At five in the morning, though Hamilton had not arrived, the bloodthirsty Glenlyon commenced the massacre by murdering his host and all his family. Lindsay did the same by his host, old Mac Ian and his family; and Barbour shot down his host and family in the same manner. Then the soldiers at every hut imitated their example, and speedily there was a hewing and shooting down of victims flying from the huts to the defiles for escape. Men, women, children, pleading most piteously, were ruthlessly murdered. But, fortunately, the sound of the fire-arms aroused the whole glen at once, and the rush of the affrighted people was too simultaneous to allow of their being killed. The greater part of them escaped in the darkness to the hills, for Hamilton had not arrived to blockade the defiles. The sanguinary haste of Glenlyon had saved the majority. The two sons of Mac Ian were amongst the number who escaped. Above thirty people, however, were massacred, and an old man of seventy, unable to fly, was brutally stabbed. But those who had escaped the sword and musket only escaped to the snow-covered rocks to perish, many of them of cold and famine, for the wretches set fire to everything in the valley, and left it one black and hideous desert.
When the news of this terrible affair at length spread, the public could scarcely believe that so demoniacal a deed could have been done in a Christian country. The Jacobites did not fail to dilate on its infamy with emphasis. The whole frightful particulars were gleaned up industriously by the non-jurors from the soldiers of the regiment, which happened the next summer to be quartered in England. All the execration due to such a deed was liberally showered on the courtiers, on the actors of the brutal butchery, and on the king who had sanctioned it. Terror, if not conscience seized on the chief movers in it. Breadalbane sent his steward to Glencoe, to induce the miserable inhabitants who had returned to their burnt-up valley to sign a paper asserting that they did not charge him with any participation in the crime, promising in return to use his influence with the king to obtain a full pardon and immunity from forfeiture for them all. Glenlyon was shunned as a monster wherever he appeared; but Stair, so far from showing any shame or remorse, seemed to glory in the deed. As for William, there was a zealous attempt to make it appear that he did not know of what had been done; and when his warrant was produced, then that he was deceived as to the circumstances of the case. Unfortunately for William's reputation there was a searching inquiry into the facts of the affair, and when he did know these in all their atrocity, he failed to punish the perpetrators. Stair was for the time dismissed, but very soon restored to William's service; and after this all attempts would be futile to absolve him from gross want of feeling and of justice in the case. It is a black spot on his fame, and must remain so. Burnet, who is always anxious to defend William, says that, from the letters and documents produced which he himself read, so many persons were concerned in the business that "the king's gentleness prevailed to a fault," and so he did not proceed against them—a singular kind of gentleness! At the very least, the blood-guiltiness of Breadalbane, Stair, and Glenlyon, was so prominent, and they were so few, that they ought to have been made examples of; and such a mark of the sense of the atrocity of the crime would have wiped from William's reputation the clinging stain.
Scarcely had William left England in the spring, when the country was menaced by an invasion; and whilst he was contending with Luxemburg in Flanders, the queen and her ministers had been as actively contending with real and imaginary plots, and with the French fleet at La Hogue. The Papists of Lancashire had for some time been particularly active in encouraging in King James the idea that he would be welcomed again in England by his subjects. One Lant, a carpenter, had been despatched to St. Germains, and brought back assurances that his Majesty would, in the course of the spring, certainly land in England. He also sent over Colonel Parker, one of the parties engaged to assassinate William, to concert the necessary measures with the Catholics and Jacobites for the invasion. Parker assured them that James would embark at La Hogue with thirty thousand men. Johnson, a priest, was said to be associated with Parker to murder William before his departure if possible; but the king had gone already when they arrived.
The great minister of Louis, Louvois, was dead. He had always opposed these ideas of invasion of England as absurd and impracticable. His removal enabled James to persuade Louis to attempt the enterprise. It was determined to muster a fleet of eighty sail. The Count de Tourville commanded five-and-forty of them, and under him the Count D'Estrées thirty-five more. The most active preparations were making for the completion of all things necessary for the equipment of this fleet, and the army which it was to carry over. The ships under Tourville lay at Brest, those of D'Estrées at Toulon; they were to meet at Ushant, and take on board the army at La Hogue. James was in high spirits; he was puffed up by the invitations which the Catholic emissaries had brought him; he had, he believed, firmly won over the admirals of the fleet, Russell, Carter, Delaval, and Killigrew. Whilst in this elation of mind he sent over invitations to many Protestant ladies of quality to attend the expected accouchement of his queen. He said many base aspersions had been cast on the birth of his son, and he desired now to prevent a recurrence of such slanders; he therefore offered to all the distinguished persons invited safe conducts both for going and returning from the French monarch. No one accepted the invitation; and a daughter was born to James about whom no one in England was very much concerned.
But the preparations of James and Louis occasioned similar preparations in England. The militia was called out; London was strongly guarded by troops; the train-bands of the southern counties appeared in arms on the coasts; the beacons were all vigilantly watched, and the fleet was manned and equipped with all possible speed and strength.
The invitation of James to the birth of his daughter was speedily followed by a proclamation to his subjects in England. James had always done himself more harm by his Declarations than all the efforts of his friends and allies could do him good; and this was precisely of that character. He expressed no regret for any of his past actions or measures; he betrayed no suspicion, even, that he might have governed more wisely. On the contrary, he represented himself as having always been right, good, and gracious, and his subjects wrong, captious, and unreasonable. He had always meant and done well, but he had been shamefully maligned. He now promised to maintain the Church indeed; but people had had too recent a proof of how he had maintained it in Ireland. He meant to pardon many of his enemies; but, at the same time, added such a list of proscriptions as made it look more like a massacre than an amnesty. Amongst those excepted from all pardon were the Duke of Ormond, the Marquis of Winchester, the Earls of Sunderland, Danby, and Nottingham, the Lords Delamere, Wiltshire, Colchester, Cornbury, and Dunblane; the Bishop of St. Asaph; Drs. Tillotson and Burnet. He excepted even the poor fishermen who at Faversham had mistaken him for a Jesuit priest on his flight, and called him "hatchet-face." All judges, magistrates, sheriffs, jurymen, gaolers, turnkeys, constables, and every one who had acted under William in securing and condemning any Jacobite; all justices and other authorities who should not immediately on his landing abandon the Government and support him; and all gaolers who should not at once set at liberty all prisoners confined for any conspiracy in favour of James, or for any political deed on that side, all were alike condemned. In short, such was the Draconian rigour with which the Declaration was drawn that there was hardly a man who was not a downright Jacobite who did not tremble at the belief that it might include him.
The queen and her ministers no sooner read the Declaration than they saw the whole effect of it. They had it printed and circulated all over the kingdom, with a clever running commentary. Parliament was summoned for the 24th of May, and a number of persons, charged with being concerned in a plot for bringing in James, were arrested, and others absconded. Amongst those seized were Marlborough and Lord Huntingdon, who were sent to the Tower; Mr. Ridley, Mr. Knevitt, Mr. Hastings, and Mr. Ferguson, were sent to Newgate; the Bishop of Rochester was confined to his own house; the Lords Brudenel and Fanshawe, the Earls of Dunmore and Middleton, and Sir Andrew Forrester, were next secured. The Earls of Scarsdale, Lichfield, and Newborough, the Lords Griffin, Forbes, Sir John Fenwick, Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe, and others, escaped. The princess Anne expected arrest.
On the 11th of May, a week after Marlborough was sent to the Tower, Russell sailed from the Downs in quest of the French fleet. He was at the head of ninety-nine sail of the line, the greatest force which had ever descended the English Channel. Off Beachy Head he had met Carter and Delaval, who had been watching the French ports, and a fine fleet of Dutchmen were also in conjunction with him. There were between thirty and forty thousand sailors, Dutch and English, on board, and he was supported by the Admirals Delaval, Ashley, Cloudesley Shovel, Carter, and Rooke. Van Almonde was in command of the Dutch squadron, with Callemberg and Vandergoes. James meanwhile was at La Hogue with the army, anxiously awaiting the fleet of De Tourville to carry it over. James confidently calculated on the disaffection of the English admirals, Russell, Delaval, Carter, and others. He sent an emissary to remind Russell of his promises, and to promise him and the other admirals high rewards in return. But Lloyd, the emissary, had found Russell wonderfully changed. The fatal Declaration had produced the same effect on him as on others. He told the man that he was desirous to serve James, but that he must first grant a general pardon; and besides, if he met the French fleet, though James was aboard of it, he would never allow himself to be beaten by the French.
In London the terror of this known disaffection had been great. The queen and her ministers consulted deeply what should be done. Should they send and arrest the traitors? The effect, they foresaw, would be to scatter terror through the whole fleet. They adopted a far more politic plan. On the 15th of May, as the combined fleet lay off St. Helens, Russell called together the officers on board his own ship, and informed them that he had a letter from the queen to read them. In this she stated that she had heard rumours of disaffection amongst the officers, but would not believe it. She knew they would fight as became Englishmen for their country. The letter had an instant and wondrous effect. They immediately signed unanimously a declaration that they would live and die for the Crown, the Protestant religion, and the freedom of England. On the 18th the fleet sailed for the coast of France, and next day the fleet of Tourville was descried. Tourville had only forty-five ships of the line, and he had orders, if he met the English fleet, to engage. But Louis had since learned the junction of the Dutch with the English, and despatched messengers to warn him, but they were intercepted. Tourville, however, notwithstanding the preponderance of the enemy, determined to engage. He had been upbraided after the fight at Beachy Head as timid; his blood was roused, and, besides, he confidently believed that three-fourths of the English fleet were secretly for James, and would at the first brush come over to him. As he lay off Barfleur on the morning of the 19th he saw the long line of the enemy before him, and bore down upon them for battle.
At eleven o'clock the French admiral opened fire on part of the English fleet, the rest not being able to get up from the wind being contrary. The spirit with which the English received him at once dissipated Tourville's hopes of defection amongst them. The conflict continued with uncommon fury till one o'clock, when Russell was compelled to allow his flag-ship, the Rising Sun, carrying a hundred and four guns, to be towed out of the line from the damage she had received. But the fight continued furiously till three o'clock, when a fog parted the enemies. Soon after, however, a wind favourable to the English sprang up, and, at the same time, dispersed the fog. Fresh ships of the English came up, and the conflict continued to rage till eight in the evening. During this time Carter, who had been one of the most deeply pledged to James, but who had fought like a lion, fell mortally wounded, but as he was carried down to his cabin, he cried to his men to fight the ship as long as she could swim. Tourville, who was now contending hopelessly against numbers, drew off, but was closely pursued, and the most terrible carnage was made of the men on board his great ship, the Royal Sun, the pride of the French navy. He fought, however, stoutly so long as the light continued; and then the whole French fleet made all sail for the French ports.