Claverhouse had not only the qualities of a great commander, but in his cooler moments possessed the requisites for a ruler and administrator of justice.
On one occasion, at Inverness, he found the inhabitants of that town in arms against a body of neighbouring chiefs, to decide a quarrel respecting some question of debt. He sat in judgment on the matter, severely reproved both parties for drawing their daggers on each other, instead of uniting to support the cause of their royal master; and then, to the surprise and delight of the litigants, he drew the amount of the debt from his own purse and paid it on the spot. In an ecstasy of enthusiasm and gratitude the two adverse parties joined in hearty fellowship, and enlisted with one accord under his banner. Indeed, his influence throughout the country was wonderful, and he entered on a system of communication with all those whom he considered likely to advance the cause for which he worked so zealously. It is unnecessary to recount all his efforts to win adherents, but perhaps the most remarkable of his successes in this particular occurred in the case of a band of Highland vassals raised by Lord Murray on the estate of his father, the Earl of Athole.
While Murray was in the act of reviewing them they quitted their ranks, hastened to a neighbouring brook, filled their bonnets with water, drank the health of King James, and, with pipes playing, marched off to join Dundee. William III. now thought it time to take some decided measures, and he despatched General Mackay (who had distinguished himself in Holland) with a considerable force into Scotland, while James sent orders to his General to avoid a battle until the arrival of fresh reinforcements from Ireland. For these supplies the eager-spirited soldier had to wait two months in the mountains, keeping, however, (according to modern parlance,) his hand in during that time by spirited attacks and retreats. The delay must have been displeasing to the man of whom it was said that the first messenger of his approach was the sight of his army, and the first intelligence of his retreat that he was beyond the enemy’s reach.
No sooner did the raw and ill-provided recruits who formed the promised reinforcement arrive than Claverhouse prepared for active measures. Hearing that Mackay was marching on Blair Castle, in Athole, a fortress of much importance, he resolved to intercept him. Accordingly, when William’s General arrived on the plain at the mouth of the Pass of Killiecrankie, he found Dundee on the surrounding hills awaiting his arrival. He did all he could to incite the enemy to immediate action, but it suited the Scotch commander to delay for some hours.
As the sun of July the 27th, 1689, sank slowly to rest, the word was given, and the Highlanders, whose eager spirits had been controlled for so many hours, dashed down the hillside with even more than their usual impetuosity. It was but the work of a moment: William’s army was routed as if by magic. Dundee, who had fought on foot in the onset, now leaped on his horse and galloped to the mouth of the Pass to intercept the enemy’s retreat. In his hot haste he outstripped his men, and looking round, found himself almost alone, and he waved his sword to motion his men forward, when a musket-ball struck him in the arm-pit. He fell fainting from his horse, and was carried off the field, but soon rallied, and inquired how things went.
On receiving the answer, ‘All is well,’ the gallant soldier replied, ‘Then I am well also,’ and instantly expired.
When King William heard of his death, he said, ‘Then the war in Scotland is over.’
Surely never was countenance more indicative of the inner man than the comely face with which we are so familiar in the portraits of John Graham of Claverhouse. The faultless features, the fair complexion, the profusion of silken hair, and the slight moustache, convey an idea of refinement and delicacy, we should almost say gentleness. But a glance at the dark hazel eyes, full of latent fire, and (even plainer reading to a physiognomist) the determined lines of the exquisitely curved lip, bring us face to face with the obdurate, and (the true word must be spoken) cruel man of blood. He was verily ‘an eagle at assault and a maiden in the bower,’ and there have been few characters that inspired such extremes of love and hatred.
He was idolised by his soldiers, whose hardships he gladly shared in times of privation, often sending, to the sick and wounded among his troops, the dainties which had been provided for himself. Yet so strict was he as a disciplinarian, that for an officer at least, there seemed no slighter punishment for any military fault than death; and indeed he said all other punishment, in his opinion, disgraced a gentleman.
A striking anecdote is told, characteristic of the man himself, and of his system, and worthy of the days of Sparta: A young gentleman was observed by the General to fly in his first action. He had compassion on the boy, and pretended that he himself had sent him to the rear, but alas! on the next occasion the young soldier was again found wanting in courage, and Claverhouse, calling him to the front of the army, shot him with his own pistol, being loath, he said, ‘to let a youth of gentle blood fall by the hand of a common executioner.’