The news that Mac Ian had not submitted within the prescribed time was received with cruel joy by three powerful Scotchmen who were then at the English Court.  Breadalbane had gone up to London at Christmas in order to give an account of his stewardship.  There he met his kinsman Argyle.  Argyle was, in personal qualities, one of the most insignificant of the long line of nobles who have borne that great name.  He was the descendant of eminent men, and the parent of eminent men.  He was the grandson of one of the ablest of Scottish politicians; the son of one of the bravest and most truehearted of Scottish patriots; the father of one Mac Callum More renowned as a warrior and as an orator, as the model of every courtly grace, and as the judicious patron of arts and letters, and of another Mac Callum More distinguished by talents for business and command, and by skill in the exact sciences.  Both of such an ancestry and of such a progeny Argyle was unworthy.  He had even been guilty of the crime, common enough among Scottish politicians, but in him singularly disgraceful, of tampering with the agents of James while professing loyalty to William.  Still Argyle had the importance inseparable from high rank, vast domains, extensive feudal rights, and almost boundless patriarchal authority.  To him, as to his cousin Breadalbane, the intelligence that the tribe of Glencoe was out of the protection of the law was most gratifying; and the Master of Stair more than sympathized with them both.

The feeling of Argyle and Breadalbane is perfectly intelligible.  They were the heads of a great clan; and they had an opportunity of destroying a neighbouring clan with which they were at deadly feud.  Breadalbane had received peculiar provocation.  His estate had been repeatedly devastated; and he had just been thwarted in a negotiation of high moment.  Unhappily there was scarcely any excess of ferocity for which a precedent could not be found in Celtic tradition.  Among all warlike barbarians revenge is esteemed the most sacred of duties and the most exquisite of pleasures; and so it had long been esteemed among the Highlanders.  The history of the clans abounds with frightful tales, some perhaps fabulous or exaggerated, some certainly true, of vindictive massacres and assassinations.  The Macdonalds of Glengarry, for example, having been affronted by the people of Culloden, surrounded Culloden church on a Sunday, shut the doors, and burned the whole congregation alive.  While the flames were raging, the hereditary musician of the murderers mocked the shrieks of the perishing crowd with the notes of his bagpipe.218 A band of Macgregors, having cut off the head of an enemy, laid it, the mouth filled with bread and cheese, on his sister’s table, and had the satisfaction of seeing her go mad with horror at the sight.  They then carried the ghastly trophy in triumph to their chief.  The whole clan met under the roof of an ancient church.  Every one in turn laid