was wholly unequal to so arduous an undertaking as that upon which he had entered. Others again have maintained, that after his repeated pledges he ought not to have survived his defeat at Culloden, but to have sought an honourable death by rushing into the midst of the hostile ranks.* It ought not, however, to be forgotten, that, by rushing into the ranks of the Duke of

horrors into the country, the assertion of his claim was an imperative duty, and an eventual change in the constitution, perhaps also in the religion of the State, would be a meritorious object to aim at." These reproaches shall be more closely examined when we come to treat of the question, whether the house of Stuart would have been able permanently to maintain itself on the throne, in case a second restoration had been effected.

In the preceding part of the present narrative, it will have been seen that Charles repeatedly declared, at the outset, that he would not survive the failure of his enterprise. In his Instructions to Hickson he expressly says, "Now or never is the word: I am resolved to conquer or perish ;" and in his letter to his father, dated the 12th of June, 1745 (see vol. i. p. 168), he says, "Let what will happen, the stroke is struck, and I have taken a firm resolution to conquer or to die." To those who take advantage of these expressions to reproach Charles for not having kept his word, it may suffice to observe, that not only at Culloden, but for some days afterwards, hopes were entertained of being able to bring a fresh army into the field, and to renew the war. Napoleon, not only verbally and in private letters, but even in his order of the day before the battle of Waterloo, said, "Pour tout Français qui a du cœur, le moment est arrivé de vaincre ou de périr !" yet Napoleon did not conquer at Waterloo, and did not think it incumbent upon him to perish there.

Cumberland's army, Charles might have rushed, not upon death, but into captivity: an issue than which none could have been more fatal to himself or his family, even supposing that considerations of humanity or state policy might have induced the government of the day to refrain from offering to the world another spectacle of a royal execution.* Taking it for granted, however, that Charles might have relied on finding an honourable death in the ranks of the enemy, it should be borne in mind, as it has already been stated, that neither Charles nor his adherents considered the struggle over till some days after the battle of Culloden. It was only on the 1st of May, when the Prince, from his temporary refuge at Glenboisdale, authorised the remnant of his army to disperse and provide as best they could, each man for his own safety, that the conflict with the

* According to Johnstone, the Prince, if taken prisoner, ran little risk of being dragged to London, or of being paraded upon a scaffold, for the Duke of Cumberland expressly said to the officers of the several detachments sent out in pursuit of Charles, "Make no prisoners; you understand me!" and even ordered them, in plainer words, "to stab the Prince if he fell into their hands." Such instructions were perfectly consistent with all the rest of the Duke's conduct in Scotland; otherwise, it would scarcely be fair to receive the charge on so questionable an authority as that of the Chevalier

Johnstone.

English government could fairly be said to have been renounced. On that day, therefore, had he been tempted to ape the conduct of some of the heroes of antiquity, Charles might have turned his sword against his own breast, but it may well be questioned whether by such an act he would have strengthened his claim to the esteem or respect of posterity. "Ancient heroes," says the author of Anastasius, "have been praised for dying without the least necessity, and modern worthies for living without the smallest hopes." Napoleon, enduring life at Longwood, presents a nobler picture to history, than either Themistocles, Hannibal, or Cato, in the manner of his death.

Whether Charles was equal to the mighty undertaking upon which he entered, and whether its failure is to be attributed to his own misconduct, are questions very different from that which we have just been discussing. In entering upon this inquiry, however, we must bear in mind that the two questions are entirely distinct. Charles may

have been fully equal to the enterprise, and yet in its execution may not have avoided serious errors. What were the qualities required in one who undertook so great a task? Surely courage,

bordering on temerity, robust health, some knowledge of military affairs, a natural talent for command, an acquaintance with the domestic relations of England, and with the state of society in Scotland, the gift of inspiring his followers with devotion to his person and cause, surely these must be among the first requisites to be looked for in the author of so perilous and chivalrous an enterprise? and it would be difficult to mention any desirable qualification not included in those that have just been enumerated, and all of which Charles Stuart possessed in an eminent degree. So far, therefore, from admitting that Charles was not qualified for the due performance of his task, we should be disposed to maintain that centuries may pass away without presenting us with an individual of royal birth equally fitted to recover a crown lost by the faults of others; and to do so by the aid of an army to be formed in an enemy's land, under all the impending terrors of the scaffold.

The second question also may give rise to more considerations than one. Charles may have committed errors in the course of the campaign, and yet not have incurred the chief blame of its failure.

The fruitless loss of time in the siege of Stirling Castle, and his refusal to retreat over the river Nairn instead of fighting Cumberland on Culloden Moor, were not only great faults, but the latter, it may even be contended, was followed not only by the loss of the battle, but by the almost immediate ruin of the cause. Another fault was committed when the blockade of Edinburgh Castle was raised, lest the commandant should carry into effect his menace to destroy the town; and his refusal to retaliate upon his own prisoners the treatment experienced by those of his adherents who fell into the hands of the English government, might on prudential grounds be censured, could we withhold our commendation from the motives that dictated the refusal. These, however, and similar errors, arose from those very qualities which so eminently fitted the prince for his undertaking-namely, humanity and a firmness of purpose; but which, it must be admitted, were in some instances carried beyond the just line. Nor were these the errors to which the failure of the undertaking ought

really to be ascribed. The great mistake was the retreat from Derby, for which, we have already

seen, Charles was in no way responsible. Had he