After Helen Carnegie had partaken of some refreshment, and drunk a glass of mead, with which she was mightily pleased, she went with Beppy to the young lady's boudoir, where a basket full of blue and white ribbons was found upon the work-table, and they sat down together to make cockades—chatting merrily as they proceeded with their task.
By this time the frank Scottish lassie had become quite confidential with her new friend, and had told her simple story—explaining that she was merely a husbandman's daughter, and had passed eighteen summers and winters among the hills near Ruthven. She had first seen Sergeant Erick Dickson at Perth, when the Highland army came there. He had wooed her and won her heart, but she refused to wed him till the fighting was over. She afterwards saw him at Edinburgh, after the battle of Gladsmuir, and he pressed her so strongly to accompany him on the march to England that she consented. She had suffered far less than might have been expected from the fatigues of the long march, and thought she was now quite as strong and as able to endure hardship as Erick himself.
"You may blame me for the bold step I have taken, dear young leddy," she said, "and I ken fu' weel it was imprudent, but as yet I have had no cause to repent it. I loo'd Erick dearly, an' didna like to pairt wi' him. Sae I ha' ridden by his side a' the way frae Edinburgh to this toon, and shall gae on wi' him to Lunnon, if the prince should gang sae far, as Heaven grant he may! To a young leddy like yersel, siccan a life as I hae led wadna be possible, but to a mountain lassie there's nae hardship in it, but great enjoyment. Everywhere on the march, sin we crossed the Border, the Southrons hae shown me kindness. 'Twas only to ask and have. Never have I wanted a night's lodging. As to Erick, you will readily guess how carefully he has tented me. But he has never neglected his duty, and I have helped him to discharge it as far as I could. Our love has been tried, and has stood the test, and is now stronger than ever. Loosome as ye are, young leddy, ye must needs hae a lover, and I trust he may prove as fond and faithful as Erick. Then you'll never regret your choice."
"I thank you for the good wish, Helen," said Beppy, smiling. "But I have no lover."
"I canna believe it. I'm much mista'en if I didna see a weel-faur'd callant cast lovin' een upon ye in the marketplace just now. He wasna far off when the general spoke to me.
"Mr. Atherton Legh, I suppose you mean?" observed Beppy, blushing.
"Ay, that's his name. I heard the general ca' him sae."
"And so you have no fault to find with your lover?" said Beppy, anxious to change the subject.
"Fawt!—nane!" exclaimed Helen. "Erick hasna a fawt."
"Is he never jealous?"
"Aweel, I canna deny that he is a wee bit jealous, if ye ca' that a fawt; but his jealousy only proves his love. I should be jealous mysel if he talked to the lasses."
"But do you talk to the lads, Helen?"
"My certie, na! but ther win talk to me, and that makes Erick angry sometimes. But I soon laugh it off."
"Well, if it's nothing more serious than that it doesn't signify," said Beppy. "You can't prevent the young men from paying you compliments, you know."
"And I maun be ceevil to them in return. But there's one person that troubles me, and troubles Erick too—Captain Lindsay. He's an officer in Lord Pitsligo's regiment. Maybe you noticed him?—a fine-looking young man, taller than the rest; but weel-faur'd as he is, he's not to compare with Erick."
"You always keep Captain Lindsay at a distance, I hope, Helen?"
"I do my best. I never listen to his saft nonsense. I never accept any of the trinkets he offers me—but he winna be said."
"Continue to treat him coldly, and his assiduities will soon cease," observed Beppy.
"I'm not so sure of that. If he persists I fear there'll be mischief, for he drives Erick furious."
"I hope it mayn't come to that, Helen," said Beppy, rather gravely. "But much will depend on your discretion."
They then went on with their task in silence.
By this time they had made two or three dozen cockades, and when nearly as many more were finished, Helen expressed surprise that Erick had not come to fetch her.
"He promised to come for me in an hour," she said, "and it's now gettin' late."
"Don't make yourself uneasy," replied Beppy. "He'll be here soon. Where do you lodge to-night?"
"At the Angel in Market Street Lane. Why, there's a clock has just struck nine. I must go. You'll please to excuse me, miss. I'll come betimes to-morrow and help you to finish the cockades."
"Well, if you won't stay any longer, I'll send some one with you to the Angel."
Helen declined the offer, saying she was not afraid to walk there by herself.
"But are you sure you can find the way?"
"Quite sure," replied Helen.
And thanking the young lady for her kindness, she bade her good-night, and took her departure.
The moon shone brightly as Helen was crossing the churchyard, but she had not gone far when she heard quick footsteps behind her, and thinking it must be Erick she stopped.
It was not her lover, but a tall Highland officer, whom she instantly recognised.
Surprised and alarmed at the sight, she would have fled, but Captain Lindsay, for it was he, sprang forward, and seized her arm.
"Let me go, I insist, sir," she cried indignantly.
"Not till I have had a few words with you, Helen," replied the captain. "I have been waiting an hour for you here. I found out that Miss Byrom had taken you home with her, so I kept watch near the door of the house for your coming forth. Erick, I knew, couldn't interrupt us, for I had contrived to get him out of the way."
"He shall hear of your base design, sir," she cried, looking round for help. But she could see no one in the churchyard.
"Listen to me, Helen," said Captain Lindsay. "I am so passionately in love that I would make any sacrifice for you. You must and shall be mine!"
"Never!" she cried, struggling vainly to get free. "I am plighted to Erick, as ye ken fu' weel, and think you I wad break my vow to him? and for you, whom I hate!"
"Hate me or not, you shall be mine!" he cried. "Listen to reason, you foolish girl. Erick cannot love you as I love you."
"He loves me far better—but I dinna mind that."
"If you wed him, you will only be a poor soldier's wife. With me you will have wealth and luxury."
"Ye are merely wastin' yer breath, sir," she cried. "A' your arguments have no effect on me. Were you to fill my lap with gowd, I wad fling it from me wi' scorn. I care na for wealth and luxury—I care only for Erick."
"To the devil with him!" cried Captain Lindsay, fiercely. "You are enough to drive one mad. If you won't yield to persuasion, you shall yield to force. Mine you shall be, whether you will or not."
"And he would have clasped her in his arms, but she seized the dirk which hung from his girdle and held it to his breast.
"Release me instantly, or I will plunge this to your heart," she cried.
The energy with which she spoke left no doubt that she would execute her threat, and the baffled captain set her free.
At this moment assistance came. Erick could be seen hurrying towards them from the further side of the churchyard.
As soon as Helen perceived him she flung the dirk at Captain Lindsay's feet, and flew to meet her lover.
"What's the matter, lass?" cried the sergeant. "Has the villain insulted you? If he has, he shall pay for it wi' his life."
"Na! na!" cried Helen, stopping him. "Ye shall na gae near him. There'll be mischief. You should ha' come sooner, Erick, and then this wadna ha' happened."
"I could na come afore, lassie," replied the sergeant. "I now see the trick that has been played me by this cunning villain; but he shall rue it."
"Ye shall na stay anither minute in this unchancy kirkyard," cried Helen, forcing him away with her.
Just as they went out at the gate, Helen cast a look back at Captain Lindsay, and saw him still standing, as if stupefied, on the spot where she had left him. He had not even picked up the dirk, for she could distinguish it glittering in the moonlight at his feet.
At an early hour on the following morning, a carriage drawn by four strong horses, and attended by a mounted guard, entered the town.
It contained four persons, all of a certain importance. Chief among them was Lord Pitsligo, than whom no one in the Highland army was more beloved and respected. The venerable Scottish nobleman was in full military costume, and would have ridden at the head of his regiment, had not his infirm state of health prevented him.
The next person whom we shall mention was Mr. John Murray of Broughton, a gentleman of great ability, who acted as the prince's secretary and treasurer, and managed all his royal highness's affairs extremely well. Mr. Murray had a sharp intelligent countenance, and wore a suit of brown velvet with a tie-wig.
Opposite to him sat the prince's tutor and adviser, Sir Thomas Sheridan, one of the numerous Irish gentlemen who had attached themselves to the cause of the Stuarts. Sir Thomas, who was a strict Roman Catholic, exercised almost as much influence over the prince as Father Petre once did over the prince's grandsire, James the Second.
Next to Sir Thomas sat a very brilliant personage, wearing a rich suit of sky-blue cloth trimmed with silver, laced ruffles, a laced cravat, and a three-cornered hat, likewise laced with silver. This was the Marquis d'Eguilles, an envoy from Louis the Fifteenth, who had brought over a large sum of money and nearly three thousand stand of arms from his royal master. The marquis had the refined and graceful manner of a French courtier of the period, and carried a diamond snuff-box, which was always at the service of his companions.
As the persons we have described crossed the bridge, they looked with some interest at the town they were just entering, and bowed in return for the shouts of the crowd, who had rushed out to greet them.
Seeing such a large and handsome equipage attended by an escort, the townspeople naturally supposed it must be the prince himself, and when they found out their mistake, they did not shout quite so loudly.
The carriage drove to the market-place, where Lord Pitsligo and the others descended at the Bull's Head. A substantial repast had been prepared for them by order of Sir John MacDonald, to which they at once sat down.
Before breakfast was over, Colonel Townley arrived, and at once joined the party. Several Jacobites likewise repaired to the inn and volunteered their services to Mr. Secretary Murray, who received them very affably, and introduced them to Lord Pitsligo.
Amongst the new-comers were Dr. Deacon and Dr. Byrom. Mr. Murray's first business was to find a suitable residence for the prince during his stay in the town, and after consulting the two gentlemen we have named, he went out attended by Colonel Townley, the Marquis d'Eguilles, Sir Thomas Sheridan, and Dr. Byrom, to inspect the principal mansions in the place. Half a dozen soldiers went with them to keep back the crowd.
They first proceeded to Deansgate, where they examined a large house belonging to Mr. Touchet, one of the chief merchants of the place; but this was deemed unsuitable, being partly used as a warehouse, and was therefore assigned to Lord Elcho.
Mr. Floyd's house, near St. Ann's Square, was next visited; a handsome mansion, ornamented with pilasters, having a Belvidere on the summit, and approached by a noble flight of steps, but it did not entirely satisfy Mr. Murray, so he allotted it to Lord Pitsligo and Lord George Murray.
The next mansion inspected was Mr. Croxton's, in King Street, a large building converted at a later period into the town-hall. Here quarters were found for Lord Balmerino, Lord Kilmarnock, and Lord Strathallan.
Mr. Marriott's house, in Brown-street, was assigned to the Earl of Kelly and Lord Ogilvy; Mr. Gartside's mansion was appropriated to the Duke of Perth; and a fine house in Market Street Lane, occupied by Mr. Marsden, was allotted to the Marquis of Tullibardine and Lord Nairne.
Good quarters having thus been provided for all the principal personages in the Highland army, there remained only the prince; and at length Mr. Dickenson's house, in Market Street Lane, was fixed upon as affording fitting head-quarters for his royal highness.
The mansion, one of the best in the town, was built of red brick, in the formal taste of the period. Still, it was large and commodious, and contained some handsome apartments. Standing back from the street, it had a paved court in front surrounded by iron railings, and a lofty flight of steps led to the doorway.
A glance at the internal arrangements decided Mr. Murray in his choice, and he gave orders that the house should be immediately prepared for the prince.
Some of the houses selected for the Jacobite leaders, we believe, are still in existence, but Mr. Dickenson's mansion has been pulled down. After its occupation by the prince at the memorable period in question, it was always known as "The Palace."
Perfectly satisfied with the arrangements he had made, Mr. Murray left his companions behind, and took his way down Market Street Lane, then a narrow, but extremely picturesque thoroughfare, and abounding in ancient habitations.
In front of the Angel Inn, over the doorway of which hung a flag, a number of young men were assembled, each being distinguished by a white cockade. On horseback in the midst of these recruits were Sergeant Dickson, Helen Carnegie, and Rollo.
Halting for a moment to give some instructions to the sergeant and congratulate him on his success, Mr. Murray passed on to the market-place, where a large concourse was collected. Cheers greeted the party, and attended them to the Bull's Head, at the door of which two sentries were now stationed.
On entering the inn, Mr. Murray was informed by Diggles that the magistrates were waiting to see him; and he was then conducted to a room on the ground floor, in which he found Mr. Walley and Mr. Fowden.
Courteously saluting them, he begged them to be seated at a table placed in the centre of the room, furnished them with a list of the houses he had selected, and, after they had examined it, he proceeded to give them some further directions as to the arrangements necessary to be made for the prince.
"His royal highness will not dine till a late hour," he said. "Only the Duke of Perth, Lord George Murray, the Marquis of Tullibardine, Lord Pitsligo, the Marquis d'Eguilles, Sir Thomas Sheridan, and myself will have the honour of dining with him. The repast must be served in private."
The magistrates bowed.
"Another sumptuous repast, with the choicest wines you can procure, must be prepared at seven o'clock for forty of the principal officers."
Again the magistrates bowed.
"We will do our best to content the prince," said Mr. Fowden. "As regards the houses mentioned in this list, those for whom they have been chosen will find them ready for their reception. For how many men, may we ask, will quarters be required?"
"For five thousand; and rations for the like number. But the commanding officer, on his arrival, will give you precise orders, in obedience to which you will furnish the quarter-masters and adjutants with the necessary warrants. Another important matter must be attended to. As the prince's treasurer, I require that all persons connected with the excise, and all innkeepers, shall forthwith bring me the full amount of their imposts, and all moneys in their hands belonging to the Government—on pain of military execution."
"Public notice to that effect shall immediately be given," said Mr. Fowden; "but should the innkeepers or any others prove remiss we must not be blamed for their negligence."
"All defaulters will be shot to-morrow. Make that known," said Mr. Murray. "I trust, gentlemen," he added, rising, "that due honour will be done to the prince on his arrival."
"It would be inconsistent with the office we hold, and might expose us to serious consequences, were we to give orders for public rejoicings," said Mr. Fowden; "but we will take care the town shall be illuminated and bonfires lighted."
"That is all I could require from you, gentlemen. On the arrival of the prince, if you will attend at head-quarters, I shall have the honour of presenting you to his royal highness."
"We are fully sensible of the great honour intended us," said the magistrates, hesitating; "but——"
"I see, gentlemen. You are afraid of compromising yourselves," remarked Mr. Murray, smiling. "Make yourselves quite easy. I have a device that will obviate all difficulty. A silk curtain shall be hung across the audience-chamber. Of course you won't know who may be behind the curtain—though you may guess."
"An excellent plan," cried the magistrates.
Bowing ceremoniously to the secretary, they then withdrew.
Shortly after the departure of the magistrates, the bells of all the churches in the town began to ring joyously, and were soon answered by loud and merry peals from the only church on the other side of the Irwell.
Summoned by this exhilarating clamour, multitudes flocked into the streets, decked in holiday attire, and most of them crossed the bridge into Salford in expectation of witnessing the entrance of the Highland army.
The weather was most propitious. Never was finer day seen in November, and the bright sunshine diffused general gaiety and good-humour among the concourse.
Good-looking damsels predominated in the crowd—Manchester has always been noted for female beauty—and they were all exceedingly curious to behold the handsome young prince and the Scottish chiefs.
There was a great deal of talk about the Insurrection of '15, but this was chiefly among the older people, for as the first rising took place before the young folks were born, they could not be expected to feel much interest in it.
It may seem strange that the approach of the much-dreaded Highlanders should not have caused alarm, but by this time the inhabitants generally had got over their fears, and were disposed to welcome the insurgents as friends, and not treat them as enemies.
Among the fair sex, as we have said, the youth, courage, romantic character, and good looks of the prince excited the greatest interest and sympathy. Whatever the men might be, the women were all Jacobites.
Meanwhile, the bells continued to peal joyfully, and multitudes crossed into Salford, and stationed themselves on either side of the main street, through which it was expected the prince and the army would pass.
Everything looked bright and gay, and everybody—except a few moody Presbyterians—appeared happy.
On the summit of the lofty tower of the collegiate church floated a large standard fashioned of white, red, and blue silk. This broad banner, which attracted great attention from the concourse, had been placed in its present conspicuous position by the management of Tom Syddall.
The patience of the large crowd assembled in Salford was somewhat sorely tried. Those who had secured good places for the spectacle did not like to leave them, and they had nothing to do but talk and jest with each other; but at length the shrill notes of the bagpipes proclaimed that the Highlanders were at hand, and the trampling of horse was heard.
First to appear was a troop of horse commanded by Lord Strathallan. This was quickly followed by a regiment of Highlanders, with their pipers marching in front.
The sight of these fine, stalwart men, in their picturesque garb, each armed with firelock, claymore, and dirk, and bearing a target on his shoulder, caused the greatest excitement among the beholders, who cheered them lustily as they marched on.
The regiment was commanded by Lord George Murray, one of the most distinguished and important persons in the prince's service, who had been created a lieutenant-general of the Highland army. He was a younger brother of the Marquis of Tullibardine. Lord George was not young, as will be understood, when it is mentioned that he was concerned in the outbreak of 1715; but he was still in the prime of life, undoubtedly the boldest and ablest leader in the rebel forces, and the one best able to direct the movements of the present campaign; but though he was a prominent member of the council, his advice was rarely taken, owing to the bluntness of his manner, which was highly displeasing to the prince, as well as to several of his royal highness's advisers.
In this respect Lord George offered a marked contrast to his rival the courtly Duke of Perth, of whom we shall have occasion to speak anon.
Lord George Murray was tall, powerfully built, and possessed great personal strength. A thorough soldier, of undaunted courage, and capable of undergoing any amount of fatigue, he was unpopular from his rough and somewhat contemptuous manner. His character could be easily read in his haughty demeanour and strongly marked countenance. Lord George was attended by his aide-de-camp, the Chevalier de Johnstone. As he rode along and eyed the crowd on either side, his stern glance struck terror into many a breast.
Nairne's Athole men came next, and were followed by other fine Highland regiments, respectively commanded by General Gordon of Glenbucket, Lord Ogilvy of Strathmore, and Roy Stuart. Each regiment had two captains, two lieutenants, and two ensigns.
Next came a troop of light cavalry, under the command of Lord Balmerino; and then followed Lord Kilmarnock's hussars with the baggage and artillery.
The train of artillery consisted of sixteen field-pieces, two waggons laden with powder, and a great number of sumpter-horses.
This division of the Highland army was commanded by the Duke of Perth, whose presence excited general admiration.
Both the Duke and his aide-de-camp, who rode beside him, were remarkably well mounted, and both perfect horsemen.
Among the many Scottish nobles who had determined to share the fortunes of Prince Charles Edward, none could compare in personal appearance and deportment with James Lord Drummond, third titular Duke of Perth. The duke's courtesy, refined manners, and unfailing good temper, rendered him popular with all. Though not so thorough a soldier as Lord George Murray, he was equally brave, and in brilliant qualities far surpassed him.
Between these two distinguished personages a great rivalry existed. No member of the council possessed so much influence with the prince as the Duke of Perth, and the favour shown his rival often caused great umbrage to Lord George Murray, who did not care to conceal his resentment.
The duke had warm friends in Secretary Murray and Sir Thomas Sheridan, so that his position as first favourite was unassailable, certainly by Lord George.
The duke, who was in the very prime of manhood, being only just turned thirty, was grandson of the Earl of Perth, created duke by James the Second on his retirement to France.
Nothing could be more striking than the effect produced by these clan regiments as they marched through Salford on that morning, the different hues of the plaids worn by each corps giving variety and colour to the picture, while the sinewy frames, fierce countenances, and active movements of the men inspired a certain feeling akin to fear among the beholders, which the war-like notes of the bagpipe did not tend to diminish.
The front ranks of each regiment were composed of gentlemen, whose arms and equipments were superior to those of the others, causing them to look like officers; but they had no rank. All the men were in good spirits, and seemed as if victory lay before them.
Regiment after regiment marched over the bridge, with the sun shining brightly on their picturesque dresses, and glittering on their firelocks and arms—with their colours and pipes playing—bells pealing, and spectators shouting loudly, producing a most extraordinarily animating effect.
Scarcely less striking was it as the Highlanders marched through the town and drew up in St. Ann's Square.
Completely filled by these clan regiments, the large area presented a picture such as it has never since exhibited.
But a scene of a very different kind was being enacted at the same time. While these armed men were gathering in front of the church, a sad ceremonial took place in the churchyard.
A grave had been opened to receive the remains of a respected inhabitant of the town, and the last rites were then being performed by Mr. Lewthwaite, who proceeded as calmly as circumstances would permit.
But other mourners than those expected gathered round the grave as the coffin was lowered into it—Highland officers bare-headed, and noticeable for their respectful demeanour.
The Highland regiments did not remain long in St. Ann's Square. Having received their billets, the men were taken to their lodgings by the quarter-masters. The artillery and baggage-waggons proceeded to Castle Field, where a park was formed, and strongly guarded.
Multitudes of people still remained in Salford, patiently awaiting the arrival of the prince with the second division of the Highland army.
All the inmates of Mrs. Butler's dwelling, which, it will be remembered, was situated at the upper end of the main street, had witnessed the march past of the first division. Even the invalid lady herself, who had not quitted the house for a lengthened period, and could not do so now without considerable risk, came forth to see the young prince.
Not being able to walk so far, she was carried out into the garden, and placed near the gate, which was thrown open. From this position she commanded the road, and could see all that was to be seen.
Near her stood Monica and Constance, both of whom were attired in white dresses, with blue scarves, while in close attendance upon her were her brother, Sir Richard Rawcliffe, Father Jerome, and Jemmy Dawson.
Notwithstanding the excitement of the occasion, Constance looked pensive and absent—her thoughts being occupied with Atherton Legh. Very little conversation had taken place between her and her father, since Sir Richard's return from Preston, and then only in the presence of Father Jerome. All allusion to the young man had been studiously avoided.
By this time Monica had quite shaken off her fears, and when the stirring spectacle commenced, and the clan regiments marched past the gate, her breast glowed with enthusiasm, and all her former ardour returned. She thought no more of her lover's danger, but of the glory he would win; and if he had held back, she would now have urged him on.
But Jemmy required no spurring; he was eager to be an actor in such a scene, and was anxiously expecting his promised commission.
As to Mrs. Butler, she looked on with mingled feelings. What memories were awakened by the sight of those Highland regiments! The men looked the same, wore the same garb, and bore the same arms as those she had seen in former days. Yet the chiefs who had fought in the civil war of 1715, and their faithful clansmen, were all swept away. Were those who had now taken their places destined to victory or defeat? She trembled as she asked herself the question.
Many a glance was thrown at the fair damsels in the garden as the young officers marched past, and frequent salutes were offered to Sir Richard by those in command of the regiment, but no one halted except the Duke of Perth, who paused to say a few words to him, and was presented to the ladies—delighting them with his courteous manner.
Before the duke rode off, he told them that more than an hour would elapse before the second division came up, and so it turned out.
During this interval, Mrs. Butler remained in the garden, and of course the others did not leave her. Some slight refreshments, with wine, were brought her by a man-servant from the house, and of these she partook in order to support her strength, which she feared might fail her. She listened anxiously for any sounds that might announce the prince's approach, but it was long before he came.
At length the loud notes of the bagpipes were heard in the distance, and soon afterwards a regiment of cavalry came up, commanded by Lord Elcho, who carried his sword in his hand, as did the men. These were the life-guards. Blue coats with red facings formed the uniform of the troop. And the men wore gold-laced hats with white cockades in them. Indeed, we may remark that all the officers and soldiers of the Highland army wore white cockades in hat or bonnet.
The life-guards were soon gone, and then a personage appeared, upon whom all eyes were fixed.
Attended by a dozen or more nobles and officers of high rank, all dressed in blue coats faced with red, and wearing gold-laced hats, marched with a light elastic step, that showed he was not in the slightest degree fatigued, a tall, well-proportioned, fair-complexioned, handsome young man, of some five-and-twenty, dressed in a Highland garb, armed with a broadsword, and carrying a target on his shoulder. He wore no star upon his breast—no ornament of any kind—merely a white rose in his bonnet, and a blue silk scarf, yet his dignified and graceful deportment proclaimed at once that it was Prince Charles Edward.
The prince's frame was slight, but full of vigour. His features were regular and delicately moulded, his complexion fair, and his eyes bright and blue. His natural blonde locks would no doubt have become him better than the flaxen-coloured peruke which he wore, though that suited him. His expression was extremely amiable and engaging, and his youth, grace, and good looks produced a most favourable impression upon the beholders.
Charles Edward was preceded by a hundred Highland pipers, and as all were playing vigorously, the din caused by them was astounding.
This handsome young prince, who, at the period of his introduction to the reader, was full of romantic ardour and courage, and confident of recovering the throne of his ancestors, was the eldest son of James Stuart, known as the Chevalier de Saint George, and the Princess Maria Sobieski. Perfect in all manly exercises, Prince Charles Edward possessed powers of endurance that admirably fitted him for the enterprize he had undertaken. His early years had been passed in obscurity in Rome, but he had always cherished the thought of invading England, and at last the opportunity presented itself.
Great efforts had been made by the Jacobite party in Paris to induce the French monarch to aid in the restoration of the Stuart dynasty, but without effect. However, when the celebrated Cardinal de Tencin became first minister of state, he judged that a civil war in England would be highly beneficial to France, and therefore invited Charles Edward to repair to Paris.
Preparations, meanwhile, had been made to land an army of fifteen thousand men in England under Field-Marshal Saxe, and it was arranged that the prince should accompany the expedition as commander-in-chief.
The fleet set sail, but being dispersed by a violent tempest, suffered so much loss that the project was abandoned.
But the hopes of the young prince were encouraged by the cardinal minister, who said to him, "The king is averse to another expedition after the disastrous result of the first. But why should you not go alone, or with a few attendants, and land on the North of Scotland? Your presence alone would revive your party, and create an army."
This advice was too much in accordance with the aspirations of the brave and adventurous young prince not to be eagerly adopted.
Provided with money and arms by the cardinal, he set sail from Dunquerque in July, 1745, in the Dentelle sloop of war, and after some hazardous escapes, landed on the north-west coast of Scotland, where he was met by Mr. Murray, who became his secretary and treasurer. His standard having been reared, he was speedily joined by the MacDonalds, the Camerons, and other Highland chiefs, the Duke of Perth, the Marquis of Tullibardine, Lord Elcho, and Lord George Murray.
Having mustered an army of four thousand men, he marched on Perth, and arrived there on the 3rd of September.
After a short stay at Perth, he proceeded at the head of his army to Edinburgh, and the Scottish capital opened its gates to the grandson of James the Second. Here he took possession of the palace of his ancestors; caused his father to be proclaimed at the Cross by the title of King James the Eighth of Scotland, and himself as Regent; and after the ceremonial gave a splendid ball at Holyrood. At Edinburgh he was joined by Lord Nairne with a thousand men.
On the 21st of September occurred the battle of Preston Pans, in which Sir John Cope was completely routed. The news of the young Chevalier's unlooked-for and decisive victory animated the Jacobites in every quarter, greatly alarmed the English Government, and brought back George the Second from Hanover.
Having received considerable reinforcements, the prince gave a troop of horse to Lord Balmerino, and another to Lord Kilmarnock. Money and arms also arrived most opportunely from France, and in one of the vessels that brought these supplies came the Marquis d'Eguilles. The court continued to be held at Holyrood, and the receptions were now most brilliantly attended, especially by the fair sex.
Meanwhile, Marshal Wade having assembled an army at Newcastle, the prince determined to cross the Border and give him battle.
Several of his council, among whom was Lord George Murray, sought to dissuade him from his design, urging him to await the arrival of the expected reinforcements from France; but no representations either of difficulty or danger could induce the chivalrous prince to give up his scheme, or even defer it.
He told his councillors that he saw they were determined to stay in Scotland, and defend their own country; but he added, in a tone that showed his resolution was taken, "I am not less determined to try my fate in England, even though I should go alone."
On the last day of October he marched out of Edinburgh at the head of an army of five thousand five hundred men. His first object was to attack Carlisle, and as Marshal Wade had not advanced from Newcastle, he did not anticipate an engagement with him.
Carlisle surrendered to the Duke of Perth, and on the 17th November, Charles Edward made a triumphal entry into the city. At a council held there, the prince, flushed by success, proposed to continue his march to the metropolis, expressing a firm conviction that he should be joined by a large party in Lancashire and Cheshire, while the Marquis d'Eguilles felt equally confident that reinforcements would arrive from France.
Some opposition to the plan was offered by Lord George Murray, who affirmed that the Duke of Cumberland had assembled an army nearly doubling in number that of his royal highness, which must be encountered, and that Marshal Wade had made a demonstration for the relief of Carlisle, but the advice was overruled.
Resuming his march, the prince passed through Lancaster, and arrived with his whole army at Preston on the 26th. From Preston the Highland army marched to Manchester, in two divisions, as related.
Rash as the young Chevalier's enterprise may appear, it is more than probable that it would have been accomplished if he had received the support he expected.
Before quitting Scotland he had received invitations and promises of aid from many important Jacobite families in the northern counties; and he had been led to believe that a general rising in his favour would be made in Lancashire, Cheshire, and North Wales.
But he soon found these promises fallacious. Very few persons of importance joined his standard, and no risings took place. He had expected powerful reinforcements from France, but none arrived. Yet he had advanced boldly and successfully, and though unaided, it appeared not unlikely that he would achieve the daring project he had conceived.
Hopes were still entertained by some of his counsellors that a large number of volunteers would join at Manchester, and the warm reception given him by the inhabitants as he approached the town, seemed to warrant these expectations.
As the prince marched a few paces in front of his attendants, he was at once distinguishable; but even if he had been mixed up with them, his dignified deportment would have rendered him conspicuous.
Amongst the nobles and Highland chiefs who attended him were the Marquis of Tullibardine, Glengarry, Ardshiel, Colonel Ker of Gradon, and Colonel O'Sullivan.
Behind them came a body-guard of Highlanders.
The second division of the army consisted of regiments belonging to the chiefs previously mentioned, but these regiments were now left to the command of the officers, their leaders preferring to march on foot with the prince. A troop of hussars under the command of Lord Balmerino brought up the rear.
As the young Chevalier approached Mrs. Butler's residence, he chanced to cast his eye into the garden—the gate of which, as we have said, was standing wide open—and the charming group formed by the two beautiful girls and the invalid lady attracted his attention.
Standing close beside them, he perceived Sir Richard Rawcliffe, whom he had seen at Preston the day before.
On beholding the young Chevalier, Mrs. Butler rose from her chair, and stepping forward, made him a profound obeisance.
Something in the earnest look fixed upon him by the invalid lady interested the prince, and he could not resist the impulse that prompted him to speak to her.
Accordingly he signified his intention to the Marquis of Tullibardine; a halt was immediately called, the pipers ceased playing, while the prince stepped out of the line, followed by that nobleman, and entered the garden.
Nothing could exceed the surprise and delight caused by this gracious act, not only to the object of it, but to the two fair damsels who stood beside her. It may be thought that these lovely girls would have attracted the prince to the garden rather than an elderly dame, but he seemed scarcely aware of their presence till he was close beside them.
Instantly divining the prince's intention, Sir Richard Rawcliffe presented his sister. Charles could not prevent her from kneeling, but he immediately raised her, and remarking that she looked very faint, conducted her, with much solicitude, to a seat.
He then turned to the two fair damsels, who were likewise presented to him by Sir Richard, and received them with much grace and dignity.
Not till this moment did he become aware of Constance's surpassing beauty, and he then remarked to her father:
"I was told that you had a lovely daughter, Sir Richard, but I did not imagine she was so beautiful as I find her."
"Such praise coming from your royal highness will make her vain," said the baronet.
"Nay, I meant not to call blushes to her cheek, though they do not spoil it," said Charles. "But Miss Rawcliffe has another great merit in my eyes besides her personal attractions. If I am not misinformed, she is devoted to the royal cause."
"Heart and soul!" cried Constance, enthusiastically. "Your royal highness has not a more zealous adherent than myself."
"I cannot doubt it. But I hoped you have proved your zeal by bringing me a hundred swords."
"I have brought you one," she replied—"but it is worth a hundred."
"Ah! to whom does it belong?" inquired the prince, smiling.
"To a brave young man, whose name must be utterly unknown to your royal highness—Mr. Atherton Legh."
"There you are mistaken. His name has been mentioned to me by Colonel Townley, who described him—I have no doubt quite correctly—as the finest young man in Manchester. Mr. Atherton Legh shall have a commission on your recommendation, Miss Rawcliffe. You will present him to me, Sir Richard."
"It will be better, perhaps, that Colonel Townley should present him to your royal highness," said Sir Richard.
The reluctance displayed by the baronet did not escape the prince, whose perceptions were very acute, but a glance at Constance served partly to explain matters to him, and he remarked with apparent indifference:
"Be it so;" adding significantly, "I shall not forget that I am indebted to you, Miss Rawcliffe, for this brave young recruit."
It was now Jemmy Dawson's turn to be presented, and he had no cause to complain of his reception. The few words said to him by the prince were calculated to rouse his zeal, while they highly gratified Monica.
"I can claim as much credit as my cousin Constance," she said. "Each of us has brought a recruit; and we both feel equally sure your royal highness will be well served."
By this time Mrs. Butler had recovered from her faintness, and perceiving that her gaze was anxiously fixed upon him, the prince went to speak to her.
"You have something to say to me, madam, methinks?" he observed.
"I only desire to tell you, prince, that I have prayed daily for the restoration of your royal house. You will therefore understand what my feelings must be when I behold you at the head of an army determined to wrest the crown of this kingdom from the usurper who now wears it. May Heaven strengthen your arm, and fight for you, so that you may regain your own, and the rights and liberties of your faithful subjects may be preserved, and the old religion be restored!"
"I have come to win a kingdom for my royal father, or to perish in the attempt," said Charles Edward, energetically.
"Victory awaits you, prince," she cried. "I feel assured of it. The tidings of your triumph will efface my sad recollections of the former ill-starred attempt, and I shall die content."
"My sister lost one who was very dear to her, in the fatal affair of '15," remarked Sir Richard.
"I cannot wonder then that she should have sad memories connected with that unfortunate struggle," said the prince, in a tone of profound sympathy. "Farewell, madam. I hope you will have no more to mourn—but many to greet as victors."
He then addressed the two fair damsels, expressing a hope that he might see them again during his brief stay in Manchester; after which, with a graceful inclination of his person towards the party, he stepped back, and resumed his place in the line of march.
Before, however, the troops could be put in motion, another slight interruption occurred. It was caused by the Rev. Mr. Clayton, the chaplain of the collegiate church.
Mr. Clayton, as will be conjectured from what we are about to narrate, was a Jacobite and a Nonjuror.
Taking advantage of the halt, he threw himself at the prince's feet, and in most fervent tones implored the Divine blessing on his head—praying that the enterprise on which he was engaged might prove successful.
As the chaplain was in full canonicals the incident caused a great sensation, and was particularly gratifying to the prince.
When the benediction was concluded, and Mr. Clayton had retired, the word was given, the pipers began to play as loudly as before, and the march was resumed.
Shortly afterwards, Prince Charles Edward crossed the bridge, and, amid loud acclamations, entered Manchester.
No sooner did the vast assemblage collected near the approaches to the bridge distinguish the tall graceful figure of the young Chevalier amid the throng of Scottish nobles and chiefs, than all heads were instantly uncovered, and a loud cry arose of "Long live King James the Third, and Prince Charles Edward!"
At the same time a band of musicians, stationed at Tom Syddall's door, and directed by the Jacobite barber in person, struck up the old air of "The king shall have his own again." But this could scarcely be heard amid the din caused by the pipers.
Most of the open windows on either side of the street were adorned by damsels dressed in white, and these fair adherents to the royal House of Stuart now leaned forward and waved their handkerchiefs to the prince.
Such a demonstration could not be otherwise than highly gratifying to the young Chevalier, and he bowed and smiled in acknowledgment of the salutations offered him, the grace of his manner eliciting fresh cheers.
So greatly was the crowd excited, that it was with difficulty the foremost ranks could be prevented from pressing on the prince, who, however, would not allow his body-guard of Highlanders to interfere.
No untoward circumstance marred the general satisfaction. Bells were pealing blithely, drums beating, pipes playing, colours flying, men shouting, kerchiefs waving all the way from the bridge to the market-place, where a brief halt was made.
Having been joined by his secretary, Mr. Murray, who explained where his head-quarters were situated, the prince resumed his march, still preceded by the pipers, and attended by his body-guard of Highlanders. On reaching the house designed for him, he entered it with his suite, and disappeared from the view of the shouting crowd who had followed him. The pipers and the Highland guard drew up in the court-yard.
A sumptuous repast had been prepared in the dining-room, and to this Charles and his attendants at once sat down.
Little repose, however, was allowed the indefatigable prince. The chief magistrates, Mr. Fowden and Mr. Walley, were waiting to confer with him in the audience-chamber, across which, in accordance with Mr. Murray's suggestion, a green silk curtain had been drawn—the stuff, however, being slight in texture, the persons on either side the hanging could be easily distinguished.
The magistrates, therefore, seeing the prince enter the room, attended by Mr. Murray and Sir Thomas Sheridan, bowed profoundly, and their obeisances were graciously returned.
Charles Edward then seated himself, and the conference was opened by his secretary.
"His royal highness thanks you, gentlemen," said Mr. Murray, "for the excellent arrangements made for him, and desires to express his gratification at the enthusiastic reception given him on his entrance into your loyal town. He will now have to put the zeal and devotion of your fellow-townsmen to the test."
"In what way, sir?" demanded Mr. Walley, uneasily. "We have given orders that the whole of the prince's forces shall be billeted, and have directed the excise-money to be sent to you as treasurer. What further proof can we give of our desire to serve his royal highness?"
"I will explain, gentlemen, in a word," replied the secretary. "The prince requires a subsidy from the town of five thousand pounds. War cannot be carried on without money, and our coffers are well-nigh emptied."
"I fear it will be impossible to raise that amount," said Mr. Fowden.
"We should grieve to have to levy the money by force, but we must have it. Consult together, gentlemen, and give us your answer."
After a moment's deliberation with his brother magistrate, Mr. Fowden asked if half the amount would not suffice; whereupon Charles remarked, in a loud peremptory tone, "Bid them furnish three thousand pounds—not less."
"You hear, gentlemen. Three thousand pounds must be furnished to the treasury without delay. You know the penalty of neglect."
"We will do our best," said Mr. Fowden. "But pray give us till to-morrow."
"Be it so," replied the secretary.
The magistrates then asked if the prince had any further commands.
"His Majesty King James the Third will be proclaimed at the Cross," said Mr. Murray; "and it is necessary that both of you should be present at the ceremony. It is also necessary that one of you should repeat the proclamation."
The magistrates tried to excuse themselves, but the secretary cut them short, saying, "You have nothing to fear, gentlemen. We will make it appear you are acting on compulsion. But take care that the prince's manifesto and declaration, copies of which will be delivered to you, are distributed to the crowd. And now, gentlemen, we will not detain you longer. His royal highness expects to see you to-morrow—with the money."
The audience then terminated, and the magistrates, who were full of perplexity, quitted the chamber. The prince and his companions laughed very heartily when they were gone.
Several other persons were admitted to a private interview, after which the prince adjourned to a much larger room which had been prepared for his receptions.
The room had a very brilliant appearance, being crowded with officers of high rank. In the antechamber all who desired the honour of a presentation were assembled.
On the entrance of the prince, who proceeded towards the upper end of the room, and took up a station there, all the nobles and heads of clans formed a semicircle around him—those nearest his royal highness, on the right and left, being the Duke of Perth, the Marquis of Tullibardine, the Marquis d'Eguilles, Lords George Murray, Pitsligo, Nairne, Kilmarnock, and Balmerino.
The first persons to approach the prince were Colonel Townley and the Chevalier de Johnstone, the latter of whom, as already stated, being aide-de-camp to Lord George Gordon.
Colonel Townley, who was in full uniform, wore a plaid waistcoat, and a plaid sash lined with white silk. He came to inform the prince that the Manchester Regiment was now embodied, and would be paraded on the morrow.
"The deficiency in men, of which I complained to your royal highness, has been made good by Colonel Johnstone, who has delivered over to me all the recruits raised for him in this town by Sergeant Dickson."
"You have done well, colonel," remarked the prince, approvingly, to Johnstone. "How many men has Sergeant Dickson enlisted?"
"Nearly two hundred," was the reply. "They are all fine fellows, and will make excellent soldiers."
"I esteem myself singularly fortunate in obtaining them," observed Colonel Townley. "I was almost in despair, not being able to find fifty volunteers myself."
"Sergeant Dickson deserves promotion," said the prince. "I am told that he entered the town, attended only by Helen Carnegie and a drummer."
"It is perfectly true," replied Johnstone. "I would not detract from the brave fellow's merit; but without Helen he would have done nothing."
"Between them they have raised the Manchester Regiment," remarked Colonel Townley, "and saved me a vast deal of trouble."
"Have all the officers joined?" asked the prince.
"All," replied Townley. "Two of them are in the ante-chamber. Captains James Dawson and Atherton Legh. May I have the honour of presenting them to your royal highness?"
Charles Edward having graciously signified his assent, Colonel Townley bowed and retired, reappearing in another moment with the two young officers in question.
They now wore the uniform of the regiment—red faced with white—and looked so well that Colonel Townley felt very proud of them as he led them towards the prince, by whom they were received with the utmost condescension.
Atherton Legh's appearance seemed particularly to please him, and at the close of the brief interview, he desired him to remain in the house, as he had some orders to give him.
Much gratified by the command, Atherton bowed and retired with his friend.
Several other presentations then took place, which need not be recorded, the two persons chiefly distinguished by the prince's notice being Dr. Deacon and Dr. Byrom.
To the latter he said many flattering things well calculated to gratify him; towards the other he adopted a more serious tone, and thanked him earnestly for the zealous attachment he had always shown to the royal cause.
"You have proved your devotion in many ways, doctor," he said, "but never more than in causing your three sons to enrol themselves in the Manchester Regiment. I thank you in the king my father's name, and in my own."
"Heaven grant that my sons may serve your royal father well, most gracious prince!" said Dr. Deacon. "I can only aid you with my prayers."
Overcome by his emotion, he then bowed deeply and retired.
At this juncture the doors of the ante-chamber were thrown open, and a bevy of ladies, all attired in white, and wearing plaid sashes, came forth, imparting a much more lively character to the scene.
Most of these fair Jacobites were young, and many of them being exceedingly pretty, it is not wonderful that their appearance should produce an effect upon the excitable Highlanders, who did not care to conceal their admiration of the Southron beauties. Their assiduities, however, did not seem disagreeable to the Manchester damsels.
Meantime the ladies were conducted in succession to the prince, and each had the honour of kissing his hand. Some of them received a pretty compliment into the bargain. So well turned were these compliments, and so captivating the smiles that accompanied them, that the younger damsels were quite bewitched, and declared that so charming a prince had never been seen.
By far the prettiest of those presented was Beppy Byrom, who was quite as much influenced as any of the others by the witchery of the prince's manner.
As she drew near, she scarcely dared to raise her eyes towards him, but a few pleasant words soon set her at her ease, and the smile that lighted up her fair features so improved their expression that Charles was as much charmed with her as she was with him.
After their presentation the ladies were taken to an adjoining parlour. It fell to Atherton's lot to conduct Beppy to this room, which was crowded with fair damsels and Highland officers, laughing, chattering, and quaffing champagne. Large glasses of the same wine were offered them on their entrance, and having drunk the appointed toast with enthusiasm, they seated themselves on a sofa.
Whether the excitement of the occasion gave unwonted lustre to Beppy's eyes, we know not, but it is certain that Atherton felt their force more than he had ever done before.
"I wonder whether you will return to Manchester when the campaign is over, Captain Legh?" she inquired, looking rather languishingly at him as she spoke.
"Does Miss Byrom care to see me again?" he asked. "If so, I shall make a point of coming back, supposing I am able to do so."
"You pay me a great compliment," she remarked. "But surely, I am not the only person you desire to see again? You must have many dear friends?"
"I have none," he replied, rather gloomily. "You know I am quite alone in the world. If I fall in this expedition, not a tear will be shed for me."
"There you are mistaken," she rejoined, in a sympathetic tone. "But you speak rather bitterly. I fear you have been badly treated."
"No, I have no right to complain. I am only paying the penalty of my folly. I have been deluded by false hopes; but I shall try to act more sensibly in future."
"An excellent resolution, and I trust you will keep to it. Never fall in love again—if you can help it. That's my advice."
"But you don't expect me to follow it?"
"I have no influence over you, and cannot therefore expect you to be guided by my counsels. But I repeat—don't fall in love again."
"The warning comes too late," he said. "I must make a desperate effort, or I shall be caught in fresh toils."
"Well, the effort can be easily made, since you are going away."
"But I shall carry the remembrance with me. I shall not forget our present conversation, and if I return I will remind you of it."
"I have very little faith in the promise. By that time you will probably have changed your mind."
"You must entertain a very poor opinion of me, Miss Byrom, if you really think so."
"I don't imagine you differ from the rest of your sex. Men are proverbially inconstant. 'Out of sight, out of mind,' you know."
"On my return you will find me unchanged," he said.
So engrossed was Atherton by the young lady near him, that he had not noticed the entrance of Constance, with Jemmy Dawson and Monica. But chancing to look up at the moment, he perceived her standing at a little distance, with her large eyes fixed upon him. The expression of her countenance showed that she had overheard what had passed between him and Miss Byrom. With a disdainful glance, she moved away with her father.
Atherton was quite confounded, and for a moment could not speak, but at length he stammered:
"Do you see who is in the room?"
"Miss Rawcliffe you mean," replied Beppy. "Yes, I saw her come in. I did not tell you, because I fancied you had no longer any interest in her. But I begin to think you have not so completely shaken off your fetters as you imagined. If all is at an end, why should her presence trouble you?"
"I am not quite master of my feelings," he rejoined.
"So I perceive," said Beppy. She then added, in a good-natured tone: "Well, we have stayed here long enough. Let us go."
Much relieved by the proposal, the young man instantly arose, and offering her his arm, prepared to quit the room.
But, in making their way through the crowd, they were soon brought to a stand-still, and found themselves face to face with Constance.
By this time Atherton had recovered his self-possession, and bowed coldly, and his salutation was as distantly returned. Beppy, however, who had some little malice in her composition, rather enjoyed the situation, and not feeling inclined to put an end to it, immediately engaged Miss Rawcliffe in conversation, and left Atherton to Monica and Jemmy Dawson.
Fain would he have escaped, but he could not leave Beppy, who, indeed, did not relinquish her hold of his arm. Luckily, champagne was brought by the attendants, and everybody took a glass, as in duty bound.
Again the prince's health was drunk, and with as much enthusiasm as before, though Beppy only placed the glass to her lips.
"You have not done justice to the toast, Miss Byrom," cried a voice near her.
And turning, she perceived Colonel Townley, who had just entered the room with her father.
"I have already drunk it," she replied. "But I have wine enough left to drink 'Success to the Manchester Regiment,' and I do so."
And she again raised the glass to her lips.
Colonel Townley bowed, and expressed his thanks.
"More champagne," he cried to the attendants. "Gentlemen," he added, to his officers, "let us drink to Miss Rawcliffe and the ladies who have helped to raise the regiment."
Due honour was done to the toast. As Atherton bowed to Constance, she regarded him coldly, and scarcely acknowledged the attention.
"Something is wrong," thought Colonel Townley. "I must endeavour to set it right. You will be pleased to hear, Miss Rawcliffe," he said, "that his royal highness fully appreciates the service you have rendered him. I took care to tell him the Manchester Regiment owed Captain Legh to you."
"The circumstance was scarcely worth mentioning," she rejoined, with affected indifference.
"The prince thought otherwise," remarked Colonel Townley. "I will not repeat the flattering things he said——"
"Oh, pray do not!" she interrupted. "I would rather not hear them."
"But they relate chiefly to Captain Legh."
"Then keep them for his private ear," she rejoined.
The colonel shrugged his shoulders and said no more.
Just then the pipers stationed in the court began to play, and as the hall-door stood open, the lively strains resounded through the house, and made the Highland officers eager for a dance.
They began to talk about Scotch reels and other national dances, of which the young ladies had never heard, but they did not venture to propose any such agreeable exercise, as it would have been contrary to etiquette.
The pipers, in fact, had been ordered to play as an intimation to the assemblage that the prince's levée was over, and as soon as this was understood the company began to depart.
Colonel Townley offered his arm to Constance, and conducted her to the entrance-hall, where they found Sir Richard Rawcliffe, Dr. Byrom, and several other gentlemen who were waiting for their wives and daughters.
As soon as the young ladies had been consigned to their natural protectors, Colonel Townley turned to Atherton, and said:
"You will return at eight o'clock to-night, Captain Legh. You are bidden to the supper by the prince. I was specially commanded to bring you. His royal highness seems to have taken a fancy to you. But tell me!—what is the cause of the misunderstanding between you and Miss Rawcliffe?"
"I know not," replied Atherton. "But she looks coldly upon me—and her father has treated me with great rudeness."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Colonel Townley. "I will have an explanation from him. Remember that the regiment will be paraded in St. Ann's Square at ten o'clock to-morrow."
They then separated, and Atherton quitted the house.
The court was filled by the Highland body-guard and the pipers. The latter, drawn up in two lines, through which the company passed, were making a prodigious din, greatly to the delight of the crowd collected in the street.