The Glen Coe Massacre

We dive into one of Scotland’s most notorious and haunting acts of treachery.

This Substack’s a little different from what you’re used to, but still very much tied to our A/W’25 ‘Edinburgh’ collection. This time, we’re telling you a story — a real one! And maybe a few more as the season unfolds. Plus, some Scottish myths and legends, because thankfully this gloomy moody place is packed with them. We tried not to get obsessed… didn’t work.

During the Jacobite rising of 1689–1692, King William III’s armies were stretched across the globe—fighting pirates in the Caribbean, guarding ships in the Indian Ocean, battling in South Africa and Ireland, and maintaining order in Scotland. Desperate to free troops, William issued a so-called “non-aggression pact” in 1689, demanding every Scottish clan chief swear loyalty by 31 December 1691. When trust wavered, he sweetened the terms: on 27 August 1691 he promised a full pardon to anyone who took the oath before 1 January 1692.

“After the Massacre of Glencoe”, 1889, by Peter Graham

Many complied. Others hesitated. And one man delayed too long: Alasdair MacIain, chief of the MacDonalds of Glen Coe. Only after Boxing Day did he set out, and even then rode to the wrong place—Fort William instead of Inveraray. Exhausted, he finally reached Inveraray on 6 January 1692, days too late. Yet MacIain believed his willingness would count for something. He believed his people were safe.

But the order for their destruction had already been signed.

“Glencoe, The Scene of the Massacre”, 1870s - 1880s, by James Valentine

On 1 February, Captain Robert Campbell of Glen Lyon, a man with a bitter grudge against the MacDonalds, marched 130 soldiers into Glen Coe. Claiming to be trapped by winter storms, he requested shelter. The villagers welcomed him in, offering fires, dry clothing, and half their scarce food for 10 days. They shared their homes with the very men who had come to kill them.

Glencoe, 1836, engraved by W. Miller after J.M.W. Turner

On the night of 12 February, Campbell received sealed orders:
At 5 a.m., slaughter every MacDonald from 7 to 70.

The original order sent to Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon, instructing him to kill the MacDonalds of Glencoe.

What followed in the icy darkness of 13 February 1692 was treachery of the highest order. 38 MacDonalds were butchered in their beds. A few soldiers, sickened by the betrayal, whispered warnings that allowed some families to flee—but many died of exposure as they fought through blizzards toward the Hidden Valley beneath the Three Sisters.

view from the summit of the Devil’s Staircase looking south over the east end of Glen Coe, towards Buachaille Etive Mòr with Creise and Meall a’ Bhuiridh beyond.

Those who made it into the glen sheltered with their cattle before slipping westward toward the coast and the safety of the Western Isles. Survivors almost certainly changed their names to escape persecution.

“The Massacre of Glencoe”, 1883-1886, by James Hamilton

A monument now stands in Glen Coe, and MacIain lies buried on Eilean Munde in Loch Leven. Nearby is Signal Rock, said to mark where the order to begin the massacre was given. By the time the first road was cut through the glen in 1785, and after the ravages of the Highland Clearances, the once-powerful MacDonald name had been all but erased from its ancestral home.

Inbhir Fhiodhan The few stones in the picture are the scant remains of Inverigan House, built in the late 1800s. However, an earlier house stood in this location, and it was in this house that Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon quartered himself prior to the Massacre of Glencoe on 13 February 1692. Here nine Glencoe MacDonalds were slaughtered in cold blood and are commemorated by the nine Scots pine trees planted around the ruins of Inverigan House.

Yet the memory of that winter morning has never faded. Even today, the Clachaig Inn keeps a sign above its door:

“No hawkers or Campbells.”

xx