Meantime, a company of volunteers under the command of Captain Drummond, a gentleman of very different political sentiments to those of the majority of this name, had assembled in the College yard, when, after being addressed by their gallant leader, they proffered their services to aid the dragoons stationed in the city, under the command of General Guest, in repelling the Jacobites. On Sunday, the fire-bell sounding in the time of Divine service, emptied all the churches; and the people, rushing into the streets, beheld the volunteers drawn up in the Lawn Market, awaiting the arrival of the dragoons, with whom they were prepared to march out of the town to repel the rebels. But this gallant resolution was not put into execution; and a force of two thousand strong, not half of the soldiery having fire-locks, was suffered to force their way into a town garrisoned by two thousand seven hundred soldiers, all well supplied with arms and ammunition.
That Edinburgh was surrendered by the treachery of its Provost, seems beyond all doubt. Archibald Stewart, who held that office at this critical moment, gave many indications of perfidy or cowardice, which have been duly related, although with little comment, by historians. Notwithstanding that the approach of the insurgents had been by measured paces, and that they had advanced so leisurely as to spend some hours lying on the bank of a rivulet near Linlithgow, no preparations for defence had been made, although it was the wish of many of the inhabitants to resist the Jacobite army. It had been found that all the calms, or moulds for bullets, had been bought up; ladies having gone to the shops where they were made, to purchase them. When the danger became proximate, the Provost merely remarked, that, if the enemy wished to enter, he did not know how they could be prevented. He viewed the fortifications, it is true, and rummaged up some grenades that had lain in a chest since 1715. But the most suspicious incident occurred during a meeting of the Town Council, when a Highland spy, having a letter in his hand, was apprehended, and brought before the assembly. The letter was given to the Provost, who hurried it into his pocket, and in great haste broke up the assembly.[231] In all the deliberations for the defence of the city, it was perceived that Mr. Provost Stewart was a dead-weight upon any measures of vigour; and nothing could have been done to preserve Edinburgh from surrendering, unless he had been absolutely bound in chains. Yet this unworthy magistrate, so faithless to his trust, so discreditable an instrument of the Jacobite cause, was afterwards acquitted, after a trial of four days, by the Lords Justiciary.
The progress of that cause now appeared such as to promise success to the future exertions of its partisans. On the seventeenth of September, the Prince received the news that Edinburgh was taken, and a stand of one thousand arms seized; a circumstance which added greatly to the joy of the insurgents, who stood in need of arms. "When the army came near town," writes Lord Elcho, "it was met by vast multitudes of people, who by their repeated shouts and huzzas expressed a great deal of joy to see the Prince. When they came into the suburbs, the crowd was prodigious, and all wishing the Prince prosperity; in short, nobody doubted but that he would be joined by ten thousand men at Edinburgh, if he could arm them. The army took the road to Duddingston: Lord Strathallan marching first, at the head of the horse; the Prince next, on horseback, with the Duke of Perth on his right, and Lord Elcho on his left; then Lord George Murray, on foot, at the head of the column of infantry. From Duddingston, the army entered the King's Park, by a breach made in the wall. Lord George halted some time in the park, but afterwards marched the foot to Duddingston; and the Prince continued on horseback, always followed by the crowd, who were happy if they could touch his boots, or his horse furniture. In the steepest part of the road going down to the Abbey, he was obliged to alight and walk; but the mob, out of curiosity, and some out of fondness, to touch him or kiss his hand, were like to throw him down: so, as soon as he was down the hill, he mounted his horse and rode through St. Anne's Yard into Holyrood House, amidst the cries of six thousand people, who filled the air with their acclamations of joy. He dismounted in the inner court, and went up stairs into the gallery; and from thence into the Duke of Hamilton's apartments, which he occupied all the time he was at Edinburgh. The crowd continued all night in the outer court of the Abbey, and huzzaed every time the Prince appeared at the window. He was joined, upon his entering the Abbey, by the Earl of Kelly, Lord Balmerino, Mr. Hepburn of Keith, Mr. Lockhart younger of Carnwath, Mr. Graham younger of Airth, Mr. Rollo younger of Powhouse, Mr. Stirling of Craigbarnet, Mr. Hamilton of Bangor, Sir David Murray, and several other gentlemen of distinction: but not one of the mob, who were so fond of seeing him, were asked to enlist in his service; and, when he marched to fight Cope, he had not one of them in his army."[232]
The Prince, who was thus received with acclamations into the home of his forefathers, was at this time in the bloom of youth, being in the twenty-fifth year of his age. Neither the agitation produced by the events of that critical day on his sensitive temper, nor the fatigue of the previous march to a young soldier, could diminish the grace of his deportment, nor hide the natural majesty of his carriage. "The figure and presence of Charles Stuart," even Home remarks, "were not ill-suited to his lofty pretensions." He was in height about five feet ten inches, of a slender form; his features were aquiline; his complexion, though ruddy from the Highland air, was naturally fair. He had the pointed chin, and small mouth in proportion to his other features, of Charles the First. The colour of his eyes has been variously described; being, according to some, "large rolling brown eyes," whilst in many of his portraits he is depicted as having full blue eyes.[233] The hair of Charles Stuart was concealed under a "pale peruke;" but, is said to have been red, or, according to most of his portraits, of a sandy hue. As he rode, with extreme grace, upon a fine bay gelding presented to him by the Duke of Perth, the bystanders remarked that an "irregular smile," as one of them has expressed it, lighted up, by fits, a countenance which told but too plainly every emotion of the heart. An anxious, watchful look was, at times, directed to those around and near him; and, in particular, rested on the face of Lord Elcho, who, though a gallant officer, the Prince may perhaps have too well conjectured, was not, even at that early period, a sincere and firm adherent. To the Duke of Perth, on the contrary, the ill-fated young Chevalier showed a marked respect, and sat for some moments on horseback in St. Anne's Yard, whilst the Duke, like "an intelligent farmer, informed him of the different nature and produce of the different parcels of ground."[234] Dressed, as he was, in the Highland garb,—a blue sash wrought with gold coming over his shoulder, a green velvet bonnet with a gold lace round it on his head, a white cockade,—the cross of St. Andrew on his breast, his hand resting on a silver-hilted sword, and a pair of pistols on his saddle;—associated in the minds of all around him with the remembrance of Scotland in her independence, and of Scottish monarchs in their greatness, the enthusiasm which was inspired in a slow, but ardent people cannot be a matter of surprise. Long did the remembrance of that day continue to be cherished, in mingled pride and sorrow! It is true, the opinions of men differed according to their secret bias. The Jacobites, who looked on the young Prince, compared him to Robert the Bruce, to whom he bore, they fancied, a resemblance. The Whigs beheld in him the gentleman of fashion, but not the hero and the conqueror. All parties seem to have remarked the dejection and languor of his manner as he prepared to enter the palace of Holyrood.
It was, indeed, impossible, from the deportment of Charles on his first introduction into Scotland, or from his conduct whilst his affairs prospered, to comprehend the strength of his determination, or to calculate upon his power of endurance. In prosperity he was, it is true, brave, courteous, often amiable, often generous, but sometimes betraying the petulance and obstinacy which historians have been fond of considering as hereditary propensities in the heroic young man, but which are the common attributes of the inexperienced and the spoiled. In adversity he was meek, grateful, magnanimous; capable of forgetting his own unparalleled sufferings, in considering those of others; never breathing an accent of revenge; rising above fortune. He resembled Charles the Second more in his hatred of shedding blood, than in his vices, which were in the young Chevalier the effect of circumstances, rather than of a depraved nature. He had the fortitude of Charles the First: in truth, and right intention he exceeded both of these his ancestors; and in this, as in other respects, he showed more of the Scottish character, more of the true sense of Highland honour, than any of his immediate predecessors in the Stuart line. Naturally gay, though variable; quick and shrewd, rather than deep or strong in intellect; easily to be flattered, too easily led by some, too wilful in resisting the counsels of others,—as a Prince, as the head of a Court, he soon won upon the affections of the people who beheld him; but there were vital defects mingled with his great and good qualities, which well verified the saying of the Whigs, "that he would prove neither a hero nor a conqueror."
As the Prince walked along the piazza close to the apartment of the Duke of Hamilton, a gentleman stepped out of the crowd, and, drawing his sword, raised his arm aloft, and walked up stairs before Charles Edward. The remarkable person who thus signalized his loyalty was James Hepburn of Keith, a gentleman of learning and intelligence, whose Jacobitism was of a more enlightened description than that of the party with whom he thus identified himself. Since the insurrection of 1715, in which, when a very young man, he had been engaged, Mr. Hepburn had become a professed Jacobite. Yet he disclaimed the hereditary, indefeasible right of Kings, and condemned the measures of James the Second. Cherishing even these opinions, he had nevertheless kept himself during twenty years ready to take up arms for Charles Edward, from a hatred to the Union between England and Scotland, a measure which he deemed injurious and humiliating to his country. Idolized by the Jacobites, beloved by some of the Whigs, a "model of ancient simplicity, manliness and honour,"[235] the accession of Hepburn to the Jacobite cause was lamented by those who esteemed him, and who saw in his notions of the independence of Scotland only a visionary speculation.
The entrance of Prince Charles had taken place early in the day: soon after noon he was proclaimed Regent at the ancient Cross of Edinburgh, and his father's manifesto was read in the same place. Six heralds in their robes, with a trumpet, came to the Cross, which was surrounded by the brave Camerons in three ranks. The streets and windows were crowded to excess; whilst David Beato, a writing-master in Edinburgh, read the papers to the heralds. The beautiful Mrs. Murray of Broughton sat on horseback with a drawn sword in her hand beside the Cross, her dress decorated with the white ribbon which was the token of adherence to the House of Stuart. Whilst these events took place, a spectator in the crowd, viewing clearly that all was the show of power, without the substantial capacity to perpetuate it, resolved to write the history of what, he foresaw, would be a short-lived though perhaps fierce contest. He was not mistaken. This individual was Alexander Henderson.
The following account is given by Lord Elcho of the Chevalier's court during the short time that he inhabited Holyrood House.[236]
"The Prince lived in Edinburgh, from the twenty-second of September to the thirty-first of October, with great splendour and magnificence;—had every morning a numerous court of his officers. After he had held a council, he dined with his principal officers in public, where there was always a crowd of all sorts of people to see him dine. After dinner he rode out, attended by his life-guards, and reviewed his army; where there were always a great number of spectators, in coaches and on horseback. After the review he came to the Abbey, where he received the ladies of fashion that came to his drawing-room. Then he supped in public; and generally there was music at supper, and a ball afterwards. Before he left Edinburgh, he despatched Sir James Stewart to manage his affairs in the country and solicit succours."
This remarkable scene was soon followed by the battle of Preston Pans. The memorable words of Charles Edward before the victory, "I have flung away the scabbard!" were followed by a total rout of the King's troops. The Duke of Perth was appointed Lieutenant-general of the forces. After the engagement which ensued, when the heat of the contest was over, he distinguished himself in a manner in which every brave and loyal man would wish to imitate his example,—by saving the lives of the combatants. His tenantry, commanded by Lord Nairn, were among the most eager of the combatants on that day. When the defeat of the King's troops was manifest, a terrible carnage ensued. Some of the conquered threw down their arms, and begged for quarter, which was refused them; others, who fled into the enclosures, were murdered; and all who were overtaken were cut in the most cruel manner by broad-swords and Lochaber axes.