Thus, without military stores, or pecuniary resources, or powerful friends, simply by the power of persuasion, the Pretender, in the short space of two months from his landing in Scotland, Surrender of Edinburgh. quietly took possession of the most powerful city of the north. The Jacobites put no restraint to their idolatrous homage, and the ladies welcomed the young and handsome chevalier with extravagant adulation. Even the Whigs pitied him, and permitted him to enjoy his brief hour of victory.
At Edinburgh, Charles received considerable reënforcement, and took from the city one thousand stand of arms. He gave his followers but little time for repose, and soon advanced against the royal army commanded by Sir John Cope. The two armies met at Preston Pans, and were of nearly equal force. The attack was made by the invader, and was impetuous and unlooked for. Nothing could stand before the enthusiasm and valor of the Highlanders, and in five minutes the rout commenced, and a great slaughter of the regular army occurred. Among those who fell was the distinguished Colonel Gardiner, an old veteran, who refused to fly.
Charles followed up Success of the Pretender. his victory with moderation, and soon was master of all Scotland. He indulged his taste for festivities, at Holyrood, for a while, and neglected no means to conciliate the Scotch. He flattered their prejudices, gave balls and banquets, made love to their most beautiful women, and denied no one access to his presence. Poets sang his praises, and women extolled his heroism and beauty. The light, the gay, the romantic, and the adventurous were on his side; but the substantial and wealthy classes were against him, for they knew he must be conquered in the end.
Still his success had been remarkable, and for it he was indebted to the Highlanders, who did not wish to make him king of England, but only king of Scotland. But Charles deceived them. He wanted the sceptre of George II.; and when he commenced his march into England, their spirits flagged, and his cause became hopeless. There was one class of men who were inflexibly hostile to him—the Presbyterian ministers. They looked upon him, from the first, with coldness and harshness, and distrusted both his religion and sincerity. On them all his arts, and flattery, and graces were lost; and they represented the substantial part of the Scottish nation. It is extremely doubtful whether Charles could ever have held Edinburgh, even if English armies had not been sent against him.
But Charles had played a desperate game from the beginning, for the small chance of winning a splendid prize. He, therefore, after resting his troops, and collecting all the force he could, turned his face to England at the head of five thousand men, well armed and well clothed, but discontented and dispirited. They had never contemplated the invasion of England, but only the recovery of the ancient independence of Scotland.
On the 8th of November, the Pretender set foot upon English soil, and entered Carlisle in triumph. But his forces, instead of increasing, diminished, and no popular enthusiasm supported the courage of his troops. But he advanced towards the south, and reached Derby unmolested on the 4th of December. There he learned that the royal army, headed by the Duke of Cumberland, with twelve thousand veterans, was advancing rapidly against him.
His followers clamored to return, and refused to advance another step. They now fully perceived that success was not only hopeless, but that victory would be of no advantage to them; that they would be sacrificed by a man who only aimed at the conquest of England.
Charles was well aware of the desperate nature of the contest, but had The Retreat of the Pretender. no desire to retreat. His situation was not worse than what it had been when he landed on the Hebrides. Having penetrated to within one hundred and twenty miles of London, against the expectations of every one, why should he not persevere? Some unlooked-for success, some lucky incidents, might restore him to the throne of his grandfather. Besides, a French army of ten thousand was about to land in England. The Duke of Norfolk, the first nobleman in the country, was ready to declare in his favor. London was in commotion. A chance remained.
But his followers thought only of their homes, and Charles was obliged to yield to an irresistible necessity. Like Richard Cœur de Lion after the surrender of Acre, he was compelled to return, without realizing the fruit of bravery and success. Like the lion-hearted king, pensive and sad, sullen and miserable, he gave the order to retreat. His spirits, hitherto buoyant and gladsome, now fell, and despondency and despair succeeded vivacity and hope. He abandoned himself to grief and vexation, lingered behind his retreating army, and was reckless of his men and of their welfare. And well he may have been depressed. The motto of Hampden, "Vestigia nulla retrorsum," had also governed him. But others would not be animated by it, and he was ruined.