chief to sign a paper declaring that they held the Earl guiltless of the blood which had been shed.  They were assured that, if they would do this, all His Lordship’s great influence should be employed to obtain for them from the Crown a free pardon and a remission of all forfeitures.239 Glenlyon did his best to assume an air of unconcern.  He made his appearance in the most fashionable coffeehouse at Edinburgh, and talked loudly and self-complacently about the important service in which he had been engaged among the mountains.  Some of his soldiers, however, who observed him closely, whispered that all this bravery was put on.  He was not the man that he had been before that night.  The form of his countenance was changed.  In all places, at all hours, whether he waked or slept, Glencoe was for ever before him.240

But, whatever apprehensions might disturb Breadalbane, whatever spectres might haunt Glenlyon, the Master of Stair had neither fear nor remorse.  He was indeed mortified; but he was mortified only by the blunders of Hamilton and by the escape of so many of the damnable breed.  “Do right, and fear nobody;” such is the language of his letters.  “Can there be a more sacred duty than to rid the country of thieving?  The only thing that I regret is that any got away."241

On the sixth of March, William, entirely ignorant, in all probability, of the details of the crime which has cast a dark shade over his glory, had set out for the Continent, leaving the Queen his viceregent in England.242

He would perhaps have postponed his departure if he had been aware that the French Government had, during some time, been making great preparations for a descent on our island.243 An event had taken place which had changed the policy of the Court of Versailles.  Louvois was no more.  He had been at the head of the military administration of his country during a quarter of a century; he had borne a chief part in the direction of two wars which had enlarged the French territory, and had filled the world with the renown of the French arms; and he had lived to see the beginning of a third war which tasked his great powers to the utmost.  Between him and the celebrated captains who carried his plans into execution there was little harmony.  His imperious temper and his confidence in himself impelled him to interfere too much with the conduct of troops in the field, even when those troops were commanded by Conde, by Turenne or by Luxemburg.  But he was the greatest Adjutant General, the greatest Quartermaster General, the greatest Commissary General, that Europe had seen.  He may indeed be said to have made a revolution in the art of disciplining, distributing, equipping and provisioning armies.  In spite, however, of his abilities and of his services, he had become odious to Lewis and to her who governed Lewis.  On the last occasion on which the King and the minister transacted business together, the ill humour on both sides broke violently forth.