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Updated: June 25, 2025
There are few things in history more tragic than the picture of that inert mass of moody Highlanders, frozen into traitors through an insane pride and savage jealousy, witnessing the ruin of their cause and the slaughter of their comrades unmoved, and listening impassively to the entreaties of the gallant Perth and the death groans of the heroic Keppoch.
He had been treated with great courtesy and kindness by the prince, who, after the ceremony, dismissed him with the words, "You may now return to your general; tell him what you have seen, and add that I am about to give him battle." Soon after the conclusion of the ceremony Keppoch marched in with three hundred of his clan, and some smaller parties also arrived.
Here was an opportunity for gratifying his love of revenge and his love of plunder which Keppoch was not the man to lose. He advanced through the territory of the Mackintoshes, harrying and burning as he marched, up to the walls of Inverness.
An anecdote, illustrative of this peculiarity, is told of Macdonald of Keppoch, who was killed at the battle of Culloden. Some low-country gentlemen were visiting him in 1740, and were entertained with the lavish hospitality of a Highland home. One of these guests ventured to ask of the landlord, what was the rent of his estate. "I can bring five hundred men into the field," was the reply.
"A spy in an honest tartan, no doubt," said Sir Alas-dair; "but well put it to the test with Keppoch himself: tell him to come over and throw an eye on the fellow."
At the same time, he was careful to maintain his authority and to exact the respect due to his position. He knew well that among those lawless spirits he who would be obeyed must be feared. On one occasion he administered a public rebuke to the arch-thief, Keppoch, who had found time for another raid on the Mackintoshes.
"I can say for myself," said John, "that there's not a man in Keppoch could guess my nativity or my politics if I had on another tartan than that of the Diarmaid." "Ah! you have the tongue, no doubt of it," said Argile, smiling; "and if a change of colour would make your task less hazardous, why not effect it? I'm sure we could accommodate you with some neutral fabric for kilt and plaid."
Keppoch was sent for, and came across from a fire at another part of the field, a hiccough at his throat and a blear look in his eye as one that has been overly brisk with the bottle, but still and on the gentleman and in a very good humour. "Here's my bard sure enough!" he cried. "John, John, what do you seek in Kilcumin, and in Campbell company too?"
Combine like three streams from one mountain of snow, And resistless in union rush down on the foe! True son of Sir Evan, undaunted Lochiel, Place thy targe on thy shoulder and burnish thy steel! Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle's bold swell, Till far Coryarrick resound to the knell! Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the gale!
She prepared to lay out a rough bedding of the bleached bog-grass our people gather in the dry days of spring. "You may rest you a while, then," said she. "I have a husband with Keppoch, and he might be needing a bed among strangers himself." "We are much in your reverence, housewife," said John, nudging me so that I felt ashamed of his double-dealing.
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