In the providence that regulates human affairs there seems to have been no ordained quiet for the exiled Stuarts, but the quiet of the grave. During the early and unpopular reigns of the imported “House of Hanover” the Jacobite party eagerly watched and weighed every opportunity for restoring the ancient line. The throne of England was too great a prize to be readily abandoned. Some of the attempts to regain the glory and power which had departed from these Ichabod princes seem more like a romance than real history.
The Chevalier de St. George, whom we saw in the story of “Rob Roy,” retired to Italy after his unsuccessful enterprise of 1715, “where the sufferings of his father for the Roman Catholic religion gave him the fairest right to expect hospitality.” He was at this time thirty years of age, and, following the suggestions of his counselors, fixed his choice of a wife on the Princess Clementina Sobieski, daughter of the Prince of Poland. The romantic history of the Chevalier in pursuit of a throne was now to be paralleled in the getting of a wife. This young lady was accounted one of the greatest fortunes in Europe. She was granddaughter of that King John Sobieski, who defeated the Turks before Vienna. The dazzling expectations of the Pretender gratified the ambition of her parents, and they agreed to conduct her privately to Bologna, with a view to the marriage. The preparation became known to the British Court. The Emperor of Austria, at the request of England, arrested the bride as she passed through Innspruck, and detained her as prisoner in a cloister.
A bold attempt for the release of the Princess was contrived and executed by Charles Wogan—a devoted partisan to the Stuart cause. “He obtained a passport from the Austrian ambassador, in the name of Count Cernes and family, stated to be returning from Loretto to the low countries. Major Misset and his wife personated the supposed count and countess; Wogan was to pass for the brother of the count; the Princess Clementina, when she should be liberated, was to represent the Count’s sister, which character, in the meantime, was enacted by a smart girl, a domestic of Mrs. Misset. Captain Toole, with two other steady partisans, attended on the party of the supposed Count, in the dress and character of domestics. They arrived at Innspruck on the evening of the 27th of April, 1719, and took lodging near the convent. It appears that a trusty domestic of the princess had secured permission of the porter to bring a female with him into the cloister, and conduct her out at whatever hour he pleased. This was a great step in favor of their success, and taking advantage of a storm of snow and hail, Mrs. Misset’s domestic was safely introduced into the cloister, and the princess, changing clothes with her, came out at the hour by which the stranger was to return. Through bad roads and worse weather the liberated bride and her attendants pushed on until they quitted the Austrian territories, and entered those of Venice. On the second of May, after a journey of great fatigue, and some danger, they arrived at Bologna.”
The Jacobites drew many happy omens from the success with which the romantic union of the Chevalier de St. George was achieved, although after all it may be doubted whether the Austrian Emperor, though obliged in appearance to comply with the remonstrances of the British Court, was either seriously anxious to prevent the Princess’s escape, or extremely desirous that she should be retaken. By this union the Chevalier transmitted his hereditary claims, and with them his evil luck, to two sons. The first, Charles Edward, born the 31st of December, 1720, was remarkable for the figure he made during the civil war of 1745-6; the second, Henry Benedict, born the 6th of March, 1725, for being the last male heir, in the direct line, of the unfortunate House of Stuart. He bore the title of Duke of York, and, entering the Church of Rome, was promoted to the rank of Cardinal.
This interesting betrothal and marriage, condensed from Scott’s picturesque narrative in the “Tales of a Grandfather,” serve as a connecting link between our last paper, which dealt historically with the affair of 1715, and the present paper which deals with the affair of 1745. It is, moreover, simple politeness to our readers to introduce the parents, who are passing from the stage, before presenting the son, whose fortunes were destined to be more romantic than his ancestors, and whose name will survive in song and poetry as the “Prince Charlie from over the sea.”
“Waverley” reveals the true state of Scotland during the middle of the eighteenth century. In fact, the titles of the chapters present almost a history in themselves. While it reveals in every page the great power of the novelist in portrayal of character, in discerning the motives which influence the actions of individuals, in the poetic description of scenery, in elevated tone and fitting and graceful dialogue, it differs from his greater and later works as the “Hypatia” of Charles Kingsley differs from the “Romola” of George Eliot. It is not so much an inner growth as an algebraic demonstration; each chapter being plus to the one that precedes it. In the early part of the story he conducts Waverley step by step through his boyhood to the choice of a profession. He then introduces him to the Highlands, and deals with the customs and manners of the people in a succession of chapter-essays. He gives us a border-raid; he portrays the “Hold of a Highland Robber;” describes the chief and his mansion; introduces us to a Highland feast; treats us to a display of Highland minstrelsy; and thus the story moves on step by step, so many stadia a day, like the march of Julius Cæsar through Germany, or the retreat of the ten thousand Greeks under Xenophon. But in spite of this step-by-step process, which marks the first work of Sir Walter in prose fiction, no volume of the series presents more vividly or graphically the historic features of the times to which it is related.
The wild and fierce Highlanders, who stalked to and fro in pages of the “Fair Maid of Perth,” are greatly modified and toned down in “Waverley.” Civilization has girdled their mountain fastnesses. They have been taught to acknowledge law, or at least to respect and fear it. The patriarchal system, however, still continues. The chief is the leader in war, and their arbitrator and protector in peace. The whole income of the tribe is paid to the chief, and helps to support his rude hospitality. In the mansion of Fergus MacIvor, Waverley is introduced to the surviving and modified customs of this northern Gælic people. The description of the feast and the music of the bard, chanting the deeds of their ancestors, are worthy of special mention. “A huge oaken table extended through the whole length of the hall. The apparatus for dinner was simple, even to rudeness, and the company numerous, even to crowding. At the head of the table was the chief himself, with Waverley, and two or three Highland visitors of neighboring clans; the elders of his own tribe sat next in rank; beneath them their sons and nephews, and foster-brethren; then the officers of the chief’s household, according to their order, and lowest of all the tenants who cultivated the ground.”
“Even beyond the long perspective, Waverley might see upon the green, to which a huge pair of folding doors opened, a multitude of Highlanders of a yet inferior description, who nevertheless were considered as guests, and had their share of the cheer of the day. In the distance, and fluctuating round the extreme verge of the banquet, was a changeful group of women, ragged boys and girls, beggars, young and old, large greyhounds, terriers and pointers, and curs of low degree; all of whom took some interest in the main action of the piece. Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes at the upper end of the table. Lower down stood immense joints of mutton and beef, which resembled the rude festivity of Penelope’s suitors. But the central dish was a yearling lamb roasted whole. It was set upon its legs, with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibited in that form to gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himself more on the plenty than the elegance of his master’s table. The sides of the poor animal were fiercely attacked by the clansmen, some with dirks, others with the knives which were usually in the same sheath with the dagger, so that it was soon rendered a mangled and rueful spectacle. Lower down still, the victuals seemed of a still coarser quality, though sufficiently abundant. After the banquet the chieftain made a signal for the pipes to cease, and said aloud, ‘Where is the song hidden, my friends, that MacMurrough can not find it?’ The family bard, an aged man, immediately took the hint, and began to chant with low and rapid utterance a profusion of Celtic verses, which were received by the audience with all the applause of enthusiasm. As he advanced in his declamation, his ardor seemed to increase. He had at first spoken with his eyes fixed upon the ground; he now cast them around as if beseeching, and anon as if commanding attention, and his tones rose into wild and impassioned notes, accompanied with appropriate gestures. The ardor of the poet seemed to communicate itself to the audience. Their wild and sun-burnt countenances assumed a fiercer and more animated expression; all bent forward toward the reciter; many sprung up and waved their hands in ecstasy, and some laid their hands on their swords.”
It was in such halls as these that the cause of the Pretender was cherished. The Lowlanders were for the most part disposed to peace. The relation of landlord and tenant had gradually lost its feudal character. The payment was in pounds sterling and not in warlike service. The result of the Pretender’s adventure might therefore have been foretold at the outset, but it was brilliant while it lasted, and he had the pleasure of giving a few feasts in Holyrood—the palace of his ancestors. It will be remembered that he landed with seven followers in Moidart on the 25th of July, 1745. The place was well chosen for concealment, being on the main land south of the islands of Skye. He opened communication with the clans in the neighborhood, but at first received little encouragement. By wise measures and cordial address his numbers grew slowly. An association was drawn up and signed by the chiefs who had taken the field, in which the subscribers bound themselves never to abandon their prince while he remained in the realm, or to lay down their arms, or make peace with government, without his express consent. He marched to Perth with his little army, where the Chevalier first found the want of money. When he entered that town, he showed one of his followers a single guinea of the four hundred pounds which he had brought with him from France; but the towns and cities north of the Tay supplied men and money, and for a time his fortune was in the ascendant.