to King William.
Throughout his life, this Godfather-like figure
had earned and been accorded the utmost respect from his people. To be
forced to swear allegiance to King William was a wound to his pride and
much has been made of the fact that MacDonald left the taking of the
oath until the last possible minute but the facts tell a different
story.
On the morning of the 30th of December he set off for the
newly built Fort William at Inverlochy, arriving in the small hours of
the 31st, the last day allowed by the proclamation. He presented
himself to Colonel John Hill, the Governor of Fort William, and asked
him to administer the oath of allegiance. The ruling, however, was
quite clear... only the civil magistrate of the district could
administer the oath. In spite of MacDonald's protest that no magistrate
could have been reached before the day was out, Hill had no choice but
to advise MacDonald to undertake, instantly, the 74 mile journey to
Inverary. He gave him a letter to present to Sir Colin Campbell, the
sheriff of Argyllshire requesting Sir Colin to administer the oath and
suggesting that "a lost sheep" might be welcome at any time.
The
chieftain left Fort William immediately. His journey took him through
mountains almost impassable at that time of year, the country being
covered with a deep snow yet, in his anxiety to reach Inverary, he made
as much speed as possible, not even stopping to tell his family what was
happening, though he passed within half a mile of his own house.
About
half-way to his destination, passing through Barcaldine Estate, he was
seized by a group of Grenadiers under the command of Captain Thomas
Drummond of Argyll's regiment. He had, of course, in his possession,
the letter from Colonel Hill proving the urgency of his business. This
was enough to persuade Drummond to lock him up for 24 hours, thereby
ensuring that he could not possibly complete the journey in time.
He
eventually arrived at Inverary on the 2nd, only to be told that Sir
Colin Campbell had not yet returned from the New Year's festivities. He
had to wait a further 3 days to meet the sheriff and then, as the time
allowed under the proclamation had clearly expired, Sir Colin, at first,
refused to administer the oath. In the end, however, persuaded of the
gravity of MacDonald's situation, the sheriff relented and, on the 6th
of January 1692, the oath of allegiance was administered to MacIain -
Alexander MacDonald, Clan Chief, of the MacDonalds of Glencoe.
MacDonald then returned home, confident that, having done his utmost to
comply with the injunction, he and his people were free from danger.
For
all the bad blood which existed between the Campbell and the MacDonald
clans, Sir Colin Campbell appears to have been anxious to see that no
action be taken against Glencoe for the transgression which seemed,
after all, to amount to no more than a technicality.
In his reply to Colonel Hill's letter, he writes:
"
I endeavoured to receive the great
lost sheep, Glencoe, and he has undertaken to bring in all his friends
and followers as the Privy Council shall order. I am sending to
Edinburgh that Glencoe, though he was mistaken in coming to you to take
the oath of allegiance, might yet be welcome. Take care that he and his
followers do not suffer till the King and Council's pleasure be known."
He then sent, to his sheriff-clerk in Edinburgh, another Colin
Campbell, the letter which he had received from Colonel Hill, together
with a certificate testifying that MacDonald, amongst others, had taken
the oath. He asked the sheriff-clerk to lay the documents before the
Privy Council and to report back with the Council's decision regarding
MacDonald's oath. Sheriff-clerk Campbell, however, like many of his
profession, had an abhorrence of all things irregular, and like many of
his name, an equal abhorrence of all things MacDonald.
Some
furtive discussions now took place, involving other lawyers, clerks to
the Council and certain Privy Councillors, in an unofficial capacity.
As a result of these discussions, it fell upon Campbell to eliminate a
possibility which had occurred to them all... that the Privy Council
might just let MacDonald off the hook. If the question of Glencoe's
tardy oath, with all its legal implications and political ramifications
had taken up much of their time, the solution, once decided, was
quick... The sheriff-clerk simply scored MacDonald's name off the
certificate.
The rich and colourful yet frequently violent
history of the Highlands of Scotland owes much to both the Campbells and
the MacDonalds, and the number of enemies that the Glencoe Clan had
made was, to them, a matter of pride rather than regret but that this
official should take so much upon himself is hardly explained by his
traditional enmity towards the MacDonalds. He defaced the certificate
in the sure and certain knowledge that he was pleasing his superiors and
in particular, the subtle and ruthless personage of the Scottish
Secretary, Sir John Dalrymple, Master of Stair.
Dalrymple's
contempt for the highlanders, and the MacDonalds in particular, is a
matter of record. The hatred which all but consumed this powerful
player in Scottish politics can be glimpsed in his letter of the 7th
January to Sir Thomas Livingston, the Commander-in-Chief of the King's
forces in Scotland,
"
you know, in general, that these
troops posted at Inverness and Inverlochie will be ordered to take in
the house of Invergarry, and to destroy entirely the country of
Lochaber, Lochiel's lands, Keppoch's, Glengarie's, Appin and Glencoe. I
assure you your power shall be full enough, and I hope the soldiers
will not trouble the Government with prisoners."
There followed a brief period of confusion as to who had and had not
taken the oath but on the 11th of January, Dalrymple despatched a set of
instructions empowering Livingston to enforce the penalties of the
proclamation upon all the so-called rebel clans, the document being
signed both at the beginning and the end by the King.
"
You are hereby ordered and authorised
to march our troops which are now posted at Inverlochy and Inverness and
to act against these Highland rebels who have not taken the benefit of
our indemnity, by fire and sword and all manner of hostility; to burn
their houses, seize or destroy their goods or cattle, plenishings or
clothes, and to cut off the men."
The King's orders also allowed Livingston to show mercy and to take the
chieftains as prisoners of war, provided they then take the oath but, as
before, these orders were accompanied by Dalrymple's letter which
reads,
"
Only just now, my Lord Argyle tells me
that MacDonald of Glencoe has not taken the oath, at which I rejoice.
It is a great work of charity to be exact in rooting out that damnable
sept, the worst of the Highlands."
Now, with the official confirmation that MacDonald had not sworn, the
extensive military exercise, previously planned, was no longer
necessary. A quick, brutal, punitive strike against Glencoe would
suffice to bring the other rebel clans to heel and the bulk of King
William's forces could be released for more important duties on the
Continent.
Further orders bearing the date of the 16th of
January, again signed and countersigned by the King were despatched by
Dalrymple. The fourth clause sealed the fate of Glencoe and his people.
"
If MacIain of Glencoe, and that tribe,
can be well separated from the rest, it will be a proper vindication of
the public justice to extirpate that set of thieves."
Immediately on receipt of his instructions, Livingston wrote not to
Colonel Hill but to his deputy, Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, who, unlike
his superior, could be relied upon "not to reason why." In this
letter, he points out that this would be a good occasion for Hamilton to
show that his garrison served for some use. The instructions were
clear: he should begin with MacIain of Glencoe, spare nothing of what
belongs to him... and then, a familiar phrase, "
not to trouble the Government with prisoners."
In preparation to carrying out the massacre, two companies of
Argyle's regiment, a total of about 120 men, under the command of
Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon, were ordered to proceed to Glencoe
by the beginning of February, and under pretext, to remain there and
await further orders. Glenlyon had a well-justified personal grudge
against the MacDonalds of Glencoe who, less than two years since,
returning from battle, had left a wake of destruction as they passed
through his estate. It may be mere coincidence that Campbell of
Glenlyon was chosen for this task but the fact that this enemy of the
MacDonalds also had a niece who was married to MacDonald's younger son
was certainly no disadvantage to Dalrymple's strategy.
It's also
interesting that Campbell was in charge not only of his own company of
infantrymen but also the battalion's finest and most trusted troops, the
grenadiers. Their own captain would be absent until the eve of the
massacre and with very good reason: he was the same Captain Thomas
Drummond whom Glencoe had encountered on his way to take the oath of
allegiance.
In order to persuade the MacDonalds that this
military force presented no threat to them, an explanation was contrived
to the effect that their sole purpose in being in Glencoe was to
collect arrears of taxes in the surrounding area and that they sought
convenient quarters to enable them to perform that duty. They had, in
their possession, proof of this bogus assignment: papers, signed by a
now deeply troubled Colonel Hill, the Governor of Fort William. They
also gave their word that they came as friends and that no harm would be
done to the person or properties of the chief and his tenants. They
and their men were made welcome by the MacDonald families and given free
lodgings in the villages throughout the glen. For twelve days, they
were entertained by Glencoe, his family and his people. Indeed, almost
every day, Glenlyon visited his niece, Sarah, and young Sandy MacDonald,
enjoying, in the traditions of Highland hospitality, a regular drink in
their company.
It is remarkable that this Government who sought
to bind the Highland clans by their honour in an oath of allegiance,
should choose to resolve their own difficulties by unprecedented
dishonour and treachery but Dalrymple's plot amounted to no more, and no
less.
The true circumstances of MacDonald's transgression had
soon been swept under the carpet and a general enthusiasm to make an
example of the MacDonalds had gathered an unseemly momentum. Dalrymple
maintained his pressure on the military, inciting them to the carnage.
On the 30th of January, in a letter to Sir Thomas Livingston, he wrote,
"
I am glad Glencoe did not come within the time prescribed. I hope what's done there may be done in earnest, since
the rest of them are in no
condition to draw together to help. I think to plunder their cattle and
burn their houses would only make them desperate men, who would live
outside the law and rob their neighbours but I know you will agree that
it will be a great advantage to the nation, when that thieving tribe is
rooted out and cut off."
On the same day, in a letter to Colonel Hill, he says, "when
it comes the time to deal with Glencoe, let it be secret and sudden.
It is better not to meddle with them at all, if it cannot be done to
purpose, and better to cut off that nest of robbers who have fallen foul
of the law, now, when we have both the power and the opportunity. When
the full force of the King's Justice is seen to come down upon them,
that example will be as conspicuous and useful as is his clemency to
others. "I
understand the weather is so bad that you will be unable to move for
some time but I know you will be in action as soon as possible, for
these false people will not hesitate to attack you if they come to
suspect you might be a threat to them."
Finally, on the 12th of February, at Dalrymple's absolute insistence,
Colonel Hill, gave the order to Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, to execute
the instructions already in his possession.
A simultaneous
assault on key locations in Glencoe was determined for 7 a.m. the
following morning. To one location, Hamilton was to take a party of
Hill's regiment. Several posts were assigned to a detachment of
Argyll's regiment under the command of Major Robert Duncanson, now
encamped in readiness only a few miles from Glencoe on the other side of
Loch Leven, and at his quarters in the very midst of the MacDonalds,
Captain Campbell of Glenlyon was finally instructed as to the true
object of his mission. The orders came from Duncanson and, in the first
three sentences, the full horror of Glenlyon's task was made brutally
clear.
"You are hereby ordered to fall upon
the rebels, the MacDonalds of Glencoe, and put all to the sword under
seventy. You are to have a special care that the old fox and his sons
do upon no account escape your hands. You are to secure all the avenues
that no man escape."
[And then, in the next line, .... a deliberate error...]
"This you are to put in execution at
five of the clock precisely; and by that time, or very shortly after it,
I'll strive to be at you with a stronger party. If I do not come to
you at five, you are not to tarry for me but to fall on.
[By a simple matter of bringing the time of the assault forward by two
hours, Duncanson effectively puts half a mile of Loch Leven water
between himself and the massacre. He concludes with all the authority
and threat that might be expected of him.]
"This is by the King's special
command, for the good and safety of the country that these miscreants be
cut off root and branch. See that this be put 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 fit to carry Commission in the King's
service. Expecting you will not fail in the fulfilling hereof, as you
love yourself. I subscribe these with my hand at Ballachulish, February
12th, 1692.
Robert Duncanson."
As Campbell of Glenlyon considered his orders, two officers under
Hamilton's command to the north were being held under close arrest for
putting conscience before duty and refusing to march on Glencoe.
It
is to the eternal shame of Glenlyon and, to an extent, every man who
bears the name Campbell, that, after almost a fortnight of living under
the same roof as the MacDonalds, and of sharing their table, while the
drink, the wit and the conversation flowed ever more freely, he did not
follow the same course as these two officers who broke their swords and
"damn the consequences."
That evening, Campbell of Glenlyon
carried out the final spurious gesture of friendship by playing cards
with John and Alexander MacDonald, the sons of the chieftain. He had
also accepted an invitation from MacIain himself to dine with him the
following day.
In the early hours of Saturday the 13th of
February, while the rest of the valley slept, Campbell's men were making
ready for the assault. Stealth was central to the success of whole
operation yet it was soldiers calling to him from outside his window
which woke John MacDonald, the elder son of the chief.
Before he
could make any sense of the incident, they were gone, the shouts now
muffled and fading in the heavy snow. It was impossible to tell.... had
it been a prank or had the soldiers been trying to warn him of
something? Whatever their intent, there was military activity afoot
and, at such an hour, it at least warranted investigation. He got
dressed and made his way to Glenlyon's quarters at the village of
Inveriggan but he was unprepared for the scene which confronted him on
his arrival. The whole detachment was present and preparations for an
imminent action were well under way.
If MacDonald's alarm caused
him to hold back for a moment, the appearance of the senior officer, the
now familiar figure of Campbell of Glenlyon, who, only hours ago, had
been his adversary over the card table, must have restored his
confidence. He asked, outright, for an explanation. Glenlyon confided
that the troops had orders to march against some of Glengarry's men and
assured him that there was no hostile intention towards the MacDonalds.
Indeed, it was foolish to think otherwise for if, God forbid, he was
contemplating any action against Glencoe, would he not have told Sandy
and his own niece?
The explanation could not have been more
simple, nor the argument more plausible. It may have left MacDonald
perplexed, his instinct telling him one thing, his reason insisting upon
another, but he returned to his home and his bed.
He was
prevented from sleeping by his old servant who was finding the story
hard to accept. Something, he felt, just didn't ring true. ...and
where was MacDonald of Inveriggan? Why was he not up and about? Was it
not strange that with all this going on over there that not one of the
MacDonalds had stirred? It was indeed strange but John MacDonald was
satisfied that Glenlyon had spoken the truth... then again, if the old
man insisted upon keeping vigil, he saw no reason to stop him.
Within
minutes, the servant was back in the room. There were troops
approaching the house. Even before the man had finished speaking,
MacDonald was out of bed and at the door, shouting back instructions to
waken his brother, Sandy. The troops weren't far off. He made their
number to be about twenty. They carried muskets with fixed bayonets.
Moments
later, the soldiers had the house surrounded. The door was thrown open
and they burst in. They searched every room, though it had been
obvious from the start - the family had gone and, their tracks being
covered by the blizzard, pursuit would be futile. This, however, was
possibly the last time that the bitter wind and driving snow would be a
friend to the MacDonalds of Glencoe. The massacre commenced at five o'
clock in three villages at once. At his quarters at Inveriggan,
Campbell of Glenlyon ordered that nine men who had been bound and gagged
for the past few hours be dealt with. They were taken outside and
shot, one by one. MacDonald of Inveriggan, Glenlyon's own host for the
past fortnight, was one of these. This man had in his possession a
letter of protection signed by Colonel Hill.
High in the hill
above the village of Auchnaion, the shots were heard by John and Sandy
MacDonald, their families and their servants, but the real extent of the
butchery at Inveriggan could not be imagined. Captain Thomas Drummond
was there and making his presence felt. Glenlyon had been reluctant to
take the life of a young man of about twenty years of age, but he was
challenged by Drummond who was not a man to allow compassion, to
interfere with his duty. Why, in view of the orders, was this man still
alive? Before Glenlyon could venture an answer, the young man was shot
dead. Drummond also ran his dagger through the body of a 12 year old
boy who had grasped Campbell by the legs, offering to go anywhere with
him if he would spare his life.
The cruelty at Inveriggan
included the slaughter of a woman and her five year old son, but
instances of an equal barbarity were to be found elsewhere that
morning. At Carnoch, the pretence of friendship was carried as far as
the chieftain's door when Glenlyon's junior officer, Lieutenant Lindsay,
arrived with a party of soldiers. After making their apologies to the
servant for calling so early, MacIain's murderers were actually invited
into the house.
Glencoe was shot twice as he was getting out of
bed and fell lifeless in front of his wife. One ball entered the back
of his head, the other penetrated his body. His wife was stripped naked
and thrown out of the house. One of the soldiers is said to have
pulled the rings from her fingers with his teeth and then she was left
to lie in the snow. She died the following day.
At the laird's
house in the village of Auchnaion, a group of nine men were gathered
round the fire. They had been wakened in the early hours when the
soldiers who were staying with them were first drawn out of the houses.
A detail under the command of Sergeant Barber who had been quartered in
that very house put an end to their discussion. Five of the men were
killed instantly and another three were wounded. MacDonald of
Auchintriaten, who died there in his brother's house, had, in his
pocket, a letter of protection signed by Colonel Hill. Three men
escaped by the back of the house but Auchintriaten's brother remained,
motionless, on the floor. Barber was about to finish him off when the
MacDonald asked if he was to be killed under the roof that they had
shared for the past fortnight. The sergeant conceded the point. Since
he'd been eating MacDonald's meat, he would do him the favour of killing
him outside. Two soldiers escorted him out but, once through the door,
MacDonald threw his plaid over their faces and he, too, escaped and
lived to recount the story. Some told of soldiers who deliberately
allowed men to slip away or who fired over the heads of the men they had
been ordered to pursue but the few pathetic accounts of an escape from
the slaughter are eclipsed by the catalogue of utter misery and agony
inflicted in the name of righteousness and justice.
Throughout
the glen, men were dragged from their beds and murdered. The soldiers
torched the houses as they went, and a scene of the most heart rending
description ensued. Ejected from their burning homes, women of all
ages, some almost in a state of nudity, the old and the frail, mothers
carrying infants and some with helpless children clinging to them, were
to be seen all wending their way into the mountains in a piercing snow
storm. One by one, they were overcome by fatigue and exposure and,
before any shelter could be reached, many of them perished miserably in
the snow.
Three weeks later, on the 5th of March, the architect
of this so-called "great work of charity", the Scottish Secretary, Sir
John Dalrymple, confessed that all he regretted was that any of the
MacDonalds got away.
Fortunately for society, most of Dalrymple's
peers were not his equal. In every quarter, even at court, the account
of the massacre was received with horror and indignation. It is said
that the anger of the nation rose to such a pitch that had the exiled
monarch appeared at the head of a few thousand men, he would probably
have succeeded in regaining his crown.
The ministry and even King
William grew alarmed and, to pacify the people, he dismissed Dalrymple
from his councils and appointed a commission of enquiry to investigate
the affair. In his defence, the King explained that he had signed the
execution order among a mass of other papers, without knowing its
contents. The commissioners, however, seem to have taken the view that,
since the orders were both signed and countersigned by His Majesty, the
public would not readily accept that as credible. The explanation
which they put forward was even less credible, but deliberately so. In
barefaced defiance of the intellect of every reasonable person, they
claimed that there was nothing in the King's instructions to warrant the
slaughter. The effect was that public outrage was replaced by utter
bewilderment. At some point, the fiction was then ventured that the
massacre was merely the result of a long standing feud between the
Campbell and the MacDonald clans. This finally deflected the attention
away from the dishonour and the barbarity of the military exercise as a
subject of public concern and all was well, once again. The whole
affair would soon be forgotten by all but the Jacobites. Although the
commission blamed Dalrymple for the atrocity, neither he nor any of the
other participants were ever brought to trial, for the obvious reason
that they would have cited, in their defence, the King's orders to
extirpate the clan.
The myth of the "Campbells & MacDonalds"
falls far short of the truth but, like all mythology, it is not without
foundation. During the previous year, the Government's hopes to secure
a peace in the Highlands had centred on the diplomatic efforts of Sir
John Campbell, the Earl of Breadalbane. As early as June 1691, the
MacDonalds might have agreed to end hostilities but Breadalbane
undermined his own skills as a negotiator by introducing a personal
grievance which really boiled down to a matter of some stolen cows, and
the opportunity was lost. Having failed to get satisfaction from
Glencoe over the business of the cattle, his mind may have turned to
revenge and there is evidence to support the belief that it was he who
first suggested to Dalrymple that the MacDonalds of Glencoe be singled
out as an example of the King's justice. Three months after the
massacre, Breadalbane, ever the negotiator, had no qualms about
contacting Glencoe's sons and offering to use his influence to have
reparations awarded to them if they would declare, publicly, that he had
no part in it.
We tend to think on government propaganda as
being a modern device but here is a story, more than three hundred years
old, and, even now, the fiction of the Campbells and the MacDonalds is
remembered; Glencoe, if the government's apologists were to be believed,
was some sort of clan feud which descended into a dishonourable
butchery. And they are widely believed! It's now become a sort of
romantic curiosity for the tourist trade. I might as well declare an
interest at this point. Being a Campbell, by name, and a Jacobite by
nature, descended from a long line of recusants (interesting how many people don't even know what that means)
and Jacobites, this story strikes a chord. Decent, ordinary people in
1692 would have found it a lot easier to believe the story of the
Campbells and the MacDonalds than to come to terms with the fact that
their King sanctioned and the Scottish Secretary planned one of the most
dishonourable massacres in history. Nothing changes.
It is
probable that the massacre of Glencoe was conceived in a Campbell mind,
made possible through Campbell complicity, and achieved by a Campbell's
dishonour, but behind it was a driving force and a guiding hand which
belonged to the Scottish Secretary, Sir John Dalrymple, Master of
Stair. Ten years later, that same hand would be helping, in no small
measure, to guide Scotland towards the Union of the Parliaments, but
that's another story.
©Scotland Talking 1992
A copy of a
Scottish Records Office publication, providing references to some of the
sources of documentary evidence used in preparation of the foregoing
account, has been uploaded in image form (i.e. I haven't yet had time to
transcribe it). The images have been compressed as much as possible
(50kb & 120kb).
- An
audio cassette of this story was produced in 1992 by "Scotland Talking"
and the preceding account of the massacre is essentially a copy of the
script for that production.
- Narrated
by actor James Bryce, one of Scotland's top story-tellers, the Massacre
of Glencoe was researched and written by Jimmy Powdrell Campbell.
I found this on Ancestry.com.
Glencole Order
Our Family has three tree lines going through Alexander MacDonald who died in the Glencole Massacre in 1692. They are as follows:
Alexander Mcdonald *
(1612 - 1692)
is our 8th great grandfather
son of Alexander Mcdonald *
son of Bryan Mcdonald *
son of Bryan Mcdonald *Jr
son of James McDaniel or McDonald *
son of Magness McDonald *
daughter of John or Jack McDonald or McDaniel *
son of Nancy S McDonald *
daughter of Martin Crenshaw Holland *
daughter of Ollie Florence Holland *
Alexander McDonald **
(1612 - 1692)
is our 8th great grandfather
son of Alexander McDonald **
son of Bryan Mcdonald *
son of *John MacDonnell
daughter of John McDaniel *
son of Hannah McDaniel McDonald *
son of Uriah Springer *
daughter of Levi Springer *
daughter of Mary Mariah Springer *
son of Mary Lou Ella Stewart *
Alexander McDonald ***
(1612 - 1692)
is our 8th great grandfather
son of Alexander McDonald ***
son of Bryan Mcdonald
son of John MacDonnell
daughter of John McDaniel *
son of Hannah McDaniel *
daughter of John Springer *
daughter of Nancy Springer *
daughter of Mary Mariah Springer *
son of Mary Lou Ella Stewart *
