view, brightening his hopes by reflecting that the wonderful and repeated preservations experienced by the prince were prophetic of final triumph. When Lochiel approached Charles, he was about to express his chivalrous homage by kneeling to the prince, who eagerly restrained him, crying out, "No, no, my dear Lochiel! we know not who may be looking upon us from yonder hills; and should they see any such motions, they will conclude that I am here.'

The prince's faculties had become sharpened by the constant presence of danger; he suspected hills and woods, in which the foe might lurk. The prince was still in the fatal shire of Inverness, as Badenoch is a part of that county-a wild district of rock and lake, presenting a thousand hidingplaces for hunted and outlawed men. He was now happy for a time. The poverty of Lochiel's dwelling was luxury to one who had wandered over desolate mountains, exposed to death by starvation. The retreat was well-supplied with provisions: abundance of sausages, butter, and cheese, with some whiskey, enabled these victims of political disquietude to support, in some measure, their hardships. The prince was forced to use a saucepan for a plate, which was also their whole cooking apparatus. One luxury was still retained Charles ate from the saucepan with a silver spoon. In two or three days, the prince removed to a still more secluded and mountain refuge, which his friends had prepared for him. It was hidden from observation by a thicket; and being on the side of a grey-coloured mountain, the smoke of their fire could not be distinguished at a distance from the face of the rock. This was of great importance, as no sign was better fitted to draw the attention of watchful troops than the appearance of smoke in such a place. The following description of this retreat is taken from the narrative of Clunie, one of the attached adherents of Charles, who had himself arranged the various conveniences of the prince's hiding-place. It was situated within a small thick bush of wood facing a very rough high and rocky mountain called Letternilich, full of great stones and crevices, and some scattered wood interspersed. There were, first, some rows of trees laid down, in order to level a floor for the habitation; and as the place was steep, this raised the

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lower side to an equal height with the other; and these trees, in the way of joists or planks, were levelled with earth or gravel. There were between the trees, growing naturally on their own roots, some stakes fixed in the earth, which, with the trees, were interwoven with ropes made with heath and birch twigs, up to the top of the cage; it being of a round, or rather oval shape; and the whole thatched and covered over with moss. This entire fabric hung, as it were, by a large tree, which reclined from the one end all along the roof to the other, and which gave it the name of the cage; and by chance there happened to be two small stones at a little distance from one another, in the side next the precipice, resembling the pillars of a chimney, where the fire was placed. The smoke had its vent out here all along the face of the rock, which was so much of the same colour that one could discover no difference in the clearest day. The cage was only large enough to contain six or seven persons. In this substitute for a palace, Charles resided for twelve days, waiting for some intelligence by which to regulate his future movements. On the twelfth day, news reached the prince that some French vessels dispatched to aid his escape had anchored on the coast; upon which he instantly departed from his mountain retreat for the sea-shore. These vessels were L'Heureux, and La Princesse de Conti, and had been fitted out by a Jacobite named Colonel Warren, who, though unable to place Charles Edward on a throne, was permitted to furnish the means of escape from a dungeon. As the prince was compelled to travel during the night, in order to avoid detection, his party were a week in reaching Moidart; where, upon his arrival, he found a large body of his partizans, who had hastily collected from the surrounding country to seize the means now offered for escape to France. On September the 20th, Charles embarked at Borodale, on the western shores of Inverness-shire, where he had landed more than a year before, full of high hopes and daring projects, with triumphs and a throne before him. He had now completed the circle of his adventures the tumult of victory, and the ruin of defeat had been his since that fatal landing at Borodale; now he saw a broken band of brave friends without a country, and almost

without hope. More than a hundred of these accompanied the prince on board, and bade farewell for ever to the mountains of that land, where once they lived, the chiefs of powerful clans, now scattered and utterly wasted.

1

After a voyage of nine days round the western coast of Ireland (which track was chosen for safety), the prince landed in France, and hastened to Paris, where little awaited him save to be made the tool of Bourbon policy. At Paris he was soon doomed to hear the fate of those high-minded chiefs whose heads, once so active in his cause, were exposed in the capital and cities of England, as awful memorials of political vengeance. Thus closed the celebrated struggle of 1745, a contest which ended in the annihilation of the feudal powers of the great Highland chiefs, and prostrated the hopes of the Stuart princes. As the reader may wish to know something of the subsequent history of him whose adventures have now been described, the following statements will form a suitable conclusion to the preceding narrative. The escape of the prince from Scotland did not insure immunity from the distresses which always fall thickly on the heads of discrowned monarchs. The Bourbons, having used the Stuarts as tools to promote their own designs against England, were willing to abandon them when no longer serviceable in the great political combinations of Europe. Accordingly, the French government ordered the prince in the year 1748 to remove from Paris, and upon his refusal imprisoned him for a time in Vincennes. This was done to gratify the English government, with which, in connexion with Austria and Prussia, France then concluded the celebrated treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, and sacrificed the cause of those Jacobites whom France had so recently employed for the subversion of the English power.

The imprisonment of Charles Edward was of short duration, as its main object was to convince him that he must no longer look to France for support. The prince seems to have understood this logic of the French statesmen, and retired first to Avignon, then a part of the Romish states, where he hoped to remain unmolested under the patronage of Benedict XIV.; and afterwards to Liege, where he lived several years under the name of the Baron de Montgomerie. His father, called "the old Pretender," and "the

S

old Chevalier," died in 1766, upon which the title of "king of England" was assumed by the prince.

The events of 1746 had not taught him the hopelessness of all attempts to dislodge the House of Brunswick from the British throne, and he is reported to have contemplated another invasion in the year 1770; but either the remembrance of the past or the difficulties of the present deterred him from an attempt which could but have led to a useless expenditure of brave men's lives, and perhaps his own destruction. Long before this period the prince is said to have twice visited London in disguise the first time in 1750, as a Mr. Smith the second visit is placed about three years later. It seems incredible that he should have exposed himself to such peril in that country where the gibbeted bones of his late adherents were yet whitening in the winds. The visits are, nevertheless, recorded by several writers, without hesitation. Whatever may have been the prince's objects in these dangerous visits, he saw enough to deter him from making any immediate attempt to regain the English crown, as no such plan seems to have been devised until the year 1770. After this date he retired to Florence as Count d'Albano; and, after two years, married the princess Louisa of Stolberg-Gadern.

Little more remains to be told of Charles Edward Stuart, except that he died at Rome in the year 1788, on January the 30th, the same day of the same month on which his ancestor Charles I. perished on a scaffold-the victim of rebellion. The prince was first buried in the cathedral of Frescati-an ancient city, about twelve miles from Rome; but the body was afterwards removed to St. Peter's, where the genius of Canova has been employed in raising a monument to the last of the Stuarts. The following inscription, jarring oddly with the historical creed of Englishmen, records the prime article of the Jacobite faith, which owned no discrowning of kings, whilst it implies the failure of all objects round which the believers in such a creed might gather. The court of St. James, the College of Heralds, the peers and commons of England were all ignorant of such kingly titles as James III., Charles III., and Henry IX.; but the Jacobins were not given to change: the royal line of ancient times was a royal line yet to them. We read on

this monument- "James III., Charles III., Henry IX.,* Kings of England."

Such are the words of honour uttered from the marble memorial, but the voice falls upon heedless ears: the antiquary may pause at the words, and bow his head in acknowledgment of these assumed titles of an extinct royal house; but the multitude hears not at all. Men pass from James II. to William III., and on to Victoria I. regardless of that monument's proud proclamation. The strife has now passed; the politics of the Jacobites are, in their original form, extinct; and the writer has therefore recorded the adventures of Prince Charles Edward without diverging into questions which once had power to agitate into violent heavings the passions of British and European statesmen.

*This Henry was the last of the Stuarts, and second son of the "Old Pretender." In 1788 he caused a medal to be struck, bearing on one side "Henricus Nonus, Angliæ Rex" (Henry IX., King of England); on the other, "Dei Gratia sed non voluntate hominum (By the Grace of God, but not by the will of man). The French Revolution reduced him to great poverty; and George III. gave him a pension of 40007. yearly. He died 1807, leaving to the Prince of Wales the crown jewels which James II. had carried off.