fault with him for holding the fallen leader’s memory in respect. From this, the utterance of one well qualified by personal acquaintance to form a competent judgment, and unlikely, from his training and education to express it in inconsiderate terms of meaningless exaggeration, it has been argued that the subject of Monro’s eulogy must have possessed the attainments upon which men of culture naturally set store. In support of this warrantable inference, there is the statement of a writer who, though not a contemporary, is undeniably a well-informed chronicler. The author of the Memoirs of Sir Ewan Cameron says that Claverhouse ‘had ane education suitable to his birth and genius.’ According to the same authority, he ‘made a considerable progress in the mathematicks, especially in those parts of it that related to his military capacity; and there was no part of the Belles Lettres which he had not studyed with great care and exactness. He was much master in the epistolary way of writeing; for he not onely expressed himself with great ease and plaineness, but argued well, and had a great art in giving his thoughts in few words.’

Burnet, who, though a connection of Claverhouse’s, is very far from displaying any partiality for him, allows that he was ‘a man of good parts.’ Dalrymple records that ‘Dundee had inflamed his mind from his earliest youth, by the perusal of antient poets, historians and orators, with the love of the great actions they praise and describe.’ Finally, there is the testimony of the ‘officer’ who wrote the ‘Memoirs of Dundee’ published in 1714, and who makes direct reference to his ‘liberal education in humanity and in mathematicks.’

The question of Claverhouse’s scholarship is not one of special moment in itself; yet it acquires some interest from the animated controversy to which it has given rise, and which originated in a hasty comment made by Sir Walter Scott. The novelist, after referring to a newly published letter, casually added, ‘Claverhouse, it may be observed, spells like a chambermaid.’ Subsequent writers, interpreting this into a general estimate of Dundee’s educational acquirements, repeated the petty and irrelevant charge, in season and out of season, almost as though the quality of his orthography constituted a test by which his whole character was to be estimated. That Claverhouse was erratic in his spelling cannot be denied. It may be questioned, on the other hand, whether, in this respect, he displayed greater disregard for orthography than the average gentleman of his day. If he wrote ‘I hop’ for ‘I hope,’ ‘deuk’ for ‘Duke,’ ‘seased’ for ‘seized,’ ‘fisik’ for ‘physic,’ and ‘childring’ for ‘children,’ it does not require a very extensive acquaintance with the correspondence of the seventeenth century to know that dukes and earls, and even lawyers and divines, indulged in vagaries equally startling. But, if the arbitrary and occasionally whimsical spelling of his letters affords no proof of exceptional ignorance, the vigour, clearness, and directness of the style in which they are written give them a place rather above than below the epistolatory standard of the time.

After leaving St Andrews, Claverhouse, following the example set by so many generations of his countrymen, and notably by his illustrious kinsman, the Marquis of Montrose, repaired to the Continent, with the intention of devoting himself to a military career. According to his earliest biographer, ‘an Officer of the Army,’ he ‘spent some time in the French service as a volunteer, with great reputation and applause.’ This is repeated rather than confirmed by the author of the ‘Memoirs of Sir Ewan Cameron of Lochiel,’ with the addition, it is true, of the statement that it was ‘under the famous Marishall Turenne’ the young soldier received his first training.