Killing Fields of Scotland

by R J M Pugh

  By mid-January, the Prince received further recruits; some accounts number the Jacobite army at between 5,000 and 7,000, particularly if that of Colonel William O’Sullivan is to be believed. The account by James, Chevalier de Johnstone gives 8,000, including some French troops.24 If these accounts are accurate, desertions reduced the strength of the Jacobite army, possibly by 1,000 by the time the Prince arrived at Stirling. There, the hapless young man insisted on a forlorn attempt to take Stirling’s formidable castle, the gateway to the Highlands. The Jacobite army camped at Bannockburn; perhaps the clansmen hoped that some of the Bruce luck would rub off. The Prince wasted two days besieging Stirling Castle until news arrived that General John Hawley with 8,000 troops was camped at Callender House, Falkirk, the home of Lord Kilmarnock who had ‘come out’ for the Prince. After a fruitless and time-consuming attempt to take Stirling Castle, the Prince grudgingly agreed with Lord George Murray’s proposal to attack Hawley. By 16 January, the Jacobite army occupied Falkirk Muir, a hundred-foot-high plateau overlooking Hawley’s position. When Hawley was informed that the Prince was marching against him, he dismissed the idea out of hand, believing that the Jacobites were in no condition to mount an offensive.

  Falkirk II

  At 4pm on 17 January, the wind blew fiercely on Falkirk Muir; Hawley finally accepted the fact that some 5,000 Jacobites were about to attack him. Hawley had commanded a dragoon regiment at Sheriffmuir 25 and was hated by his men on account of his strict disciplinarian regime; before leaving Edinburgh, Hawley had constructed gallows in the town, boasting that he would hang many Jacobites there after he defeated the Prince. That cold winter day in January, freezing rain fell on the Highlanders’ backs; Hawley’s men took the full blast of the tempestuous weather in their faces. Having heard many stories of the Highlanders’ dread of horses – no longer true – Hawley ordered his 700 or 800 dragoons to attack the right wing of the Jacobite army commanded by Lord George Murray; in the centre were the MacDonald Clans of Glengarry, Clanranald, Keppoch and Glencoe, with the Prince to the rear with some Irish picquets. As darkness began to fall, Hawley’s horse drove into Murray’s men who, as at Prestonpans, lay down in the grass and stuck bayonets and dirks into the horses’ bellies, then dragged their riders down to finish them off with pistols as there was no room to swing a broadsword.26 Murray’s men pursued the fleeing cavalry, his men running as fast as the horses and dragging their riders to the ground, slaughtering them in full view of Hawley’s foot soldiers. Those dragoons who managed to escape their determined pursuers cleaved a way through the shocked and dumbstruck foot; the front line delivered a desultory volley, the second line ran away without firing a single shot. The battle was over in twenty minutes. Hawley would later report to the Duke of Cumberland that his men were guilty of scandalous cowardice. (The gallows in Edinburgh were used to punish Hawley’s own men; thirty-one of Colonel Hamilton’s dragoons – the man who had fled the field of Prestonpans – were hanged for desertion and about the same number of foot were shot for cowardice.)27 Falkirk cost Hawley more than 400 casualties to the Prince’s loss of forty.28 The Highlanders spent the night of 17 January robbing and stripping the dead Redcoats of their personal belongings and equipment.29 The Jacobites gained a useful haul of tents, mortars, seven field pieces, a few hundred muskets and some barrels of powder as well as hampers of much-needed food, wines and liquors.30

  After Falkirk, desertions from the Prince’s army continued. Although precise figures are difficult to assess, it is thought that about 2,000 clansmen left the Jacobite army in the days that followed, although it is thought these desertions were temporary. Some Clan chiefs wanted to pursue Hawley’s army to Edinburgh, thus consolidating the victory at Falkirk. The Prince would not hear of this somewhat ridiculous suggestion, given that that the Duke of Cumberland was marching north to reinforce Hawley. However, this sensible course was negated by the Prince’s equally ridiculous insistence on returning to Stirling to subdue the castle, which was being ‘besieged’ (surely a euphemism for ‘watched’) by the Duke of Perth and 1,000 men. For months now it had become abundantly clear to men like Lord George Murray that the Prince was stubborn, delusive and vindictive towards any who offered sensible military advice which conflicted with his own grandiose and unrealistic strategies. He despised those who challenged his judgement him and was vindictive when they were proved right. The Prince’s unrealistic plan to take Stirling, the government forts in the north, then march back into England with his outnumbered army beggars belief; it is hard to avoid the conclusion that he was either permanently drunk or had lost touch with reality. Further bad news arrived from France; the Prince was informed that there were no troops available for the invasion of England; Cumberland’s departure with the best of the Hanoverian army to counter the Jacobite threat should have been an opportune moment for Louis XV to mount an invasion of England. Instead, he did nothing. The Prince had either lied to the Clan chiefs about the promised French invasion – or did he believe the nonsense he had been fed by the French king? Whatever the truth of it, he persisted with the siege of Stirling, a venture for which he was woefully ill-equipped, possessing neither siege guns nor specialist siege engineers; that apart, the clansmen refused to participate in a method of waging war unfamiliar to them. Desertions continued and many men fell sick.31 Finally, Lord George Murray and the Clan chiefs put the situation bluntly to the Prince; retreat was the only option left, advice which the Prince reluctantly accepted, voicing his bitterness and aiming his bile at Murray: ‘Good God, have I lived to see this?’ Then he struck his head against a wall with such force that the blow made him stagger.32

  The retreat north from Stirling began on 1 February; it was not a day too soon, as Cumberland occupied the town the following day. The Highland army divided, part going to Perth, the rest marching to Crieff where it was agreed that the army should wage a guerrilla-type war, which the Clan chiefs had suggested at Stirling. Then the army was re-organized in three commands; one headed by Lord George Murray and James Drummond, Duke of Perth proceeded by way of Montrose and Aberdeen; one led by Lord Ogilvy marched via Cupar-Angus and the third commanded by the Prince who was intent on taking the key Blair Castle. The ultimate aim was to capture Inverness.

  On 10 February, the Jacobites took Ruthven Barracks, burning it to the ground; on learning this, Lord Loudon the government commander at Inverness led a force of 1,500 out of the town on 16 February, hoping to surprise the Prince whom he knew was staying at Moy Hall, less than ten miles from Inverness. The Prince was the guest of Lady Anne Farquharson-Mackintosh. Lady Anne had raised Clan Mackintosh for the Prince and was known as ‘Colonel Anne’. Her husband, Clan chief Angus Mackintosh had served the Hanoverian government as a captain in the Black Watch, the regiment raised by General Wade to keep peace in the Highlands; Angus Mackintosh’s support for King George was rather lukewarm. When Lady Anne received word of Loudon’s approach, she gathered together a few of her servants to create a diversion; these retainers ambushed Loudon, repeatedly firing their muskets to give the impression that a larger force was attacking him. Loudon was panic-stricken, believing the entire Jacobite army was attacking him, so he fled back to Inverness. This incident became known as the Rout of Moy; it made a heroine of Colonel Anne. (In 1746, she was arrested for supporting the Prince, by way of punishment, she was placed in the custody of her mother-in-law; Colonel Anne died in 1787, remembered by the Prince as La Belle Rebelle, or Beautiful Rebel.) Two days after the Moy incident, the Prince took Inverness without loss, Lord Loudon and Lord President Duncan Forbes of Culloden having evacuated the town earlier the same day. At least the Prince, reinforced by a considerable force from the Moy Hall tenants and workers regained some of his hope for better fortunes in the weeks ahead; his morale was further boosted when Lord George Murray and the Duke of Perth reached Inverness with the rest of the army. The planned capture of the government forts was successful; Fort George capitulated on 20 February, followed by Fort Augustus on 5 March,
leaving Fort William as the sole government strongpoint.

  By now, Lord George Murray had complete charge of the army; had he been given sole command from the outset the ’Forty-Five might have been more successful or perhaps less bloody. It was even said that had Prince slept through the whole campaign and left Murray in charge, the result would have been different. In Perthshire, Murray had taken several small forts but he was unsuccessful in capturing Blair Castle due to the approach of Cumberland’s army. This deepened the cloud of suspicion which had hung over Murray from the beginning; a paranoid Prince grew ever more doubtful of Murray’s loyalty. Did Murray deliberately abandon his siege of Blair Castle because he was secretly in contact with Cumberland? This may have been a fantasy in the addled mind of the Prince, looking for a scapegoat for Culloden in the years to come. Be that as it may, Jacobite morale was raised when Lord John Drummond, the Duke of Perth’s brother took the entire garrison of Keith, Aberdeenshire prisoner.

  Cumberland continued his advance slowly, perhaps deliberately so as he knew it was seed-time, when the clansmen traditionally deserted for the spring planting, as they did at harvest-time. He marched his army from Stirling to Keith, then Aberdeen by way of Montrose. On 8 April, Cumberland evacuated Aberdeen, brushing aside the weak forces of the Duke of Perth and Lord John Drummond. Cumberland camped at Nairn, only eight miles from Inverness and the Jacobite camp at Culloden. On 14 April, the Highland army was fragmented; many were absent on various enterprises, chiefly foraging for food. The clansmen were starving. Murray of Broughton, who was responsible for the commissary fell sick; his duties were assumed by John Hay of Restalrig, an incompetent and unscrupulous quartermaster, possibly a thief into the bargain, diverting funds from the dwindling Jacobite war-chest into his own pocket. Apart from not having been paid for a month, the clansmen were staring starvation in the face; on the day before Culloden, many were fortunate to receive a single biscuit made from flour and water. Hay of Restalrig had promised tumbrels of food from Inverness; they never arrived. The men were in no condition to fight a major battle.

  At Nairn, William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland was in buoyant mood on 15 April, the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday. Four months younger than his cousin Prince Charles Edward Stuart, Cumberland was liked and respected by his men, even if he was a strict disciplinarian and something of a bully. Cumberland was noted for his cool head in battle and his study of the art of contemporary warfare which he put into practice during the months of campaigning in Flanders against the French. He took the trouble to interrogate those who had run away from the fields of Prestonpans and Falkirk; in doing so, he followed the example of intelligent generals such as John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough who listened to his sergeants’ opinions and views before and after his several victories gained in the service of Queen Anne. During his many interviews with the survivors of Prestonpans and Falkirk, Cumberland found that it had been the ferocious Highland Charge which had caused the panic-stricken soldiers to quit their posts, so he began drilling his soldiers in a new tactic which he rightly believed would counter the shock of the Highland Charge. The solution was simple; it was based on the use of the bayonet and the technique Cumberland devised was eminently successful on the field of Culloden. When a clansman raised both arms, the left bearing the targe or shield for protection, the right wielding the broadsword to deliver a blow to the skull of his opponent, the Redcoat to the immediate right of the man attacking his neighbour would plunge his bayonet into the clansman’s left armpit and his heart. Every Redcoat up and down the front line would be protected by the man on his right.

  On 15 April, Cumberland’s troops celebrated their general’s birthday in fine style, feasting on the cattle they had brought from the south, beasts which had been abandoned by the Jacobite army in the retreat from Derby. The Redcoats enjoyed meat, bread, cheese and locally brewed ale. Contrast this with the Prince’s household at Culloden House, home of Lord President Forbes, which the Jacobites had commandeered with its well-stocked cellar of claret and fine wines. A dinner of roast lamb had been prepared for the Prince’s table but he pushed the plate away, saying that he could not eat such fine fare while his army was starving. The command structure began to disintegrate that fateful April evening.

  The Prince made matters worse by excluding Lord George Murray from his plans, favouring his Irish officers, including the hapless Assistant General or Colonel O’Sullivan who mesmerized the Prince with his wild, fanciful and illogical ideas on strategy. It was O’Sullivan who chose Drummossie Moor for the coming battle, beyond the braeside south of Culloden House; he could not have picked a more advantageous spot for Cumberland’s battle. The moor is a flat, open expanse of heathland which offers no cover, nor was it suitable for the formidable and effective Highland Charge. When Cumberland inspected the position, he could not believe his eyes, nor his luck; the ground afforded ample room for the government troops and artillery to pour a merciless fire into the Highlanders before they could even begin their attack, thus effectively negating the possibility of close combat hand-to-hand fighting in which the clansmen excelled. Lord George Murray immediately spotted the disadvantages of Drummossie; supported by a few officers he implored the Prince to allow him to seek out an alternative position which would give the clansmen a fighting chance. Murray favoured a stretch of uneven ground near Dalcross Castle which offered the clansmen some protection from the murderous artillery fire as well as a safe retreat to Inverness should the day go badly. Murray’s choice of ground might have reduced casualties and even offered a chance of success. He duly reported his findings to the Prince who dismissed his proposal out of hand, refusing to deviate from O’Sullivan’s choice.33 Then he announced that he would personally take command of the field with O’Sullivan as his second-in-command. The Prince was determined that Murray would receive no credit for the victory he anticipated. He alone would succeed that day. Culloden was the first and only battle he would ever command.

  The author has walked the ground of Drummossie Moor on several occasions; it could not have been more advantageous terrain for Cumberland’s foot, artillery and cavalry. Drummossie is flat moorland over which grey clouds always seem to hover; it is a sombre, eerie place suffused with the lingering sadness of that tragic day in April 1746. The silence is broken only by the raucous cries of foraging ravens, long believed to be the harbingers of death; the thick bracken and heather are broken only by the green patches marking the communal graves of the clans who took part, the names inscribed on simple, rough grey boulders that serve as tombstones. With a dry-stone wall on the right wing of the Prince’s army side providing excellent cover for enfilading fire, the moor was a disastrous choice for the last stand of the Jacobites; in the words of an American Civil War commentator on the battle of the Crater during the siege of Petersburgh in 1864, when hundreds of Union soldiers were slaughtered in the massive hole created by their own mining of the Confederate position, Culloden must have been like shooting fish in a barrel.

  On 15 April, what was left of the Jacobite army took up position on Drummossie Moor to the sound of cannon fire, which roused them to arms; the cannonade was not directed at the outlying Jacobite picquets but to celebrate the Duke of Cumberland’s birthday. Arguments about clan positions in the front line arose; Murray and his Atholl Brigade were stationed on the right, the position claimed by the MacDonalds, but as many Glengarry men had deserted after the accidental shooting of one of their clan by a Keppoch MacDonald (see note 31), the point was not laboured.

  No battle took place that day as Cumberland’s troops were celebrating his birthday. At a meeting of officers that afternoon, the Prince agreed with Lord George Murray’s suggestion that the Jacobite army should launch a surprise attack on Cumberland that very night, when the Redcoats would be soused; the plan was no more irrational than the choice of Drummossie Moor for the coming engagement. A desperate gamble, it might have borne fruit. There was a fly in the ointment, however; about a third of the Jacobite army was
missing, foraging for food, perhaps even deserting. The events which followed are confusing, no two contemporary accounts being compatible on what took place. The army which the Prince commanded had shrunk to about 5,000 starving, weary clansmen, with a further 2,000 scattered in the area in search of food. Nonetheless, the Prince went ahead with the plan to attack Cumberland in Nairn, some eight miles distant. The army split into two columns led by Mackintosh guides, men familiar with the district. Then Lord George Murray discovered there was a gap about half a mile long in the army; men had simply disappeared or had literally dropped dead from hunger. Murray sent word back to the Prince that the rest of the army must close up so that every available man could participate in the attack. The Prince refused, ordering Murray to attack without further delay; Murray and his officers were taken aback. There simply weren’t enough men; furthermore, if Murray waited for the arrival of the Prince, dawn was not far off and the element of surprise would be lost. Murray made the only decision possible – he ordered a retreat to Culloden. When the Prince learnt of this from Hay of Restalrig, he lost his temper, riding out to meet Murray, Lochiel, the Duke of Perth and Perth’s brother, Lord John Drummond. He demanded to know what the devil they were about; he ranted and raved about his orders being disobeyed and that he had been betrayed, calling everyone around him traitors. He shouted that he and he alone commanded the army. The truth was that the Prince had lost command of himself.

  Culloden

  The Jacobite army returned to Culloden at about 6am on that fateful Wednesday morning of 16 April. A few hours of sleep failed to restore the hungry, weary men; they were awakened by the sound of cannon fire around 11am. This time, the gunfire was real. Colonel O’Sullivan rode out to view the Hanoverian army arranged in perfect parade-ground order. All told, Cumberland’s army numbered between 10,000 and 14,000, although he committed less than half of his troops to the battle. His men had been falsely informed that the Highlanders would give no quarter, so no quarter should be offered them.