FLORA MACDONALD.

The character of this celebrated woman, heroic, yet gentle, was formed

in the privacy of the strictest Highland seclusion. She was born in the

island of South Uist, in 1720: she was the daughter of Macdonald of

Milton. The Clan of her family was that of Macdonald of Clanranald; the

Chief of which is called in Gaelic, Mack-ire-Allein, and in English, the

captain of Clan Ranald. The estate of this Chief, which is held

principally from the Crown, is situated in Moidart and Arisaig on the

continent of Scotland, and in the islands of Uist, Benbecula, and Rum.

His vassals, capable of military service, amounted in 1745 to five

hundred.[274]

The Hebrides were at that time regarded in the more civilized parts of

Europe somewhat in the same light as the Arctic regions are now

considered by the inhabitants of England, and other polished nations:

"When I was at Ferney in 1764," Boswell relates, "I mentioned our design

(of going to the Hebrides) to Voltaire. He looked at me as if I had

talked of going to the North Pole, and said, 'You do not insist on my

accompanying you!' 'No, sir.' 'Then I am very willing you should go.'"

In this remote, and, in the circles of London, almost unknown region,

Flora Macdonald was born and educated.

The death of her father, Macdonald of Milton, when she was only a year

old, made an important change in the destiny of the little Highland

girl. Her mother married again, and became the wife of Macdonald of

Armadale in Skye. Flora was, therefore, removed from the island of South

Uist to an island which was nearer to the means of acquiring information

than her native place.

It was a popular error of the times, more especially among the English

Whigs, to regard the Highlanders of every grade, as an ignorant,

barbarous race. So far as the lowest classes were concerned, this

imputation might be well-founded, though certainly not so well as it has

much longer been in the same classes in England. Previously to the reign

of George the Third many of the peasantry could not read, and many could

not understand what they read in English. There were few books in

Gaelic, and the defect was only partially supplied by the instruction of

bards and seneachies. But, among the middle and higher classes,

education was generally diffused. The excellent grammar-schools in

Inverness, Fortrose, and Dunkeld sent out men well-informed, excellent

classical scholars, and these from among that order which in England is

the most illiterate--the gentlemen-farmers. The Universities gave them

even a greater extent of advantages. When the Hessian troops were

quartered in Atholl, the commanding officers, who were accomplished

gentlemen, found a ready communication in Latin at every inn. Upon the

Colonel of the Hessian cavalry halting at Dunkeld, he was addressed by

the innkeeper in Latin. This class of innkeepers has wholly, unhappily,

disappeared in the Highlands.[275]

But it was in the island of Skye that classical learning was the most

general, and there an extraordinary degree of intelligence and

acquirement prevailed among the landed gentry. "I believe," observes

General Stewart, "it is rather unique for the gentry of a remote corner

to learn Latin, merely to talk to each other; yet so it was in Skye."

The acquisition of this branch of learning was not, indeed, expensive.

Latin was taught for two shillings and sixpence the quarter, and English

and writing for one shilling. Indeed it is scarcely more now. The people

seldom quitted their insular homes, except when on service; and, to the

silence of their wild secluded scenes, the romance of poetry and the

composition of song gave a relief and a charm.

The education of Flora Macdonald received probably little aid from the

classical teacher; but her mind was formed, not among the rude and

uncultured, but among those who appreciated letters; and the influence

of such an advantage in elevating and strengthening the character must

be taken into account in forming a due estimation of her heroic

qualities. Thus situated, Flora passed her life in obscurity, until, at

the age of twenty-four, the events which succeeded the battle of

Culloden brought those energies, which had been nurtured in retirement,

into active exertion. Indeed, until about a year before she engaged in

that enterprise which has rendered her name so celebrated, she had never

quitted the islands of South Uist and Skye; she had, at that time,

passed about nine months in the family of Macdonald of Largoe in

Argyleshire, and this was the only change of scene, or of sphere, which

she had ever witnessed.[276]

Her step-father was an enemy to the cause which, from her earliest

years, her heart espoused. A company of militia had been formed to

assist the British Government by Sir Alexander Macdonald, the chieftain

of one division of the clan, and in this regiment Macdonald of Armadale

held a commission as captain, at the time when the Duke of Cumberland

was "making inquisition for blood" throughout the western Highlands. But

the prepossessions of Flora were unalienably engaged in favour of the

exiled Stuarts; and they were not, perhaps, the less likely to glow from

being necessarily suppressed. Her disposition, notwithstanding all her

subsequent display of courage, was extremely mild; and her manners

corresponded to her temper. Her complexion was fair; and her figure,

though small, well-proportioned. In more advanced life Boswell, who with

Dr. Johnson visited her, characterized her person and deportment as

"genteel." There was nothing unfeminine, either in her form or in her

manners, to detract from the charm of her great natural vivacity, or

give a tone of hardness to her strong good sense, calm judgment, and

power of decision. Her voice was sweet and low; the harsher accents of

the Scottish tongue were not to be detected in her discourse; and she

spoke, as Bishop Forbes relates, "English (or rather Scots) easily, and

not at all through the Erse tone." In all the varied circumstances of

her life, she manifested a perfect modesty and propriety of behaviour,

coupled with that noble simplicity of character which led her to regard

with surprise the tributes which were afterwards paid to her conduct,

and to express her conviction that far too much value was placed upon

what she deemed merely an act of common humanity.

In Skye, the "Isle of Mist" of the poet, she could hear imperfect

intelligence of the wanderings of the Jacobite leaders. She was

connected by kindred with some under whose roof the Prince had taken

refuge.

The first movement which the Prince made after taking leave of Lord

Lovat at Gortuleg, was to repair first to Fort Augustus, and then to

Invergarie near Fort Augustus. Here he took leave of those followers who

had attended him as he quitted the field of Culloden; and retained only

Mr. O'Sullivan, Captain O'Neil, Captain Alan Macdonald, and one Burke, a

servant. It was not until he had remained a whole day at Fort Augustus

that the Prince could be persuaded that all hopes of his troops

rejoining him were at an end. On Friday, the eighteenth of April, he

went to Lochnargaig, where he stayed one night with Dr. Cameron of

Glenkearn; and on the following day he proceeded to Oban, which is

situated on a corner of Clanranald's estate. He was, therefore, under

the protection of a kinsman of Flora Macdonald. He pursued his journey

on the next day to the country of Arisaig, and rested at a small village

called Glenbeisdale, whence he proceeded to Boradale, the place at which

he had first landed in beginning the enterprise which was now

terminated.

It had been the opinion of Clanranald, one of the Prince's most faithful

adherents, that he ought not to leave the mainland, but to take shelter

in different small huts, which should be built for his accommodation;

whilst Clanranald should take a trip to the Isles, and look out for a

vessel to convey the unfortunate wanderer into France. By the influence

of Mr. O'Sullivan this counsel was overruled; and Clanranald, finding

that Charles was determined to sail for Long Island, provided an

eight-oared boat, which belonged to Alexander Macdonald of Boradale;

and, having provided it with rowers and other requisites for the voyage,

the party set sail from Lochnanuagh for the Isle of Uist on the

twenty-fourth of April. They assumed false names: the Prince was called

Mr. Sinclair; Mr. O'Sullivan was old Sinclair, his father; Captain Alan

Macdonald, a relation of Clanranald, became Mr. Graham.[277] Donald

Macleod the pilot, and about six men, rowers, also accompanied the

Prince, but did not change their names; a clergyman of the Church of

Rome attended the party. The design which Charles Edward had formed, was

to reach the Long Island, under which name are comprehended those

Western Islands which run in a straight line from north to south, and

are at a short distance from each other. From some part of the Long

Island Charles hoped to procure a vessel in which he could escape to

France, or at any rate to Orkney, and thence to Norway or Sweden. At

this time a proclamation, offering a reward of thirty thousand pounds

for his apprehension, had been issued by the British Government.

The Prince set sail on the evening of the twenty-sixth of April,

embarking at Boradale, on the very spot where he had landed, with just

sufficient daylight to get clear of Loch Luagh; for, as the coast had

been guarded by English ships ever since his arrival in Scotland, it was

not safe to go beyond the mouth of the Loch in open day. Before the

voyage was commenced, the Prince was warned by his faithful pilot that

there would be a storm that night. "I see it coming!" But Charles

Edward, anxious to leave the main land, where parties were dispersed in

pursuit of him, was determined to trust his fate to the winds. The

party, therefore, entered the boat, the Prince seating himself at the

feet of the pilot. There was also another Macleod in the boat; this was

Murdoch, the son of the pilot, a boy of fifteen years of age. The

character of this youth was of no common order. When he had heard of the

battle of Culloden, he had provided himself with a claymore, a dirk, and

a pistol; and had run off from school to take his chance in the field.

After the defeat he found means to trace out the road which the Prince

had taken, and to follow him step by step; "and this was the way,"

related Donald Macleod, "that I met wi' my poor boy."

Another person who was in the boat, and who afterwards made a

conspicuous figure in that romance of real life, was Ned Bourke, or

Burke. This man had belonged to a most valuable class, the chairmen of

Edinburgh, whose honesty is proverbial; their activity and civility

almost incredible to English notions. Bourke was not, as his name seemed

to imply, an Irishman; but a native of North Uist. He had been a servant

to Mr. Alexander Macleod, one of Charles Edward's aides-de-camp; and

was the man who had led the Prince off the field of battle, and guided

him all the way to Boradale: for Ned Bourke knew Scotland, and indeed a

great portion of England, well, having been servant to several

gentlemen. In this, his most important service, the honest man did not

disgrace his ancient and honourable calling as a chairman. "Excellent

things" were spoken of him to Donald Macleod, who seems to have made

some demur as to his Irish name, and to have objected to taking him on

board.

Thus guided, and thus guarded, Charles Edward might fear the winds and

waves; but treachery was not to be dreaded. Not far had the men rowed

before a violent storm arose; such as even Donald had not, from his own

account, ever been "trysted with before," though he had all his life

been a seafaring man. The Prince was now as impatient to return to the

land as he had been to quit it; "for," he said, "I would rather face

cannons and muskets than be in such a storm as this!" But Donald was

firm in proceeding on the voyage: "Since we are here," he replied, "we

have nothing for it, but, under God, to set out to sea directly." He

refused to steer for the rock, which runs three miles along the side of

the loch; observing, "Is it not as good for us to be drowned in clear

water, as to be dashed to pieces on a rock, and drowned also?"

A solemn silence followed this decisive reply. Every one expected

instant destruction. The night was pitch-dark; and there was no light in

the boat. They dreaded being landed on some part of the island of Skye,

where the militia were in arms to prevent the Prince's escape. But, to

use the words of the pilot, "As God would have it," that danger was not

encountered. By daybreak the party discovered that they were close to

Rushness, in the island of Benbecula, having run according to the

pilot's account, thirty-two leagues in eight hours. During this perilous

voyage the spirits of Charles never sank; he encouraged every one around

him, working himself at the oars: "he was," says Mr. Maxwell, "the only

one that seemed void of concern."

Such were the circumstances under which Charles Edward landed in the

Long Island;--the event which brought him into communication with Flora

Macdonald. She was at that time calmly engaged in the usual duties of

her station; but the spirit so prevalent in the Highlands was not

extinguished in the Western Islands, either by the dread of the English

militia, or by the defeat of the Prince. All the Jacobites of that

period, to adopt the language of President Forbes, "how prudent soever,

became mad; all doubtful people became Jacobites; and all bankrupts

became heroes, and talked of nothing but hereditary right and victory.

And what was more grievous to men of gallantry, and, if you believe me,

more mischievous to the public, all the fine ladies, if you except one

or two, became passionately fond of the young adventurer, and used all

their arts for him in the most intemperate manner."[278] It was not,

however, an idle, romantic fancy, but a fixed sentiment of duty, acting

upon a kindly heart, which originated the enthusiasm of Flora.

Whilst the Prince was traversing the Long Island in poverty and danger,

a desolate wanderer wanting the common necessaries of life, but still

patient and cheerful ever hoping once more to assemble his faithful

Highlanders,--living at one time four days in a desert island, then

putting to sea pursued by ships,--Flora Macdonald had accidentally

quitted her usual residence at Armadale in Skye, for the purpose of

visiting her step-brother at Milton.

During her abode at Milton, Captain O'Neil, who was loitering about the

country for the purpose of gaining intelligence for Charles Edward,

formed an acquaintance with this young lady, and, it is said, paid his

addresses to her. More than two months had now elapsed since Charles

first trusted his hopes to the chance of finding a vessel on the coast

of the Long Island, to take him to France. During that period his

fortunes had assumed a far more threatening aspect than at any previous

time. Friends had proved faithless; Murray of Broughton, whom the Prince

then still regarded as one of the "firmest, honestest men in the world,"

had shown to others his real motives, and the deep selfishness,

cowardice, and rapacity, of his heart. In his utmost need, when the

Prince was in want of food, that wretched man had, in reply to a message

from Charles asking money, answered that he had none; having _only_

sixty louis-d'ors for himself, which were not worth sending. What was

perhaps of more immediate moment was, that, whilst the friends of the

young Chevalier had diminished, the number of his foes around him had

increased. Fifteen ships of war were to be seen near the coasts of the

Long Island, thus most effectually destroying all hopes of a French

vessel being able to cruize near the shore. To complete his misfortunes,

the Duke of Cumberland, upon learning that his unfortunate kinsman had

sheltered himself in the Western Islands, had sent Captain Caroline

Scott, an officer as infamous as Hawley and Lockhart, to scour the Long

Island.

Such were the circumstances of Charles towards the latter end of June

1746. He was then coursing along the shores of the Long Island, until,

pursued by French ships, he was obliged to land, happily for himself, on

the island of Benbecula, between the North and South Uist. Providence

seemed to have conducted him to that wild and bleak shore. Scarcely had

he reached it, than a storm arose, and drove his pursuers off the coast.

Here the Prince and his starving companions were overjoyed to find a

number of crabs, or, as the Scottish pilot termed them, _partans_; a

boon to the famished wanderers. From a hut, about two miles from the

shore, Charles removed, first to the house of Lady Clanranald; and

afterwards, by the advice of Clanranald, he went to South Uist, and took

up his abode near the hill of Coradale in the centre of the island, that

being thought the most secure retreat. Here Charles remained until again

driven from this hut by the approach of Captain Scott, with a detachment

of five hundred men, who advanced close to the place where he was

concealed. The unfortunate Prince then determined upon a last and

painful effort to save those who had braved hitherto the severities of

their lot for his sake. He parted with all his followers except O'Neil.

Donald Macleod shed tears on bidding him farewell. Macleod was taken

prisoner a few days afterwards in Benbecula, by Lieutenant Allan

Macdonald, of Knock, in Slate, in the island of Skye. He was put on

board the Furnace,[279] and brought down to the cabin before General

Campbell, who examined him minutely. The General asked him "if he had

been along with the Pretender?" "Yes," said Donald, "I was along with

that young gentleman, and I winna deny it." "Do you know," said the

General, "what money was upon the gentleman's head? no less a sum than

four thousand pounds sterling, which would have made you and your family

happy for ever." "What then," said Donald, "what could I have gotten by

it? I could not have enjoyed it for two days, conscience would have

gotten the better of me; and although I could have got England and

Scotland for my Prince, I would not have allowed a hair of his head to

be hurt."[280]

After this separation, the Prince, accompanied by O'Neil, again returned

to traverse the mountainous districts of South Uist. He walked in the

direction of Benbecula, and about midnight entered a shealing, or hut,

which belonged to Angus Macdonald, the brother of his future deliverer.

The interview which shortly took place between them, was not, as it may

readily be conceived, unpremeditated.[281] Repeatedly, before the

meeting, had O'Neil asked Flora whether she would like to see the

Prince? She answered with emotion that she would. She had even expressed

an earnest desire to see him; and had said, if she could be of any use

in aiding him to escape from his enemies, she would do it.

O'Neil had had various opportunities of studying the real character of

Flora Macdonald. He must have had an extraordinary notion of her energy

when he first proposed to her, whilst they met in Clanranald's house,

to take the Prince with her to Skye, dressed up in woman's clothes. This

proposition appeared to Flora so "fantastical and dangerous," that she

positively declined it. "A Macdonald, a Macleod, a Campbell militia

were," she observed, "in South Uist in quest of the Prince: a guard was

posted at every ferry; every boat was seized; no person could leave Long

Island without a passport; and the channel between Uist and Skye was

covered with ships of war." Such was her resolution whilst she discussed

the subject with O'Neil at the house of her kinsman, Clanranald. Nor

does that sense of the dangers of her undertaking lessen the heroism of

the enterprise. But her woman's heart, however timid it might be at

Clanranald's castle, was touched, when she beheld the Prince; and

compassion, from which spring the noblest resolves, inspired her to

exertion.

As the Prince, attended by O'Neil, drew near to the hut belonging to

Angus Macdonald, the latter quitted Charles, and went aside, with a

design to inform himself whether the independent companies of militia

were to pass that way, or not, on the following day, as he had been

informed. Such, at least, was his pretext; but he had an appointment

with Flora Macdonald, who was awaiting him near the hut. To his

question, she answered that "they would not pass until the day after."

Then O'Neil ventured to tell the young lady that he had brought a friend

to see her. She inquired in some agitation "if it was the Prince?" He

replied that it was, and he instantly brought her into the shealing. The

kind heart of Flora was afflicted at the sight. Charles was exhausted

with fatigue and misery; he had become thin and weak, and his health was

greatly affected by the hardships which he had undergone. He and O'Neil

had lost indeed the means of personal comfort; they had but two shirts

with them, and every article of wearing apparel was worn out. To a

feeble mind, the depressed state of Prince Charles's affairs, his

broken-down aspect, and the dangers which surrounded him, would have

inspired reluctance to serve one so desolate. These circumstances,

however, only softened the resistance which Flora had at first made to

the scheme suggested for his escape, and renewed her desire to aid him.

After her first introduction, the discourse for some time turned upon

his dangerous situation; the best remedy for which was, as both the

Prince and O'Neil hinted, for Flora to convey him in disguise to Skye,

where her mother lived. This seemed the more feasible, from the

situation which her father-in-law held, and which would enable him to

give a pass for herself and her servant.

The Prince assented to the expediency of the proposal, which originated

with O'Neil, and immediately asked Flora if she would undertake to carry

the plan into effect. Flora answered with great respect and loyalty, but

declined, saying that "Sir Alexander Macdonald, who commanded the

militia in Skye, was too much her friend for her to be the instrument of

his ruin." O'Neil endeavoured to combat this opinion, representing that

Sir Alexander was not then in the country, and could not therefore be

implicated: he added, that she might easily convey the Prince to her

mother's, at Armadale, as she lived close by the waterside. O'Neil also

told her of the honour and immortal fame which would redound from so

glorious an action; and the Prince assured her that he should always

retain a deep sense of "so conspicuous a service." The firmness of Flora

had resisted the arguments of O'Neil; but it was overcome by these few

words from the Prince. She consented to let O'Neil know on the following

day at what time every arrangement would be made for the plan which had

been proposed, and she left the Prince and his adherent to shelter

themselves in the mountains of Coradale.[282]

On leaving the shealing, Flora at first returned to Milton; but, having

fully made up her mind to undertake the enterprise, she set out for

Ormaclade, the seat of Clanranald, on Saturday the twenty-first of June.

Her journey was not without perilous adventures. On passing a ford, she

was taken prisoner by one of the militia, on account of not having a

passport. She inquired by whom they were commanded; and, finding that

her step-father was their captain, she refused to give an answer to the

questions put to her until she saw him. She was made a prisoner for that

night; her captivity being shared by her servant Neil Mac Kechan, a

clansman, who was the father of Marshal Macdonald, Duke of Tarentum. In

the morning, Hugh Macdonald of Armadale, the step-father of Flora,

arrived, and liberated her; granting a passport for herself, her

servant, and for another woman whom she styled Betty Burke, a good

spinster, whom Armadale in the innocency of his heart recommended to

his wife at Armadale, as she had much lint to spin. His letter has been

preserved; and there is every reason to believe, that, when writing it,

Armadale was wholly unconscious of the design of Flora.[283]

The letter of Armadale to his wife ran as follows:--"I have sent your

daughter from this country lest she should be frightened with the troops

lying here. She has got one Betty Burke, an Irish girl, who, as she

tells me, is a good spinner. If her spinning pleases you, you may keep

her till she spins all your lint: or, if you have any wool to spin, you

may employ her. I have sent Mac Kechan along with your daughter and

Betty Burke, to take care of them. I am, your dutiful husband,

"HUGH MACDONALD."

"June 22nd, 1746."

* * * * *

It was late in the afternoon of the Sunday on which Flora had obtained

her passport, before she could communicate with her friends in the

mountains; about four o'clock, however, they received a message telling

them that _all was well_. The Prince and his companion, therefore,

determined immediately to join their protectress.

Upon being set at liberty, Flora went immediately to Ormaclade, where

she had, in Lady Clanranald, an enthusiastic assistant. She remained at

Ormaclade for several days, making arrangements for the complete

disguise of the Prince.

The Prince and O'Neil had only waited for the arrival of Flora's

messenger to set out and meet their heroic friend; but the trusty

individual who had brought them the tidings that _all was well_,

informed them that they could not pass either of the fords which

separated South Uist from Benbecula, as they were guarded by militia. In

this extremity the Prince knew not how he should ever reach the place

appointed for his meeting with Flora, which was Rossinish, in Benbecula,

from which spot she was to conduct him to Skye. An inhabitant of South

Uist, seeing his perplexity, offered him a boat: the proffered aid was

accepted; and Charles, with O'Neil, was landed on a promontory which the

pilot of the boat assured the Prince was the island of Benbecula.

Charles therefore dismissed the boatmen, with orders to meet him on the

opposite side of the island; and began his journey. He had not gone far

when he found himself surrounded with water, and perceived that the

pilot had made a mistake. Neither Charles nor his companions had ever

before been in this part of Benbecula. They looked around them on the

desolate prospect, and perceived that they were on a peninsula,

perfectly desert, and which at high-water was separated from Benbecula.

At first Charles hoped, that, when the tide was out, some passage might

be discovered; but the waves retired and no passage appeared. The Prince

was not disheartened; for his courage, never justly questioned, had

gained its best allies, patience and fortitude, during the adversities

of the last few months. He supported the fainting spirits of his

companions; and, to encourage them to search for a passage, said that he

knew of one, although he was in fact as ignorant as they were. At length

he discovered a passage, and the party reached a little hut, which they

were assured was in Benbecula.[284] He marched on, exhausted as he was,

to Rossinish, and arrived there at midnight, but found not the deliverer

they expected; on the contrary, he learned that they were within fifty

miles of the enemy. Hungry as they were, having eaten nothing all day,

the Prince and his fainting companions were obliged to retreat four

miles. Captain O'Neil was then sent to Ormaclade, to inquire why Flora

had not been true to her appointment. She told him that she now

considered that North Uist would be a safer place of refuge than Skye,

and that she had engaged a cousin of hers to receive him there. O'Neil

remained at Ormaclade, and sent a boy to inform the Prince, who was now

only at eight miles' distance, of this proposal; but that scheme was

soon abandoned, the gentleman to whom Flora referred refusing to receive

the Prince. In this dilemma, Charles was informed that his enemies had

quitted Rossinish, and he therefore hastened to that place. His safe

arrival there was, indeed, almost miraculous. Near him was a guard of

fifty men; the island was full of militia; and the secret of his being

in it was known to many a poor cotter. But, in these vicissitudes of his

eventful and unhappy life, the Prince was thrown among a faithful and

honourable people, in whose bosoms the conviction was planted, that to

betray him would bring down a curse upon themselves and their posterity.

On arriving at Rossinish, Captain O'Neil was again dispatched to Flora

to express the disappointment of Charles on not seeing her, and to beg

her to join him. She promised faithfully to do so on the following day;

and she kept her word. Having hired a six-oared boat to convey her to

Skye, and appointed it to be at a certain part of the coast, she set out

for Rossinish: accompanied by Lady Clanranald, whose participation in

the cause was shortly afterwards punished by imprisonment;--by a Mrs.

Macdonald, and by Mac Kechan, her servant. They entered a hut, where

they found this unfortunate descendant of an ill-fated race preparing

his own dinner. It consisted of the heart, liver, and kidneys of a

sheep, which he was turning upon a wooden spit. The compassion of the

ladies was roused by this sight; but Charles, as he bade them welcome to

the humble repast, moralized on his fate. He observed, that all _kings_

would be benefited by such an ordeal as that which he had endured. His

philosophy was seasoned by the hope of attaining what he ever

desired,--the hereditary monarchy which he believed to be his

birthright. He observed, that the wretched to-day, may be happy

to-morrow. At the dinner, Flora Macdonald sat on the right-hand of the

Prince, and Lady Clanranald on the left.

After the meal was ended, Charles was requested by Flora to assume the

female apparel which Lady Clanranald had brought. It was, of course,

very homely, and consisted of a flowered linen gown, a light-coloured

quilted petticoat, and a mantle of clean camlet, made after the Irish

fashion, with a hood. Their dangers, as he put on his dress, did not

check the merriment of the party; and many jokes were passed upon the

costume of Betty Burke. A small shallop was lying near the shore, and

Flora proposed that they should remove near to the place whence they

were to embark, for her fears had been excited by a message which

arrived from Ormaclade, acquainting Lady Clanranald that a party of

soldiers, under the infamous Captain Fergusson, had arrived at her

house, and had taken up their quarters there. Lady Clanranald hastened

home, where she managed to deceive and perplex both General Campbell,

who had lately arrived in Benbecula, and Captain Fergusson.

And now another trial was at hand:--it was necessary for Captain O'Neil

and the Prince to separate. The Irishman would fain have remained with

Charles, but Flora was firm, as well as kind; her opinion on this point

was decided; and O'Neil was obliged to yield. This point was not gained

without much difficulty, for Charles even remonstrated. O'Neil took his

leave, and made his way, through a country traversed by troops, to South

Uist, where O'Sullivan had been left. "I could now," writes Captain

O'Neil in his journal, when he relates his departure from the Prince,

"only recommend him to God and his good fortune." This kind-hearted man

was afterwards taken prisoner by Captain Fergusson, who had him stripped

and threatened not only with the rack, but also with being whipped by

his hangman, because he would not disclose where the Prince was. These

cruelties were opposed, however, by a junior officer, who, coming out

with a drawn sword, threatened Fergusson with a beating, and saved

O'Neil from the punishment which was to have been the requital of his

fidelity.

When all were gone, except Flora, the Prince, and Mac Kechan, the party

proceeded to the sea-shore, where they arrived wet and wearied, and

passed the night upon a rock. They made a fire to warm themselves, and

endeavoured still to maintain hope and cheerfulness. How picturesque and

singular must have been the group, thus awaiting the moment which should

perhaps only conduct them to fresh perils! As they reclined among the

heath which grew on the rock, four wherries, filled with armed men,

caused the little party to extinguish their fire, and to hide themselves

in the heather. The wherries, which made at first for the shore, sailed

by to the southward, within a gun-shot of the spot where Charles Edward

and Flora were concealed. At eight o'clock in the evening of Saturday,

the twenty-eighth of June 1746, the Prince and she set sail from

Benbecula for Skye.

The evening on which they quitted the shores which had been to them such

scenes of peril was clear; but, not long after they had embarked, the

sea became rough, and the weather stormy. Prince Charles resolved never

to despond, sang songs to prevent the spirits of the company from

flagging, and talked gaily and hopefully of the future. Exhausted by her

previous exertions, Flora sank into a sleep; and Charles carefully

watched her slumbers, being afraid lest the voices of the boatmen should

arouse her, or, in the dark, that any of the men should step upon her.

She awoke in a surprise at some little bustle in the boat, and asked

hastily "What was the matter?" What must have been her emotions at that

moment!

The next day, Sunday, was one of anxiety. The boatmen had lost their

track, and had no compass; the wind had changed, it was then calm. They

made, however, towards Waternish, in the west of Skye; but they found

the place possessed by militia, and three boats were visible near the

shore. A man on board one of the boats fired at them; on which they made

away as fast as they could; for, in addition to that danger, several

ships of war were now in sight. The Prince and his friends took shelter,

therefore, in a cleft of a rock on the shore, and there remained to rest

the men, who had been up all night, and to prepare their provisions for

dinner. The party then resumed their voyage: fortunately it was calm,

for otherwise, in any distress of weather, they must have been overtaken

and have perished, for an alarm had already been given of the appearance

of a strange boat, and the militia were upon the watch; the promised

reward set upon Charles having excited all the vigilance of his enemies.

At length, after rowing some time, they landed at Kilbride in

Troternish, in Skye, about twelve miles to the north of Waternish. But

several parties of militia were in the neighbourhood. Flora now quitted

the boat, and went with Neil Mac Kechan to Mugstat, the residence of Sir

Alexander Macdonald: here she desired one of the servants to apprise

Lady Macdonald of her arrival. The lady was not unprepared to receive

her, for a kinswoman had gone a short time before to tell her of the

enterprise in which Flora had engaged.

Lady Margaret was well disposed to give the cause every assistance in

her power. She was the daughter of the celebrated Susanna, Countess of

Eglintoune, and of Alexander, ninth Earl of Eglintoune, who was

supposed, while ostensibly supporting the family on the throne, to be a

secret friend of the Stuarts.[285] Lady Margaret was one of seven

sisters, famed for their loveliness, and for the "Eglintoune air," a

term applied to that family as a tribute to the lofty grace of their

deportment. "It was a goodly sight," observes Mr. Chambers, "a century

ago, to see the long processions of sedans containing Lady Eglintoune

and her daughters devolve from the Close,[286] and proceed to the

Assembly Rooms in the West Bow, where there was usually a considerable

crowd of plebeian admirers congregated, to behold their lofty and

graceful figures step from the chairs on the pavement." Lady Margaret

was greatly beloved in Skye. When she rode through the island, the

people ran before her, and took the stones off the road, lest her horse

should stumble. Her husband was also very popular. Such was the

hospitality of Mugstat, that every week a hogshead of claret was drunk

at his table.[287]

Lady Margaret had now been married six years to Sir Alexander Macdonald

of Macdonald. She was the mother of three sons, two of whom were

eminently distinguished. The first, Sir James Macdonald, was a young man

of singular accomplishments, and the friend of Lord Lyttleton; he was

endowed "with great talents for business, great propriety of behaviour,

great politeness of manners." To these acquirements he added those

amiable qualities, which, united to great erudition, procured him the

title of the "Marcellus of the Western Isles." His early death was

regarded as a general calamity; his tomb was honoured by an inscription

composed by Lyttleton. When Dr. Johnson visited the isle of Skye, this

young man, who died at Rome in the twenty-fifth year of his age, was

still mentioned with tears. His brother, Sir Alexander, the English-bred

chieftain, but ill-supplied his loss. He was no Highlander. "Were I in

your place, sir," said Johnson to the young chieftain, "in seven years I

would make this an independent island. I would roast oxen whole, and

hang out a flag as a signal to the Macdonalds to come and get beef and

whiskey." Sir Alexander, of whom Johnson had heard heavy complaints of

rents racked, and the islanders driven to emigration, bore with

politeness the rough assaults of the Doctor: he nevertheless started

difficulties. "Nay, sir," rejoined Johnson, "if you are born to object,

I have done with you, sir. I would have a magazine of arms." "They would

rust," was the meek reply. "Let there be men to clean them," cried the

Doctor, "your ancestors did not use to let their arms rust!" Such was

Lady Margaret's second son. The third, and youngest son of Lady

Margaret, revived, however, all the fondly remembered virtues of Sir

James. Some persons may still recall the benignant appearance of the

late venerable Sir Archibald Macdonald, Lord Chief Baron of the Court of

Exchequer in England: there are many who must recollect his virtues and

acquirements with respect.

The character of Lady Margaret was not that of her second son; but of a

spirited generous woman. She was not one who would allow the arms of

her ancestors "to rust." Before the Prince's arrival, her energies had

been employed in contriving the fittest route for him to take after

leaving Mugstat, for she was as enthusiastic an adherent of Charles

Edward as any of her female relations. Whilst he was in North Uist, he

had sent Lady Margaret a letter, enclosed, by Hugh Macdonald of

Balishair, to his brother Donald Roy Macdonald, with orders to deliver

it to Lady Margaret alone; and, in case of attack while at sea, to sink

it, by tying it to a stone. This letter revealed the secret of the

Prince's intention to quit the Long Island: it informed Lady Margaret

that Charles wanted almost all necessary habiliments; and desired that

some shirts and blankets might be provided for him; the Prince having

hitherto slept only in his plaid, a custom which he retained almost

constantly during his wanderings. Balishair's letter had also unfolded a

plan at that time in contemplation, that Charles should take refuge on

the small grass-island called Fladdanuach, belonging to Sir Alexander

Macdonald, and having only one tenant upon it. Thither Lady Margaret was

to send Donald Roy Macdonald with the articles to be in readiness for

the Prince.

Lady Margaret had instantly complied with these injunctions. Eventually

the notion of making Fladdanuach the retreat of Charles was given up;

but the zealous Lady Margaret had made the most careful preparations for

that scheme, and it was not from any negligence on her part that it was

abandoned. The packet sent by Balishair contained, however, another

valuable paper. This was a letter written in Prince Charles's own hand,

chiefly one of compliment, and full of gratitude to Lady Margaret for

sending him newspapers, which had been delivered to him through

Macdonald of Balishair.

This precious letter had, some time before Flora had arrived at Mugstat,

been delivered to Lady Margaret. When she received it, she rose from her

seat, and kissing it said, alluding to a precaution which had been

recommended, "I will never burn it; I will preserve it for the sake of

him who wrote it to me. Although King George's forces should come to the

house, I shall find means to secure it." Afterwards, however, her house

being searched by the dreaded Fergusson, she considered it necessary for

Charles's safety to burn it; although, as it proved, there was no search

whatsoever for papers.

Lady Margaret had been aided in her efforts and plans by a zealous

kinsman, Captain Roy Macdonald, who had been wounded at the battle of

Culloden. This person was still under medical care, and was living in

the house of a surgeon named Maclean, at Troternish. When Charles landed

at Skye, Roy Macdonald, wounded as he was, had sailed to Fladdanuach, at

Lady Margaret's bidding, with clothes and money, and had returned just

in time to witness her perplexity at the Prince's unexpected arrival.

Upon that event being made known by Flora Macdonald to Lady Margaret,

she sent a message to Captain Roy Macdonald, entreating him to come to

her immediately. He complied, and found Lady Margaret walking in the

garden of Mugstat, talking very earnestly to Alexander Macdonald of

Kingsburgh, a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who acted as factor, or

chamberlain, to Sir Alexander. As Roy Macdonald approached, Lady

Margaret exclaimed, holding up her hands, "Oh, Donald Roy, we are ruined

for ever!" It was then imparted to him that the Prince was within a

quarter of a mile from Mugstat, in woman's clothes; that Lieutenant

Macleod, who was employed to guard that part of Skye, and three or four

of his militia-men, were about the house; a number of others being not

far distant: what was still more alarming, Flora Macdonald and the

Lieutenant were at that time conversing together in the dining-room.

A consultation immediately ensued as to the plan the most proper to

ensure Charles Edward's safety. Donald Roy Macdonald declared, that,

whatever they should agree upon, "He would undertake (God willing) to

accomplish at the risk of his life." Kingsburgh was first called upon to

give his opinion. He proposed that the Prince should sail by the point

of Troternish to Raasay, because it would be impossible for him to

remain in Skye with safety. This plan was, however, opposed by Lady

Margaret, who said, that, if the Prince was to sail for Raasay, it were

better that he should remain at Mugstat all night. In short, no scheme

appeared practicable; and the consultation was frequently broken off in

despair, and renewed only to start fresh difficulties. At last Donald

Roy said, "What do you think, Kingsburgh, if the Prince should run the

risk of making his way over to Portree by land?" Kingsburgh,

notwithstanding that he was full of apprehension, thought that the plan

might be tried, although the distance from Mugstat to Portree was

fourteen long Highland miles. At first it was decided that Donald Roy

should be the bearer of this scheme to the Prince; but it was afterwards

argued, that, since the Prince must make "a monstrous figure" in woman's

clothes, there might be some suspicion excited by Donald Roy's talking

to so singular a stranger. It was therefore determined that no one

except Flora Macdonald should be entrusted with the perilous task of

taking messages to Charles at his station on the shore. Lady Margaret in

the course of this conversation expressed "that she was in great

difficulties." It was impossible that she could apply to any of the Clan

for assistance. The general belief was, that Sir Alexander Macdonald was

unfriendly to the Prince, and that no greater favour could be shown by

the chief than seizing the royal fugitive. This increased the danger of

Charles's remaining in Skye, and threw her entirely upon the good

offices of Kingsburgh and Roy Donald.

During this conference Flora Macdonald was keeping up what she

afterwards described to Bishop Forbes as "a close chit-chat" with

Lieutenant Macleod, who put to her questions which she answered as "she

thought fit." Lady Margaret, meantime, could not forbear going in and

out in great anxiety; a circumstance which Flora observed, and which

could not but add to her embarrassment; nevertheless, this extraordinary

young woman maintained the utmost composure. She even dined in company

with the Lieutenant without betraying her perplexity in a single

instance: never was the value of that admirable quality, presence of

mind, more forcibly seen than in this instance. It had been the office

of the Lieutenant to examine every boat that had landed, and to

investigate into the motives and destination of every passenger. How the

boat which had conveyed the Prince to Skye escaped search has not been

explained. At all events, Flora completely baffled every inquiry; and

perhaps no one could do so better than a Scottish woman. The ordinary

caution in reply, observable in Highland females, is very striking. The

Prince was awaiting his fate all this time upon the rock at the shore,

not above a gun-shot from the foot of the garden. The faithful and

anxious servant Mac Kechan went to him repeatedly, but without

molestation; and Macdonald of Kingsburgh, who could not controul his

anxiety to see Charles Edward, providing himself with a bottle of wine

and some bread, also repaired to him. The Prince was then sitting upon

the shore, having startled a flock of sheep, the running of which first

attracted Kingsburgh to the place where he was planted.

Charles had removed to a more distant spot than that which he had at

first selected, for he had been apprised by Neil Mac Kechan of

Kingsburgh's intended visit, and conducted by that faithful servant to

the back of a certain hill, where he was requested to wait until

Kingsburgh should reach him. It was also announced to Charles by Neil,

that he was to go to Portree, resting by the way at the house of

Kingsburgh, who was a staunch Jacobite.

When Kingsburgh drew near to the place where Charles awaited him, he saw

the Prince approaching him with a short thick cudgel (not a very

feminine appendage) in his hand. "Are you," cried Charles, "Mr.

Macdonald of Kingsburgh?" "Yes, sir," replied Kingsburgh. "Then," said

Charles, "all is well; come let us be going." Macdonald, however, first

begged the Prince to partake of some refreshment, which he did; the top

of a rock serving for a table. This being done, they proceeded on their

journey; Kingsburgh telling his fellow-traveller with no less admiration

than joy, "that he could recollect no cause either of business or duty

for his being at Mugstat that day." "I'll tell you the cause," said the

Prince; "Providence sent you hither to take care of me."

They were now interrupted by some country-people coming from the kirk.

These sociable rustics were disposed to favour the Prince and his

companion with their conversation. Kingsburgh could think of no other

way of getting rid of them than saying, "Eh, sirs! cannot ye let alone

talking o' your worldly affairs on the sabbath? and have patience till

another day?" The poor people took the pious hint and moved off.[288]

For some time after the Prince had set out, Flora remained at Mugstat,

where Lady Margaret, who could only speak to her in presence of the

officer, pressed her much to stay, and feigned a great anxiety to retain

her for a few days, telling her that she had promised to do so the first

time that she came that way. But Flora excused herself, saying that she

wanted to be at home in these troublesome times, and also to see her

mother. She was at length suffered to depart, accompanied by Mrs.

Macdonald of Kirkibost, the lady who had apprised Lady Margaret of her

visit, but who was not in the secret of the Prince's disguise. This

lady's maid and man servant, and Mac Kechan completed the party. Lady

Margaret during the whole of this agitating affair never saw the Prince

"in any shape."[289]

Flora and her companions soon overtook the Prince and Kingsburgh. They

found the curiosity of her companion somewhat inconvenient, for Mrs.

Macdonald was very anxious to see the "strange woman's" face; but it was

always turned away from her inquisitive gaze. Yet Mrs. Macdonald made

her observations nevertheless. "She never," she said, "had seen before

such an impudent-looking woman--and she must either be an Irish woman,

or a man in woman's clothes!" Flora, who had the happy and rare art of

not saying too much, replied that "she was an Irishwoman, for she had

seen her before." The maid who attended Mrs. Macdonald took notice of

the supposed Irish woman's awkward way of managing her petticoats, and

remarked what long strides she took in walking. In particular, in wading

a rivulet, the Prince lifted up his troublesome garments so high, that

Mac Kechan called out to him "for God's sake to take care, or he would

discover himself." Charles laughed heartily, and thanked him for his

cautions: he much feared that they would be neglected. Flora began to be

apprehensive of the loquacious and observant mistress and maid. She, as

well as Mrs. Macdonald, was now on horseback, and she proposed that the

ladies should go on a little faster, and leave those on foot to take

their time. There was another object in this arrangement: the country

was traversed by parties of militia, and it was necessary for the Prince

and Kingsburgh to diverge by a cross-road over the hills to the place of

their destination. They went therefore by by-paths, south-south-east, to

Kingsburgh's house, which they reached at midnight; Flora having arrived

there a short time before. She had parted with her other companions on

the road.

During this journey of seven long miles, which were performed in a

drenching rain, there was no slight risk, owing to the very singular

demeanour of the Prince, and to the awkwardness with which he performed

his part. Betty Burke was regarded by the gazing passers-by as a very

strange woman. When the country-people greeted him with an obeisance, he

returned it with a bow instead of a curtsey; and in all his gestures he

forgot the woman, and retained the man. After the remonstrance upon

holding his skirts too high, he let them fall down into the streams

which often intersected his path. "Your enemies, sir," remarked

Kingsburgh, "call you a Pretender, but you are the worst at your trade

that I ever saw." "Why," replied Charles laughing, "they do me perhaps

as much injustice in this as in other respects. I have all my life

despised assumed characters, and am the worst dissembler in the world."

Lady Kingsburgh, not expecting her husband that night, had retired to

rest; and her house was not at this time in the best possible condition

for receiving visitors. Kingsburgh, however, introduced Charles into the

hall, and sent a servant up-stairs to desire Lady Kingsburgh to rise and

dress herself. But the lady was not disposed to comply with her

husband's commands that night. She sent a message to beg that he and

his guests would help themselves to whatsoever they found in the house,

and excuse her absence. As soon as she had despatched this answer, her

daughter, a child of seven years of age, ran into the room, and told

her, with much astonishment, that her father had brought home the most

odd "_ill-shaken-up wife_" that she had ever seen, and had conducted her

into the hall. Kingsburgh now made his appearance, and entreated his

wife to come down-stairs, her presence being absolutely requisite.[290]

Lady Kingsburgh was now really aroused. She could not help suspecting

that her husband had taken into his house some of those proscribed and

wretched fugitives who were skulking about the country. She could well

imagine the distress of many of the Jacobites, for a paper had been, for

some weeks, read in the kirks, forbidding all persons to give any sort

of sustenance to a rebel, under pain of being deprived of it

themselves.[291]

She now dressed herself, sending her little girl into the hall to fetch

her keys. The child went down-stairs, but returned, saying that she

could not go into the hall, the "strange woman" was walking backwards

and forwards in so frightful a manner. Lady Kingsburgh therefore went

herself, but stopped short at the door on seeing the stranger, whose

aspect seems to have been unusually gaunt and unwomanly. Her husband,

however, bade her go in for her keys, and at last she found courage to

enter.

As she walked into the hall, Charles arose from his seat and advanced

to meet her. According to the custom of the day, which applied both to

ladies and gentlemen, he offered her the compliment of a salute. Lady

Kingsburgh felt the roughness of no woman's cheek against her own.

Alarmed at the discovery, she nearly fainted; she spoke not, neither did

the stranger. She went hastily towards Kingsburgh, and told him her

suspicions. No reproaches were uttered on her part for the introduction,

which had evidently some risk connected with it; she merely asked, "Does

this strange woman know anything about the Prince?" Her husband, taking

her hand, replied, "My dear, this is the Prince himself." "The Prince!"

returned Lady Kingsburgh; "then we shall all be hanged!" "We can die but

once," answered Kingsburgh; "could we die in a better cause? We are only

doing an act of humanity."

He then desired her to send in supper. "Let us have eggs, butter,

cheese, or whatever can be procured in the shortest time." The lady

remonstrated. "Eggs, butter, and cheese for a Prince!" "he will never

look at such a supper." "Ah, my dear," returned Kingsburgh, "you little

know how this poor Prince has fared of late. Our supper will be a

banquet to him. Besides, any formal preparation would excite suspicion.

Make haste, and come to supper yourself." Lady Kingsburgh had now a new

source of alarm. "_I_ come to supper!" she cried; "I do not know how to

behave before a Prince." She was reassured by her husband, who told her

that there was no difficulty in behaving before _this_ Prince, who was

so easy and obliging.

The party, who had undergone such a day's journey, sat up nearly till

dawn, and became merry over their supper. Never was there a more joyous

or inspiring guest at a feast than the unfortunate Charles. He was now

in the house of a trusted adherent; and his spirits, which had been

unaltered even in huts and caverns, gladdened all present. His favourite

toast, was "To the Black Eye!" by which, as his pilot to the Long

Island, Donald Macleod, relates, he meant the second daughter of France;

"and I never heard him," said Donald, "name any particular health but

that alone. When he spoke of that lady, which he did frequently, he

appeared to be more than ordinarily well-pleased."[292]

The Prince ate heartily, and drank a bumper of brandy to the health of

his host and hostess. When the ladies had retired, he took out a little

black piece of tobacco-pipe which had been his consolation in all his

wanderings, and began to smoke. Like most persons who have recourse to a

similar practice, Prince Charles framed an excuse for it on the plea of

health, telling Kingsburgh, that he had found it essential, in order to

cure the tooth-ache, from which he had suffered much. His pipe had

obtained the name, among his companions, of the "_cutty_".

A small china punch-bowl was then produced by the host, and was twice

replenished with the very popular beverage called toddy, of which the

Prince expressed his unqualified approbation. Conversation, thus aided

and exhilarated, flowed freely; and the charm of Charles's gay courtesy

was long remembered by his Highland landlord, who thus, at the risk of

all that was dear to him, welcomed the unfortunate wanderer to his home.

Morning dawned before either the Prince or Kingsburgh talked of

retiring. At last Kingsburgh became anxious. He knew that it was

necessary for Charles to proceed to Portree early the next day; and he

earnestly desired that the Prince should have some rest. He refused to

fill the bowl again, and began to urge his Highness to retire. Charles

eagerly pressed for another supply of usquebaugh and warm water. In the

contention, the bowl, which Kingsburgh had brought from Mugstat for the

Prince to drink the wine out of on the shore, was broken. This ended the

altercation, and Charles retired to rest.

The next day was far advanced before the Prince, after his conviviality

of the preceding evening, was aroused; and the watchful Flora in vain

sent Kingsburgh into his chamber to persuade him to rise. Kingsburgh had

not the heart to awaken the fugitive from a repose which he so rarely

enjoyed, and, on finding him in a profound sleep, retired. At last, one

o'clock had struck, and the Prince was summoned to begin another

journey. Kingsburgh, inquiring if he had had a good night, was answered

that he had never enjoyed a better one in his life. "I had almost

forgotten," said Charles, "what a good bed was." He then prepared to set

out. He was first to go to Portree; his destination being, ultimately,

the island of Raasay. The choice of this place as a retreat originated

in the ancient league which subsisted between the families of Macdonald

and of Raasay. Whenever the head of either family died, his sword was

given to the head of the other. The chief of Raasay had joined the

Highland army, but had saved his estate by conveying it to his son,

young Macleod. Sir Alexander Macdonald, on that occasion, had thus

addressed his neighbour and ally: "Don't be afraid, Raasay; I'll use my

interest to keep you safe; and, if your estate should be taken, I'll buy

it for the family. And he would have done it."[293]

On quitting Kingsburgh, the Prince was determined to cast off his

disguise. Kingsburgh was favourable to the change, but Flora would not

consent to it: it was necessary, she thought, that the wanderer should

leave the house in the same dress as he had entered it; so that, if

inquiry were made, the servants would not be able to describe his

appearance. He, therefore, once more figured in the habiliments of Betty

Burke; and the only change, which was at the suggestion of Kingsburgh,

was in the article of shoes; those in which he had walked being now worn

out; a new pair was therefore supplied by Kingsburgh. When the exchange

was made, Kingsburgh hung up the old shoes in a corner of his room,

observing, that they might still do him some service. Charles inquired,

"How?" "Why," replied Kingsburgh, "when you are at St. James's, I shall

hold up these shoes before you, and thus remind you of your night's

entertainment and protection under my roof." Charles, with a smile,

desired him to be as "good as his word." These precious deposits, never

being required to appear at St. James's, were, after old Kingsburgh's

death, cut into pieces, and kept as relics by the Jacobite ladies, and

even by the grave but enthusiastic Bishop Forbes.[294]

It had been decided that Flora Macdonald should proceed on horseback to

Portree by a different road, and should meet the Prince there. She

therefore took a temporary leave of Charles; and Kingsburgh accompanied

him to a wood not far from his house. When the Prince had departed, Lady

Kingsburgh went up-stairs, and folded up the sheets in which he had

slept, declaring that they should never be washed nor used till her

death, when they should be made into her winding-sheet. She was

afterwards induced to divide this valuable memorial with Flora

Macdonald.

Mac Kechan, and a little herd-boy by way of a guide, alone accompanied

the Prince, as he set out upon a laborious walk of fourteen miles

towards Portree. It would have excited much suspicion, had any more

important persons attended him. At an appointed place Charles threw off

his female attire, and again "grasped the claymore." His clothes were

concealed in a bush until they could be carried to Kingsburgh's house,

where they were burnt upon the alarm of a search on the part of the

military. The gown only was retained, by the express desire of

Kingsburgh's daughter.[295] The Prince now once more wore the Highland

dress, which had been furnished him by Kingsburgh.

Meantime, Captain Roy Macdonald had gone to seek the young Macleod of

Raasay, or, as he was called, Rona, whose very brother-in-law,

Archibald Macqueen, was then in search for the Prince in South Uist.

Young Macleod, though at first indisposed to confide the place where his

father had taken refuge to Roy Macdonald, ended eventually by

expressing, both on his own part and on that of his father, the

strongest desire to serve the Prince, especially in his distress.

"Then," said Roy Macdonald, "I expect the Prince this night at Portree;

and as there is no boat on this side fit to carry him over to Raasay,

you must do your best, Rona, to get one for the purpose to ferry the

Prince over to Raasay, for thither he means to set out from Portree."

Rona undertook this service, but was unwilling to leave Portree until he

should see the Prince; for he had not been "out" in the last campaign.

But, being repeatedly urged by Roy Macdonald, he at last embarked in a

crazy old boat which filled perpetually with water, and could only with

assistance be made to convey passengers from Portree to Raasay, a

distance nearly of five miles. Before young Raasay embarked, Roy

Macdonald had received a note from Kingsburgh, importing that Flora

Macdonald was so fatigued that she could not go to Portree so soon as

she had intended; and ordering the captain to provide a boat to ferry

her about to Strath, because it would be easier to her "to make it out"

by sea than overland. Captain Roy Macdonald took the hint, and judged

exactly for whom the boat thus carefully alluded to was to be provided.

On Monday the thirtieth of June, young Raasay, and his brothers Murdoch

Macleod and Malcolm Macleod, arrived after a short, but perilous voyage

within a mile of Portree. Malcolm went to the shore, leaving Rona in

the boat. As he walked from the beach, he saw three persons approaching.

It is said, that at Raasay nine months of the year are rainy. This June

evening was one of the rainy periods; and Malcolm Macleod could not,

through the darkness, discover who these three persons were. The place

of meeting agreed upon was a small public-house near the shore, about

half a mile from the port of Portree; to this house Malcolm Macleod sent

to Captain Roy Macdonald, desiring him to come out and speak to a

friend. Roy Macdonald complied with the summons, taking with him a half

mutchkin stoup full of whiskey. Macleod then informed him that Rona and

his brother Murdoch were on the shore with a boat, which, with much

difficulty and danger they had brought from Raasay to convey the Prince

to that island; he begged that they would not delay, as it was raining

very heavily.

Donald Roy Macdonald then told Malcolm that the three persons whom he

had seen going towards the public-house were the Prince, Mac Kechan, and

the herd-boy. Of their approach he had been apprized by the energetic

Flora, who had arrived at Portree some hours previously.

Donald Roy Macdonald, who is described as being the model of "a perfect

Highland gentleman," shared the enthusiasm of Flora. Although still lame

from the wound in his foot, he had, during the course of that evening,

looked out incessantly for the Prince, but was unable to see him. He had

not, however, been long in the public-house, before the voice of the

herd-boy calling for the landlord, and desiring to know if one Donald

Roy Macdonald were there, drew his attention. He stepped out, and was

told by the boy that there was a gentleman, a little above the house,

who desired to speak to him. The captain sent the boy away, and

immediately went to the spot where the Prince stood. Charles embraced

him, putting his head first over one shoulder, and then over the other;

and telling Donald to use no ceremony, for that it was impossible to

know who might be observing them. When Donald expressed his regret at

the darkness of the night, Charles said, "I am more sorry that _our

lady_" (so he called Flora Macdonald) "should be so abused with the

rain."

After they entered the house, a curious scene took place. "The Prince,"

relates Donald Roy,[296] "no sooner entered the house than he asked if a

dram could be got there, the rain pouring down from his clothes; he

having on plaid, without breeches, trews, or even philibeg. Before he

sat down, he got his dram; and then the company desired him to shift,

and put on a dry shirt, Captain Roy Macdonald giving him his philibeg.

The Prince refused to shift, as Miss Flora Macdonald was in the room;

but the captain and Neil Mac Kechan told him, it was not time to stand

upon ceremonies, and prevailed upon him to put on a dry shirt. By this

time they had brought some meat into the room, (the Prince having called

for it before he would think of shifting,) which consisted of butter,

cheese, bread, and roasted fish."

The Prince was so hungry and exhausted, after a walk from Kingsburgh to

Portree, "seven good Highland miles," that he began to eat before he

put on his coat. The supply of food which he had brought with him

consisted of a cold hen, a bottle of brandy, and a lump of sugar in one

of his pockets: these, with the addition of a bottle of whiskey procured

at Portree, constituted his store of provisions until he reached Raasay.

On seeing the Prince eat heartily, whilst only in his shirt and

philibeg, Captain Donald Macdonald could not forbear smiling. "Sir," he

observed, "I believe that is the English fashion," "What fashion do you

mean?" asked the Prince. "They say," replied Donald, "that the English,

when they eat heartily, throw off their clothes." "They are right,"

answered Charles, "lest anything should incommode their hands when they

are at work." The Prince then asked, if any drink could be had. He was

told that he could have nothing but whiskey or water, for no such thing

as beer or ale was to be had in the isle of Skye. Then Charles asked if

he could have some milk, but was informed that there was none in the

house. The only beverage which seemed attainable was water, of which

there was a supply in what Captain Donald Macdonald called an "ugly

cog," which the landlord of the house used for throwing water out of his

boat. This vessel though coarse, was clean. "The captain," relates

Donald Roy, "had been taking a drink out of the cog, and he reached it

to the Prince,[297] who took it out of his hand, and, after looking at

the cog, he stared the captain in the face, who upon this made up to him

(the landlord being in the room), and whispered him softly in the ear to

drink out of it without any ceremony; for though the cog looked ill,

yet it was clean; and, if he should show any nicety, it might raise a

suspicion about him in the landlord's mind. The Prince said, 'You are

right,' and took a hearty draught of water out of the rough cog, and

then he put on his coat."

During all this scene, Captain Roy Macdonald could scarcely disguise his

anxiety that the Prince should leave Portree. But Charles was reluctant

to relinquish shelter and society; the rain was still heavily pouring

down, and the night on which the unfortunate wanderer was again to trust

his fate to strangers was very dark. In vain, therefore, did Macdonald,

when the landlord had left the room, represent to Charles, that this,

being a public-house, was frequented by all "sorts of folks," and that

some curiosity would be excited by his appearance. There was, indeed, no

rest for the proscribed fugitive. Charles then asked for tobacco, that

he might smoke a pipe "before he went off." Macdonald answered, that

there was no tobacco, except that which was very coarse; only "roll

tobacco." But Charles persisted in having it, saying "that it would

serve his horn very well." The landlord therefore was ordered to bring

in a quarter of a pound, which he did in scales, at four-pence

halfpenny. The Prince gave a sixpence, but the landlord was desired by

Captain Macdonald to bring in the change. Charles smiled at Donald Roy's

exactness, and said he would not be at the trouble to pick up the

halfpence; but Donald Roy persuaded him to do so, saying, that in his

Highness's present situation he would find "bawbees very useful to him."

A bottle of whiskey having been dispatched between the Prince, Donald

Roy Macdonald, and Neil Mac Kechan, and the pipe being finished,

Charles reluctantly began to talk of his departure. He had learned to

rely upon the fidelity of the brave Clan, one young and gentle daughter

of which had protected him from South Uist, and brought him through a

country swarming with militia to Portree. He was unwilling to be

separated from Donald Roy, and entreated him in a low voice to accompany

him. But Donald begged him to remember that it was not in his power to

be useful to him, considering the open wound in his left foot; that he

should only prove a burden to him, for it would be out of his power to

skulk from place to place; and indeed it would be necessary for him to

ride on horseback, so that any of the parties of militia who were

ranging about would be sure to descry him at a distance, and that would

be ruin to the chance of escape. Charles then said, that "he had always

found himself safe in the hands of a Macdonald, and that, as long as he

could have a Macdonald with him, he still should think himself safe."

Again and again he urged this point. It was affecting to see how

confidingly this ill-fated young man, noble in his nature, leaned upon

those whom he had learned to trust. It is melancholy to reflect that a

temper so kindly should ever have been worked up, and irritated almost

to madness, by those intrigues and misrepresentations which eventually,

combining with the wreck of his other moral qualities, alienated him

from all who really loved him.

"The Prince," as Donald relates, "could not think of parting with him at

all." This was the first time that Charles had entrusted himself,

without a single familiar friend or attendant, to strangers. "Are you,"

he said, again addressing Donald, "afraid to go with me? So long as _I_

have, you shall not want." Again Captain Macdonald referred to his

crippled foot: "he behoved to see," he said, "that his going would only

expose the Prince to new dangers, of which he had already too many to

contend with." In the course of the conversation he took occasion to

tell the Prince, since he had honoured the Macdonalds with his regard,

that, although Sir Alexander Macdonald and his followers did not join

his standard, they wished him well. "I am sensible enough of all that,"

was the reply of Charles. Donald also inquired whether the Prince was

well provided with money; as in case of need, Lady Margaret Macdonald

would supply his wants. But Charles, after expressing his gratitude to

Lady Margaret, declined her aid, as he believed that he had sufficient

to carry him to the mainland.

This painful and memorable scene came at last to a conclusion. After

being repeatedly urged by Donald to depart, Charles bade Mac Kechan

farewell. He then turned to Flora Macdonald: "I believe, madam," he

said, "that I owe you a crown of borrowed money." She answered, in her

literal and simple manner, "It was only half-a-crown." This sum the

Prince paid her. He then saluted her, and said: "Notwithstanding all

that has happened, I hope, madam, we shall meet in St. James's yet." In

this calm, and, apparently laconic manner, he bade Flora adieu. But,

though fate did not permit Charles to testify his gratitude at St.

James's, he is said never to have mentioned without a deep sense of his

obligations the name of his young protectress. In her loyal and simple

heart a sense of duty, enthusiastic reverence, and fond regret dwelt,

whilst that heart continued to beat; and, through the vicissitudes of

her after-life, the service which she had rendered to the Prince

recurred like a ray of sunshine upon a destiny almost continually

clouded and darkened by calamity.

Flora was left alone at Portree, attended still by Mac Kechan, who

afterwards escaped, rejoined the Prince, and went to France with him.

Mac Kechan was a man of good education, and was conjectured by Bishop

Forbes to have been the author of the "Alexis, or the Young Adventurer,"

a romance embodying the principal incidents of Charles Edward's life;

but of this there is no proof.

Meanwhile the Prince proceeded to the shore. He tied the bottle of

whiskey, bought of the landlord, to his belt on one side, and the

brandy, the cold hen, and the four shirts on the other. As he went, he

saw the landlord of the public-house looking out of a window after him;

on which he changed his road. He met young Raasay and his brothers at

the appointed place; and it was there agreed, that in a few days Donald

Macdonald should follow the Prince to Raasay. At his departure the

Prince took out the lump of sugar from his pocket, and said, "Pray give

this to _our lady_, for I fear she will get no sugar where she is

going." The captain refused however to accept of that which seems to

have been considered as a great delicacy. Charles then enjoined Captain

Macdonald to secrecy as to his destination. "Tell nobody--no, not _our

lady_--where I am going; for it is right that my course should not be

known."[298] They then parted; and at daybreak, July the first, 1746,

Charles sailed for Raasay. Captain Macdonald then returned to Portree,

where he slept a great portion of the next day. Here he was closely

questioned by the landlord, who said, that he had a great notion that

the gentleman who had supped at his house was the Prince, for he had

something noble about him. Probably the imprudent liberality of Charles,

and his carelessness about money, may have added to the impression which

his lofty air and fascinating manners generally produced. On the fourth

of July, Charles, after various adventures in the island of Raasay,

escaped to the mountains. This event was announced by a letter sent

mysteriously by Murdoch Macleod to Roy Macdonald, and delivered to him

in the darkness of night. It had neither address on it, nor place, nor

date; but was written by Charles.

"Sir,

"I have parted as I intended. Make my compliments to all to whom I

have given trouble. I am, sir, your humble servant,

"JAMES HERMION."

This letter was burned by Roy Macdonald, though with great reluctance,

on the day when he subsequently learned that Flora Macdonald had been

made a prisoner.

Flora, after parting from the Prince, went to Armadale to her mother,

after a very fatiguing journey across the country. Her emotions on

separating from Charles have been expressed in a poem entitled "The

Lament of Flora Macdonald," beginning thus:

"Far o'er the hills of the heather so green,

And down by the Corrie that skips in the sea,

The bonny young Flora sat weeping her love--

The dew on her plaid, and the tear in her e'e.

She looked at a boat with the breezes that swung,

And ay as it lessened she sighed and she sung,

'Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again!

Farewell to my hero, the gallant and young!

Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again,'"[299]

During eight or ten days Flora remained in her house at Armadale without

imparting to any one, even to her mother, the events of the last week.

To make her mother a participator in that affair would indeed have been

no act of kindness, at a time when the merest suspicion of being a

Jacobite was regarded as a crime.

At the expiration of ten days Flora received a message from a person of

her own name, Donald Macdonald of Castletown, in Skye, about four miles

from Armadale, to bid her come to his house in order to meet there the

commanding officer of an independent company, one Macleod of Taliskar,

who had ordered Macdonald to surrender. Flora, a little suspicious of

what might happen, thought proper to consult with her friends as to what

step she should take. They unanimously agreed that she ought not to go;

but "go she would." Then they consulted together what she should say in

case of an investigation. But Flora had made up her mind as to the

answers she should give. She set out to meet her fate. She probably

expected that she should be released after a short examination; for she

knew not then through what channel the part which she had taken in the

Prince's escape had transpired. The fact was, that the boatmen who had

brought her with Charles from Skye had on their return communicated to

Captain Fergusson every particular of the Prince's appearance, and had

even described the gown which he had worn.

Flora afterwards remembered, that at Mugstat Lady Margaret had warned

her that this would be the case, and had pointed out to her the

indiscretion of allowing these men to go back to North Uist.

As she went on the road to Castleton, Flora met her father-in-law,

Macdonald of Armadale, who was returning home; and shortly afterwards

she was apprehended by Captain Macleod of Taliskar, with a party of

soldiers, who were going to seek for her at her mother's house. She was

not suffered to take leave of her mother, nor of her other friends; but

was carried on board the Furnace, a sloop of war, commanded by Captain

John Fergusson, and which lay near Raasay. Happily for Flora, General

Campbell was on board, and by his orders she was treated with the utmost

respect. At her first examination she merely acknowledged, that, on

leaving Uist, she had been solicited by "a great lusty woman" to give

her a passage, as she was a soldier's wife. Her request, Flora said, was

granted; and the woman, upon being landed in Skye, had walked away, and

Flora had seen nothing more of the stranger.

But upon finding that she was mildly treated, and on hearing that the

boatmen had related every circumstance of her voyage, she confessed the

whole truth to General Campbell.

The vessel was bound for Leith. About three weeks after she had been

apprehended, as the ship cruized about, it approached the shore of

Armadale. Here Flora was permitted to land, in order to bid adieu to her

parents. She was sent ashore under a guard of two officers and a party

of soldiers, and was forbidden to say anything in Erse, or anything at

all except in presence of the officers. Here she stayed two hours, and

then returned to the ship. With what emotions she left the island of

Skye and found herself carried as a prisoner to Leith, it is not perhaps

in these tranquil days easy to conceive.

After her apprehension, her father-in-law, Armadale, to use the phrase

of some of the unfortunate Jacobites, "began a-skulking;" a report

having gone about that he had given a pass to his daughter, although

aware that she was travelling with "the Pretender" disguised in woman's

clothes. There was also another source of suspicion against him, which

was his having the Prince's pistols in his keeping. These were given him

by Macdonald of Milton, the brother of Flora; they had been received

either from Charles himself, or from O'Sullivan or O'Neil; but still

they furnished a proof of some communication between Charles Edward and

Armadale. Another sufferer was Donald Roy Macdonald. Among not the least

energetic of those who aided the escape of Charles Edward from the Long

Island, was Donald Roy Macdonald. A model of the true Highland gentleman

in deportment, handsome in person, his conduct fully bore out his

character. To this warm-hearted disinterested young man the Prince

quickly attached himself. Crippled as he was, he was obliged also to

"go a-skulking." He concealed himself in three different caves, where by

turns he made his abode for eight weeks, wrapping himself up in his

plaid, and making his bed of the heather; his subsistence he owed to the

care of Lady Margaret Macdonald, who brought him food, though at the

risk of her own safety. It is consolatory to find heroic friendship, or

compassionate interest, enlivening the melancholy annals of civil

contentions, of revenge and treachery.

The sufferings of Captain Macdonald during his concealment, although

alleviated by Lady Margaret's care, were nevertheless considerable.

During the months of July and August, which he passed in the caves, the

midges and flies annoyed his frame, sensitive from the still open wound,

and drove him for coolness into the recesses of the caverns. It was

necessary to be very careful in stepping out, lest the country-people

should discover his retreat. Late at night, or very early in the

morning, he crept out to supply his bottle with water from some

neighbouring _burn_ or rivulet. At last, the act of indemnity set him

free. Until the month of November 1746, his wound, exasperated by

constant exertion, was very troublesome. His misery was solaced by the

care and skill of a friendly surgeon, who sent Donald Roy dressings by a

proper hand, even while he remained in the cave, and at last the wound

healed. In an account of the Prince's escape, written by Donald at the

request of Bishop Forbes, he says, "He (Donald Roy) now walks as

cleverly as ever, without any the smallest pain or halt; and made his

last journey from Skye to Edinburgh in twelve days on foot, and, as he

came along, visited several friends and acquaintances."[300]

One cannot help rejoicing that Lady Margaret Macdonald escaped all

inconvenience, except suspicion. The conduct of her husband, Sir

Alexander, had been prudent. During the progress of the insurrection he

had written to Keppoch, after the retreat from Stirling:--"Seeing I look

upon your affairs as in a desperate state, I will not join you: but

then, I assure you, I will as little rise against you." Of Sir

Alexander's followers, a force amounting to five hundred men, only two

had joined the Prince; these were James Macdonald of the isle of

Hisker,[301] and Captain Donald Roy Macdonald.[302] The estates of Sir

Alexander, therefore, remained uninjured, and his family continued to

enjoy them.

The chief sufferers from the visit of Prince Charles to their house were

Macdonald of Kingsburgh and his wife.

Upon hearing of the Prince's escape, Captain Fergusson went first to

Mugstat; where gaining no intelligence, he proceeded to Kingsburgh. He

there examined every person with the utmost exactness, and inquired into

every particular of the accommodation afforded to one whom he styled

"the Pretender." "Whom you mean by _the Pretender_, I do not pretend to

guess!" was the reply of Mrs. Macdonald of Kingsburgh.

Kingsburgh was made prisoner, and was sent to Fort Augustus on parole

without any guard, by General Campbell's order. But the clemency shown

by Campbell ceased when Kingsburgh reached Fort Augustus. He was thrown

into a dungeon, was plundered of everything, and loaded with irons. Sir

Everard Faulkner, who was employed to examine him, reminded him how fine

an opportunity he had lost of "making himself and his family for ever."

"Had I gold and silver piled heap upon heap to the bulk of yon huge

mountain," was the noble reply, "that mass could not afford me half the

satisfaction I find in my own breast from doing what I have done!"

Whilst he was confined at Fort Augustus, an officer of distinction came

to him, and asked him if he should know the Prince's head if he saw it.

"I should know the head very well if it were on the shoulders," was the

answer. "But if it were not on the shoulders?" said the officer. "In

that case I will not pretend to know anything about it," returned

Kingsburgh. His discrimination was not put to the test.

Kingsburgh was removed to Edinburgh castle under a strong guard of

Kingston's Light-horse. He was at first put into a room with several

other gentlemen, but was afterwards removed into solitary confinement,

and not allowed to speak to any one, except to the officer on guard, and

the keeper, who acted as his servant. In this place he remained for a

year, when by the act of grace he was set at liberty on the fourth of

July 1747; "having thus," as an author has observed, "got a whole year's

safe lodging for affording that of one night!"[303]

Before her farewell to her friends in Armadale, Flora Macdonald had

exchanged the vessel which Captain Fergusson commanded, for one

commanded by Commodore Smith, a gentleman capable of estimating her

character. At Armadale, she procured a change of clothes, and took as

her personal attendant an honest girl, named Kate Macdonald, who could

speak nothing but Gaelic. This girl offered herself as a servant,

finding that Flora could get no one else to attend her in her calamity.

Among her companions in trouble, she found, on returning to the ship,

Captain O'Neil, who had persuaded her to undertake the enterprise which

had produced her present imprisonment. This gentleman had also, when he

urged her good offices, proffered his hand in marriage, in order that

her reputation might not suffer by her adventure by "flood and field."

When Flora saw him on board the vessel, she went up to him, and slapping

him on the cheek, said, "To that black face I owe all my misfortune!"

O'Neil however answered, "that, instead of being her misfortune, it was

her highest honour, and it would yet redound more to her credit, if she

did not pretend to be ashamed of what she had done."[304] She was

confined for a short time in Dunstaffnage castle. This now ruinous

fortress, once a royal residence, is situated near the mouth of Loch

Etive, a short distance from Oban, in Argyleshire; it stands upon a

rocky promontory which juts out into the lake, which is one of the most

secluded and solemn scenes that nature, in all the grandeur of those

regions, presents.[305] Near the castle is a convenient building, which

is now, as probably it was in 1745, inhabited by the factors of the Duke

of Argyle, who is the hereditary keeper of Dunstaffnage castle, under

the Crown. It was probably in this house that Flora was lodged. The

castle is on three of its sides little else than a shell; but the fourth

is in tolerable repair. The entrance to this sequestered and solemn

abode is from the sea, by a staircase; probably in old times a

drawbridge, which fell from a staircase. The ancient grandeur of

Dunstaffnage, long used as one of the earliest residences of the

Scottish kings; famed also as the place from which the stone of

Dunstaffnage, sometimes called the Stone of Scone, on which they were

crowned, was brought; had long passed away before Flora tenanted its

chambers. But the associations which it presented were not likely to dim

the ardour of her loyalty to the last of that race who had once held

their sway over the proud castle of Dunstaffnage; nor would the roofless

chapel, of exquisite architectural beauty, near Dunstaffnage, where many

of the Scottish kings repose, be an object devoid of deep and mournful

interest to one who had lately beheld a singular instance of the

mutability of all human grandeur. Two letters, which show the mode of

Flora Macdonald's introduction to the keeper of the castle, Neil

Campbell, have been preserved.[306] One of them is as follows:

"Horse-Shoe Bay, Aug. 1746.

"Dear Sir,

"I must desire the favour of you to forward my letters by an express

to Inverary; and, if any are left with you, let them be sent by the

bearer. I shall stay here with Commodore Smith till Sunday morning.

If you can't come, I beg to know if you have any men now in garrison

at your house, and how many? Make my compliments to your lady, and

tell her I am obliged to desire the favour of her for some days to

receive a very pretty young rebel. Her zeal, and the persuasion of

those who ought to have given her better advice, has drawn her into

a most unhappy scrape by assisting the young Pretender to make his

escape. I need say nothing further till we meet; only assure you

that I am, dear sir, your sincere friend and humble servant,

"JOHN CAMPBELL."

"I suppose you have heard of Miss Flora Macdonald."

Early in September the ship arrived in Leith Roads, and remained there

until November. By this time the fame of this obscure Highland girl had

reached the well-wishers to Prince Charles in Edinburgh, and many

crowded to see her. Among these was the Rev. Robert Forbes, who happened

at that time to be Episcopal minister of the port. At this period the

Episcopal Church of Scotland consisted of a few scattered congregations,

under the spiritual guidance of a reduced number of titular bishops. The

Church was, however, deeply attached to the Stuarts; and the pious and

enthusiastic man who now visited Flora in her adversity, was among the

most zealous of the adherents to that ill-fated cause. He had himself

known calamity, having been apprehended at St. Ninian's in the preceding

year, 1745, and imprisoned until the following May. This circumstance,

which had prevented him from taking any active part in the commotions,

preserved Mr. Forbes in safety; and his exertions, which were directed

to the purpose of collecting, from such of the insurgents as fell in his

way, narratives of their several parts in the events of 1745, have been

very effective. Through his efforts a valuable collection of authentic

memoirs, from which extracts have been published within these last few

years, have added a new light, and consequently a new charm, to the

narrative of Prince Charles's adventures, and to the biography of his

followers.

Mr. Forbes, at the time when he visited Flora, was residing in the house

of Lady Bruce of Kinross, within the walls of Cromwell's citadel at

Leith. It was one part of Mr. Forbes's plan, in the pursuit of which he

contemplated forming an accurate history of the whole insurrection, to

visit the State prisoners as they were either carried to London, or

passed on their return to the Highlands. Most of his collection was

therefore formed at the close of the last campaign, when the

recollections of the unfortunate actors in the affair were vivid and

accurate. Among other minor occupations was the acquisition of relics of

Charles Edward, whom the worthy divine almost idolized. "Perhaps," says

Mr. Chambers,[307] "the most curious and characteristic part of the

work is a series of relics which are found attached to the inside of the

boards of certain volumes. In one I find a slip of thick blue silk

cloth, of a texture like sarcenet, beneath which is written, 'The above

is a piece of the Prince's garter.' Below this is a small square piece

of printed linen, the figures being in lilac on a white ground, with the

following inscription: 'The above is a piece of the identical gown which

the Prince wore for five or six days, when he was obliged to disguise

himself in a female dress, under the name of Betty Burke. A _swatch_ of

the said gown was sent from Mrs. Macdonald of Kingsburgh,' Then follows

a slip of tape, with the following note: 'The following is a piece of

that identical apron-string which the Prince wore about him when in a

female dress. The above bit I received out of Miss Flora Macdonald's own

hands, upon Thursday, November 5, 1747.'"

In 1762, this reverend enthusiast was chosen by the presbyteries of

Caithness and Orkney as their bishop, and was consecrated at Cupar in

Fife in the same year. He was the last bishop whose charge was limited

only to those two districts.

Mr. Forbes was accompanied in his visits to Flora Macdonald, while at

Leith, by Lady Bruce, Lady Mary Cochrane, Mrs. Clerk, and many other

ladies; who made valuable presents of clothes to the heroine, and who

listened to her narrative, as she delivered it to Mr. Forbes, with many

expressions of sympathy and applause. When she related that part of her

voyage from Uist in which the Prince watched over her whilst asleep,

some of these fair Jacobites cried out, "O, madam! what a happy

creature you are, to have that dear Prince to watch over you in your

sleep." "I could," cried Mrs. Mary Clerk, "wipe your shoes with

pleasure, and think it my honour to do so, when I reflect that you had

the Prince for your handmaid!" Perhaps not the worst gift sent to Flora,

during her stay at Leith, was a thimble and needles, with white thread

of different sorts, from Lady Bruce. This act of friendship Flora felt

as much as any that she received, for she had suffered as much from the

state of idleness during her being in custody, as from any other

privation.[308]

Her time thus passed away almost cheerfully. Her gentle, prudent, and

placid deportment won upon the esteem of those who were least friendly

to her opinions. The officers who were appointed to guard her, although

they could not permit her to set her foot on shore, were pleased at the

attention which she received from visitors. Commodore Smith behaved to

her with fatherly regard. Whilst she was in Leith Roads, in the Eltham,

he presented her with a handsome riding-suit, in plain mounting, and

some fine linen for riding-shirts. He gave her advice how to act in her

difficult and perilous situation, and even allowed the officers to go

ashore to seek for good company for their prisoner; although persons who

merely came from curiosity were denied access. Captain Knowles of the

Bridgewater, also in the Leith Roads, was most courteous and considerate

to the amiable prisoner. When her friends visited her, she was allowed

to ask for such refreshments for them as she thought proper; as if she

had been at her own fireside. Easy, modest, and winning, in the midst

of all her anxiety for her friends, and in the uncertainty of her own

fate, she was cheerful; yet a subdued and modest gravity gave an

interest to her unpretending character. When solicited to join in the

amusement of dancing, she refused, alleging that her "dancing-days were

over; and that, at all events, she could not dance until she should be

assured of the Prince's safety, and until she had the happiness of

seeing him again."

At length, carrying with her the good wishes of all who had conversed

with her, Flora left the harbour of Leith. After being conveyed from

place to place, she was put on board the Royal Sovereign on the

twenty-seventh of November, the vessel then lying at the Nore, and

conveyed to London. Here she was kept a prisoner under circumstances of

great mitigation, for she was lodged in a private house. In this

situation she continued for a year; when the Act of indemnity, passed in

1747, set her at liberty. She was then discharged, without a single

question being addressed to her on the subject of her conduct. After

being released,--at the instigation, according to a tradition in her

family, of Frederic Prince of Wales,--she was domesticated in the family

of the Dowager Lady Primrose, an ardent Jacobite, who afterwards, in

1750, was courageous enough to receive the young Chevalier during a

visit of five days, which were employed by Charles in the vain endeavour

to form another scheme of invasion. The abode of Lady Primrose was the

resort of the fashionable world; and crowds of the higher classes

hastened to pay their tribute to the heroine of the day. It may be

readily conjectured, how singular an impression the quiet, simple

manners of Flora must have made upon the excited minds of those who

looked, perhaps, for high pretensions,--for the presence of an amazon,

and the expressions of an heroine of romance. The compliments which were

offered to Flora, excited in her mind nothing but the most unequivocal

surprise that so simple an act should produce so extraordinary a

sensation. She is stated to have been presented to Frederic Prince of

Wales, and to have received from him the highest compliment to her

fidelity and heroism. When, in explanation of her conduct, Flora

Macdonald said that she would perform the same act of humanity to any

person who might be similarly situated, the Prince remarked, "You would,

I hope, madam, do the same, were the same event to happen over again."

The grace and courtesy of this speech may partly be attributed to the

amiable traits which profligate habits had not wholly obliterated in the

Prince; partly to his avowed opposition to his royal father, and the bad

terms on which he stood with his brother. It must still be acknowledged,

that Frederic displayed no ordinary degree of good-feeling in this

interview with Flora. His son George the Third, and his grandson George

the Fourth, both did credit to themselves by sentiments equally generous

towards their ill-fated and royal kinsman.

After this intoxicating scene, presenting in their most brilliant

colours, to the eye of one who had never visited either Edinburgh or

London, the fascinations of the higher classes of society, Flora

returned to Skye. She left the metropolis unchanged in her early

affections, unaltered in the simplicity of her manners. The country,

presenting so lately the miserable spectacle of civil war, was now

calmed into a mournful tranquillity, as she passed through it on her

journey to Skye; but in the Highlands, and more especially in the

Western Isles, the love and loyalty which had of old been devoted to the

Stuarts were unaltered. It was, indeed, long before they were

obliterated; and, for years after the fatal 1745, the name of Charles

Edward was uttered with tears. Nor is this sentiment of respect even now

extinct; nor will it, perhaps, ever be wholly annihilated.

The journey from London to Skye was performed by Flora in a postchaise,

and her expenses were defrayed by Lady Primrose. Her companion was, by

her own choice, Malcolm Macleod of Raasay, who had met the Prince at

Portree, and had completed the work begun by Flora. He too had been

imprisoned, but had regained his liberty. "So," afterwards Malcolm

related to his friends, with a triumphant air, "I went to London to be

hanged, and returned in a postchaise with Miss Flora Macdonald!" They

visited Dr. Burton, another released prisoner, at York. Here Malcolm was

asked by that gentleman what was his opinion of Prince Charles. "He is

the most cautious man not to be a coward, and the bravest not to be

rash, that I ever saw," was the reply.

In 1750, Flora Macdonald was married to her cousin Alexander Macdonald

the younger of Kingsburgh, who appears to have been worthy of his

distinguished wife. In person, young Kingsburgh had completely the

figure of a gallant Highlander, the graceful mien and manly looks which

a certain popular Scots' song has attributed to that character. "When

receiving Dr. Johnson in after-years, Kingsburgh appeared in true

Highland costume, with his plaid thrown about him, a large blue bonnet

with a knot of black ribbon like a cockade, a brown short coat of a kind

of duffil, a tartan waistcoat with gold buttons and gold button-holes, a

bluish philibeg, and tartan hose. He had jet hair tied behind; and was a

large stately man, with a steady sensible countenance."[309] Such was

the man to whom, after a short eventful period of peril and vicissitude,

it was the lot of Flora Macdonald to be united. Kingsburgh is also

declared by Boswell to have had one virtue of his country in

perfection--that of hospitality; and, in this, to have far surpassed the

son of Lady Margaret Macdonald, Sir Alexander Macdonald of Armadale, an

English-bred chieftain, at whose house Dr. Johnson and his friend "had

small company, and could not boast of their cheer." That gentleman, "an

Eton-bred scholar," had few sympathies with the poor tenants by whom he

was surrounded. So true is Dr. Johnson's remark, "that the Highland

chiefs should not be allowed to go farther south than Aberdeen."

In her union with young Kingsburgh Flora enjoyed a source of

satisfaction not to be estimated lightly. She became the daughter-in-law

of a man whose virtues were remembered with the deepest respect in

Skye.[310] When in 1773 Dr. Johnson and Boswell visited the island, they

found Flora and her husband living in apparent prosperity in the

dwelling wherein Charles Edward had been so hospitably entertained.

Kingsburgh the younger, as the head of the house, received the Doctor at

his door, and with respectful attention supported him into the house. A

comfortable parlour with a good fire was appropriated to the guests, and

the "dram" went round. Presently supper was served, and then Flora made

her appearance. "To see Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great champion of the

English Tories, salute Miss Flora Macdonald in the isle of Skye, was,"

as Boswell observes, "a striking sight." In their notions Flora and the

Doctor were in many respects congenial; and Dr. Johnson not only had

imbibed a high opinion of Flora, but found that opinion confirmed on

acquaintance.

Conversation flowed freely. Flora told him that during a recent visit to

the main land she had heard that Mr. Boswell was coming to Skye; and

that Mr. Johnson, a young English "_buck_," was coming with him. Dr.

Johnson was highly entertained with this fancy. He retired however early

to rest, and reposed on the very bed on which Charles Edward had slept

so long and so soundly on his way from Mugstat to Portree. The room was

decorated with a great variety of maps and prints; among others was

Hogarth's head of Wilkes grinning, with the cap of Liberty on a pole by

him. Boswell appears, as far as we can guess from his expressions, to

have shared the apartment. "To see Dr. Samuel Johnson," remarks Boswell,

"lying on that bed in the isle of Skye, in the house of Miss Flora

Macdonald, again struck me with such a group of ideas as it is not easy

for words to express." Upon Boswell giving vent to this burst of

rapture, Dr. Johnson smiled and said, "I have had no ambitious thoughts

in it." He afterwards remarked that he would have given a great deal

rather than not have lain in that bed.[311]

On quitting the house, Dr. Johnson and his friend were rowed by

Kingsburgh, across one of the lochs which flow in upon all the coasts of

Skye, to a place called Grishinish; and here the Highland host bade his

guests adieu. All seemed smiling and prosperous; but even at this time

Kingsburgh was embarrassed in his affairs, and contemplated going to

America.

That scheme was eventually accomplished. During the passion for

emigration which prevailed in the Highlands, Kingsburgh removed to North

Carolina, where he purchased an estate. Scarcely had he settled upon his

property before the American war broke out. Like most of the Jacobites

who were in America at that time, he sided with the British Government.

He even took up arms in the cause, and became captain of a regiment

called the North Carolina Highlanders. Many singular adventures occurred

both to him and to Flora in the course of the contest. At length they

returned to Skye, but not together; she sailed first. In the voyage

home, her ship encountered a French ship of war. An action ensued.

Whilst the ladies among the passengers were below, Flora stayed on deck,

and encouraged the sailors with her voice and manner. She was thrown

down in the confusion, and broke her arm. With her wonted vivacity she

afterwards observed, that she had risked her life both for the House of

Stuart and for that of Brunswick, but had got very little for her

pains. Her husband remained in America for some time after she returned

to Scotland, but joined her at last.

Flora had a numerous family of sons and daughters. Charles, her eldest

son, was a captain in the Queen's Rangers. He was worthy of bearing his

mother's name. As his kinsman, the late Lord Macdonald, saw his remains

lowered into the grave, he remarked, "There lies the most finished

gentleman of my family and name!" Alexander, the second son, also in the

King's service, was lost at sea. Ranald, the third, was a captain of

Marines. He was remarkable for his elegant person, and estimable for his

high professional reputation. James, the fourth son, served in Tarlton's

British Legion, and was a brave officer. The late Lieutenant-Colonel

John Macdonald, in Exeter, long survived his brothers. This officer was

introduced to King George the Fourth, who observed, on his presentation,

to those around him, "This gentleman is the son of a lady to whom my

family (thus designating the Stuarts) owe a great obligation." Of two

daughters, one, Mrs. Macleod of Lochbuy, died not many years ago.

The following letters refer to the family who have been thus

enumerated.[312]