IN the meantime the weeks were rolling on. The grey April of the North,
if it brought little warmth, was at least lengthening the daylight, and
melting the snow from the hills, and lowering the floods that had made
the rivers impassable. Since the middle of February the Duke of
Cumberland and his army of at least eight thousand men--horse and
infantry--had been living at free quarters in Aberdeen. He bullied the
inhabitants, but he made careful provision for his army. English ships
keeping along the coast were ready to supply both stores and ammunition
as soon as the forces should move. With the savage content of a wild
animal that knows that his prey cannot escape, the duke was in no hurry
to force on an engagement till the weather should be more favourable.
To the Highland army every week's delay was a loss. Many of the clansmen
had scattered to their homes in search of subsistence, for funds were
falling lower and lower at Inverness. Fortune was treating Charles
harshly at this time. Supplies had been sent once and again from France,
but the ships that had brought them had either fallen into the enemy's
hands, or had been obliged to return with their errand unaccomplished.
His soldiers had now to be paid in meal, and that in insufficient
quantities. There was thus discontent in the ranks, and among the chiefs
there was a growing feeling of discouragement. Charles treated with
reserve and suspicion the men who were risking property and life for his
cause, and consulted only with Secretary Murray and his Irish officers.
On April 8 the Duke of Cumberland began his march from Aberdeen. Between
the two armies lay the river Spey, always deep and rapid, almost
impassable when the floods were out. A vigilant body of men commanding
the fords from either bank would have any army at its mercy that might
try to cross the stream under fire. Along the west bank Lord John
Drummond and his men had built a long, low barrack of turf and stone.
From this point of vantage they had hoped to pour their fire on the
Hanoverian soldiers in mid-stream, but the vigilant Duke of Cumberland
had powerful cannons in reserve on the opposite bank, and Lord John and
his soldiers drew off before the enemy got across.
On Monday the 15th this retreating party arrived at Inverness, bringing
the news that the Duke was already at Nairne, and would probably next
day approach to give battle. Prince Charles was in the highest spirits
at the news. In the streets of Inverness the pipers blew the gatherings
of the various clans, the drums beat, and with colours flying the whole
army marched out of the town and encamped on the plain of Culloden.
The Prince expected to be attacked next morning, Tuesday the 16th, and
at six o'clock the soldiers were drawn up in order of battle. There was
an ominous falling away in numbers. The Macphersons with Cluny had
scattered to their homes in distant Badenoch; the Frasers were also
absent. [Neither of these brave and faithful clans was present at the
battle the next day.] The Keppoch Macdonalds and some other detachments
only came in next morning.
By the most fatal mismanagement no provision had been made for feeding
the soldiers that day, though there was meal and to spare at Inverness.
A small loaf of the driest and coarsest bread was served out to each
man. By the afternoon, the starving soldiers had broken their ranks and
were scattering in search of food. Lord Elcho had reconnoitred in the
direction of Nairne, twelve miles off, and reported that the English
army would not move that day; they were resting in their camp and
celebrating their commander's birthday. Charles called a council of war
at three in the afternoon. Lord George Murray gave the daring counsel
that instead of waiting to be attacked they should march through the
night to Nairne, and while it was still dark surprise and overwhelm the
sleeping enemy. By dividing the Highland forces before reaching Nairne
they might attack the camp in front and rear at the same moment; no gun
was to be fired which might spread the alarm; the Highlanders were to
fall on with dirk and broadsword. The Prince had meant to propose this
very plan: he leaped up and embraced Lord George. It was a dangerous
scheme; but with daring, swiftfooted, enterprising men it did not seem
impossible. Yes! but with men faint and dispirited by hunger? At the
review that morning the army had numbered about 7,000 men, but hardly
more than half that number assembled in the evening on the field, the
rest were still scattered in search of food. By eight o'clock it was
dark enough to start. The attack on the enemy's camp was timed for two
in the morning, six hours was thus allowed for covering the twelve
miles. The army was to march in three columns, the clans first in two
divisions, Lochiel and Lord George at the head with 30 of the
Mackintoshes as guides. The Prince himself commanded the third column,
the Lowland troops, and the French and Irish regiments. The utmost
secrecy was necessary; the men marched in dead silence. Not only did
they avoid the high roads, but wherever a light showed the presence of a
house or sheiling they had to make a wide circuit round it. The ground
they had to go over was rough and uneven; every now and then the men
splashed into unexpected bogs or stumbled over hidden stones. Add to
this that the night was unusually dark. Instead of marching in three
clear divisions, the columns got mixed in the darkness and mutually kept
each other back. Soon the light-footed clansmen got ahead of the Lowland
and French and Irish regiments unused to such heavy walking. Every few
minutes messengers from the rear harassed the leaders of the van by
begging them to march more slowly. It was a cruel task to restrain the
pace while the precious hours of darkness were slipping past. At
Kilravock House the van halted. This was the point where it was
arranged that the army was to divide, one part marching straight on the
English camp, the other crossing the river so as to fall on the enemy
from the opposite side. The rear had fallen far behind, and there was
more than one wide gap between the various troops. The Duke of Perth
galloped up from behind and told Lord George that it was necessary that
the van should wait till the others came up; other officers reported
that the men were dropping out of their ranks, and falling asleep by the
roadside. Watches were now consulted. It was already two o'clock and
there were still four miles to be covered. Some of the officers begged
that, at all risks, the march might be continued. As they stood
consulting an aide-de-camp rode up from the rear saying that the Prince
desired to go forward, but was prepared to yield to Lord George's
judgment. Just then through the darkness there came from the distance
the rolling of drums! All chance of surprising the English camp was at
an end. With a heavy heart Lord George gave the order to march back.
This affair increased the Prince's suspicions of Lord George, which were
fostered by his Irishry.
In the growing light the retreat was far more rapid than the advance had
been. It was shortly after five that the army found themselves in their
old quarters at Culloden. Many fell down where they stood, overpowered
with sleep; others dispersed in search of food. Charles himself and his
chief officers found nothing to eat and drink at Culloden House but a
little dry bread and whisky. Instead of holding a council of war, each
man lay down to sleep where he could, on table or floor.
But the sleep they were able to snatch was but short. At about eight a
patrol coming in declared that the Duke of Cumberland was already
advancing, his main body was within four miles, his horse even nearer.
In the utmost haste the chiefs and officers of the Highland army tried
to collect their men. Many had straggled off as far as Inverness, many
were still overpowered with sleep; all were faint for lack of food. When
the ranks were arrayed in order of battle, their numbers only amounted
to 5,000 men. They were drawn up on the open plain; on the right, high
turf walls, enclosing a narrow field, protected their flank (though, as
it proved, quite ineffectually), on their left lay Culloden House. In
spite of hunger and fatigue, the old fighting instinct was so strong in
the clans that they took up their positions in the first line with all
their old fire and enthusiasm, _all but the Macdonalds_. By
extraordinary mismanagement the clans Glengarry, Keppoch, and
Clanranald--they who had so nobly led the right wing at Prestonpans and
Falkirk--were placed on the left. It was a slight that bitterly hurt
their pride; it was also, to their superstitious minds, a fatal omen.
Who was the cause of the blunder? This does not seem to be certainly
known. On the right, where the Macdonalds should have been, were the
Athol men, the Camerons, the Stewarts of Appin, Macleans, Mackintoshes,
and other smaller clans, each led by their own chiefs, and all commanded
by Lord George. At the extremities of the two wings the guns were
placed, four on each side, the only artillery on the Prince's side. The
second line consisted of the French, Irish, and Lowland regiments. The
Prince and his guards occupied a knoll at the rear, from which the whole
action of the fight was visible. His horse was later covered with mud
from the cannon balls striking the wet moor, and a man was killed behind
him. By one o'clock the Hanoverian army was drawn up within five hundred
paces of their enemies. The fifteen regiments of foot were placed in
three lines, so arranged that the gaps in the first line were covered by
the centres of the regiments in the second line. Between each regiment
in the first line two powerful cannons were placed, and the three bodies
of horse were drawn up, flanking either wing. The men were fresh, well
fed, confident in their general, and eager to retrieve the dishonour of
Prestonpans and Falkirk.
A little after one, the day clouded over, and a strong north-easterly
wind drove sudden showers of sleet in the faces of the Highland army.
They were the first to open fire, but their guns were small, and the
firing ill-directed; the balls went over the heads of the enemy and did
little harm. Then the great guns on the other side poured out the return
fire, raking the ranks of the Highlanders, clearing great gaps, and
carrying destruction even into the second line. For half an hour the
Highlanders stood exposed to this fire while comrade after comrade fell
at their side. It was all they could do to keep their ranks; their
white, drawn faces and kindling eyes spoke of the hunger for revenge
that possessed their hearts. Lord George was about to give the word to
charge, when the Mackintoshes impatiently rushed forward, and the whole
of the centre and left wing followed them. On they dashed blindly,
through the smoke and snow and rattling bullets. So irresistible was the
onset that they actually swept through two regiments in the first line,
though almost all the chiefs and front rank men had fallen in the
charge. The regiment in the second rank--Sempill's--was drawn up three
deep--the first rank kneeling, the third upright--all with bayonets
fixed. They received the onrushing Highlanders with a sharp fire. This
brought the clansmen to a halt, a few were forced back, more perished,
flinging themselves against the bayonets. Their bodies were afterwards
found in heaps three or four deep.
While the right and centre perished in this wild charge, the Macdonalds
on the left remained sullenly in their ranks, rage and angry pride in
their souls. In vain the Duke of Perth urged them to charge. 'Your
courage,' he cried, 'will turn the left into the right, and I will
henceforth call myself Macdonald.'
In vain Keppoch, with some of his kin, charged alone. 'My God! have the
children of my tribe forsaken me?' he cried, looking back to where his
clansmen stood stubborn and motionless. The stout old heart was broken
by this dishonour. A few minutes later he fell pierced by many bullets.
In the meantime the second line had been thrown into confusion. A
detachment of the Hanoverians--the Campbells, in fact--had broken down
the turf walls on the Prince's right. Through the gaps thus made, there
rode a body of dragoons, who fell on the rear and flanks of the Lowland
and French regiments, and scattered them in flight. Gillie MacBane held
a breach with the claymore, and slew fourteen men before he fell. But
the day was lost. All that courage, and pride, and devotion, and fierce
hate could do had been done, and in vain.
Charles had, up to the last, looked for victory. He offered to lead on
the second line in person; but his officers told him that Highlanders
would never return to such a charge. Two Irish officers dragged at his
reins; his army was a flying mob, and so he left his latest field,
unless, as was said, he fought at Laffen as a volunteer, when the Scots
Brigade nearly captured Cumberland. He had been eager to give up
Holyrood to the wounded of Prestonpans; _his_ wounded were left to die,
or were stabbed on the field. He had refused to punish fanatics who
tried to murder him; his faithful followers were tortured to extract
information which they never gave. He lost a throne, but he won hearts,
and, while poetry lives and romance endures, the Prince Charles of the
Forty-Five has a crown more imperishable than gold. This was the ending
of that Jacobite cause, for which men had fought and died, for which
women had been content to lose homes and husbands and sons.
It was the end of that gifted race of Stuart kings who, for three
centuries and more of varying fortunes, had worn the crown of Scotland.
[Illustration: The end of Culloden]
But it was not the end of the romance of the Highland clans. Crushed
down, scattered, and cruelly treated as these were in the years that
followed Culloden, nothing could break their fiery spirit nor kill their
native aptitude for war. In the service of that very government which
had dealt so harshly with them, they were to play a part in the world's
history, wider, nobler, and not less romantic than that of fiercely
faithful adherents to a dying cause. The pages of that history have been
written in imperishable deeds on the hot plains of India, in the
mountain passes of Afghanistan, in Egypt, in the Peninsula, on the
fields of Waterloo and Quatre Bras, and among the snows of the Crimea.
And there may be other pages of this heroic history of the Highland
regiments that our children and our children's children shall read with
proud emotion in days that are to be.