eighton. Whatever Claverhouse was, and this story at least
suggests that he was brave and honorable, he was in no sense a saint,
and would have been the last to claim this high degree. It is open to
question whether he deserved to be called a good man, for he was
ambitious of power and, perhaps for public ends, of wealth; he had no
small measure of pride and jealousy in him; he was headstrong and
unmanageable, and for his own side he was unrelenting and cruel.
There are things he would not have done to advance his cause, as, for
instance, tell lies, or stain his honor, but he never would have
dreamed of showing mercy to his opponent. Nor did he ever try to enter
into his mind or understand what the other man was feeling.

It is sometimes judged enough for a hero that he succeed without being
clever or good, but neither did Graham pass this doubtful and
dangerous test. For when you clear away the romance which heroic
poetry and excited prose have flung around him, you were an optimist
if you did not see his life was one long failure as well as a
disappointment and a sorrow. He did bravely with the Prince of Orange,
and yet somehow he missed promotion; he was the best officer the
government had in Scotland, and yet it was only in the last resort he
became commander-in-chief. He was the only honest man among a gang of
rascals in the Scots council, and yet he was once dismissed from it;
he was entitled to substantial rewards, and yet he had to make
degrading appeals to obtain his due. He was loyal to foolishness, yet
he was represented to the Court as a man who could not be trusted. He
had only two love affairs; the first brought him the reputation of
mercenary aims, and the second almost ruined his life. He embarked on
a contest which was hopeless from the beginning, and died at the close
of a futile victory. Except winning the heart of Jean Cochrane, he
failed in everything which he attempted. With the exception of his
wife he was betrayed on every hand, while a multitude hated him with
all their strength and thirsted for his blood. If Jean were not true
to him there would not be one star in the dark sky of Claverhouse's
life.

But this irredeemable and final disaster is surely incredible. Dundee,
fooled as he had been both by his master and by his friends till he
was alone and forsaken, was bound to put his whole trust in his wife.
Had she not made the last sacrifices for him and through dark days
stood bravely by his