Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Biography (20 page)

Smelling the panic in the ranks. Cope shouted to his infantry to hold their ground and keep firing, ''and they would easily beat the rebels." But the wounded horses were plunging wildly into them, and the men were terrified. As one of their number wrote later, "There was no orders from the general what to do, and all went soon to confusion. . . . Never deers run faster before hounds than these poor betrayed men run before a rabble."
⁹

The entrenched, fortress-like camp became a trap for the hundreds of fleeing men. Dropping their arms, they ran blindly away from the Jacobites—and ran into the stone walls, which had been intended to serve as their protection. The Highlanders pursued them with a vengeance, hacking at them mercilessly, Perth's men swinging their terrible scythes like the reapers who had swept the field of grain the day before.

Within a few minutes the savagely one-sided battle was over. Cope, wearing a Jacobite white cockade in his hat, somehow managed to pass through the Highland ranks without being recognized as a Hanoverian officer and escaped to England.

"The field of battle presented a spectacle of horror," wrote James Johnstone, Lord George Murray's aide-de-camp, "being covered with heads, legs, arms and mutilated bodies, for the killed all fell by the sword." Charles's men acquired the arms and baggage the government troops had left behind.

Charles himself, who had remained in the second rank through the brief encounter, stood beside the road to Prestonpans, wearing the coarse plaid and blue bonnet of a captain. His boots and knees were muddy; he had had to jump a four-foot ditch in the marsh and had stumbled on landing. He was watching the surgeons he had sent for from Edinburgh to attend the wounded on both sides. Some thirty or forty of his men had been killed and seventy or eighty wounded, most of them with gunshot wounds in the leg and thigh. But nearly a third of Cope's men had been injured, hundreds of them fatally, and they provided the surgeons with most of their work.

A young Highlander, hardly into his teens, was brought before Charles by his proud clansmen. The boy had killed fourteen of the enemy, Charles was told. When Charles asked him if this was true, he answered forthrightly. 'T do not know if I killed them," he said in Gaelic, "but I brought fourteen soldiers to the ground with my sword."

Cope's men had been like sheep herded to the slaughter, so meek and defenseless that a mere boy could annihilate them. If twenty-five hundred men could be beaten in a few minutes, how long could England hold out against the invincible army of James VIII?

Chapter 12

News of Cope's ignominious defeat at the hands of Charles Stuart's army alarmed Londoners already fearful of an invasion from France. All summer people had been expecting the French to descend on the Kentish coast or to land in Scotland.
¹
In the first week of September, there were stories of thirty transports, ten men-of-war and ten thousand men massing at Dunkirk for a large-scale assault, and it was by no means certain that the British navy could protect the coasts against them. Then came the defeat at Prestonpans, and with it the realization that not only was the Jacobite army a serious foe to be reckoned with, but the government troops were cowardly and ineffectual.

Fortunately, the day before word of the battle reached London, a sizable force of Dutch troops had arrived to strengthen the home defenses. The sight of these men, and the knowledge that more Dutch troops were on their way, gave the citizens of the capital some small reassurance. Without it, in the opinion of the Duke of Newcastle, who with his brother Henry Pelham was at the head of government, "the confusion in the City of London would not have been to be described, and the King's crown, I will venture to say, in the utmost danger."
²

No one knew for certain how large Charles's army was, for the reports that reached London varied widely in their estimates. Some said there were five thousand Jacobites, others ten thousand; there were still other stories that Charles's brother Henry was on his way to Ireland to raise rebellion there with a large invading force of his own.

"We are sadly convinced," wrote Horace Walpole, son of the former prime minister Robert Walpole and a voluminous letter writer, "that they [the Jacobites] are not such raw ragamuffins as they were represented." Walpole, who was an M.P. and privy to much that went on in government and court circles, was full of apprehension. He considered the battle of Prestonpans to be a straw in the wind, and took no comfort from the fact that few of Scotland's "men of quality and fortune" had as yet thrown in their lot with the Stuart army. He remembered his father's perennial warnings about the Jacobites, how their strategy was to lure the "meaner sort of people" into their ranks, then gradually gain the support of the more influential.

As for the reaction of the government, Walpole wrote scathingly of its "supineness" and accused the ministers of myopia. Instead of making a concerted effort to reach a consensus about how to crush the rebellion, they used it as an excuse to attack each other. And they failed miserably in persuading the king to take it seriously. "When the Ministers propose anything with regard to the rebellion," Walpole wrote, "he cries, Pho! Don't talk to me of that stuff.'"
³

King George had come back from Hanover at the end of August, and had begun to wish that he had prolonged his stay. He was perennially worried about the security of his electorate, and was irritated at the thought that the increased instability in England was bound to lead to troop movements which could only weaken Hanover's defenses.

The king disliked his ministers, members of what was called the "Broadbottom Administration" because of the wide political spectrum it represented. Newcastle, his brother Henry Pelham, and their allies were anathema to the monarchy because they were outspokenly critical of any policy favoring Hanover at Britain's expense. Newcastle claimed that "the King's unjustifiable partiality for Hanover, to which he makes all other views and considerations subservient, has manifested itself so much . . . that no man can continue in the active part of the administration with honor."
⁴
Such sentiments were not appreciated at the palace—and Newcastle was milder in his views than some, who said flatly that "they would never rest till the Hanoverian dominions were separated from the crown."

But Hanover was not the only issue alienating the king from his ministers. George II had a strong preference for John Carteret, Earl of Granville, who had been forced out of power in 1744, Granville, a brilliant diplomatist, had made himself politically unpopular by appearing to imperil Britain's security through his handling of continental alliances. But though he was out of power, Granville retained his influence with the king, who valued his advice and sought his counsel while ignoring Newcastle. It was Granville to whom King George turned when he learned that Charles had landed in Scotland, preferring Granville's assurances that the rebellion was inconsequential to Newcastle's anxious, hand-wringing concern. (Walpole wickedly described Newcastle as all hands, "hands that are always groping and sprawling, and fluttering, and hurrying on the rest of his precipitate person.")
⁵

When he learned of the astonishing events at Prestonpans, the king as usual consulted Granville, who continued to insist that the rising was of little significance and that he should take heart and pay no heed to it. Yet it was hard to ignore the widespread indications of public alarm throughout the capital. The City merchants banded together to raise money to subsidize mercenary troops. Half a dozen noblemen approached the king to ask his permission to raise regiments to defend their regions. "Loyal associations" sprang up whose members promised men and money to help fight the Pretender. There were speeches and sermons by the dozen, warning people that should the Stuarts regain the throne they would reinstate Catholicism as the only legal religion and destroy all the hard-won liberties of Englishmen. In the theaters, where the national anthem was always sung, a new verse was added:

From France and pretender

Great Britain defend her,

Foes let them fall:

From foreign slavery,

Priests and their knavery,

And Popish reverie,

God help us all.
⁶

No one in London knew how long it would be before the Highland army invaded England, but many thought it would be soon. Even sooner, it was feared, the French would come, or the Spanish, or the forces of some other Catholic power. The most cynical in the population saw London as the prize in a race between Hanover and Stuart forces. "England," wrote Lord Holland, "is for the first comer; and if you can tell whether the six thousand Dutch, and the ten battalions of English, or five thousand French or Spaniards will be here first, you know our fate."
⁷

Meanwhile in Edinburgh, Charles had taken the time to write a letter to his father. " 'Tis impossible for me to give you a distinct journal of my proceedings because of my being so much hurried with business," he began, then went on to give a brief account of what had happened at Prestonpans, calling it "one of the most surprising actions that ever was." "We gained a complete victory over General Cope who commanded three thousand foot and two regiments of the best dragoons in the island," Charles boasted, "being advantageously posted with also batteries of cannon and mortars, we having neither horse nor artillery with us, and being [
sic
] to attack them in their position, and obliged to pass before their noses in a defile and bog."
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James, who had expressed "great astonishment" on learning that Charles had sailed to Scotland, now was overjoyed to learn that his venture was prospering. James had been doing all he could to persuade the French to support his son. He had written to Maurepas announcing his intention to abdicate in favor of Charles, something Charles himself did not publicize, if indeed he was aware of it. Thus if Louis XV decided to send arms and men to England, he would be lending his backing, not to the potential Prince of Wales, but to the potential king. (James would have been dismayed to learn with what sneering condescension his letter was received. Maurepas handed it on to his colleague Argenson with an appended note: "Do you think that the King should, or should not answer this poor King James? A word of consolation, I think, would be worthy of his Majesty's kind heart.")
⁹

Meanwhile James had decided to permit his younger son to take a more active part in family politics. Late in August of 1745 Henry left Rome in secret, and made his way northward by the route Charles had taken, via Pisa to Genoa and Savona, thence by boat to Antibes. To prevent the army of Italian spies from becoming alerted to Henry's flight it was said that he was ill with smallpox and being kept in isolation. By the time they suspected the truth he was in Avignon—but there the exertion of his escape caught up with him and he fell genuinely ill. He was still recuperating there when his brother captured Edinburgh and triumphed at Prestonpans.

For Charles, the victory had the effect of widening the scope of his responsibilities. He had the wounded troops to think of, and the citizens of Edinburgh, and indeed all Scots, who were now his subjects under the terms of the declaration of regency. He had to have regard for their welfare, no longer as a conqueror, but as a ruler.

With princely compassion he took charge of providing medical care for Cope's injured men as well as his own. He tactfully forbade any public rejoicing in the town for his victory, and asked the clergy to resume the services they had ceased to perform when his men marched in, insisting that he was "resolved to inflict no penalty that could possibly look like persecution." (The clergy refused.) He continued to oversee the daily urgencies of purveyance for his army, raising money and keeping order—all the while looking ahead to the next phase of his conquest.

His success bred nuisances: in the countryside, thieves were dressing as Highlanders and terrorizing villagers, demanding money, clothing, anything of value. In Selkirk, some thirty-five miles southeast of Edinburgh, an impostor rode into town, pretending to be Prince Charles. He was not believed, and was run out of town in disgrace. But the fact that these things could happen proved how volatile the political situation was, and how difficult it was likely to be for Charles to keep it under his control. Meanwhile the area he had to govern had widened, for the Jacobites had captured Aberdeen, and were in at least nominal control of the other major towns save for the fortress town of Stirling. Charles now sent letters to the magistrates of all these towns, telling them to come to Edinburgh immediately to contribute to his treasury. Letters went out also to tax collectors and other holders of public moneys, ordering them to bring all their funds and their account books to Holyrood House on pain of high treason.

Charles was master of Scotland's capital, but not of its castle, and this quickly became a serious irritant. Realizing that the garrison was growing short of provisions, Charles decided to cut off all communication between the town and the soldiers. In response the commander ordered his men to fire on the town. The castle guns boomed out, and the narrow, tall old houses that were in their line of fire began to crumble and burn. Several people were killed before all the houses in the path of the cannon could be evacuated. The residents fled, "carrying out the aged and infirm at the imminent hazard of their lives." For five days the bombardment went on, with the hungry soldiers making sorties to plunder food from the destroyed homes. Finally, realizing that his attempt to besiege the castle was failing, Charles gave up and rescinded his order.

Quiet returned to Edinburgh, but the Jacobites knew that it could not last. Before long the British would be back in force, with more and better troops and prepared to face an enemy they had learned to respect.

The Highland army was slowly growing. Early in October three hundred of the men Lord Ogilvy had promised arrived, and three hundred more came from Aberdeenshire. There were an additional hundred and twenty from Skye, three hundred MacPhersons, and Lord Lewis Gordon, younger brother of the loyalist Duke of Gordon, guaranteed to send some recruits. Four small but important troops of Jacobite cavalry were raised as well. To offset these gains there were the losses suffered when the Highlanders, who were somewhat casual about taking prolonged leaves of absence, wandered away from the camp without bothering to seek or obtain permission.