Glencoe

by John Prebble

  The Council made no attempt to prod Grey John of Breadalbane from his castle by Loch Awe, and no charges were brought against him on the evidence of Annandale's confession. This did not mean they could not be laid upon him later, at any time the King chose. It may have occurred to William – it certainly would have occurred to the Master of Stair – that a man who had been discovered at the double game might be more useful, in his own interest, than an honest and loyal servant like John Hill. It was more than a year now since Lochiel had let it be known that he was willing to talk over this matter of submission with his Campbell cousin, and once the Cameron chief came in, the rest would follow. In the spring of 1691 the King once more empowered ‘John, Earl of Breadalbane, to meet and treat with the Highlanders and others in arms in our Kingdom of Scotland, in order to reduce them to our obedience’.

  ‘If I live to have geese, I'll set the fox to keep them!’

  A BASIC principle of magnetism, that opposite poles attract, may explain the psychological paradox of the alliance between the Master of Stair and Grey John of Breadalbane. Despite the warmth of their letters, their association was without real friendship and probably without trust. Each was determined to use the other, the Lowlander working for the pacification of the clans as an essential step toward the union of Parliaments, and the Highlander following his enduring ambition to make Glenorchy the dominant house of Clan Campbell. Each, too, know the depth and danger of their unpopularity and the risks they ran by failure. ‘There never was trouble brewing in Scotland,’ Charles II had once said, ‘but that a Dalrymple or a Campbell was at the bottom of it.’ Trouble was something that neither man wanted at this moment, nor expected.

  Though the proposal to treat with the rebels, and to indemnify them, was originally Tarbat's, the Master was now calling it ‘my Lord Breadalbane's scheme’. In June, he was at Approbaix in Flanders with William's army, and early in the month he sent the Earl the King's final instructions and permission to arrange an early meeting with the chiefs. The intimate tone of his covering letter was typical of their correspondence at this time.

  My Lord, I can say nothing to you. All things are as you wish, but I do long to hear from you. By the King's letter to the Council you will see he has stopped all hostilities against the Highlanders till he may hear from you, and that your time may be elapsed without coming to some issue, which I do not apprehend…. But if they will be mad, before Lammas, they will repent it, for the army will be allowed to go into the Highlands, which some thirst so much for, and the frigates will attack them. But I have so much confidence in your capacity to let them see the ground they stand on, that I think those suggestions are vain. I have sent your instructions – My dear Lord, adieu.

  Thus Breadalbane was plainly told that his would be the last attempt to reason with the chiefs, and if it failed there would be a return to force.

  When John Hill got news of Breadalbane's commission he was sick with anger. ‘I should have had much more of the people under oath,’ he told the Earl of Crawford, a commissioner of the Treasury, ‘had not my Lord Breadalbane's design hindered, which I wish may do good, but suspect more hurt than good from it. For my part hereafter, if I live to have geese I'll set the fox to keep them!’ The old soldier was bitterly disappointed because his efforts had been set aside, and he gathered all the malicious information he could about Breadalbane, reporting it to Melville with childish satisfaction. Now little more than a clerk to the Master of Stair, the Joint Secretary may have wondered what he was supposed to do with these stories. One of Breadalbane's outrageous promises to the chiefs, Hill told him, was that if they took the oath Fort William would be destroyed, even handed over to them. Despite such criminal proposals, the Earl was having little success. MacDonald of Glengarry was not interested in treating with anybody, and had gone raiding northward into Ross with five hundred of his men. A Cameron gentleman had stopped by Inverlochy to tell Hill that Lochiel was now coldly hostile to the Earl and did not trust him. Other chiefs did not believe that they would see much of the £12,000 sterling which Breadalbane was said to have been given for distribution among them. ‘He tells them the money is locked up in a chest at London, but they believe he will find a way to keep a good part of it himself.’* The truth was, Hill may have admitted to himself during those lonely evenings at his writing-desk, his friendship and protection meant less to the chiefs than the thought of handsome payments. There was talk that Lochiel would be given £5,000, and Glengarry £1,500, if they behaved themselves and took the oath.

  The Governor was a good and dutiful soldier, however, and bearing his wounded pride he did what he could to help the Breadalbane scheme. ‘Twice or thrice a week,’ he reported, ‘I march a party of four hundred men sometimes up, and sometimes down the country, where the people (being under protection) meet them and are civil. So I let them see we can reach them if they behave otherwise than they have engaged to do.’ That he was able to put seven companies of his regiment on the march, and so regularly, was proof of the miracle he had worked on the rabble sent to him six months before. But so much had not changed. No pay had reached him, and his soldiers were far in arrears. There were frequent desertions, angry and desperate men taking their chance of survival in the hills rather than endure the fort for another day. Hill had recruiting officers at work in the Lowlands to fill these gaps and to replace the men taken to the graveyard. But of every three recruits sent, one was sick and another dead within a month. And all this mocked by the wild beauty of a Highland summer.

  In the last week of June, Breadalbane met the chiefs at Achallader, the castle ruins still black from burning by the Lochaber Men two years before. Achadh-fhaladair, which means a cornfield ready for reaping, was one of the oldest settlements in the Highlands. Here, it was said, the Fletchers had been the first to kindle fire and boil water, thus establishing their title to the land in the old Celtic way. It had not belonged to them for nearly a century, but some still lived there as vassals of the Campbells. On the brae above their township was a green mound they called Uaigh a' Choigrich, the Grave of the Stranger, of the English mercenary who had grazed his horse in a cornfield ready for reaping, and who had died because he had no Gaelic.

  The chiefs came from the north across the bog-cotton, the skeleton trees and the flaming heather of Rannoch. Stewarts, Macleans, Camerons and MacDonalds, they came boldly, arrogantly, with pipes playing, and each with a fine tail of followers to support his dignity. MacDonald of Glengarry, back from his cattle-raid on Ross, brought his house-guests Major-General Thomas Buchan and Sir George Barclay, representing His Majesty King James's forces within the kingdom of Scotland. Breadalbane talked with them all beguilingly, not as an alien emissary from William but as MacCailein 'ic Dhonnachaidh, a chief like themselves, and now and then as a man sympathetic to the Stuart cause and wishing it nothing but good. He said that their interest was his, and if he had been forced to pretend an allegiance to William (to save himself, his family and his people from ruin) this did not mean he would not further King James's cause by whatever means and whenever he could. He knew the moment to flatter, to advise, or to warn.

  In the week of talking, quarrelling and bargaining, in the idler hours of backgammon, feasting and field-games, he seems to have isolated the chiefs one by one, securing from each, when he could, a promise to accept what terms he might be able to get for them from the Government, and to live peaceably until then. One of the first to give him such an assurance was, surprisingly, young Coll MacDonald of Keppoch, who signed a bond in his own name and the names of eight of his tacksmen.

  Two MacDonalds, however, were unmoved by the Campbells' soft words and measured arguments. Glengarry was surly and suspicious, and much of his discontent may have come from the fact that the £1,500 promised as his indemnity had now become £1,000 only. The second man was MacIain. He had come across Rannoch with his sons, and with no belief that any good could come from this meeting. He was stiff, cold and hostile, and the rock of his obstinacy broke Brea
dalbane's calculated charm. Four generations of hatred for the Gallows Herd stirred and burst from the Campbell. MacIain's sons later swore on oath that Breadalbane ‘did quarrel about some cows that the Earl alleged were stolen from his men by Glencoe's men, and that although they were not present to hear the words, yet their father told them’. This passionate, angry quarrel worried old MacIain. ‘There's bad blood between our family and his,’ he told his sons, ‘I fear mischief from no man so much as the Earl of Breadalbane.’ He gathered his people and went home, saying he had no trust in someone who was Willie's man in Edinburgh and Jamie's in the Highlands.

  The others were more realistic, less hostile to the Earl. They knew that they could not continue as they had since Killiecrankie. Hill's patrol-boat and marching companies at Inverlochy, Living-stone's army in the foothills, and the frigates sailing off the Isles were plain evidence that William was ready to turn again to force if necessary. The chiefs were no longer willing to fight alone. James must send them French help, or set them free to make what term's they could for their own preservation. They would take the oath to William if and when James relieved them of the allegiance they had sworn to him at Dalcomera and Blair. Grey John knew that their honour was the fulcrum upon which all must move. Though he had not the authority, he agreed that emissaries should be sent to get this relief from the exiled man at Saint-Germain, and upon this understanding the Treaty of Achallader was signed.

  We, Major-General Buchan and Sir George Barclay, General Officers of King James the Seventh his Forces within the Kingdom of Scotland, to testify our aversion of shedding Christian blood, and that we design to appear good Scotsmen, and to wish that this nation may be restored to its wonted and happy peace, do agree and consent to a forbearance of all acts of hostility and depredation to be committed upon the subjects of this nation, or England, until the first day of October next, providing that there be no acts of hostility or depredation committed upon any of the King's subjects who have been, or are, engaged in his service under our command, either by sea or land; we having giving all necessary orders to such as are under [our command] to forbear acts of hostility by sea or land until the aforesaid time. Subscribed at Achallader, the 30th day of June, 1691.

  In his turn, Breadalbane, gave his assurance in the name of a king and queen who had so far not considered the merits or value of such a treaty.

  Whereas the Chieftains of the Clans have given bonds not to commit acts of hostility or depredation before the first day of October next, upon the conditions contained in the aforesaid bonds; and in regard that the officers sent by King James to command the said Chieftains have, by one unanimous consent in their Council of War, agreed to the said forbearance: Therefore I, as having warrant from King William and Queen Mary to treat with the foresaid Highlanders concerning the peace of the kingdom, do hereby certify that the said officers and Chieftains have signed a forbearance of acts of hostility and depredations till the first of October next. Wherefore it's most necessary, just, and reasonable that no acts of hostility by sea or land, or depredations, be committed upon the said officers, or any of their party whom they do command, or upon the Chieftains, or their kinsmen, friends, tenants or followers till the foresaid day of October. Subscribed at Achallader, the 30th day of June, 1691. BREADALBANE.

  There was no mention of the oath to William, of permission from James, or the payment of indemnity upon submission. This was an armistice only, and for three months, but it was the first truce since William had landed at Torbay. Moreover, like the Treaty of Limerick signed later that year with the Irish Jacobites, it recognized the chiefs as legitimate belligerents not ‘rebels’, and entitled them to proper treatment under the rules of war between nations. It was a distinction that would not be honoured long.

  Breadalbane was delighted by his qualified success. He had done something no other man had done, not even Hill. His agents diligently travelled through Argyll, telling the people there that their chief MacCailein Mor was out of favour with the King, and that MacCailein 'ic Dhonnachaidh was now the trusted representative of Clan Campbell. He posted to London in haste. William was in Flanders, but to the Queen and her ministers the Earl gave a full account of the Achallader meeting, or at least as full as he thought politic. The chiefs, he said, had left for their homes ‘in good hopes to receive the money and an indemnity when they disbanded, and had dismissed all their men’. He then sailed for Flanders to report to the King.

  Not all the Jacobites in the Highlands were satisfied. Though Barclay and Buchan had signed in their name, Glengarry, MacIain, and some Stewarts of Appin were restless and suspicious. Charles Edwards, who had been Dundee's chaplain, circulated a letter among the chiefs, saying that Breadalbane would ruin them and King James's cause. ‘All the fair stories he told you at Achallader against the Government were on purpose to deceive you, therefore meddle no more with him. The Pope has given a large sum of money to King James which you may expect to have a share of very shortly.’ This brave lie had little effect, the chiefs believed more in London's gold.

  At Approbaix, Breadalbane leant heavily upon Stair's support. Though William was glad to have the truce, it was not a permanent solution. But Stair's smooth voice was at his ear, assuring him that this was a necessary stage, that my lord Breadalbane's scheme would be successful. The King knew nothing yet of the chiefs' insistence that James must first release them from their oath to him, and if Breadalbane told Stair about it, the Master kept it to himself.

  Within three weeks of the Achallader meeting the truce was broken, and by the Glencoe men and their friends from Appin. A small boat carrying provisions to Fort William was tacking up the coast of Lorn when two others, filled with Highlanders, darted from an inlet and fell upon it. There was a piratical little affray, a flashing of swords and popping of pistols, in which some of the soldiers were wounded. The Highlanders stripped the provision boat of its cargo and took it to their homes.

  When the boat's-crew and the bloodstained guard stumbled down Cow Hill into the fort, the Governor acted quickly. His battalion's drums beat the Gathering, and seven companies formed up under Major John Forbes with full knapsacks and cartridge-pouches. They marched away in close order for Glencoe and Appin, and were so swift and resolute that they were able to arrest thirteen of the principal offenders before the Stewarts or MacDonalds could think of resisting. Within a week Forbes brought all the prisoners into the fort and put them under guard. They were not broken men or disobedient clansmen, and it was plain to Hill that the raid had been a deliberate act of defiance. The leader was young Robert Stewart, Chief of Appin, and with him Forbes had taken eight of his close kinsmen. There was Ronald MacDonald of Auchterera, an impenitent and uncompromising Jacobite whom Hill described in his reports as ‘a Captain of Horse, Glengarry's near kinsman and counsellor, lately come from France, and a Papist’. Another was John Sinclair the laird of Telstan, a captain of dragoons in the Jacobite service, and there was a young gentleman of Clan Maclean, the son of a Glasgow merchant who preferred adventure in the Highlands with his people to service in his father's counting-house. Finally there was MacIain's hot-tempered and zealous son Alasdair Og, ‘a Captain of Foot in Major-General Buchan's regiment, and a Papist’. All were young men, and all accepted their imprisonment with arrogant pride.

  Hill informed the Privy Council that he had taken the prisoners, and he kept to himself any mordant thoughts he now had about the value of the Achallader Treaty. By return, he was told to hold the young men until a ship could be sent to carry them to the Tolbooth in Glasgow.

  Since the King was still in Flanders, the Privy Council asked Queen Mary in London what her pleasure might be concerning the prisoners. Her answer came by flying pacquet at the end of the first week in August, and shows that her feelings about the Highlanders could sometimes run counter to her husband's. William would no doubt have let the troublesome fellows kick their heels against the Tolbooth walls until their rebellious temper was lower, but Mary was a Stuart, conscious of
her Scots ancestry, and gently compassionate towards those who had fought for her father. She was also wise enough to see that here was an incident that might prejudice the negotiations for a peaceful settlement. She told the Council to set the young men free. And so they were. But Hill would have been out of character if he had not taken advantage of the time he held them prisoner to read them a parental lesson on the moral and military importance of keeping a promise made in their name.

  If Hill had wondered how Breadalbane had managed to talk the chiefs into a truce after a week only of debate, when it had taken him months to bring the smaller gentry to submission, he discovered the answer that August. He got news of a secret agreement made between Grey John and the Jacobites, and there can be no doubt that it was the cunning and sulky Glengarry who told him what was in these Private Articles. Hot with anger and honest disgust, pleased that his suspicions of Breadalbane's duplicity could now be proved, Hill scribbled a brief report and sent it south to John Forbes, who was now in Edinburgh, with instructions that he hand it personally to Sir Thomas Livingstone. On the morning of 28 August, Forbes stopped Livingstone at the door of Holyroodhouse and gave him Hill's letter, which Living-stone took at once to the Duke of Hamilton, President of the Privy Council. The Articles, as Hill had been told them by Glengarry, made it plain that the published agreement on a three-months truce was subject to five conditions:

  1. That if there be either an invasion from abroad or a rising of His Majesty (King James's) subjects in Britain, then this agreement is null.

  2. If His Majesty (King James) does not approve of the said agreement it is also null.

  3. And to that purpose there is a passport to be granted to two gentlemen, to acquaint the King therewith in all haste.