he continues, "to find the man whom popular odium has stigmatised as 'the bloody Claver'se,' interposing for a gentler sentence in behalf of criminals whom the law had adjudged worthy of death,—he who ordered the death of so many of the Covenanting rebels in Clydesdale and Galloway; but it is no more than justice to one who was a gallant soldier, and a stedfast friend in adversity to the sovereign who had employed him, if we remember how amiable in private life has been many modern statesmen, noted for their severity in public duties. Claverhouse had made up his mind to the particular course of action by which the interests of his country were to be advanced and protected against the Covenanting Presbyterians in revolt against the Government, and who refused to accept or to give toleration. With the help of a strong will and under the call of duty, he scrupled not to walk in that path, although he was the reverse of harsh or inhumane in the matters of ordinary life. In a letter to the Earl of Aberdeen, written in June 1683, Dundee reveals to us his principle of action in one brief sentence. "I am," says he, "as sorry to see a man die, even a rebel Whig, as any of themselves; but when one dies justly for his own faults, and may thereby save a hundred others from falling into the like, I have no scruple."
The judge on the bench, when he puts on the black cap of doom, and pronounces the sentence which is carried out on the scaffold, is not usually denounced by law-abiding people as a "blood-thirsty ruffian." Nor are the Peers who sentenced Lords Kilmarnock, Balmerino, and Lovat to the block for their share in the Rising of the '45, historically known by the same odious title. The truth is, rebellion is a desperate and dangerous game to play at, and requires success to justify it. Those Covenanters played it, and lost. Their modern defenders metaphorically tear their hair, and stamp their feet, and call ugly names. But had the Covenanters won, does it need the Primate's murder, or the apparatus of a gallows and ropes which they brought with them to Bothwell Brig, in the confident assurance of the victory which their preachers had promised them, to convince us that they would have hanged Claverhouse as high as Haman, and butchered his dragoons in cold blood; aye, and gloried in the act!
The cabals of the Whig faction, and his own inconsiderate and head-strong folly, forced James the Seventh, terrified that the fate of his father might be his own, to flee from the kingdom, and take refuge abroad. The policy was a fatal mistake; the King's life was safe enough. Much had happened since the morning of the 30th of January, 1649; the scaffold in front of Whitehall, and the masked headsman and his axe. The Revolutioners would not have dared to spill the King's blood, nor would public opinion have suffered it. So, in running away, he simply played into the hands of his enemies. But the flight of the King rendered the throne de facto vacant; although, as its de jure possessor, he only waited for better times to
