The first moment of the new reign had not been propitious to the powerful minister of George I. When he presented himself at the palace, in order to announce to the new monarch the death of the king his father, George II., scarcely awakened from his customary siesta, had brusquely replied to the minister's question, "Whom does your Majesty charge with the communications to the Privy Council?"—"Compton," said the king. In retiring to convey the royal command to his rival, thus designated as his successor, Walpole lost neither his coolness nor his firm resolution to govern his country for the longest possible period. "I am about to fall," he had just said to Sir William Young, "but I advise you not to throw yourself into a violent opposition, for I shall not be slow to rise again."
As a matter of fact, Walpole was not to fall. It was only the breath of royal disfavor that was to pass over him. Sir Spencer Compton, soon afterwards Lord Wilmington, an honest and capable man, but of dull wit and without facility of speech, as without ministerial experience, modestly requested Walpole to compose for him the communication with which the king had charged him. Walpole did so. The secret leaked out. At the same time the minister, momentarily superseded, proposed to the queen an increase of revenue for the king and a dowry for herself, which he believed himself sure of having voted by Parliament. Already well-disposed toward Walpole, Caroline knew how to cleverly prove to her husband the danger that he would find, at the commencement of his reign, in losing a powerful and popular minister by throwing him into opposition. Already the courtiers had abandoned Walpole, and crowded around Sir Spencer Compton.At the ceremony of hand-kissing, Lady Walpole "could scarcely force a passage between the disdainful backs and elbows of those who had flattered her the day before," writes her son Horace, in his Souvenirs. When the queen, perceiving her in the last ranks, exclaimed, "Ah! I see a friend down there," the crowd opened right and left. "In coming back," said Lady Walpole, "I might have walked over their heads, if I had desired." During thirteen years more Walpole was to exercise that authority of which he was secretly so jealous. "Sir Robert was moderate in the exercise of power," said Hume; "he was not just in seizing the whole of it." Walpole had already alienated Pulteney and Carteret; he was about to embroil himself with Townshend. The divisions of the Whig party were the work of his jealous contrivings. It had for long been draining its strength; its debility and downfall were one day to follow.
The attack especially directed against the foreign policy, soon began, and was hotly sustained in the House of Commons by Pulteney, for the time being at one with the Tories and with Sir William Wyndham; in the press and in the depths of parliamentary intrigues by Lord Bolingbroke, ever the implacable enemy of Walpole, who was obstinate in refusing him re-entrance into the House of Lords. The Treaty of Seville had just put an end to the dissensions with Spain (November, 1729). It was then, on the accomplishment of the Treaty of Utrecht, that the attacks of thepatriots,—a name adopted by the Whigs who had gone into opposition—were brought to bear. The ministry was reproached with not having guarded against the demolition of Dunkerque, "I went the day before yesterday to Parliament," wrote Montesquieu in his "Notes on England," to the lower House.
"The Dunkerque affair was under discussion there. I have never seen such a blaze. The sitting lasting from one o'clock in the afternoon till three o'clock after midnight. There, the French were well abused. I noticed how far the frightful jealousy goes which exists between the two nations. M. Walpole attacked Bolingbroke in the most savage manner, and said that he had conducted the whole intrigue. Chevalier Wyndham defended him. M. Walpole related in reference to Bolingbroke, the story of a farmer, who, passing under a tree with his wife, found that a man who had been hanged there, still breathed. He cut him down and took him to his house and he revived. They discovered that this man had on the day before stolen their forks. So they said, 'The course of justice must not be opposed; he must be carried back whence we have taken him.'"
It was only in 1734, and under the threat which perhaps qualms of conscience made him fear, that Bolingbroke once again voluntarily exiled himself. Walpole had conceived a great financial scheme for the increase of indirect taxation or excise. The opposition violently pounced upon this unpopular project. The rumor spread that the excise would be general. "I declare," said Walpole, "that I never had the thought, and that no man to my knowledge has ever had the thought of proposing a general application of the excise. I have never dreamed of any duties except those on wines and tobacco, and that in consequence of the frequent complaints I have received from merchants themselves about the frauds which are daily committed in these two branches of commerce."
Public discontent and irritation were too vehement to be calmed by the moderation of Walpole: the minister prudently let the discussion drop. The queen had constantly supported Walpole. She had summoned one of the king's personal friends, Lord Scarborough, in order to consult him. "I answer for my regiment against the Pretender," said he, "but not against those who insist upon the excise." Tears came into the eyes of the princess. "Then," said she, "it must be renounced."
Emboldened by this negative victory, the chiefs of the opposition took up the question of septennial Parliaments. The duration of the legislature was approaching its termination. The attack was directed by Wyndham, who was covertly backed and instructed by Bolingbroke. It was against this cloaked and absent foe that Walpole rose with all the eloquence, temperate in form, impressive and haughty in effect, with which, on occasion, he so well knew how to overwhelm his adversaries. "Much has been said here of ministers arrogantly hurling defiances, of ministers destitute of all sense of virtue and honor: it appears to me, gentlemen, that with equal right, and more justly, I think, we may speak of anti-ministers and mock patriots, who never had either virtue or honor, and who are actuated only by envy or resentment. Let me suppose an anti-minister who regards himself as a man of such consequence, and endowed with such extensive parts, that he alone in the State is equal to the conduct of public affairs; and who stigmatizes as blunderers all those who have the honor to be engaged therein. Suppose that this personage has been lucky enough to enrol among his party men truly distinguished, wealthy, and of ancient family, as well as others of extreme views, arising from disappointed and envenomed hearts. Suppose all these men to be moved by him solely in respect to their political behavior, without real attachment for this chief whom they so blindly follow, and who is detested by the rest of humanity. We see this anti-minister in a country where he ought not to be, where he could not be without the exercise of an excessive clemency, yet employing all his efforts to destroy the source whence this mercy flowed.Let us suppose him in that country, continually occupied in contracting intimacies with the ambassadors of princes who are most hostile to his own; and if there should be a secret, the divulgence of which would be prejudicial to his country, disclosing it without hesitation to the foreign ministers who have applied to him to discover it. Finally, let us suppose that this anti-minister has travelled, and that at every court where he has been placed as minister, he has betrayed every confidence, as well as all the secrets of the countries through which he has passed; destitute as he is of faith and honor, and betraying every master whom he has served."
I have desired to give an idea of the violence of parliamentary discussion under George II., as well as of the deep-rooted animosity which existed between Walpole and Bolingbroke. The latter did not dare to face any revelations or more definite accusations. He soon quitted England, not to return as long as Walpole was in power. When he came back, in 1742, at the moment of his father's death, it was to establish himself in the country, in the house at Battersea, where he was born, and where he finally died, on the 17th of December, 1751, after the most stormy life, sadly devoted to unfortunate or disastrous enterprises, which were unscrupulously pursued with the resources of a rare and fruitful genius. "God, who has placed me here below," said he to Lord Chesterfield, in bidding him farewell, "will make of me what he will, after this; and he knows what is the best thing to do." All the irregularities of his life and all the inveterate doubts of his mind had never availed to snatch from the depths of the dying Bolingbroke's soul the hereditary faith in God which he had learned as a child at the knees of his mother, who had been piously attached to the principles of the old Dissenters.
The prolonged power of Walpole was menaced, and his authority seriously shaken. Troubles had broken out in Scotland. The escape of one smuggler and the punishment of another had aroused the populace of the capital, and caused that riot against Captain Porteous which forms one of the principal episodes of the Prison of Edinburgh.
Discord reigned in the royal family between King George II. and his eldest son, Frederick, Prince of Wales, as it had previously reigned between King George I. and his son. The queen shared the annoyance of her consort, and refused to see the prince, when, in the month of November, 1737, she was on her death-bed. "I hope that you will never desert the king," said she to Walpole. "It is to you that I commend him. Continue to serve with your accustomed fidelity." Walpole's regrets were bitter and sincere. He was losing an ally as certain as she was efficacious, at the moment when the violence of the attacks against him was increasing.
The Convention of Madrid, which ended with the close of the year 1738, had excited great discontent among the English merchants. The wise endeavors of the minister for the maintenance of peace with Spain were regarded as cowardice. Sixty members of the opposition, with Wyndham at their head, had declared their resolve of no longer taking part in the deliberations of a corrupt Parliament. The government majority grew smaller daily. Walpole, always obstinately attached to power, determined to bend before the storm and to lend his aid to a war which he deplored, and the result of which he doubted. On the 19th of October, 1739, as the city bells were sounding with all their peals in honor of the declaration of war, "Ring the cords of all your bells to-day," muttered Walpole; "it will not be long before you are wringing your hands."
The prudent sagacity and experience of Walpole had not deceived him. England entered upon a restless and stormy period, the beginnings of which were not happy. The first expeditions had been directed against the Spanish colonies of South America. By dint of courage and address, Commodore Anson, who was charged with the attack on Peru, opposed by wind and tide, succeeded in saving only one of his ships, with which he accomplished the tour of the world, whilst Admiral Vernon, at first victorious before Porto-Bello, and lauded to the skies by the opposition, to which party he belonged, failed sadly before Cartagena and Santiago. The patriots attributed the checks suffered by English armies to Walpole. "For nearly twenty years he has demonstrated that he possesses neither wisdom nor prudence," exclaimed Lord Carteret; "there is still left him a little of the cunning common to Smithfield cattle-dealers or to French valets under indulgent masters; but his whole conduct proves that he has no true sagacity. Our allies know and deplore it; our foes know it and are glad of it." Yet once again, Walpole triumphed in the Houses; his strength was being spent in repeated struggles.
Parliament had just been dissolved; the electoral prospects were threatening. Europe was agitated by the gravest anxieties. The Emperor Charles VI. had just died, on the 20th of October, 1740. All the powers had agreed to the Pragmatic Sanction, which assured the rights of the Archduchess Maria-Theresa. Scarcely had her father been laid in the grave, than the majority of the great sovereigns were already dividing the spoils. The competitors were numerous and their titles were various. The young Queen of Hungary found opposed to her a rival and an enemy.The elector of Bavaria reclaimed the domains of the House of Austria by virtue of a will of Ferdinand I., father of Charles V. He was supported by France, despite the peaceful inclinations of Cardinal Fleury, grown old, and instigated by the Marshal Belle-Isle. Spain laid claim to the sovereignty of Hungary and of Bohemia, which had long been dependants of her crown. She united her forces with those of France and Bavaria against Maria-Theresa. The new King of Prussia, Frederick II., on obsolete or imaginary rights, marched boldly to the conquests of which he was ambitious. From the time when he came to the throne, in the month of August, 1740, preceded by the reputation for a cultivated and liberal mind, and amenable to generous sentiments, Frederick, who had long been kept away from state affairs by the brutal jealousy of his father, had been silently preparing his means of attack. On leaving a masqued ball, he had set out post haste for the Silesian frontier, where he had collected thirty thousand troops. Without preliminary notice, without a declaration of war, he entered the Austrian territory, which was inadequately or badly defended. Before the end of January, 1741, he was master of Silesia. At his departure, Frederick had said to the French ambassador: "I believe I am going to play your game; if the aces come to me we will divide."
England was excited by the war. King George II. was more excited than England. Hanover was menaced; he crossed to Germany to raise troops. A subsidy was voted in favor of the Queen of Hungary; certain English envoys arrived at the camp of the belligerents. Lord Hyndford sought to excite some generous scruples in the mind of Frederick. "Do not speak to me of magnanimity, my lord," exclaimed the king; "a prince should consult only his interest. I have no objection to peace, but I require four duchies, and I will have them."The proposals transmitted by Mr. Robinson in the name of the Queen of Hungary seemed hard to that princess. "I hope, with all my heart, that he will reject them," she had said, with tears in her eyes. "Always subterfuges," exclaimed Frederick; "if you have nothing to say to me in regard to Silesia, negotiations are useless. My ancestors would rise out of their tombs to reproach me with the abandonment of their just rights."
France had concluded an alliance with the King of Prussia, assuring him the possession of lower Silesia. Marshal Maillebois was closely pressing Hanover; King George II. was alarmed, and signed a treaty of neutrality for one year, engaging not to furnish any assistance to the Queen of Hungary and to refrain from voting as elector for her husband, Francis of Lorraine, who aspired to the imperial dignity. On the 26th of November, 1741, the Elector of Bavaria was proclaimed King of Bohemia. On the 14th of February, 1742, he was crowned emperor, under the name of Charles VII. The allied armies had menaced Vienna, and Queen Maria-Theresa, flying from town to town before her triumphant enemies, had only found refuge and support in Hungary, amid the palatines and magnates assembled at Presbourg.Moriamur pro rege nostro, Maria-Theresa!they had shouted, with a unanimous voice, drawing their swords. All the horrors of war were desolating Germany. Everywhere irregular troops scoured the country, pillaging, massacring, burning. The hereditary domains of the new emperor were in turn menaced. "He remains at Frankfort," wrote the lawyer Barbier, in his journal, "and it would be difficult for him to go elsewhere safely."
The neutrality of Hanover had been received in England with anger; public feeling had been against the minister since the opening of the session, and a contested election brought the fact to light. The most devoted friends of Walpole pressed him to resign. He still hesitated, being passionately attached, after twenty years of its exercise, to that power which he had obstinately defended against so many enemies. He decided, at last, renouncing together with authority, the thorough dominance which he had so long maintained in the House of Commons. He received from the king every pledge of affection and of the most sincere regret, and the title of Earl of Orford. Some months later, Pulteney, in his turn, was elevated to the House of Lords, under the name of Lord Bath. Walpole, still influential with George II., had contributed with all his power to this annihilatory elevation. He approached his ancient antagonist with a smile. "Well, my lord," said he, "behold us become the two most insignificant personages in England."
Walpole did not long survive his downfall. In spite of his withdrawal to Houghton, he never became, because he could not be, insignificant. He had governed for twenty years with consummate skill, employing indifferently good and evil means, oratorical eloquence as well as parliamentary corruption; anxious to serve his friends rather than to conciliate his enemies, without ever giving to his country the pleasure of glory or the spectacle of political and moral greatness; contributing nevertheless to the happiness and prosperity of England by assuring to her, in the midst of serious external and internal troubles, long years of peace. His great rival in the art of governance was already rising to view; and amid the ranks of the patriot Whigs observing foresight had distinguished young William Pitt, destined to rule, as a master, the country and the Parliament that Walpole, like a skilful pilot, had long guided. "Between Sir Robert Walpole and Lord Chatham," as Lord Macaulay has wittily remarked, "there was all the distance between success and glory."
The new cabinet had just been formed, under the direction of Lord Carteret, soon afterwards, in right of his mother, Lord Granville. Pulteney had declined all office. "I have too often protested my disinterestedness to occupy any place," he had said. When he perceived that influence as well as power had escaped him, it was too late to retrace his steps. The ministry as formed was already discussed in Parliament, as well as throughout the country, and was experiencing an opposition which would ere long become formidable. Carteret was intelligent, brilliant and amiable, unequal and uncertain. He allowed himself to be led, at times, even as far as debauchery: he always remained eloquent and adroit in diplomatic maneuvres. He had concentrated all his efforts on the maintenance of the king's favor, often neglecting his partisans, and relying on corruption to rally his friends. "What do the judges and bishops matter to me?" said he, contemptuously; "my concern is to make kings and emperors, and to preserve the European balance." "Very well," replied the office-seeker, so cavalierly denied; "those who do care for judges and bishops will be appealed to."
Thus began already the power of the Pelhams, who were more careful than Carteret to use such means of influence as the exercise of high offices placed in the hands of ministers or their friends.
The war was still being waged in Germany. With the fall of Walpole, England's neutrality had ended. Already a body of troops had taken the road for Flanders. Women of distinction, with the Duchess of Marlborough at their head, had collected by subscription the sum of one hundred thousand pounds sterling, which they successfully offered to the haughty Maria-Theresa. The king had taken into his pay six thousand Hessian soldiers. The cabinet proposed to raise in Hanover a body of sixteen thousand at England's expense.The opposition violently inveighed against this measure. "It is too evident," said Pitt, "that this great kingdom, which is powerful and formidable, is regarded as a province of a pitiful Electorate, and that troops are only raised in pursuance of a design long matured, in order to swallow up all the resources of our unhappy country." The proposal passed, however, and the king put himself at the head of the forces he had collected in Germany. The States-General of Holland had united their troops with his. The fortune of war had changed. Charles VII., a fugitive in his turn, driven from his hereditary States, which Marshal Broglie had evacuated, had no longer any hope, save in the aid of France. She alone sustained all the burden of the war, which she had not yet officially declared. In England they laughed at the state of matters in Europe. "Our situation is absurd," said Horace Walpole, the intelligent son of the great minister, who was constantly dabbling in politics, as in literature. "We have declared war on Spain without making it, and we make war on France without having declared it."
King George II., as well as his second son, the Duke of Cumberland, gave proof of striking bravery on the 17th of July, 1743, at the battle Dettingen, which was disastrous to France, despite the able preparations of Marshal Noailles. An imprudence of his nephew, the Duke de Grammont, decided the fate of the day. But the jealousy which existed between the English and German generals hindered the course of operations. A treaty concluded at Worms, on the 13th of September, between England, Austria and Sardinia, was badly received by Parliament, which, with good reason, deemed it more favorable to the interests of Hanover than to those of England.The name Hanoverian began to be used as an insult, and was applied at times to the king himself. All the influence that Walpole had preserved in Parliament, and his speech in the House of Lords, were necessary to obtain the maintenance of the foreign troops. Lord Wilmington had just died, and at this time it was by the advice of Walpole that Henry Pelham was called to fill his place at the head of the Treasury. One year later, in the month of November, 1744, a division occurred in the cabinet. In spite of the personal favor of the king, Carteret, then Lord Granville, yielded to the influence of Henry Pelham and his brother-in-law, the Duke of Newcastle. War was at length officially declared between France and England. The new ministers lately raised to power in the name of English interests, as against the German proclivities of the king, continued to hire Hanoverian troops. At the opening of the campaign of 1745, the Duke of Cumberland found himself at the head of the allies.
The Emperor Charles VII. had just died, and his son had treated with the Queen of Hungary. Already for two years Frederick II., being master of Silesia, had quitted the field of battle, and observed with curious and cool interest the struggles which were drenching Europe in blood, and serving to weaken his rivals. Uneasy at the progress which Maria Theresa was making, he re-entered the lists, however. King Louis XV. had taken the lead of his army. He had just arrived before Tournay, with the dauphin, who had recently been married to the daughter of the King of Spain. On the 9th of May, 1745, at the break of day, the hostile forces met near the little village of Fontenoy. The relation of this victory belongs to the history of France. Marshal Saxe, a foreigner, and a Protestant, was henceforth to maintain alone the glory and the high tradition of Louis Fourteenth's marshals.He was sick, and believed to be dying, but he caused himself to be borne on a litter at the head of the army. "The question is not to live, but to proceed," he had replied to Voltaire, who was astonished at sight of his preparations. The Austrians were few in number. The veteran general Königseck commanded a corps of eight thousand men. An attack directed by the English on the forest of Lane, which the French troops occupied, had been repulsed. General Ingoldsby had fallen back on the main body of the army, commanded by the Duke of Cumberland. "March straight before you, your highness," said Königseck to the prince. "The ravine in front of Fontenoy must be gained." The movements of the Dutch were slow and undecisive; the English gave way. They formed a deep and serried column, preceded and flanked by cannons. The French batteries thundered right and left; entire ranks fell in their tracks; they were soon replaced; cannons, dragged by hand opposite Fontenoy, and redoubts answered the French artillery. It was in vain that the French guards sought to capture the enemy's cannon. The two armies were at last face to face.
Frequent mention has been made of the interchange of courtesies, which took place between French and English officers, on both sides of the ravine. The English officers had saluted; Count Chabannes and the Duke de Biron, who were in advance, uncovered in their turn. "Gentlemen of the French guard, withdraw," cried Lord Charles Hay. "Withdraw yourselves, gentlemen of England," retorted Count d'Auteroche; "we are never the first to retreat." The English fusillade was mortal to the French guard. Their colonel, the Duke de Grammont, had been slain at the beginning of the battle. The soldiers yielded. The English crossed the ravine which protected Fontenoy.They advanced as though on parade; the majors each having a small cane in his hand, rested it lightly on the muskets of the soldiers, in order to regulate their fire. One after another the French regiments broke against this immovable column. The Duke of Cumberland had ceased to advance, but, impassive and victorious, through the calm bravery of his soldiers, he occupied the field of battle. Königseck sent him his felicitations.
Marshal Saxe had begged Louis XV. to retreat. "I know that he will do what he ought," replied the monarch, "but I stay where I am." The marshal had just concentrated his troops, in order to make a final effort. The Irish brigade in the French service, which was almost entirely composed of Jacobite exiles, headed the regiments which charged at once on the English. The Dutch had effected their retreat. The English column found itself overwhelmed. It finally gave way without disorder, and preserved to the end its bold front. The Duke of Cumberland, the last to retreat, as he had been the first to attack, recalled to his soldiers the glorious memories of Blenheim and Ramillies; he blew out the brains of an officer who took to flight. The military skill of the English generals had not equalled their heroism. The battle of Fontenoy gave the result of the campaign to France, but Queen Maria Theresa had just accomplished her great aim. Her husband had been raised to empire on the 13th of September, 1745. She had made a treaty with the King of Prussia. Louis XV. stood alone against Germany, which had become neutral, or which rallied round the reinstated empire. Great internal struggles henceforth absorbed the thoughts and efforts of England.
An attractive young man, bold and frivolous, Prince Charles Edward Stuart, the eldest son of the Chevalier St. George, had for a long time cherished the hope of recovering the throne of his fathers. Since the beginning of 1744, he had left Rome, where he was living with his father, attracted to Paris by the rumor of an invasion of England, which the ministers of Louis XV. desired to attempt. He was provided with letters patent, declaring him regent of the three kingdoms of England, Scotland and Ireland, thealter egoof the king, his father, charged, [in] his absence, with the exercise of royal authority. The projected attempt did not eventuate: the ships collected at Dunkirk were dispersed, as Prince Charles Edward had not been able to obtain an audience with Louis XV. For some time he maintained the strictest incognito. "I have taken a house a league from Paris, and I live there like a hermit," he wrote to his father. "This becomes however, the secret of the comedy." The repulse of the English at Fontenoy seemed a favorable opportunity to the young prince. "I have always had at heart," said he, "the re-establishment of my father's throne, but only with the aid of his own subjects." He was encouraged in his project by Cardinal de Tencin, who had lately obtained his hat by the influence of the dethroned monarch. "Why do you not try to cross in a ship to the north of Scotland?" he had said to the prince; "your presence can form a party and an army for you. France will be compelled to give you aid."
Charles Edward had kept his secret from the ministers of Louis XV. as he had kept it from King James. It was only on the 12th of June, 1745, that he wrote to his father, from the Chateau de Navarre, near Ivry: "Your Majesty would not desire me to have followed his example. You acted in 1715 as I do to-day, under very different circumstances; those which now present themselves are more encouraging. This will only transpire after the embarkation. The lot is cast. I have determined either to conquer or die, resolved that I am not to yield a foot so long as I shall have a man with me."
The young prince's jewels had been pledged; he had purchased arms and supplies. On the 13th of July he set sail, accompanied by a freight vessel, the Elizabeth, which was soon followed by a French vessel. The little brig that carried him touched on the Scotch coast. A large eagle hovered over the Isle of Erisca, when the ship touched land. "Behold the king of the air come to salute your royal highness," exclaimed Lord Tullibardine. Gladdened by this happy augury, the bold exiles disembarked fearlessly. The prince was disguised, and the crew did not even yet know his name.
In Scotland they were better informed. The Jacobites had for some time been cognizant of the prince's intentions. They were uneasy, and secretly disturbed. The most eminent had even declared to Murray, the prince's agent, that it would be impossible for them to effect a rising without the landing of a body of regular troops. Charles Edward came alone. When he summoned the Macdonalds—the chiefs of the small cluster of islands where he landed—the old Macdonald of Boisdale presented himself in the name of his absent nephew, and refused to pledge his support to the undertaking. "A word will be sufficient to bring Sir Alexander Macdonald and McLeod of McLeod here," exclaimed the prince. "Your highness is mistaken," replied Boisdale; "I have seen them both a few days ago, and they have told me of their determination to risk nothing without external aid." The prince was silent, being more annoyed than dejected. When he cast his eyes on a young highlander who had come on board his ship with Boisdale, and who fixed his gleaming glance on him; "You, at least, you will come to my assistance," said he, quickly turning to the young man. "Even to death, if I should be alone to draw the sword," cried Ranald."I did not know him yet, and I felt my heart in my mouth when I looked at him in his abbe's habit," said another witness of the first interview. Enthusiasm is a contagious power; the chiefs of the Macdonalds were conquered. They promised to sacrifice everything, life and property, in the cause of their legitimate sovereign.
Eight days had not elapsed before the greater part of the highland gentlemen had followed their example. Vainly had the chief of the Camerons, young Lochiel, for a time resisted the contagion. "Do not go to see the prince," his brother had said to him; "when you are in his presence he will make you do what he wishes." Lochiel had followed this course. Charles Edward pressed him in vain. "I am resolved to run the chance of it," at last exclaimed the adventurous young man. "In a few days I shall raise the royal standard and proclaim to the people of Great Britain that Charles Stuart is come to reclaim the crown of his ancestors, prepared to perish if he should fail. Lochiel can remain at home. My father had often instanced him as the staunchest of our friends. He will learn from the papers the fate of his prince." It was too much. "No," replied the chief, "I shall share the fate of your highness, whatever it may be, and I shall involve in my fortune all those whom birth or chance has placed under my authority."
The Cameron clan was the first and most numerous at the rendezvous fixed by Charles Edward at Glennin. About fifteen hundred men assisted there at the unfurling of the royal banner of the Stuarts, so often and so cruelly disastrous to Scotland and the Scotch. Some weeks later, profiting by the uneasiness which the wild mountain defiles had inspired in Sir John Cope, who was commanding the troops of King George in Scotland, the young prince pressed quickly forward.Received everywhere with acclamations, he entered Perth on the 4th of September, where he organized his army, which was constantly enlarged by new recruits. He chose Lord George Murray, brother of the Duke of Athol, who had served with distinction on the continent, for lieutenant-general. Sterling, Falkirk, Linlithgow, either opened their gates to him or were obliged to surrender. On the 17th, Charles Edward, from the heights of Certesphine, viewed the noble city of Edinburgh seated like a queen between the mountains and the sea. Already the young prince had put a price on the capture of "George, elector of Hanover." "If any harm happen to him," said the proclamation, "the blame will recoil on those who have first set this infamous example."
After having effected a movement in advance, which had eventuated in a retreat without fighting, General Cope was drawing near the rebels by sea. The weather was contrary. The guardianship of the capital was intrusted to a regiment of militia and a volunteer corps supported by two regiments. The latter had been charged with the defence of the heights. The terror was extreme, and the feeling vainly concealed itself beneath a noisy display of courage. When they learned of the highlanders' approach, and that the troops were summoned to arms, a handful of volunteers, speedily diminished still farther by the entreaties of wives and mothers, appeared on parade. The militia corps was not any braver. The dragoons took flight, crossed the town at a gallop, and only paused at the borders of Berwick. The prince sent summons after summons to the provost. "My proclamation and the declarations of the king my father are a sufficient protection for the security of all the towns of the kingdom," said Charles Edward. "If I enter peaceably within your walls you will suffer no harm; if you resist, you will be placed under martial law."
[Image]Charles Edward.
The municipal magistrates still hesitated; the prince refused to receive their deputies, for the second time. As the carriages were re-entering the town, and as the gate opened to give them passage, eight hundred Camerons, commanded by Lochiel, flung themselves on the guards and easily effected an entrance into the city. In an instant they had command of every gate. At the break of day, Charles Edward, who had immediately been informed, set out with his little army. Avoiding the fusillade from the castle, which was occupied by Lord Guest, he entered the capital at midday, without striking a blow. The Scotch heralds, incontinently brought to the Square were forced to proclaim King James VIII., and to read in a loud voice the proclamations of the king and his son. The Jacobite ladies crowded to the windows, saluting the prince with their applause. James Hepburn, of Keith, carrying his drawn sword before the young regent, introduced him into the palace of his ancestors. Holyrood resounded with shouts of joy. A crowd of noble lords pressed round the young prince. "To-morrow, gentlemen, we will march to meet General Cope," said he, as he parted from his guests. Acclamations from all sides answered him. On leaving the town, at daybreak, Charles Edward drew his sword and brandished it above his head, exclaiming, "Gentlemen, I have thrown away the scabbard."
General Cope, having landed at Dunbar, had rallied his fugitive dragoons, and was advancing with all speed on Edinburgh. On the 20th of September, the two armies found themselves face to face on the plain of Prestonpans. It was late: the prince was urged to make the attack, but marsh separated him from the foe. A council was held. Charles Edward lay down on a bundle of straw in the midst of his soldiers.In the night he was awakened by one of his aides-de-camp. The proprietor of the piece of ground occupied by the troops, Mr. Wilson, of Whitbough, had remembered an indirect passage which enabled them to avoid the dangerous parts of the marsh. He communicated his plan to the prince. At sunrise the highlanders had surmounted the obstacle, and already threatened the royal troops. A moment of meditation, with uncovered head, on the part of all the soldiers, preceded the shrill summons of the bagpipes and the shouts of the mountaineers. Before the English soldiers could draw, the highlanders had turned aside, with blows of their daggers, the barrels of the muskets, striking with their claymores the foremost ranks, who fell back dying. The cannon had been discarded from the first.
Like the Vendean peasants, the Scotch mountaineers dreaded artillery, and their impetuous bravery was constantly bent on hindering its ravages. Like the former, also, they dragged after them an old field-piece, which they called 'the mother of muskets,'—a worthy predecessor of the illustriousMarie Jeanneof the army of Lescure and under Laroche-jacquelin.
The dragoons had, as on the day before, taken flight, in spite of the efforts of the brave and pious Colonel Gardener, slain soon afterward himself, as he was encouraging the resistance of a little platoon of troops. The infantry held its ground well, but every effort of the highlanders was now concentrated against it. The axes of Lochabar felled heads and lopped limbs. Before this savage valor the English soldiers at length gave way. James MacGregor, son of the celebrated Rob Roy, himself pierced with five wounds, shouted to his companions, "I am not dead, my men; I look to you to do your duty." Everywhere the chiefs were in the fray, at the head of their men."Do you think that our men are fit to resist the regular troops?" the prince had asked of MacDonald of Keppoch, who had served long in France "I know nothing about it," replied the highlander; "it is long since our clans have been defeated; but what I know well is that the chieftains will be in front, and that the soldiers will not leave them long alone." The attack and the victory only lasted for some moments. General Cope followed his dragoons and brought the news of his defeat to Berwick. "You are the first general who has ever himself announced his own defeat," said Lord Mark Kerr, ironically to him. The fugitives had not been pursued: the highlanders were absorbed in the division of spoils. The prince had carefully protected the wounded. "If I had gained the victory over foreigners, my joy would be complete," he wrote on the morrow to the king his father, "but the idea that it is over the English has mingled in it more bitterness than I thought possible. I learn that six thousand Dutch troops have arrived, and that ten battalions of English have been sent. I wish that they were all Dutch, so that I should not have the sorrow of shedding English blood. I hope I shall soon oblige the elector to send the rest, which at all events will be a service done to England, by making her renounce a foreign war, which is ruinous to her. Unhappily the victory brings embarrassments. I am charged with taking care of my friends and of my enemies; those who ought to bury the dead, as if that did not concern them. My highlanders consider themselves above doing it, and the peasants have withdrawn. I am equally much embarrassed on account of my wounded prisoners. If I make a hospital of a church, people will cry out against this great profanation, and will repeat what I said in my proclamation, by which I was pledged not to violate any propriety. Let come what may, I am resolved not to leave the poor wounded fellows in the street. If I cannot do better, I shall convert the palace into a hospital, and give it to them."
King George II. had just returned to England, recalled by the anxieties of his cabinet. The Marquis of Tweedale, charged with Scotch affairs, being himself undecided and perplexed, complained of being neither seconded nor obeyed. The inhabitants of the Lowlands possessed no arms, the Whig clans of the Highlands delivered up their muskets after the rebellion of 1715 and 1719. Public spirit was not yet excited in England. Either the fears there were shameful, or the indifference excessive. "England will belong to the one who arrives first," wrote Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, and himself a member of the government, to one of his friends. "If you can tell me which will be here most quickly, the six thousand Dutch and the ten English battalions that we are receiving from Flanders, or the five thousand French and Spanish that are announced, you would be made certain of our lot."
Patriotic sentiment, even when it is tardy of awakening, is more powerful than politicians are sometimes led to believe. The prudent indifference of Louis the XV.th's ministers was not deceived. In spite of the ardor of his warlike zeal, Charles Edward felt how precarious was success, and how necessary was external aid. He had several times renewed his representations to the Court of Versailles. Some convoys of arms and money had been sent him; it was even proposed to place the young Duke of York at the head of the Irish brigade; but the ordinary slowness of a weak government interfered with its operations. The assistance so often promised by Spain, as by France, was, up till then, confined to the personal expeditions of some brave adventurers.The Duke of Rochelieu ought to place himself at the head, it was said. "As for the landing at Dunkirk which was spoken of," wrote the eminent Barbier, at the end of the year 1745, "there is much anxiety about it, for we are at the end of December and it is not yet accomplished, which permits every one to invent news according to his fancy. This uncertainty discourages the French, who publish that our expedition will not take place, or at least that it will not assemble."
The expedition did not sail. The prince was ardently desirous of marching upon London, being, like his predecessors in the Scottish insurrection, fatally drawn on to seek, in the very centre of Great Britain, that support and success which always failed them. The Scottish chiefs protested, being violently opposed to the abandonment of Scotland. The prince was ill-inclined to bear contradiction, and promptly flew into a passion in the council. "I perceive, gentlemen," he cried, "that you are determined to remain in Scotland and defend your country. I am not less determined to try my fortune in England. I will go, though I should be alone."
The highlanders yielded with reluctance, and without confidence. "We have undertaken to re-establish the kingdom as well as the King of Scotland," they had often said, and Charles Edward had solemnly announced that his father would never ratify the union. He had even thought of convoking a parliament at Edinburgh. The practical difficulties of the project had deterred him from it. Before turning his steps into England, the prince published an appeal to his subjects of the three kingdoms, as clever as it was impassioned. "It has been sought to frighten you concerning the dangers that your religion and liberty might run. You have been spoken to of arbitrary power; of the tyranny of France and Spain. Give ear to the simple truth. I have at my own expense hired a vessel.Provided but ill with money, arms, or friends, I have come to Scotland with seven persons. I have published the declaration of the king my father, and I have proclaimed his rights, with pardon in one hand and liberty of conscience in the other. As for the reproaches lately addressed to the royal family, the wrongs which might have called them forth have been sufficiently expiated. During the fifty-seven years that our house has lived in exile, has the nation been more happy and more prosperous for it? Are you right, as fathers of Great Britain and Ireland, to love those who have governed you? Have you found more humanity among those whom their birth did not call to the throne than among my royal ancestors? Do you owe them other benefits than the crushing burden of an enormous debt? If it be not so, whence come so many complaints and such continual reproaches in your meetings? I have come here without the aid of France or Spain. But when I see my enemies rallying against me—Dutch, Danes, Hessians, Swiss—and that the Elector of Hanover summons his allies to protect him against the subjects of the king, it seems to me that the king my father is also, in his turn, warranted in accepting some assistance. I am ready, however. If my enemies desire to put it to the proof, let them send back their foreign mercenaries; let them trust to the lot of battles. I shall run my chance with the subjects of my father alone."
The prince's army amounted at most to six thousand men. Many of the great lords and Scotch gentlemen had remained neutral. Some, like Lord Lovat, the chief of the Fraser clan, being scandalously perfidious and corrupt, had secretly authorized their sons to join the prince, reserving to themselves the right of repudiating, if necessary."There is a singular mixture of gray-beards and beardless boys," wrote a spy who had been sent from England about the middle of October. "There are old men ready to descend into their graves, and youngsters who are not much higher than their swords, and who have not strength to wield them. There are perhaps a good four or five thousand courageous and determined men. The remnant are ill-looking bands, more intent on pillage than on their prince, on a few shillings than on the crown."
It was with these forces, uncertain and irregular, in despite of their devotion, that Charles Edward crossed the frontier on the 8th of November, 1745. The soldiers, as well as the highland chiefs, left their country with regret. A certain number of desertions had already occurred. At the moment when they put their foot on English soil, the highlanders, uttering loud cries, drew their swords. Lochiel wounded himself in the hand with his weapon, and the sight of blood troubled his followers. It was under the influence of this vexatious omen that the Scots laid siege to Carlisle. The direction of operations had been intrusted to the Duke of Perth. The prince, with Lord George Murray, had conceived a movement on Kelso which should deceive, and which in fact did deceive. General Wade, who found himself at Newcastle with the royal troops. When the English general perceived his error, Carlisle was in the hands of the Jacobites. Charles Edward made his entry there solemnly on the 17th of November, being anxious to appease the germs of discord which the success of the Duke of Perth had just planted among the chiefs of his little army. Lord George Murray was maintained in his important functions.From Carlisle to Preston, from Preston to Wigan and Manchester, the Scotch advanced without striking a blow, but uneasy, and suspicious of enemies who did not show themselves or give them occasion to display their valor on the field of battle, and discontented with the English Jacobites, who remained inert and did not in any way second their efforts. A little body of volunteers was formed at Manchester under the orders of Colonel Townley, who belonged to an old Catholic Lancashire family. On the banks of the Mersey, among the gentlemen assembled to receive him, the prince perceived a very old woman who had formerly assisted at Dover, in 1660, at the landing of King Charles II. Since the revolution of 1688, Mrs. Skyring had constantly divided her income into two parts, sending half of it to the royal exiles. At the news of Charles Edward's arrival, she had collected her plate and her jewels, in order to lay everything at the feet of the young prince. Her prayers were heard, she said, like Simeon of old: "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." Tradition relates that the old Jacobite did actually die some days after the departure of the adventurous young man whose success she so ardently desired.
The prince was advancing towards Derby, that fatal limit of Scotch expeditions into England. Three armies were formed around and against him. General Wade was at last moving across the county of York; the Duke of Cumberland, recalled from Germany, had gathered at Litchfield a body of from seven to eight thousand men. Considerable forces were assembled at Finchley for the defence of London. Charles Edward alone was still joyous. The road to the capital of Great Britain was open to him; a quick march had left behind him the Duke of Cumberland as well as General Wade. When he established himself at Derby, on the 4th of December, his whole preoccupation was to know whether he should enter London on foot or on horseback; dressed simply as an English gentlemen, or in the highland costume which he had worn since his arrival in Scotland.