About Me
SHOW YOUR LOYALTY TO THE JACOBITE CAUSE BY PLACING YOUR RIGHTFUL KING AT THE TOP OF YOUR FRIENDS LIST.
A SUMMARY OF MY LIFE
My story is long and complicated and space only permits me to give a brief summary here.
I am the grandson of King James VII who was driven out of Britain in 1688 because of his support of the Catholic faith. Parliament had originally wanted my grandfather's daughter (auntie Mary and her husband, William of Orange from the Netherlands) to act as regents until my father (James Francis Stuart) was born and reached his majority and been raised in the Protestant faith). But uncle William was unhappy with this arrangement and insisted on having the title of King too, along with auntie Mary as Queen. Sadly, madly and unbelievably, Parliament agreed, thus sowing the seeds of the subsequent Jacobite Uprisings (the term Jacobite came from the Latin word for James - Jacobus).
Of course, my grandfather (King James VII) tried to regain his throne, but on July 12, 1690, King William of Orange defeated my grandfather in the Battle of the Boyne, in Ireland. This day is still celebrated in Northern Ireland and still causes unrest. My grandfather died in exile in 1701. There were further Jacobite insurrections in Scotland, particularly in 1715 when my father, who was nicknamed 'The Old Pretender' (I'm the young one), by those who were against him having the crown, landed in Scotland, some months after the Earl of Mar had conducted an ineffectual campaign. My father had dithered in France about when to leave for Scotland and it was mid-winter by the time he arrived at Aberdeen on 22 December. And he did not bring the expected French military forces or any money (odd that I too had to experience a similar fate). After two months he was advised to withdraw and left once more for France, never to return to Scotland, or to fight for his rightful place as King of Scotland and England.
My Auntie Mary and Uncle William died childless and my father should then have been given the crown, but it was given to her sister instead, my auntie Anne, who also died without issue. Still ! Parliament would not concede because of my father's Catholic sympathies (he wished for Protestant and Catholic to live together in his country), and they then decided in 1714 (by a majority of just ONE to invite George, the Elector of Hanover in Germany to become king of Britain. (unbelievable !) Can you imagine how my father felt about this - a rightful King of Scotland and England still alive and in exile while a foreign German prince was invited ! to take his crown and throne?
George of Hanover's mother was Sophia, a grand-daughter of King James VI. Even so, the rules of succession gave my father, James Francis Stuart, a stronger right to the throne, a point not lost on the Jacobite supporters, most of whom were in Scotland.
In 1718, my father married my mother, Princess Clementina Maria Sobieski of Poland who was one of the wealthiest females of royal birth in Europe. I, Prince Charles Edward Louis John Casimir Silvester Maria Stuart, was born to them in Rome on 31 December 1720 adn The Pope gave his personal blessings to me as a baby
Early Years
Although the Hanoverian rumour machine tried to spread stories that I was deformed and an imbecile, unbiased observers described me as headstrong and brave. I learned quickly and I could converse in English, French, Latin and Italian (but, sadly nobody was brought over to teach me Gaelic). I became a very good marksman with a cross-bow and was given guidance and advice on my position as rightful heir to the British throne. There were discussions about me being allowed to be reared as a Protestant to improve my chances of inheriting the throne but this was not a viable proposition while living in Rome.
In addition to being called Prince Charles Edward, I also gained the nicknames of "Bonnie Prince Charlie", "The Young Chevalier" (the French word for Prince) and later "The Young Pretender". My portraits don't do me any justice, they make me look like a sop and weakling, which I certainly was not. I seem to be portrayed as a lisping Frenchified dandy, and the portraits don't help, but in my own defence, can I put this to you. If I had been such, would the warlike Gaels have accepted me, followed me and defended me so readily, Prince or no Prince?
I was treated as a Prince in Italy and later in France. The French and British were at loggerheads (as on so many occasions over the centuries) and in 1744 the French offered me a fleet with 7,000 soldiers to help restore the Stuarts to the British throne, only because it served them well politically, not out of any sincere support for the cause, but many of the ships were lost in a storm and wrecked on the Dunkirk coast.
Despite the setback, I was resolved to sail to Scotland. For most of my life, I now realise that I had been told exaggerated stories about the level of support in Britain, and I believed that my arrival would result in a massive, spontaneous uprising. My father didn't wish me to undertake the campaign and I therefore only sent a letter to him just as I was about ready to depart.
To cut the story short, on 23 July 1745, I landed on the white sands of the Outer Hebridean island of Eriskay, accompanied only by a small band of companions known as the "Seven Men of Moidart"
Initially, the Highland chiefs were reluctant to join me, particularly as I arrived without the promised French army. The first to announce that he would follow me was Ranald MacDonald and others soon followed. My Royal Standard was raised at Glenfinnan at the head of Loch Shiel on 19th August 1745. At first there was no sign of any gathering clans and we were downhearted, but late in the afternoon the Camerons of Lochiel arrived followed by MacDonalds and MacGregors. Eventually some 1,500 men assembled. Many chiefs were reluctant to join the uprising, but it is likely that the news that the Campbells were gathering a unit to assist the government forces, may have induced some clans with scores to settle to join our Jacobite cause.
The Highland army marched with me across Scotland, growing in size as we went. We reached Perth early in September were I stayed at the Salutation Hotel there. I was persuaded, as a direct descendant of Robert the Bruce, to ride into the city in full Highland dress and received a great welcome. We were joined in Perth by Lord George Murray, an able soldier whom I appointed lieutenant general of our Jacobite army. I briefly visited Scone, the place where so many of my ancestors had been crowned.
Advance and Retreat
The Jacobite army entered Edinburgh on 17 September and I took up residence in the Palace of Holyrood House. Up until this time, apart from a few skirmishes, the Hanoverian army had avoided any major conflict with us, but they were encamped at Prestonpans, to the east of Edinburgh under the command of Sir John Cope, waiting for reinforcements from the south. On September 21, Lord George Murray led the our Jacobite army in a circle to the south and took the redcoats by surprise by attacking at dawn from the rear. The Battle of Prestonpans lasted only 15 minutes and gave us all a great psychological boost.
After five weeks in Edinburgh, we marched south and crossed the English border with 5,500 men and advanced through England. By 4 December we had reached as far as Derby in the heart of England, 120 miles from London, but bad winter weather was taking its toll and there was none of the expected swelling of the ranks from the people of England. Faced by a Hanoverian army of 12,000 and another army of redcoats coming south behind us, I was advised to retreat. What we didn't know was that London was in panic and King George had his valuables packed on a boat on the river Thames, ready to run for his life. I argued and argued against retreat but was eventually made to accept it. I cannot stop thinking about how close we were to regaining the crown and throne. The retreat and its consequences have eaten away at me and I have never been able to get over it.
William, Duke of Cumberland, son of the German George (of Hanover), who was put in command of the Hanoverian army, was in pursuit of us, but we managed to keep ahead of him and reached Glasgow by Christmas Day. While in Glasgow I me the love of my life, a twenty year old beauty by the name of Clementina Wilkinshaw, who later became my mistress.
On 17th January, we met the Hanoverian army near Falkirk. Thanks once again to the tactics of Lord George Murray, the Highlanders inflicted heavy casualties on the redcoats who left the field of battle in confusion, only failing light stopping a rout. In the entire campaign from Glenfinnan to Falkirk or Jacobite army had never been defeated.
After Falkirk, I wished to turn south again, but my officers advised that we should move north. I was aghast, but had to accept. Lord George Murray was a great General and commander of my army, but he cared too much for my safety and not enough for the cause. My army grew smaller as they marched north through the Highlands, many of them returning home, and the Duke of Cumberland was again in pursuit with fresh troops. By 20 February we had fewer than 5,000 men when we reached Inverness.
It took time for the government forces to assemble and reach the Moray Firth but gradually 8,000 men were advancing on Inverness. On 16 April 1746 the opposing forces met on Culloden Moor. Hanoverian cannon fire over a period of an hour killed many of my clansmen. When the Highlanders eventually charged, the rifle fire from the redcoats ripped into them. "Butcher" Cumberland had given the order that no quarter was to be given, and many wounded Jacobites were later killed where they lay. They cut down women and children who had come to watch he battle and hunted the wounded and those who fled after the battle. The massacre did not cease after the battle.
The Aftermath
The government forces hunted down anyone who was thought to have participated in the "Jacobite Rebellion" and many houses and castles were torched. The only unit to show any compassion was the Campbell militia from Argyll. Hundreds were executed (after brief trials in England), 700 died in the prison ships in the river Thames in London and a thousand were sold as slaves to the American plantations. The Highlanders were persecuted and their lands and cattle taken from them. The kilt was banned and no Highlander could carry a weapon. The clan system may not have lasted for much longer anyway, but the aftermath of Culloden hastened its demise.
Flight Across the Heather
I was made to flee the battlefield and taken away into hiding. Had I been captured, and surely executed, the campaign to return Scotland's rightful king would have come to an end. A huge reward of £30,000 for my capture was offered but the Jacobites and Highlandes showed their complete loyalty, for over the next five months I was kept out of the hands of the Hanoverians by many brave and loyal people. By the end of April I was taken to the Outer Hebrides, remaining there for two months. On occasions, my skill with the gun allowed me to keep myself and my companions in food. Towards the end of June, government forces were closing in on me in Uist, and dear, brave Flora MacDonald was recruited to spirit me over the sea to Skye, disguised as her maid. The song "Over the Sea to Skye" commemorates that journey. We reached Portree a few days later and I regretably bade farewell to Flora on 1st July. Eventually, and regretably, on 20th September, I was put on a ship which sailed from Arisaig for France - the ship had been sent to collect me.
Charles' Later Years
The day I left Scotland I fully intended to raise more money and return with French soldiers to mount another campaign. It was made impossible for me, as the French were no longer interested, they had patched up their differences with the British, and my campaign became an embarassment to them. I tried, in vain to enlist the help of the Spanish, but their attitude was similar to that of the French. I could harly bear the burden of the massacre and the treatment of the Highlanders after I left, and I visited London in disguise in 1750 and met up with some Jacobites in order to discuss another campaign. By that time the Highlanders had been so weakened by the butchering of Cumberland, forced emmigration, prison ships and proscription that it was futile to attempt an uprising. I met up with Clementina Wilkinshaw again in London and she accompanied me to Paris, but we parted in 1760.
The campaign in 1745 was against the wishes of my father, and sadly we never met up again in the remaining twenty years of his life.
Farewell and remember me !
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