first put into the latter's head this design of settling the estate. His first letter, contrary to his almost invariable custom, is undated, but must have been written either at the close of 1678 or early in 1679. He must have already got pretty far into the Earl's confidence; for with that keen eye to the main chance that never deserted him in war, politics, or private affairs, we find him boldly offering himself as the fittest person to carry on the line of Menteith. "My Lord," he writes, with an appreciation of his own worth too frank not to be genuine,

My

"As your friend and servant I do take the liberty to give you an advice, which is that there can be no thing so advantageous for you as to settle your affairs, and establish your successor in time, for it can do you no prejudice if you come to have any children of your own body, and will be much for your quiet and comfort if you have none; for whoever you make choice of will be in place of a son. You know that Julius Cæsar had no reason to regret the want of issue, having adopted Augustus, for he knew certainly that he had secured to himself a thankful and useful friend, as well as a wise successor, neither of which he could have promised himself by having children; for nobody knows whether they beget wise men or fools, besides that the ties of gratitude and friendship are stronger in generous minds than those of nature. Lord, I may without being suspected of selfinterest, offer some reason to renew to you the advantage of that resolution you have taken in my favour. First, that there is nobody of my estate out of your name would confound their family in yours, and nobody in the name is able to give you these conditions, nor bring into you so considerable an interest, besides that I will easier obtain your cousin germane than any other, which brings in a great interest and continues your family in the right line. And then, my Lord, I may say without vanity that I will do your family no dishonour, seeing there is nobody you could make choice of has toiled so much for honour as I have done, though it has been my misfortune to attain but a small share. And then, my Lord, for my respect and gratitude to your Lordship, you will have no reason to doubt of it, if you consider with what a frankness and easiness I live with all my friends. But, my Lord, after all this, if these reasons cannot persuade you that it is your interest to pitch on me, and if you can think on anybody that can be more proper to restore your family, and contribute more to your comfort and satisfaction, make frankly choice of him, for without that you

can never think of getting anything done for your family: it will be for your honour that the world see you never had thoughts of alienating your family, then they will look no more upon you as the last of so noble a race, but will consider you rather as the restorer than the ruiner, and your family rather as rising than falling; which, as it will be the joy of our friends and relations, so it will be the confusion of our enemies."1

My Lord was quite content to take his cousin at his own valuation, and wrote accordingly to Sir James, in somewhat confused language, but in a strain of compliment that Claverhouse himself could hardly have bettered. "Much Honoured Uncle," runs the letter:

"I would not trouble you oft with letters unless it were something worthy of your notice, which I am now to impart concerning a noble young gentleman, a cousin of mine, the Laird of Claverhouse, Graham, who is a person exceeding well accomplished as any I know with natural gifts, for all that is noble and virtuous may be seen in him, and as we say, he is well to live, for he has a free estate upwards of six hundred pounds sterling yearly of good payable rent, near by Dundee ; 2 besides he is captain of the standing troop of horse in this kingdom which is very considerable. Wherefore, dearest Uncle, I, in his name, does offer himself in marriage with that young lady your daughter, who if I thought it not convenient that it would be a fit match for her and all our credits to ally with such a gentleman as he who, being a Graham, which I for my part look upon it as a singular happiness to our family to have a person so well qualified, and of the name too, and he is it that I truly [esteem] and honour, and I have more than an ordinary respect for him whom I think truly worthy of her affection, as I doubt not when himself comes over to Ireland he will prove to be

much more than I can express what he is indeed, but that he would not presume till first I would let him know by a line from you and my lady if he would be welcome, which for my sake at least ye will admit of a visit from himself, which will be as soon as you are pleased to return a favourable answer to me in his behalf. . . . I shall never consent to the marriage unless it be Claverhouse, whom I say again is the only person of all I know fittest and most proper to marry your daughter."

This letter seems to have been written in July, 1679, and to have followed Sir James from Ireland to England. The answer at any rate did not reach Edinburgh till November. This delay seemed to Claverhouse an evil omen; and Montrose had been bantering him with a story of Miss Helen having run off with an Irish lover, which he owned to be at least very probable.

Sir James's answer, if the letter printed by Sir William Fraser be the answer, ignores Claverhouse altogether, though he assures the head of his house that, "Nelly my daughter tells me she will ask your consent in her marriage." Perhaps this was the old gentleman's way of saying, no, and so understood by his nephew.

At

66 a

any rate, he soon consoles himself for this disappointment, and, forgetful of his former protestations, writes off with little delay to tell him he has found another husband for Nelly, very honourable and noble person in this kingdom," too noble and honourable to be lightly named in a letter without his own permission. He prays Sir James to come to him in Scotland, to consult on this important matter; and conscious, being his uncle's own nephew, that there may be reasons why both Ireland and England should be safer places of rest for this weary knight than Scotland, he offers "to get you a protection from the Council here that no man can reach you or anything that belongs to you for any debt at any person's instance whatsoever for four or five months' time."

This new bridegroom was to be none other than Montrose himself, who certainly, as her cousin says, was a match for the young lady" beyond any person

Men

that ever yet was named for her." For a time every one seems to have been pleased and consenting, except, we may suppose, Claverhouse. teith was to convey the estate to the young Marquis, who in return was to pay him an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds. The deed had been actually signed by the King, who had however refused to allow the title to pass as well, when Montrose began to grow cool. Indeed the whole affair looks very much as though he had been merely intriguing for the lands of Menteith without any intention of encumbering himself with the portionless Helen to boot. The outwitted old Earl remonstrated in vain in his last letter he says, "I am exceeding sorry ye do not answer none of my letters, though I have written eighteen since ye went from Leith;" and to write eighteen letters to a man who had plainly got the better of you, without receiving a word in reply, is no doubt very annoying. Meanwhile

Montrose found a match more to his taste in the person of Lady Christian Leslie, daughter of the Duke of Rothes, and not long after died.

The unfortunate Menteith would have bought the estate back again, but the money could not be raised, and his uncle would not help him, alleging that the mismanagement of the whole affair was due to his stupidity in allowing himself to be fooled by

Claverhouse and Montrose who were

in the plot together. "The hand of Claverhouse," he wrote,

"hath been in all these contrivances, whose ambitious thoughts to make himself the head of our ancient family brought all the trouble of my Lord Montrose's business upon you; for he will not deny that there was an agreement made, neither will my Lord Montrose, that before there was any proposition made to your Lordship for a match for either of them, that my Lord Montrose was to use his interest with your Lordship for such a settlement of your honours and estate upon Claverhouse, and Claverhouse was obliged again to make the estate over privately to my Lord Montrose, so that if we had made up such a match, both your Lordship and we had been fairly cheated. This, my Lord, is a very truth, and neither of

them will deny it, and therefore I beg you will take no such advisers in your provisions for your family."

Montrose does not seem to have troubled himself much about what others thought of his part in the transaction. But Claverhouse had, long before Sir James wrote, taken care to give his own version of the affair. His letter is dated from London, July 3rd, 1680. He had gone in that year to England, to clear himself on a charge of embezzling the fines he was empowered to levy on the Covenanters that had been lately brought against him by the Scottish Treasury, -in which clearance, we may observe in passing, he was completely successful. The letter is very long, despite the writer's haste, which he excuses on the plea of just starting for Windsor too long to quote in full, but worth some extracting. "Whatever

:

were the motives," it begins,

"obliged your Lordship to change your resolutions to me, yet I shall never forget the obligations that I have to you for the good designs you once had for me, both before my Lord Montrose came in the play and after.. All the return I am able to make is to offer you, in that frank and sincere way that I am known to deal with all the world, all the service that I am capable of, were it with the hazard or even loss of my life and fortune. . . . I never enquired of your Lordship nor him [Montrose] the reason of the change; nor did I complain of hard usage. Though really, my Lord, I must beg your Lordship's pardon to say that it was extremely grievous to me to be turned out of that business after your Lordship and my Lord Montrose had engaged me in it, and had written to Ireland in my favour, and the thing that troubled me most was that I feared your Lordship had more esteem for my Lord Montrose than me, for you could have no other motive; for I am sure you have more sense than to think the offer he made you more advantageous for the standing of your family than these we were on, for he would have certainly made up his own, and I would have brought in all mine to yours, and been perfectly yours. I am sorry to see so much trust in your Lordship to my Lord Montrose so ill rewarded. If you had continued your resolutions to me, your Lordship would not have been then in danger to have your estate rent from your family; my Lord Montrose would not have loosed his reputation, as I am sorry to see he has done; Sir James would not have had so sensible an affront put upon them, if they had not refused me, and I would

have been by your Lordship's favour this day as happy as I could wish. My Lord, fearing I may be represented to your Lordship, I think it my duty to acquaint your Lordship with my carriage since I came hither in relation to these affairs. As soon as I came, I told Sir James how much he was obliged to you, and how sincere your designs were for the standing of your family: withal I told him that my Lord Montrose was certainly engaged to you to marry his daughter, but that from good reason I suspect he had no design to perform it; and indeed my Lord Montrose seemed to make no address at all there in the beginning, but hearing that I went sometimes there, he feared that I might get an interest with the father, for the daughter never appeared, so observant they were to my Lord Montrose, and he thought that if I should come to make any friendship there, that when he came to be discovered I might come to be acceptable, and that your Lordship might turn the chess upon him. Wherefore he went there and entered in terms to amuse them till I should be gone, for then I was thinking every day of going away, and had been gone, had I not fallen sick. He continued thus, making them formal visits, and talking of the terms, till the time that your signature should pass, but when it came to the King's hand it was stopped upon the account of the title, conform to the preparative of my Lord Caithness. My Lord Montrose, who, during all this time had never told me anything of these affairs, nor almost had never spoke to me, by Drumeller and others let me know that our differences proceeded from mistakes, and that if we met we might come to understand one another; upon which I went to him. After I had satisfied him of some things he complained of, he told me that the title was stopped, and asked me if I had no hand in it; for he thought it could be no other way seeing Sir James concurred. I assured him I had not meddled in it, as before God I had not. So he told me he would settle the title on me if I would assist him in the passing of it. I told him that I had never any mind for the title out of the blood. He answered me, I might have Sir James's daughter and all. I asked him how that could be. He told me he had no design there, and that to secure me the more, he had given commission to speak to my Lady Rothes about her daughter, and she had received it kindly. I asked how he would come off,-he said upon their not performing the terms, and offered to serve me in it, which I refused and would not concur. He thought to make me serve him in his designs, and brake me with Sir James and his lady; for he went and insinuated to them as if I had a design upon their daughter, and was carrying it on under hand. So soon as I heard this, I went and told my Lady Graham all. My Lord Montrose came there next day and denied it. However they went to Windsor and secured the signature, but it was already done. They

have not used me as I deserved at their hands, but my design is not to complain of them.

After all came to all that Sir James offered to perform all the conditions that my Lord Montrose required, he knew not what to say, and so, being ashamed of his carriage, went away without taking leave of them, which was to finish his tricks with contempt. This is, my Lord, in as few words as I can, the most substantial part of that story. My Lord Montrose and some of his friends endeavoured to ruin that young lady's reputation to get an excuse for his carriage, and brought in my name. But I made them quickly quit those designs, for there was no shadow of ground for it

And I must say she has suffered a great deal to comply with your Lordship's designs, but could not do less considering the good things you had designed for her; and truly, my Lord, if you ken her, you would think she deserved all, and would think strange my Lord Montrose should have neglected her. My Lord, things fly very high here: the indictments appear frequently against the honest Duke, and I am feared things must break out. I am sorry for it; but I know you, impatient of the desire of doing great things, will rejoice at this. Assure yourself, if ever there be barricades in Glasgow again, you shall not want a call; and my Lord I bespeak an employment under you, which is to be your Lieutenant-General, and I will assure you we will make the world talk of us. And therefore provide me trews, as you promised, and a blue bonnet, and Í will assure you that there shall be no trews trustier than mine. My Lord, despond not for this disappointment, but show resolution in all you do. When my affairs go wrong, I remember that saying of Lucan, Tam mala Pompeii quam prospera mundus adoret. You have done nothing amiss, but trusted too much to honour, and thought all the world held it as sacred as you do."

For all his sickness and troubles the Earl had a valorous spirit. Early in this year he had applied to Montrose for a commission to keep the Whigs in order about Menteith, and had performed his duties so zealously as to be complimented by the Chancellor, Rothes. Aud a year later Claverhouse writes, again from London, vowing he grows jealous. "I rejoice to hear by the letter you write to my Lady Graham you have now taken my trade off my hand, that you are become the terror of the godly. I begin to think it time for me to set to work again, for I am emulous of your reputation." But to return to the fair Helen.

Up to the end of 1681 Claverhouse

seems to have thought the game was not quite lost. The greater part of that and the previous year he spent in England, and seems to have been much in the company of the Grahams. In 1680, a few days after the long letter from which we have already quoted, he writes to his cousin that he has been speaking to the Duke of York about the business, "without wronging my Lord Montrose's reputation too much, which I should be unwilling to do, whatever he do by me." The Duke shook his head, and said it was not right; but a shake of the Duke of York's head seems to have had less in it than Jove and Lord Burleigh could effect with such means. Nothing came of it; nor could anything be got from Menteith in the way of settlement or entail. There was still some hope that, if he could be got to bestir himself, Montrose might be made to disgorge his prey, and the estate and dignity of Menteith fairly settled on Miss Helen Graham and her heirs male. But he could not be got to make up his mind. He fenced with the question of the settlement, and wrote vague polite letters, wishing prosperity and all manner of good wishes to the happy pair, but breathing no hint of any design on his part to smooth the road to the church-door. Lady Graham ("a very cunning woman,' thought Claverhouse, who was no bad judge) wrote in very plain language, demanding a positive answer; but she did not get it. All the Earl's letters seem to have gone under cover to Claverhouse, and he diplomatically thought it wise to suppress some of them for the reasons given in the following letter, sent in a separate parcel the same day that he had written another to his cousin concerning some mischief certain busy-bodies had been trying to make between the

two.

'LONDON, October 1, 1681.

"MY DEAR LORD,

"I thought fit to write this apart, and not to put it in the other letter, designing your Lordship should show it to everybody

for my vindication. My Lord, I am infinitely sensible of your Lordship's kindness to me in writing so kindly to my Lady Graham and her daughter, especially when people had been representing me so foully to you. I have not dared to present them, because that in my Lady's letter you wished us much joy, and that we might live happy together, which looked as if you thought it a thing as good as done. I am sure my Lady, of the humour I know her to be, would have gone mad that you should think a business that concerned her so nearly concluded before it was ever proposed to her; and in the daughter's you was pleased to tell her of my affections to her, and what I have suffered for her; this is very gallant and obliging, but am afraid they would have misconstructed it, and it might do me prejudice; and then in both, my Lord, you were pleased to take pains to show them almost clearly they had nothing to expect of you, and took from them all hopes which they had, by desiring them to require no more but your consent. Indeed I think it not proper your Lordship should engage yourself at all. They would be glad to know that you only had a resolution to recover your business, they would leave the rest to your own goodness; and for myself I declare that I shall never press your Lordship in anything but what you have a mind to, and I will assure you I need nothing to persuade me to take that young lady. I would take her in her smock. My dear Lord, be yet so good as to write new letters to the same purpose, holding out those things which [if] it were to anybody else might be very well said, and, if you please, when you say you give them your advice to the match, tell them that they will not repent it, and that doing it at your desire you will do us any kindness you can, and look on us as persons under your protection, and endeavour to see us thrive, which obliges you to nothing and yet encourages them. . . ."

And in the following month he writes again urging a settlement of some sort, "either one way or other, and in the meantime my age slips away, and I lose other occasions, as I suppose the young lady also does." Claverhouse was now passing into his thirty-ninth year, and the young lady had, according to her mother, lost two other good" occasions" by this shillyshallying. However, this was the last of the business. By the end of the year the Grahams had sailed once more for Ireland, and within little more than a twelvemonth Miss Helen had become the wife of Captain Rawdon, nephew and heir-apparent to Lord Conway. In the same year, that is in 1683, the Earl at last bestirred himself, and

offered really to make a new entail of his estate and dignity that, failing his own and his uncle's heirs male, it should devolve on his cousin Helen and hers. But it was then too late, as his uncle reminded him. Montrose had got the lands of Menteith, and there was no money forthcoming to redeem them. This is the letter which accuses Claverhouse of having been all the time in the plot with Montrose; and it also inclosed one from Mrs. Rawdon to her cousin, regretting that his proposal had not been made before her marriage-settlement was drawn, as then some provision might have been made for extricating the earldom. She added her wishes to her father's that her cousin should come over to Ireland for a family consultation, and concludes: "I am so well a wisher to the family, that sooner than the ashes of my ancestors should rudely be trampled on by strangers, I would willingly purchase those two islands with much more than any other body would give."

So vanished into air Claverhouse's first matrimonial project. There was still some idea of rescuing the lands from Montrose, but the latter's death early in 1684 stayed the project for the time. "My Lord," wrote the Master of Stair to Lord Menteith, "the Marquis of Montrose is no more the object of your resentment, but rather the subject of your grief. You have had three friends who meddled with you too close, but I think you shall see all their graves. This must alter your

measures to go to Court at present, where my Lord Marquis will be freshly regretted by everybody, can do you no good." In the short tumultuous years of James's reign no one had time to spare to the private grievances of an old man who was too poor to bribe and too weak to threaten; while Claverhouse, mounting fast on the wave of his own brilliant though stormy fortune, soon forgot, in the pretty face of Lady Jean Cochrane and the broad acres of Dudhope, the memory of Helen Graham and the vanished patrimony of Menteith.