of Claverhouse’s gallantry at Seneff were certainly current during his lifetime.  It is mentioned, for example, in a copy of doggerel verses addressed to Claverhouse by some nameless admirer on New Year’s Day 1683.[4] And there is yet more particular testimony, though, like the former, it is of that nature which a historian will always feel himself at liberty to reject if it does not match with the rest of his case, and which counsel on the opposite side are accordingly at equal liberty to make use of.  In the memoirs of Lochiel mention is made of a Latin poem written by a certain Mr. James Philip of Amryclos, in Forfarshire, who bore Dundee’s standard at Killiecrankie.  Lochiel’s biographer does not quote the Latin text, but gives translations of certain passages.  The original manuscript, bearing the date 1691, is now in the Advocates’ Library at Edinburgh.  Napier had seen this “Grameis,” as the work is called, and compared it with the translations, which he declares to be very imperfect, as, from the specimens he gives, they undoubtedly are.  Macaulay, who never saw the Latin text, owns to have taken a few touches from the passages quoted in the memoirs for his inimitable picture of affairs in the Highlands during the days immediately preceding Killiecrankie; but the passage recording the early gallantry of the conqueror at Killiecrankie he did not take.[5]

It is unfortunate that the tale of these early years should assume so controversial a tone.  But where all, or almost all, is sheer conjecture, it is inevitable that the narrative must rest rather on argument than fact.  The precise moment when Claverhouse transferred his services from the French to the Dutch flag is, in truth, no more certain than the date of his birth is certain, or his conduct at Saint Andrews, or, indeed, than it is certain that he ever at any time served under Lewis.  The tale of those English services under the French King is in the last degree confused and doubtful.  If it is so in the case of such a man as Marlborough, small wonder that it is so in the case of such a man as Claverhouse, whose name was practically unknown till ten years before his death.  That he did, however, at one time bear arms in the Dutch ranks seems as indisputable as any part of the scanty story of the first two-and-thirty years of his life can be said to be.  But beyond this it is impossible to go.

In 1677 he left William’s service and returned to Scotland.  An idle story was circulated some years afterwards of a brawl with one of William’s officers who had received the regiment promised to Claverhouse, of a reprimand from William, and an indignant vow never to serve again under a prince who had broken his word.  The judicial weight that has been brought to demolish this slender fabric is unnecessary.  The story itself is not consistent with the characters of either men.  It is very possible that the young soldier, like another young man of those days, may have grown “tired with knocking at preferment’s