Bonnie Prince Charlie: Charles Edward Stuart (Pimlico)

by McLynn, Frank

  The first task was to outwit the English spies in Italy. Sir Horace Mann, the British Resident in Florence, maintained a formidable stable of agents, who dogged the prince’s every move, reporting the trivia of his daily life. It was time to use their meticulous vigilance against them.

  Foreseeing that the prince might some day want to make a swift getaway, James had obtained papal permission for the gates of Rome to be opened for his son at whatever hour of day or night he chose to go hunting. The usual bureaucracy surrounding the opening of the city gates was waived.27 This meant that there should be no holdups in Rome itself.

  Next a trial run into the country had to be essayed, to see if there were any snags that had been overlooked. On 4 January 1744 the prince sent out a two-man scouting party on the road to Massa.28 His emissaries bore letters from the governor of posts, guaranteeing them horses. The reconnaissance mission soon proved its worth. The postmaster of Baccano, sixteen miles from Rome, refused the prince’s men horses because they had not started ‘post’ from Rome.29 This was a vital tip-off to Charles Edward not to start the journey with his own horses.

  It now transpired that a most convenient cover story had presented itself. The prince had a long-standing invitation to go hunting on the duke of Caserta’s estates in Cisterna. The season’s hunting this year commenced on 9 January. Bringing his departure date forward three days, Charles Edward sent his household out to Cisterna on 7 January to make the usual preparations, oiling and cleaning his guns and setting up the cello in his chambers for the evening. Care was taken to bruit it about that the prince was looking forward to a good week’s hunting.30

  The final gossamer threads were then laid across the web of deception. The principals at this stage were the prince’s groom François Vivier (a native of Tours), his aide Francis Stafford, Sir Thomas Sheridan and the Bailli de Tencin.31 It was decided not to reveal what was going on to Henry. His highly emotional nature made him a poor repository for secrets of this kind, especially involving his brother.

  On 8 January 1744 a poker-faced Charles Edward supped with his family as usual. Ostentatiously giving out to his brother that he was retiring early, the prince then made his way via a secret passageway to his father’s chamber for a final briefing.32 They talked together for an hour. James said farewell tearfully. Then, at 3 a.m., the prince set out. He would never see his father again.

  The prince initiated the elaborate deception by getting into a post-chaise with Sheridan. Stafford and Vivier the groom went ahead with three black horses to the Porta San Giovanni.33 The gate was opened for the party without demur. Once outside the city walls, Charles Edward and Sheridan staged a well-rehearsed charade. The post-chaise came to a halt; the prince announced that he wished to go on by horseback. Sheridan, warming to his part, strenuously disapproved. Charles Edward answered back vociferously in Italian, making sure the postilion and servant on the chaise could hear him saying that he was going to ride to Albano and then cut across country to Cisterna.34 Vowing that he would beat the querulous old Sheridan to Cisterna, the prince galloped off down the Albano road with Stafford.

  Once they were sure they were not being followed, the prince and Stafford changed clothes.35 Stafford galloped on to Frascati. Charles Edward meanwhile returned to the Porta San Giovanni and rode around the walls of Rome. He crossed the Ponte Molle, took the via della Storta, and arrived at Caprarola after riding for forty miles (including the circuit of the city walls). At Caprarola he met up with Vivier the groom. They found no difficulty in getting horses for the onward journey to Massa.36

  In the meantime Sheridan arrived at Cisterna, closely followed by Henry. When Charles Edward failed to come in, there was a palpable anxiety among the Gaetani entourage and the prince’s own people (except for Sheridan).37 This was assuaged when Stafford arrived with a story that the prince’s horse had fallen near Albano, leaving its master with a bruised rib. The consequence, Stafford explained, was that the prince would be detained at Albano for three days. In a brilliant circumstantial touch, Stafford handed Henry a note purportedly penned by the prince at Albano. The note asked Henry not to tell their father about the accident, since he had so often nagged Charles about riding horses on precipitous roads; for this reason, too, no servants should be sent to Albano.38

  While this elaborate comedy was being played out, complete with daily bulletins from Albano on the prince’s progress, Charles Edward and Vivier had pressed on to Massa.39 They arrived there on 11 January and then survived a truly dreadful two days on roads smothered in ice and snow before struggling in to Genoa on the evening of 13 January. For five days the prince had barely slept, had not undressed once and had had nothing to eat but eggs.40 Yet even in Genoa the dauntless prince did not slacken his pace. He pressed on to the port of Finale to see if he could hire a felucca.

  The severe rain and snow meant that no small craft were leaving that port. Refusing to take no for an answer, the prince rode on overnight to Savona. On his arrival there on the morning of 14 January, he managed to hire a felucca and to find a captain and crew willing to take him on. Ironically, they proved to be based at Finale. The captain arranged to return to Finale then come up to Savona the next day to embark the mysterious traveller for Antibes.41

  But the winds were against the prince. Blowing from the south, they churned up the seas dangerously. Not even the most intrepid captain would take a small boat to sea in those conditions. For six days the prince prowled uneasily among the shipping at Savona, chafing at the delay.

  The danger now was that Mann’s spies might have cracked the façade of deception and alerted Admiral Matthews and the English Mediterranean fleet.42 Yet to proceed overland was unthinkable. The land passes were guarded by the king of Sardinia, England’s reliable ally.

  On the sixth day the sea calmed a little, but it was still too rough for a normal sailor to venture out. Yet the slight break in the weather was enough for the prince. Rushing down to Finale, he offered the captain a substantial bonus if he would put to sea at once, regardless of risk.43

  The captain agreed. At first luck was with them. They got to Monaco on the late evening of 21 January.44 Next day the winds came howling back, stronger than ever. On the 23rd, with a slight lessening of the gale, they tried again. At daybreak the little boat was floundering so helplessly in the swell that it attracted the attention of Matthews’s fleet as it cruised between Monaco and Antibes. A small boat was lowered by the English to give chase, but it failed to make headway in the heavy seas.45 Nevertheless the English were alerted. Rumours of the prince’s escape were now creeping up the Mediterranean seaboard. It was considered more than likely that the felucca did indeed contain the Young Pretender.

  The danger from the English fleet became even more acute when the prince put in at Antibes on the evening of the 23rd. An English pinnace had been sent to intercept the boat; it came into port close on the felucca’s heels. Both sides asked permission to land from the harbourmaster. As they lay at anchor, the English craft was so close it almost scraped the stern of the prince’s boat.46

  The arrival of the two boats together in a quarantine port created a minor sensation. The commandant and governor of Antibes, M. de Villeneuve, was informed and came in person to investigate. Now was revealed a major consequence of the misunderstanding between France and the Jacobites. Since Amelot and Louis XV had not expected Charles Edward to set out from Rome, no instructions had been sent to commanders of French ports. Villeneuve was completely in the dark.47 According to his standing orders, he had to send back any boat arriving from Monaco or Italy or send it on to Marseilles or Toulon.

  Things looked grim for the prince. Just when he was on the point of being expelled, he got a message to Villeneuve, stating that a great secret would be revealed to him if he would just find a pretext to be rid of the English pinnace. Villeneuve then pronounced his Solomonic judgment. Both boats must leave, he declared, but the English first, since he had further investigations to pursue with regard to the fe
lucca.48

  As soon as the English craft had cleared from the harbour, Charles Edward revealed his identity to an astonished Villeneuve.49 Thinking quickly, the governor transferred the prince to another ship. This was a sane precaution, since Matthews did not seem disposed to take no for an answer. Even while Villeneuve was improvising arrangements for his unexpected royal guest, an English chaloupe, satellite of the great warships, came in and asked for supplies. Since no English ships had been seen for days before this, Matthews’s game was clear to Villeneuve. He gave permission for revictualling on condition the chaloupe was gone that very night.50

  While supplies were being loaded, Villeneuve played out yet another charade. Indignantly dressing down the captain of the felucca in public, he demanded that it leave forthwith. The Finale boat left before the chaloupe could give chase. When the latter’s ‘vital supplies’ had been loaded on, it took up the trail and pursued the felucca all the way back to Monaco.51

  The prince, of course, had meanwhile been transferred surreptitiously to a larger ship. Villeneuve pondered his next move. The presence of the Stuart prince obviously meant that great schemes were afoot of which he knew nothing. He dashed off an express to his superior, marquis de Mirepoix, Intendant of Ports, asking for clear directions.52 He gave interim orders for the prince to be fed and housed with every courtesy on board the ship to which he had been transferred. When dusk fell on the evening of the 24th, he went down to the harbour and fetched the prince to his permanent quarters, a detached house in a secluded part of the town.53

  There the prince waited until Villeneuve heard from Mirepoix. As the days passed and the governor chatted with Charles Edward, it came to Villeneuve that the affair was bigger even than he had suspected. Mirepoix might not have grasped the full implications of the prince’s presence on French soil. Villeneuve accordingly sent a courier directly to Amelot, asking for explicit guidance.54

  But Villeneuve had left it too late. The reply from Mirepoix came in. It stated that in the circumstances an eight-day quarantine should be enforced; after that the prince was free to leave.55 There was no holding Charles Edward once he heard this. In vain did Villeneuve plead with him to stay in Antibes until the second courier, from Amelot, arrived. Faced with the prince’s determination, Villeneuve could do nothing. Ostensibly expressing concern over the fatigue the prince had suffered and would again, he offered him a chaise, hoping perhaps to slow him down. The prince wanted none of it. He and his party galloped out of Antibes at full speed at 8 a.m. on the morning of 29 January.56

  After an all-night journey, they arrived at Aix-en-Provence on the 30th. Even the prince was exhausted after the sixteen posts between Antibes and Aix, most of them on bad roads with inadequate horses.57 Resting for a day, the party pressed on to Avignon, which was reached on 1 February. At Avignon Charles Edward discussed the implications of the French invasion project with the duke of Ormonde.58 Ormonde was the Jacobite ‘elder statesman’. Now nearly eighty, he had retired to Avignon in the 1730s after long service for James at the court of Madrid.

  Then it was another gruelling ride, to Lyons, reached at 4 p.m. on 3 February. Leaving before dawn next morning, they spent four more weary days in the saddle.59 Even the prince’s great stamina was taxed. He arrived in Paris utterly exhausted (‘rendu’) on Saturday 8 February.60

  What were the consequences of this heroic thirty-day journey in mid-winter?61 The first thing to note is that everyone except the conspirators was taken completely by surprise. After years of crying wolf about Charles Edward’s allegedly imminent departure for France, Mann was caught on the hop when it actually happened. The prince was in Lyons before that fanatical anti-Jacobite had word of his arrival in Antibes.62 Even when it was known that the prince had escaped his agents’ surveillance, Mann could not decide what his purpose was. Mann identified four possibilities; amazingly, not one of them was the correct one. These were: a descent on Scotland with the Brest fleet; a marriage with the king of France’s daughter; a marriage with the Princess of Modena, then in Paris; service with France in the next campaign in Europe.63 Mann then shot even wider of the target by postulating an invitation from the Emperor. We shall soon see the Young Pretender at the Imperial Court in Frankfurt, he assured Horace Walpole, prior to service in the Bavarian army.64 This was supposed to be all part of a conspiracy by the powers (Austria, Prussia, Spain and France) to invade Hanover.65 Never was Mann’s anti-Jacobite paranoia more startlingly evinced.

  Mann was equally wide of the mark when it came to assessing the papal role in Charles Edward’s departure. He believed that the Pope had provided Charles Edward with 80,000 crowns plus a proclamation calling on all Catholics in the British Isles to rise and follow Charlie.66 The truth was quite different. The Pope knew nothing of the plan to get the prince out of Rome and was as incredulous as anyone as news of his arrival in Genoa, Antibes, etc. came in.67 As the witty Benedict XIV later remarked, if the British had offered a good price for his letters to Charles Edward on this affair, he would have sold and the British would have ended up, as their side of the bargain, with – precisely nothing.68 The French representative in Rome was in no better case, sulkily reporting the escapade to Amelot as if it were a secret his superior had deliberately kept from him.69

  Yet if everyone in Rome was taken completely unawares, their surprised reaction was as nothing to the consternation felt in Paris when the prince arrived like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.70 Louis XV, realising that his Machiavellian game was up, sent a warm compliment to Charles on his arrival, hoping to rationalise the consequences of his own duplicity.71 In reality the prince’s arrival threw the French ministers into disarray. Security for the cross-Channel project was blown sky-high.72 In order to assess the impact of Charles Edward’s advent on the French invasion plans, we need to appreciate the stage Saxe’s preparations had reached while the prince was on his thirty-day Odyssey.

  Serious planning had been under way since the end of November 1743, but had already been bedevilled by grave disagreements between France and the English Jacobites. Although urged to ferry his army across in fishing boats, the comte de Saxe dared not take the risk and insisted on the protection of the Brest fleet.73 The English Jacobites for their part decided to avoid the risk of arrest by asking for a postponement of the French landing until after Parliament had risen.74 Both sides, then, were already showing signs of excessive timidity.

  But worse was to come. The French strategy was to send the Brest fleet up the Channel to lure Sir John Norris’s defenders to Spithead away to the west, leaving Saxe with an unguarded Channel to cross. Then 10,000 French troops would disembark at Maldon in Essex, to be joined by the English Jacobites and their levies. At this point both sides added complicating refinements to their plans. It was clearly impossible for the French to achieve total surprise and use the Brest fleet to convoy the invaders. Maurepas hit on a compromise. Roquefeuil, commander of the Brest fleet, was to decoy Norris or engage him in combat. While the Downs were thus left undefended, Roquefeuil was to detach five ships under Barrailh. Barrailh was to sail to Dunkirk to provide Saxe with the escort he had requested.75 Such a plan greatly increased the possibility that things might miscarry. The English Jacobites compounded the complications by switching the projected landfall from Maldon in Essex to Blackwall, two miles from London.76 This meant the provision of two sets of pilots to negotiate the treacherous Thames estuary: one to guide the French as far as the Hope; the other to take them to Blackwall.

  The invasion project, then, already depended for its success on meticulous liaison, timing and co-ordination. The English pilots had to be in Dunkirk ready to take the French over the minute Roquefeuil decoyed Norris away from the invasion area. But the French still had secrecy on their side. Even with all the delays, the English government in the first two weeks of 1744 still had no inkling that their kingdom was about to be invaded.77

  This was the situation when the exhausted prince rode into Paris on 8 February. By his untimely
presence he immediately increased the risk that the English might divine the true scope of French intentions. It was still of course possible to argue, as Mann and others did, that the prince was destined for the French fleet, possibly for a descent on Ireland or Scotland.78 But his presence on French soil clearly indicated that a formal declaration of war by France was not far off.

  Moreover, there are circumstantial grounds for thinking that the discovery of the French invasion plan was triggered by the prince’s arrival in Paris. Saxe’s enterprise against England was revealed to the duke of Newcastle by his master-spy, French diplomat François de Bussy.79 Bussy had known about the plan virtually since its inception. Why then did he not reveal it to his English paymasters earlier? The most likely answer is that, gambling for such high stakes when the future of kingdoms hung in the balance, he feared detection if he divulged the details of Saxe’s operation. Yet Charles Edward’s arrival could have placed him in an impossible situation. If Bussy continued to remain silent, and yet the project foundered, it would later be obvious to the English that their master-spy had suppressed vital intelligence. Bussy’s credibility was now at stake.

  The chronology of his leaking the Saxe project is intriguing. His cipher to Newcastle, revealing the entire operation, was decoded on 14 February, i.e. six days after the prince’s arrival in the French capital. It could well be, then, that, albeit for different reasons, Charles Edward really did destroy the prospects for the restoration of his family in 1744 – as Louis XV and others later charged.

  Naturally, none of this was apparent to the political actors at the time. All Saxe could see was further bungling by the Jacobites. After two requests for delays from Lord Barrymore and his associates across the Channel, here, to cap all, was the Stuart prince himself blundering on to the stage at the crucial moment, destroying the fragile fabric of secrecy Saxe had so painstakingly built up.