The survivors might well apprehend that they had escaped the shot and the sword only to perish by famine.  The whole domain was a waste.  Houses, barns, furniture, implements of husbandry, herds, flocks, horses, were gone.  Many months must elapse before the clan would be able to raise on its own ground the means of supporting even the most miserable existence.234

It may be thought strange that these events should not have been instantly followed by a burst of execration from every part of the civilised world.  The fact, however, is that years elapsed before the public indignation was thoroughly awakened, and that months elapsed before the blackest part of the story found credit even among the enemies of the government.  That the massacre should not have been mentioned in the London Gazettes, in the Monthly Mercuries which were scarcely less courtly than the Gazettes, or in pamphlets licensed by official censors, is perfectly intelligible.  But that no allusion to it should be found in private journals and letters, written by persons free from all restraint, may seem extraordinary.  There is not a word on the subject in Evelyn’s Diary.  In Narcissus Luttrell’s Diary is a remarkable entry made five weeks after the butchery.  The letters from Scotland, he says, described that kingdom as perfectly tranquil, except that there was still some grumbling about ecclesiastical questions.  The Dutch ministers regularly reported all the Scotch news to their government.  They thought it worth while, about this time, to mention that a collier had been taken by a privateer near Berwick, that the Edinburgh mail had been robbed, that a whale, with a tongue seventeen feet long and seven feet broad, had been stranded near Aberdeen.  But it is not hinted in any of their despatches that there was any rumour of any extraordinary occurrence in the Highlands.  Reports that some of the Macdonalds had been slain did indeed, in about three weeks, travel through Edinburgh up to London.  But these reports were vague and contradictory; and the very worst of them was far from coming up to the horrible truth.  The Whig version of the story was that the old robber Mac Ian had laid an ambuscade for the soldiers, that he had been caught in his own snare, and that he and some of his clan had fallen sword in hand.  The Jacobite version, written at Edinburgh on the twenty-third of March, appeared in the Paris Gazette of the seventh of April.  Glenlyon, it was said, had been sent with a detachment from Argyle’s regiment, under cover of darkness, to surprise the inhabitants of Glencoe, and had killed thirty-six men and boys and four women.235 In this there was nothing very strange or shocking.  A night attack on a gang of freebooters occupying a strong natural fortress may be a perfectly legitimate military operation; and, in the obscurity and confusion of such an attack, the most humane man may be so unfortunate as to shoot a woman or a child.  The circumstances which give a peculiar character