It would be difficult to name any eminent man in whom national feeling and clannish feeling were stronger than in Sir Walter Scott.

Yet when Sir Walter Scott mentioned Killiecrankie he seemed utterly to forget that he was a Saxon, that he was of the same blood and of the same speech with Ramsay's foot and Annandale's horse.

His heart swelled with triumph when he related how his own kindred had fled like hares before a smaller number of warriors of a different breed and of a different tongue.
In Ireland the feud remains unhealed.

The name of Newton Butler, insultingly repeated by a minority, is hateful to the great majority of the population.

If a monument were set up on the field of battle, it would probably be defaced: if a festival were held in Cork or Waterford on the anniversary of the battle, it would probably be interrupted by violence.