Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Biography Read Free

put about early in January of the New Year. "Set aside his being a prince, he is really the finest gentleman I ever knew. He has a very good presence, and resembles King Charles a great deal." Mar's effort to compare the lugubrious, scrupulous James to his sensual, rakehell uncle King Charles II convinced no one, nor did his insistence that James had "the sweetest temper in the world." 5 Those few men who were able to observe James at close range tended to agree with Mar, however. A groom who accompanied him on his hazardous flight to the coast in November, 1715, recorded that he "never knew any have better temper, be more familiar and good, always pleased and in good humor, notwithstanding all the crosses and accidents that happened during his journey; never the least disquieted, but with the greatest courage and firmness resolved to go through with what he had designed on." In James all the qualities of a great prince were combined with those of "a most honest private gentleman." 6
    There was truth in these assessments, for in his dedication and dogged idealism, and in the enervated rigor with which he pursued his quest, James was princely, even kingly. But the harsher truth was that James was tragically blind to the fact that the average soldier could neither perceive nor appreciate the depth of his character or his sensitive nature, and mistook his triste demeanor for weakness. James thought he was every inch a king, and could not seem to understand that his men needed him to be dashing, energetic and inspiring, to spark them on to overcome their limitations. In their eyes he failed utterly to measure up. They saw him—and they despaired.
    For the next six weeks the Chevalier de St. George pursued his melancholy crusade, pale and at times so ill he could not ride, attacked by chills and fever. He met with a number of noblemen but few of the country folk. When pressed by Mar he stopped along the wayside to address a forlorn sentence or two to a handful of villagers, but such attempts at contact with his subjects were rare—and dangerous. For he was a hunted man, the government had offered a reward to anyone who arrested him on British soil. And there were spies and assassins stalking him, he felt sure.
    With his entourage he hazarded the bone-chilling cold of an exceptionally severe Scots winter. The rivers froze, the dirt tracks that served as roads were so blocked by deep snow that workmen had to be hired to clear them. Hill tracks were buried under many feet of frozen snow, and were completely impassable; the harshness of the season, many felt, was enough to blunt the force of even the most impassioned rebellion. As the dark, short days succeeded one another the snow continued to fall, piling in drifts so deep they blanketed the villages and brought life to a standstill. Mounting a military campaign in such weather was unthinkable. Transport was hopeless, provisioning a nightmare. As it was, the frost kept the mills from turning, so that no grain could be ground and Perth quickly consumed its scant store of bread. Wood was extremely scarce, and coals unavailable, as the coalpits of Fife were in government hands. 7
    The season was one thing. Mar's organizational problems another. There was chaos in the camp at Perth, with no orderly billeting of troops and no reliable method of paying them. Mar had ordered the men to form regiments, but had neglected to determine their composition himself. The result was a hodgepodge of units of all sizes, with every petty leader insisting on having a regiment of his own and refusing to defer to any higher authority. No one looked after essentials: for want of powder horns the men's gunpowder was wet and useless, there was a shortage of flints, and the total supply of gunpowder, wet and dry, was pitifully small. Worst of all, the guns the soldiers possessed were many of them "old rusty broken pieces," more fit for ornament than use, and no one bothered to order replacements.
    On January