Vancouver Province
for August 20, 1999

My grandmother on my mother’s side was from Cape Breton Island and, in her generation at any rate, Islanders were more Scots than the Scots. She was a woman of firm views – she had never in her long life (she died at 93) ever met a Campbell she liked or trusted. Moreover, she wouldn't darken the doors of Eatons. (This latter prejudice was based on the fact that the Toronto store had bought out Spencers, the British Columbia chain. By then a Vancouver convert with an east coast hatred of Toronto, her antipathy was very deep. Who can say she was wrong? On the rare occasions I buy from Eatons I find myself looking up to the heavens and saying "Gram, you were right.")

Last Friday, Wendy and I left Glasgow Airport for the north-western corner of Scotland and en route passed through the gloomy yet so beautiful glen they call Coe where the hated Campbell’s, inspired by the despicable Master of Stair, breached highland hospitality (to say the least) by slaughtering their Macdonald hosts in their beds.

In 1603, after the death of Elizabeth I, the crowns of England and Scotland were united under the House of Stuart and as long as the Stuarts were on the throne, Scotland went along with the arrangement. But, in 1689, after the "Glorious Revolution", James II was tossed off the throne and was supplanted by his daughter Mary and her husband William. Many of the highland chiefs, including MacIan, the chief of the Glencoe Macdonalds, were less than enthusiastic about the new arrangements even though Mary and William served as joint monarchs. These chiefs were what would become known as Jacobites, or supporters of James who had, just before he was evicted, become the father of a bouncing baby boy. To highlanders this meant that there was a valid Stuart heir even if James was expendable. Going to Holland and an outsider was not a popular notion in the North of Scotland. Knowing this, William ordered all highland chiefs to swear allegiance to him by January 1, 1692 at the latest. Old MacIan was slated to do so at Inverary, the clan seat of the despised Campbells.

Well, MacIan tarried a bit, then got caught in a blizzard and in the result was a week or so late. But he did swear his allegiance and went home.

About six weeks later, a group of Campbell’s arrived at MacIans home and were put up in keeping with traditional highland hospitality. For a couple of nights there was great feasting and whisky inspired merriment. Then it happened – what the Campbells had been up to all along. The Macdonalds were slaughters in their beds and the women and children driven out into the raging snowstorm. Thus happened the Massacre of Glencoe which, to a substantial degree, spawned the uprisings of 1715 and 1745 culminating in the defeat of Bonnie Prince Charlie at Culloden in 1746.

In 1992, the 300^th anniversary of the Massacre, while doing some work for the Scottish Tourist Board, I interviewed a prominent member of Clan Campbell, who was, I thought, a tad defensive about the whole matter even so long after the event. Then I interviewed the oldest of the Glencoe Macdonalds – a man well into his nineties. I asked him if there was still bad blood between the two clans. "Och noo", he replied, "that’s all beheend us noo."

After the interview Macdonald and I walked up to the cairn commemorating the massacre and there on the cenotaph were some flowers left over from the commemoration ceremony a few months back.

"Look, Mr Macdonald", I said, "there’s a wreath from Clan Campbell."

"The bastards", exclaimed Macdonald, "the bastards!"

Then there’s the story of the late Col. Colin C. Ferrie of Vancouver who, with the Seaforths during the war, was at a party thrown for the officers by a Scottish laird. The host, making conversation, asked Col. Ferry what the "C" stood for. Upon hearing the reply "Campbell" the host stiffened and said "I’m sorry sir. There’s nay been a Campbell dine in this house for 300 years - I’ll have to ask you to leave." One can only imagine what Col. Ferrie’s fate would have been had his surname been Campbell!

To us Scots, these grave matters die hard. Very hard.

Oh yes … I nearly forgot to tell you my grandmother’s name.

Jane Macdonald.