THE WHITE ROSE.
1715–1716.
James Francis Edward Stuart, known to the Jacobites as King James
the Third of England and Ireland and the Eighth of Scotland, to the
Tories as the Chevalier de St. George (a title he had himself assumed
when Anne was living), and to the Whigs as the “Old Pretender,”
was now twenty-seven years of age, having been born in June, 1688,
at St. James’s Palace. The birth of this son, so long desired, was
the immediate cause of his father’s ruin. James the Second was well
advanced in years, and no children had been born to him by his
second wife, Mary of Modena, except such as had died in infancy. His
persecuting zeal in favour of Roman Catholicism had given great offence
to his subjects, even to those who were most loyal to his throne and
person, but they had made up their minds to bear with him, in the
confident hope that, when he died, his crown would devolve on his
daughter Mary, wife of William of Orange, and then on his daughter
Anne, both of whom were devoted members of the Church of England. These
hopes were ruined by the birth of this son, who would be educated in
his father’s faith, and brought up under the narrow and tyrannical
influences which already menaced the laws and liberties of the realm.
It was this feeling of bitter disappointment which led to the absurd
legend that the King and Queen had leagued with the Jesuits to impose
a supposititious child upon the nation, and so ensure the maintenance
of the Roman Catholic faith. It was gravely stated, and even credited,
by many who should have known better, that the infant Prince had been
introduced into the royal bedchamber in a warming-pan; and for nearly a
century later little tin warming-pans were sometimes worn by the Whigs
in their buttonholes to show their contempt for Jacobite pretensions.
More care should have been taken by the King to secure the attendance
of the great officers of state at the birth of the Prince, but there
was abundant evidence to prove that the child was really and truly the
King’s son. The young Prince’s sojourn in the land of his birth was of
brief duration, for, a few months after he was born, the greater part
of the nation rose against the King, and in December of the same year,
after the landing of William of Orange, the Queen fled from England to
France, taking with her her infant son. She was followed a week or two
later by the King.
The royal fugitives were received with every mark of honour by Louis
the Fourteenth, the magnificent palace of St. Germains was placed
at their disposal, and a handsome pension was given them wherewith
to maintain a numerous court. Prince James grew up surrounded by
Jesuit priests and fugitive Jacobites. The influences of St. Germains
were bigoted and reactionary, and a profound melancholy brooded over
all, an atmosphere more likely to produce a seminarist than a man of
action. Otherwise, unlike George the First, James received an English
education; he could speak and read English fluently, and he was taught
to love the land of his birth, and to believe himself the heir to its
throne by right divine.
William the Third made overtures to the old King to adopt the
Prince and educate him in England, but as this involved not only
the recognition of the usurper, but also that the Prince should be
brought up in the faith of the Church of England, William’s offer was
contemptuously refused. If Prince James had become a member of the
Church of England (and many attempts were made to win him over on the
part of those attached to his cause), he would have succeeded to the
throne of England almost without protest, and the Hanoverian family
would never have stood in his way. But the old King flatly refused
to listen to such a thing, and after his father’s death, when James
had come to man’s estate, he, to his honour, refused to forsake his
religion even to gain the crown of England, being of a contrary opinion
to the Protestant Henry of Navarre, who was easily converted to Roman
Catholicism, holding that “Paris was well worth a mass”.
Prince James had certain natural advantages in his favour. He was
every inch a Stuart, he was tall and well made, with graceful,
dignified manners, and his face wore the expression of haunting
Stuart melancholy with which Vandyck has made us familiar. But for a
certain vacuity of countenance, and a lack of fire and animation, he
would have been counted handsome. But his character was colourless,
he lacked ambition and determination; he had no initiative, and not
feeling enthusiasm himself, he could not inspire it in others. He was
something of a fatalist, and early made up his mind that misfortune
was his portion. Much of this was due to temperament, but training was
responsible for more.
On the death of his father, James was proclaimed King of England by
Louis the Fourteenth with all ceremony at St. Germains, and the French
King helped to fit out for him the abortive expedition of 1706, when he
took leave of him with these words: “The best thing I can wish you is
that I may never see your face again”. He saw it very quickly, for the
expedition came to naught, and soon after Louis was so involved in his
own affairs that he was unable to render further material assistance
to the Stuart cause. James fought with the French army in Flanders,
where he served with the household troops of Louis, distinguishing
himself with bravery at Oudenarde and Malplaquet. He thus took arms
against the English, not a wise thing for a prince to do who one day
hoped to wear the English crown, but gratitude no doubt led him to
place his sword at Louis’s disposal. By a coincidence, the Electoral
Prince George Augustus fought at Oudenarde too, but on the side of the
English, and thus the two claimants to the throne had opposed one
another in battle. The Treaty of Utrecht, which contained a clause
providing for the removal of James from French dominions, was a blow to
him, but before the treaty was signed he had anticipated the inevitable
by removing to the neutral territory of Lorraine, where he was well
received by the duke. In Lorraine he remained during the critical
period immediately before and after the death of Queen Anne, trying in
vain to induce the French King to help him. But Louis the Fourteenth
refused to give active assistance, holding that the initiative ought
rather to come from his friends in England. James had therefore to
content himself with a manifesto and correspondence with his English
supporters, who, unable to agree among themselves upon a plan of
action, looked to him in vain to give them a lead.
This was the position of affairs when Bolingbroke arrived in France. He
was prostrated on a bed of sickness for the first few weeks, and while
in this condition received a visit from an emissary of James, who was
then holding his small court at Barr. Bolingbroke hesitated. If his
enemies had shown any sign of relenting, or if there had been any hope
that he might, at some future time, be taken into the service of King
George, he would not have committed himself to the Stuart cause, for he
had absolutely no sympathy with Roman Catholicism or absolutism, and he
despised not only many of the principles but the personal character of
James. But, while he hesitated, news came that he had been attainted,
his property confiscated, and his name erased from the roll of the
House of Lords. It was then, as he afterwards expressed it, “with the
smart of a Bill of Attainder tingling in every vein,” that he hastened
to James, and, full of revenge, accepted the seals of office from his
hand.
Bolingbroke began to repent of this step almost at once. Speaking of
the first interview he had with his new master, he said: “He talked
to me like a man who expected every moment to set out for England or
Scotland, but who did not very well know for which”. James’s little
court afforded ample field for Bolingbroke’s satire. Like his rival,
George the First, James had his mistresses, but, unlike George, he
allowed them a voice in political affairs, and told them all his
secrets. Bolingbroke soon found that their influence was much greater
than his.
Advices received from England told James of the discontent and
disaffection which were rapidly ripening there, and Louis the
Fourteenth seemed more inclined to lend active aid to an expedition.
Bolingbroke counselled judicious delay. He knew--none better--that the
golden chance of a Stuart restoration passed when he hesitated to act
upon Atterbury’s advice to proclaim James when Queen Anne lay dying.
But that chance had gone and the only thing that remained was to wait
for the inevitable reaction in favour of the Stuarts, which George’s
ungracious personality was fast helping to bring about. But James and
his advisers were eager for action. Ormonde, it was understood, would
head the rising in the west, Mar would raise the flag in Scotland,
and at the same time James was to make his appearance in Scotland and
himself take the field. Such was the plan for the expedition of ’15:
like all other plans it read very well on paper, but scarcely was it
set afoot than the misfortunes which dogged the steps of the Stuarts
came thick and fast.
The first blow was the death of Louis the Fourteenth, the most powerful
friend the Jacobite cause ever had. “When I engaged,” said Bolingbroke
later, “in this business, my principal dependence was on his personal
character, my hopes sank as he declined, and died when he expired.”
The Duke of Orleans, who succeeded him as Regent, leaned rather to the
dynasty now established in England, and thought that the interests of
France would be best served by keeping friends with it. He refused
to help James in any way, and even acted against him by preventing
the sailing of certain vessels which were intended for an expedition
to England. The second blow was the arrival of Ormonde, a fugitive
from England--he the powerful and popular leader, who, according to
the paper plan, was to raise the standard in the west. His appearance
in France showed Bolingbroke that the attempt was hopeless and the
expedition must be postponed. He had great difficulty in persuading
James to this, for, as he was ignorant of English affairs, he desired
to set off at once. Bolingbroke succeeded in stopping him, and sent
a messenger to Scotland imploring Mar to wait awhile. The messenger
arrived too late.
Mar, acting on his own initiative, had already set up James’s standard
in the Highlands, and the heather was afire. The Highland clans were
flocking in daily, and under these circumstances it was impossible that
either James or Ormonde could remain inactive; to do James justice he
was only too eager to be gone. Ormonde left Barr and sailed from the
coast of Normandy for Devonshire. On October 28th James himself set
out from Lorraine with the intention of making his way to Scotland
as quickly as possible, but his unfortunate habit of admitting women
into his confidence betrayed his secret, and every move he made was
known--almost before he made it--to Lord Stair, the English ambassador
in Paris, and he was thwarted at every turn. While hiding in Brittany
the first news of ill-success was brought to him by Ormonde, who now
returned to France after an abortive attempt to land at Plymouth. He
found nothing prepared and no signs of a rising in the west. This,
however, did not daunt James, who, after many delays, at last embarked
at Dunkirk on a small vessel, and sailed for the coast of Scotland.
We must now go back a few weeks, and see what had been passing on the
other side of the channel.
John Erskine, eleventh Earl of Mar, who had raised the standard of
James in Scotland, was a man of great courage and some ability, but he
acted too much upon impulse, and as a general he was unskilful, and
lacking in decision and command. Like many other public men during
the reign of Anne, he vacillated between Whig and Tory, and on the
accession of George the First he professed his devotion to the House of
Hanover. But George refused to listen, and Mar threw in his fortunes
with James.
On August 1st, 1715, Mar attended one of the levées at St. James’s
to disarm suspicion, and the next day he set off in disguise for the
Highlands. On August 27th he summoned a great hunting match to which
all the principal Jacobites were invited. The Marquesses of Huntly and
Tullibardine, eldest sons of the Dukes of Gordon and Athol, the Earls
of Southesk, Marischal, Seaforth, Errol, Traquair, Linlithgow, the
Chief of Glengarry and several other Highland chieftains assembled. Mar
addressed them in a long and eloquent speech, in which he lamented his
own past error in having helped forward “that accursed treaty,” the
Union, and declared that the time was now ripe for Scotland to regain
her ancient independence under her rightful Sovereign, King James. All
present pledged themselves to the Stuart cause, and then the assembly
broke up, each member returning to his home to raise men and supplies.
[Illustration: PRINCE JAMES FRANCIS EDWARD STUART (THE CHEVALIER DE ST.
GEORGE).
_From the Picture in the National Portrait Gallery._]
On September 6th, at Kirkmichael, a village near Braemar, Mar
formally raised the standard of James. As the pole was planted in
the ground the gilt ball fell from the top of the flagstaff, and the
superstitious Highlanders regarded this as an ill-omen, though the flag
was consecrated by prayer. Mar’s little band at that time numbered
only sixty men, but the news of his action was noised abroad, and the
rising spread like wildfire. The white cockade, the Stuart emblem, was
assumed by clan after clan. James was proclaimed at Brechin, Aberdeen,
Inverness and Dundee, and many of the leading noblemen of Scotland
flocked to his standard. In a very short space of time the whole
country north of the Tay was in the hands of the Jacobites, and, by the
time Mar marched into Perth, on September 16th, his army had swollen to
five thousand men.
In another part of Scotland a plot had been made to capture Edinburgh
Castle, and if it had been successful the whole of Scotland would
probably have submitted to James. Lord Drummond, with some eighty
Highlanders, had bribed three soldiers of the garrison, and it was
determined to scale the castle rock at a point where one of their
friends would be sentinel on September 9th, at nine o’clock at night.
When they had obtained possession of the castle, cannon was to be
fired, and in response to this signal fires were to be kindled on the
heights on the opposite coast of Fife, and these beacons, spreading
northward from mountain to mountain, would inform Mar at Perth that
Edinburgh had fallen, and be the signal for him immediately to push
southward. Unfortunately, one of the conspirators told his brother, who
told his wife, and the secret being entrusted to a woman soon ceased to
exist. The woman sent an anonymous letter to the Lord Justice telling
him of the plot. The letter did not reach him until ten o’clock of the
very night the castle was to be taken, so that had the conspirators
been punctual, and begun operations at nine o’clock as they had
planned, they would probably have succeeded. But they were drinking
at a tavern, and did not bring the ladders to the castle rock until
nearly two hours later. The delay proved ruinous, for scarcely had the
soldiers begun to draw up the ladders than the officers of the garrison
were aroused by an express telling them of the plot. The garrison
was at once alarmed, and the Jacobite sentinel, seeing that all was
over, fired his piece and called down to those below. The conspirators
immediately made off, and most of them escaped, only four being taken.
Thus women and wine, always the two most baleful influences in Jacobite
plans, defeated this scheme.
There was great alarm in England when the news of Mar’s action
travelled south. The persecuting policy of the Whigs had driven many
moderate men over to the Jacobite cause, and the personal unpopularity
of the King had taken the heart out of his adherents. So far as could
be judged on the surface, popular feeling all over England was in
favour of James. Mysterious toasts were proposed at dinners, like
“Job,” whose name formed the initial letters of James, Ormonde and
Bolingbroke; or “Kit,” because in the same way it stood for King James
the Third; or the “Three B’s,” which was a synonym for the “Best
Born Briton,” James, who had the advantage over George the German in
having been born in England. The University of Oxford was especially
disaffected, and burst forth into white roses, though owing to the
time of the year they had mostly to be made of paper. The friends of
the Hanoverian succession felt something like panic, which penetrated
to the royal palaces, and even to the immediate _entourage_ of the
King and the Prince and Princess of Wales. The Hanoverian Ministers
and mistresses were in great alarm, and Schulemburg renewed her former
fears, and urged the King to pack up without ado, and make haste to
Hanover for, as she had always said, the English were a false and
fickle people, who chopped off their kings’ heads on the least pretext.
And this was the view generally taken in Europe. “The English are so
false,” wrote the Duchess of Orleans, “that I would not trust them
a single hair, and I do not believe that they will long put up with
a King who cannot speak their language”. She expressed herself in
favour of an amicable settlement of the dispute by allowing James to
keep Scotland, and George England, and her views probably represented
those of the Court of France. But George the First remained unmoved,
and scorned the idea of flight or compromise; perhaps he knew that
the worst that would happen to him was that he would be sent back
to Hanover under safe escort by his Stuart cousin, and he would not
have been wholly sorry. The Prince and Princess of Wales also showed
courage, and went about everywhere as usual, unattended by any but the
ordinary escort.
The Government were in a tight place; they had only eight thousand
soldiers in Great Britain, and with this slender force they had to
grapple with conspiracies, open disaffection and threatened landings
in many places; moreover, they had to keep the peace, which was in
hourly danger of being broken. Disturbances in London were so many and
so great that it was thought advisable to form a camp in Hyde Park,
and a large body of troops were established there and many pieces of
cannon. These troops were reviewed by the King, the Prince of Wales and
the Duke of Marlborough, and the establishment of the camp certainly
had effect, for it not only quelled the rising spirit of disaffection,
but frightened those lawless spirits who found in a time of national
disquiet an opportunity to rob, murder and outrage.
The Government, advised in military matters by Marlborough, acted
promptly and vigorously. The Habeas Corpus Act was suspended, and the
Riot Act was frequently read. Six thousand Dutch troops were sent
for, twenty-one new regiments were raised, and a reward of £100,000
was offered for seizing James alive or dead. The principal Jacobites,
and even those Tories who without any suspicion of Jacobitism opposed
the Government, were arrested; Lords Lansdowne and Dupplin and other
noblemen were sent to the Tower, and six members of the House of
Commons, including Sir William Wyndham, were also imprisoned. Wyndham
had great influence in the western counties, and his arrest was
followed up by troops being marched into that quarter of the kingdom,
and Bristol and Plymouth were garrisoned. Thus Ormonde’s attempt, as
we have seen, was forestalled. The University of Oxford also felt the
iron hand of power; several suspected persons were seized, and a troop
of horse was quartered there. On the other hand, the University of
Cambridge testified its loyalty to the House of Hanover, which the King
rewarded later by a valuable gift of books to the university library.
This gave rise to Dr. Trapp’s Oxford epigram:--
Our royal master saw, with heedful eyes,
The wants of his two Universities,
Troops he to Oxford sent, as knowing why
That learned body wanted loyalty;
But books to Cambridge gave, as well discerning
How that right loyal body wanted learning.
Sir William Browne smartly retorted for Cambridge:--
The King to Oxford sent a troop of horse,
For Tories know no argument but force,
With equal care to Cambridge books he sent,
For Whigs admit no force but argument.
The Duke of Argyll, Commander-in-Chief of the royal forces in Scotland,
was despatched thither with all speed. He arrived at Stirling in the
middle of September, and a camp was formed. At the beginning he had
only about fifteen hundred men under his command, including the famous
Scots Greys, and his prospect of getting more was not bright. He could
not therefore attempt at first any forward movement. If Mar had then
marched from Perth and surrounded Argyll at Stirling, the result might
have been very different. But the whole of the history of the Stuart
cause is a record of “ifs” and “might-have-beens.”
The vigorous action of the Government crushed the rising in the bud
in the greater part of England. However disaffected the Jacobites
might be, and however numerous, they had no concerted plan of action,
and their efforts to communicate with one another were checked by
the vigilance of the Government. This was certainly the case in the
south, but the mailed arm of the Government took longer to reach the
north, and Lancashire and Northumberland contained many Roman Catholics
who were Jacobites to a man, besides others who were lukewarm in the
Hanoverian succession. When Forster, a wealthy Northumberland squire,
and a member of the Church of England, and Lord Derwentwater, a young
nobleman of great influence, and a zealous Roman Catholic, heard that
the Government had issued orders for their arrest, they both determined
to rise in arms rather than surrender, and on October 7th they
proclaimed King James at Warkworth. They were soon joined by a number
of Roman Catholic noblemen across the border, including Lord Kenmure
and the Earls of Nithisdale, Wintoun and Carnwath. These reinforcements
from the south-west of Scotland found that the Northumbrian Jacobites
were more imposing in names than in numbers, and the combined forces
did not amount to much more than five hundred horse. Forster was placed
in command, and by Mar’s orders he marched to Kelso, where he was
joined by Brigadier Macintosh with a large company of foot soldiers.
Macintosh urged an advance upon Edinburgh, which, as it lay between the
forces of Forster and Macintosh and those of Mar, would probably have
capitulated; but Forster, a fox-hunting squire, who had no military
knowledge, and little courage or ability, overruled him, and determined
upon an invasion of Lancashire.
After a good deal of discussion between the Scots and the English, a
senseless march began along the Cheviots. The Jacobite forces received
no assistance from the Roman Catholics of Cumberland and Westmoreland,
and many of the Scots deserted; but on arriving in Lancashire, Forster
picked up a number of ill-armed and undisciplined recruits, who were
more a hindrance than a help. He entered Lancaster without resistance,
and proceeded to Preston. At Preston he was soon surrounded by the
royal forces, according to Berwick,[61] not exceeding one thousand
men, but, small or great, they were sufficient to frighten Forster,
who retired to bed instead of to battle. When presently routed out
by his officers, he was so disheartened that he sent to propose
a capitulation. When the news of this cowardly surrender became
known, many of the Jacobite soldiers were filled with the fiercest
indignation. “Had Mr. Forster,” says an eye-witness, “appeared in
the street, he would have been slain, though he had had a hundred
lives.” The Scots threatened to rush on the royal troops with drawn
swords, but the leaders saw that it was now too late, and prevailed on
their followers to lay down their arms. Among those who surrendered
were Lords Derwentwater, Widdrington, Nithisdale, Wintoun, Carnwath,
Kenmure and Nairn, also Forster and the representatives of many ancient
families in the north of England.
While all this had been taking place south of the Tweed, Mar still
persevered in his policy of inaction in Scotland. Every day’s delay
meant that Argyll was getting stronger, and every day’s delay also
tended to exasperate and discourage Mar’s followers. If Mar had only
been a general of moderate capacity, or even a stout-hearted man,
he could have become master of Scotland while he was lingering in
Perth. As Sir Walter Scott has put it: “With a far less force than
Mar had at his disposal, Montrose gained eight victories and overran
Scotland; with fewer numbers of Highlanders, Dundee gained the battle
of Killiecrankie; and with about half the troops assembled at Perth,
Charles Edward, in 1745, marched as far as Derby and gained two
victories over regular troops. But in 1715, by one of those misfortunes
which dogged the House of Stuart since the days of Robert the Second,
they wanted a man of military talent just at the time when they
possessed an unusual quantity of military means.”[62] On November
10th Mar, goaded into action by the expostulations of his followers,
marched from Perth. The next day he was joined by Gordon and some
of the western clans, and his combined force amounted to upwards of
ten thousand men. Argyll, hearing of Mar’s approach, advanced from
Stirling, and the two forces met in battle on Sunday, November 13th, at
Sheriffmuir. The Highlanders fought with great gallantry and courage.
After a prolonged fight, the result of the battle was uncertain;
neither army could claim a victory, for each had defeated the left wing
of the other. The Duke of Argyll lost more men, but on the other hand
he captured more guns. The bolder spirits among the Highland leaders
urged Mar to renew the conflict, but timid counsels prevailed. Mar
retired to Perth and resumed his former inactivity. Despatches were
sent to James, who was then waiting in Brittany, describing Sheriffmuir
as a great victory, and so it was reported in Paris.
It was at this juncture that James came to Scotland. He sailed from
Dunkirk in a small vessel of eight guns, accompanied by six adherents
disguised as French naval officers. He landed at Peterhead on December
22nd, 1715. He passed through Aberdeen _incognito_ and went to
Fetteresso, the seat of the Earl Marischal. Here Mar hastened to meet
him and do him homage. The first act of James was to create Mar a duke.
His next was to constitute a Privy Council, and issue proclamations
under the style and title of James VIII. of Scotland and III. of
England, and his coronation was appointed to take place on January
23rd, 1716, at Scone. The magistrates of Aberdeenshire and the clergy
of the Episcopal Church of Scotland presented James with enthusiastic
addresses of welcome. Thus returned the grandson of Charles the First
to the land of his birth.
On January 2nd, 1715, James began his journey southwards. He made a
state entry into Dundee, and was received with acclamation. He then
went to Scone Palace, where he established his court with all the
ceremonial and etiquette appertaining to royalty. Active preparations
were made for his coronation, and ladies stripped themselves of their
jewels and ornaments that a crown might be made for the occasion. But
the Stuart cause was not to be redeemed by the empty parade of royalty,
but by vigour and action in the field, and that, alas! was lacking.
Mar’s delay and inaction had been fatal, and before James landed in
Scotland his cause was almost lost. Time had been given Argyll to call
up reinforcements, and the six thousand Dutch troops summoned by the
Government had arrived, and were in full march to Scotland.
James could hardly be blind to the fact that his cause was desperate,
but if it had not been, his was not a personality to inspirit his
followers. His speech to his council, which was circulated about this
time, contained a characteristic note of fatalism, though it did not
lack dignity: “Whatsoever shall ensue,” he said, “I shall leave my
faithful subjects no room for complaint that I have not done the utmost
they could expect from me. Let those who forget their duty, and are
negligent for their own good, be answerable for the worst that may
happen. For me it will be no new thing if I am unfortunate. My whole
life, even from my cradle, has shown a constant series of misfortunes,
and I am prepared, if so it please God, to suffer the threats of my
enemies and yours.” Mar spoke of James as “the first gentleman I
ever knew,” but when their long-expected King came among his nobles
and chieftains at Perth, he frankly disappointed them. “I must not
conceal,” wrote one of his followers later, “that when we saw the man
whom they called our King, we found ourselves not at all animated by
his presence, and if he was disappointed in us, we were tenfold more
so in him. We saw nothing in him that looked like spirit. He never
appeared with cheerfulness and vigour to animate us. Our men began
to despise him; some asked if he could speak. His countenance looked
extremely heavy. He cared not to go abroad amongst us soldiers, or to
see us handle our arms or do our exercise.”[63]
If James had acted with spirit, if he had shown belief in himself
and his cause, and had taken measures promptly and decisively, there
was a chance that, even at the eleventh hour, he might have redeemed
his fortunes. His Highlanders were more than willing to fight, and
only wanted a man to lead them. When it was rumoured that Argyll was
advancing, James’s council sat in deliberation the whole night, but
came to no resolution. “What would you have us do?” said a member of
it next day to a tumultuous crowd that had gathered in the street.
“Do!” cried a Highlander. “What did you call us to arms for? Was it
to run away? What did the King come hither for? Was it to see his
people butchered by hangmen, and not strike one stroke for their
lives? Let us die like men, and not like dogs.”[64] Another added
that if James were willing to die like a Prince, he would find that
there were ten thousand men in Scotland who were not afraid to die
with him. There was another factor in the situation which might have
been worked in favour of the Stuart cause, had James but known it, and
that was the lukewarmness of Argyll. If Mar delayed, Argyll wavered
and procrastinated too, and sent excuse after excuse to the Government
in London for not advancing. Sentiment goes for something, and the
spectacle of the true heir of Scotland’s ancient monarchs striving to
regain the throne of his hereditary kingdom may well have influenced
a Scottish nobleman like Argyll, who at one time in his career had
shown himself not disinclined to espouse the interest of James. The
Government certainly suspected him, for they sent him peremptory orders
to advance, and later showed their opinion more clearly by depriving
him of the command in Scotland.
When Argyll found that the Government were determined, the Dutch troops
were marching, and Mar remained inactive, he made virtue of necessity
and ordered an advance. He had given James’s cause every chance, but
it was impossible to help those who would not help themselves. Directly
Argyll’s advance became known, James’s council determined on a retreat
from Perth. The Highlanders obeyed in sullen silence, or with muttered
mutiny, which would have broken into active rebellion, if they had not
been told that the army was only retreating to the Highlands in order
that it might better attack Argyll. The retreat was by way of the Carse
o’ Gowrie and Dundee to Montrose. During the march Mar told James that
all hope was lost, and urged him to fly to France. James resisted this
proposal, and only consented to it when told that his presence would
help no one, and increase his adherents’ danger. At Montrose a French
vessel was lying in the harbour, and on the evening of February 4th
James secretly left his lodging. Accompanied by Mar, he went to the
water side, pushed off in a small boat, and embarked on the vessel for
France.
James left behind him a letter addressed to Argyll, enclosing a sum
of money, all that he had left, desiring that it might be given to
the poor people whose villages he had been obliged to burn on his
retreat, so that, “I may at least have the satisfaction of having been
the destruction of none, at a time when I came to free all”.[65] The
Highlanders were indignant and discouraged at the flight of their King,
but as Argyll’s advancing army was close on their heels, they marched
to Aberdeen, their numbers getting fewer and fewer as they went
along, and from Aberdeen they retired into their Highland fastnesses,
dispersing as they went. Very few were taken prisoners, partly because
of Argyll’s lack of vigilance, and partly because of the inaccessible
nature of the country. The men, safe in their obscurity, went back to
their homes, the chiefs hid for a time until the storm blew over, or
made good their escape to the Continent.
Thus ended the rising of 1715, and putting aside sentiment (and it must
be admitted that sentiment was all on the side of James), it probably
ended for the best. From the personal point of view England would
have gained little by a change of King. James was a more attractive
personality than George, but he had his failings and his vices too.
His mistresses would have been French instead of German, and more
beautiful, but little less rapacious. His advisers, instead of being
hungry Hanoverians, would have been French and Italian Jesuits, quite
as objectionable, and far more dangerous. From the national point of
view, the cause of civil and religious liberty would have sustained
a severe check. But when all this is admitted, the fact remains
that James was the heir of our ancient kings. It is impossible to
withhold sympathy from those who, so long as he and his sons lived,
refused allegiance to the House of Hanover, or to the many more whose
sentiments, though they acquiesced in the established order of things,
were expressed in the epigram of John Byrom:--
God bless the King, God bless our faith’s Defender,
God bless--no harm in blessing--the Pretender;
But who Pretender is, and who is King,
God bless us all! that’s quite another thing.
By the death of James’s younger son Henry Benedict, Cardinal York, at
Rome, in 1807, these dynastic disputes came to an end. By the accession
of Queen Victoria, in 1837, the reigning dynasty gained a lustre before
denied it, and became consecrated in the hearts and affection of the
English people. And this holds equally good of his present gracious
Majesty, King Edward the Seventh, who is a lineal descendant of King
James the First, and has inherited many of the generous and lovable
characteristics of the Stuarts.
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK II, CHAPTER IV:
[61] _Mémoires de Berwick_, vol. ii.
[62] Sir Walter Scott’s note to Sinclair’s MS.
[63] True account of the proceedings at Perth, by “A Rebel,” 1716.
[64] True account of the proceedings at Perth, by “A Rebel,” 1716.
[65] The original letter is printed in Chambers’s History.