The Spy Who Changed the Course of British History

 By Nancy Bilyeau

The year: 1745. London? In a panic. The long-exiled Stuart family, driven out in 1688, was threatening to retake the English throne.

Charles Edward Louis John Casimir Sylvester Severino Maria Stuart, commonly known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, and his predominantly Scottish army of 6,000 men had made it to Derby, just over 120 miles from the capital.

Since landing at Eriskay in the Outer Hebrides on July 23, 1745, with not even a dozen men, the charismatic prince, grandson of the deposed James II, had recruited influential Highlands leaders, easily taken Edinburgh, and defeated an army led by Hanoverian supporters of the present King at the battle of Prestonpans. Then he turned south, crossing into England.

Portrait of Bonnie Prince Charlie, painted by Allan Ramsey in 1745. Source: Wikipedia

A horde of "crazed Highlands thieves" was on the move!  There was a run on the Bank of England! George II, who, like his father, had not troubled to hide the fact that he preferred living in Hanover to England, loaded up a ship with personal valuables, in case he needed to flee the vengeful Jacobites and turn the Continent into his permanent home. These were the sorts of wild rumors that swirled around the city.

Yet in Derby, the temporary headquarters of the invading army, the mood was far from confident. Prince Charles' advisers had noted the lack of English Jacobite support. Few were rallying to their cause. Neither was it at all certain that the French would show up to reinforce the Scottish invasion, a cornerstone of the Stuart strategy.

Most worryingly, a well-trained army, most likely led by King George II's son, the Duke of Cumberland, must surely be coming to meet them. Who knew how large it would be?

Exeter House in Derby, where the prince and his men plotted strategy.
Picture taken in 1853. Source: Wikipedia.

As the advisers to the impetuous 25-year-old prince debated their next move, one of Charles's followers spoke up. It was Captain Oliver Williams, a trusted Irish supporter of the cause.

A Hanoverian force of 9,000 men had been sighted in Northampton, Captain Williams informed the men in the room. This army was not much more than 50 miles away. And other units must be hurrying toward Derby.

That sealed it. Overruling Prince Charles' outrage and passionate protests that he wanted to march on London, the Jacobite army's military commanders said they must instead return to Scotland and consolidate their position. Four months after this retreat came the crushing defeat at Culloden, followed by Bonnie Prince Charlie's flight from Scotland.

Artist's rendition of Culloden. Some feel the depiction of the Highlanders relied on stereotypes. Source: wikipedia

Culloden, the last battle ever fought on the British mainland, has been studied and analyzed ever since those hours of fierce fighting, which killed some 2,000 men. Going beyond historians' domain, Culloden has become a cornerstone of popular culture, such as the center of Diana Gabaldon's Outlander books and TV series. The tragedy and glamour of the lost cause, a royal family in embittered exile, even penetrated the Game of Thrones fantasy series, with the Targaryen family living far from the Seven Kingdoms, believed to be modeled on the Stuarts who fled to France and then Italy.  "The people drink secret toasts to your health and cry out for their true king," an adviser whispers to the ambitious young Viserys Targaryen, the "king across the water," in the first episode of the series.

When proposing various "What if"s on the subject of Bonnie Prince Charlie, people often come back to the decision at Derby. 

Historians believe that the turning point was then and there, that he lost the strategic and psychological advantage by retreating. Many of the Scots who followed the prince's cause did so not so much as to prop up a Catholic Stuart monarch as to force through more independence for Scotland. As for the Irish, those followers did wish for a Catholic king, as it would presumably ease the religious discrimination they suffered. Failure brought agony. The punishment the Hanoverian government meted out to the defeated enemy and their supporters was ghastly. The Duke of Cumberland earned the nickname "Butcher" with the slaughter of the injured and the prisoners, and ordered attacks on the helpless civilian population.

The defeat meant that Great Britain became more centralized; bolstered by its industrialized feats and banking policies, the British Empire became a force like no other. The fates of not just Scotland and Ireland but also America and India were arguably influenced by the smashing of Bonnie Prince Charlie's rising.

The impact of Culloden on world history makes it all the more shocking that the information the Stuart army relied on in Derby was a complete lie. There were no 9,000 men in Northampton. In fact, the road to London at that time was clear.

It turned out that Captain Oliver Williams, true name Dudley Bradstreet, was a spy, employed by the Duke of Cumberland to report on the Jacobites' movements and to spread disinformation. Which he most certainly did.

The craft of espionage was in a murky stage in the mid-1700s. Not much is written about the policies and practices of spying between the time of Sir Francis Walsingham, the spymaster of Elizabeth I, and the intense spying that took place later in the 18th century, during the American Revolution.

Those recruited for espionage were a far cry from Ian Fleming's James Bond or any of the Cambridge-educated manipulators from a John Le Carre novel. The Hanoverian government assumed that spying was immoral, so it used immoral men.

Dudley Bradstreet fit that requirement to a "T," a fact he cheerfully admitted in the book he wrote about his life, The Life and Uncommon Adventures of Captain Dudley Bradstreet. There's rarely been a more gleeful rogue than Bradstreet: fortune hunter, gambler, trickster, and spy.

He was Irish; that part was genuine. Bradstreet was born in Tipperary in 1711, the youngest son of landowner John Bradstreet, a man who received Cromwellian grants but, by the time Dudley came along, had a fortune that was "continually declining."

Wrote Dudley in his memoir: "My education was neglected, he removed his whole family from the country to Dublin except for me, whom he left in charge with a Foster-Father. Here I must observe, the injury my being thus abandoned did to my conduct and morals, that it may be a caution to parents whom they trust with the early habits and impressions their children may receive."

Bradstreet became addicted to card playing, and as a young man, left for London with a mistress but returned to Ireland to join the army. He later married for love, but she died; he had children by various women. He inherited nothing from his father and was arrested for debt, managing to marry a wealthy widow to stay afloat.

The Duke of Montagu, Bradstreet's friend, source: wikipedia

"A crony" of the Duke of Montagu, a peer notorious for his practical jokes, Bradstreet came to the notice of the British government in 1744 and was encouraged to infiltrate the Jacobites and report back what he learned. It was a shock to many when Bonnie Prince Charlie, defying the enormous odds against him, landed in Scotland in 1745. Unfortunately for the prince, it meant that Dudley Bradstreet was well-positioned to learn much--and make a lot of mischief.

After "Captain Williams" successfully derailed Bonnie Prince Charlie's quest in Derby, Bradstreet melted away before the Jacobites returned to Scotland. He approached government officials and demanded money and a commission — he got neither. Incredibly, Bradstreet persisted in his haranguing, and eventually George II gave him 150 pounds.

His career then took a decided turn into the fantastical. Bradstreet became a "bottle conjurer," someone who told the gullible he could talk to the dead and restore lost youth. "Bradstreet knew how to touch the infirmity of man," wrote one chronicler. Bradstreet himself said without apology he owed it all to the "superstition" of his victims and their "credulity and faith in wondrous things."

Bradstreet made a lot of money from his conjurings, lost nearly all of it, and then returned to Ireland for good, buying a house and writing his memoir.

The book sold well. "In the free narrative of his reckless adventures, some incidents have a breadth rather suspicious and some a warmth rather indelicate," a critic wrote.

Dudley Bradstreet, the fateful spy in the Jacobite camp, died in Ireland at the age of 52.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nancy Bilyeau is a magazine editor and historical novelist. Her Genevieve Planche series--The Blue, The Fugitive Colours, and The Versailles Formula--is set in the espionage and art world of the mid-18th century. To learn more, go to www.nancybilyeau.com.

 

Dunnottar Castle - Majestic Ruin with Tales to Tell

By Annie Whitehead

Dunnottar Castle: if you’ve never visited, chances are you’ll still recognise it. It’s a ruin now, perched on a headland just south of Stonehaven, in the northeast of Scotland. What remains visible dates to mainly the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but there is evidence of habitation from a much earlier period.

There are two references to it in the Annals of Ulster, under the entries for 680 and 693, where it is named as Dùn Fhoithear, which means ‘fort on the shelving slope.’ The antiquarian, William Skene, commenting on Fordun’s Scotichronicon, called it Dunnottar in the Mearns, ‘Mearns’ being the old term for Kincardineshire.

It is said that Saint Ninnian, born around 360AD and known for his missionary work among the Picts, built a chapel at Dunnottar.

A dig carried out by the nearby University of Aberdeen found evidence of Pictish occupation on the sea stack of Dunnicaer to the north of the castle. It was, apparently, the oldest Pictish fort to have been found. It seems that the site remained in continuous use for some centuries.

No finds or structures earlier than the late twelfth century were discovered under the castle ruins, but the archaeologists knew from research that the site was one of the centres for trade bringing glass and pottery from Gaul into Britain and Ireland in the seventh and eighth centuries. Examining the symbols carved on the group of five Class 1 Pictish stones on the sea stack known as Dinnacair or Dunnicaer, they concluded that St Ninian’s missionary church was on Dunnottar Rock and that Dunnicaer might have been a ‘disert’, or place of retreat from Ninian’s missionary station.

In the seventh century Dunnottar came under attack from King Bridei III, king of the Picts from 672 until his death in 693. He launched his assault on Dunnottar in 680/1, before turning his attention to the Orcadian kingdom where, according to the Annals of Ulster, he ‘destroyed’ the Orkney Islands. Bridei was quite some warrior, fighting and defeating Ecgfrith of Northumbria at the battle of Nechtanesmere in 685.

Pictish Stone generally accepted to depict the
battle of Nechtanesmere - public domain image

In the late ninth century, Domnall mac Causantín, better known perhaps as Donald II of Scotland, had the misfortune to be ruler at a time of Danish raids in the area. According to the Chronicles of the Kings of Alba, Donald ruled between 889–900 and 'The Northmen wasted Pictland at this time. In his reign a battle occurred between Danes and Scots at Innisibsolian where the Scots had victory. He was killed at [Dunnottar].' The castle was then apparently destroyed. With his back literally to the sea, the fight must have been intense, and desperate. Looking out over the water, on a cloudy autumn day, I couldn’t help but think that it was a rather desolate end for him.

In 934, according to the chronicler Simeon of Durham, ‘King Athelstan, going towards Scotland with a great army ... subdued his enemies, [and] laid waste Scotland as far as Dunnottar and Wertermorum (unidentified). For context, it takes around six hours to drive in a modern car along mainly dual-carriageways and motorways from the current England/Scotland border to Dunnottar, and at least as long in the other direction to get to ‘Wessex’. Athelstan was a long, long, way from home. Sometimes we are grateful to have more than one source, for the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry (Ms C) for the same year tells us only that ‘King Athelstan went into Scotland with both a land force and a naval force, and ravaged much of it.'

In 1276 a new church was built on the site of St Ninian’s chapel, erected in stone in the Norman style and consecrated by William Wishart, who was the bishop of St Andrews until his death in 1279

Dunnottar was to see more action when in 1297 a force led by none other than William Wallace captured the castle. It is said that the English soldiers garrisoned there took refuge in the church and that Wallace burned the church with the soldiers inside it, but I have read sources which state that this might not be true.

Things seem to have calmed down a little in the fourteenth century when the Keith family took up residence. However, this was not a time of peace in Scotland. In 1314 Sir Robert Keith was in command of the Keith cavalry at the battle of Bannockburn.

His descendant, Sir William Keith oversaw the building of the keep, which has survived to the present day.

The Keep

The family remained in the ascendant and Sir William was appointed first Earl Marischal of Scotland by King James II in 1458. Mary Queen of Scots visited Dunnottar on more than one occasion, bringing with her, in 1562, her son, the future James VI of Scotland (and subsequently I of England). In 1580 he visited by himself and apparently stayed for several days’ hunting on the Keith family estates.

Towards the end of the sixteenth century, the fifth Earl Marischal, George, built on the site and founded Marischal College in nearby Aberdeen.

But the family fortunes were to take a downturn.

It’s strange to think of the English Civil War having an impact on this remote part of the world, but it did, for the people of Scotland were caught up in the wrangle too. In 1645, James Graham, earl of Montrose, (who’d been appointed Lord Lieutenant of Scotland) marched his army to Dunnottar and requested a treaty with the Earl Marischal, who declined to respond. Montrose set fire to nearby homes, farms and boats in the harbour below.

Nor was Dunnottar safe from Parliamentarian forces, for Cromwell’s army also besieged it in 1650 for a long and trying eight months. The castle surrendered, but the Honours of Scotland, which were in effect the Scottish Crown Jewels, had been smuggled out of the castle to Kinneff Church nearby.

1715 saw the first of the Jacobite risings and the incumbent of the castle at this point, George Keith, the tenth (and last) Earl Marischal, was convicted of treason for taking part in the doomed rebellion. Dunnottar, among his other holdings, was forfeited to the government. Two years later, it was sold to the York Mining Company and was stripped of all valuable materials. The floors and ceilings were taken and all the furniture was removed. After that, it was inevitable that the castle would fall to ruin.

What the visitor sees today is somewhat of a romantic ruin. It must have looked much more impressive in its heyday but as it stands, it sparks the imagination. Indeed, lovers of folklore will be pleased to know that Dunnottar features in the story of Fergus.**

The young man, Fergus, encounters the young lady Galiene whose uncle is the castellan of Liddel Castle (in Roxburghshire). She falls in love with him, but he says he will only return to her once he has completed his quest to vanquish the Black Knight. He does so, but when he returns to claim Galiene he discovers that she is not there. He searches for a year, eventually encountering a dwarf who tells him that his lost love will only come back to him if he takes a shield from a witch at Dunnottar. He travels all the way to Scotland, reaches Dunnottar, slays the witch and returns via Lothian, where he finds that Galiene is now Queen of Lothian, under siege from the neighbouring king of Roxburgh. Fergus then has to fight the avenging husband of the witch he killed at Dunnottar. The story goes on, although the rest is not linked to Dunnottar.

On the overcast, windy day when I visited, it was certainly easy to see how this place inspired such legends. But perhaps it's harder to believe, looking at it in its present state, how many true stories it holds.

* https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archive

** The Roman de Fergus - a 13th-century Arthurian romance written in Old French

~~~~~~~~~~

Annie Whitehead is an author and historian, and a member of the Royal Historical Society. She has written three award-winning novels set in Anglo-Saxon Mercia, including To Be A Queen, the story of the life of Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians. Her history of Mercia, from Penda the pagan king to the last brave stand of the earl of Mercia against the Conqueror, Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom, is published by Amberley. Her new book, about Anglo-Saxon Women, will be published by Pen & Sword in 2020.

Connect with Annie: Website  Blog  Facebook  Twitter 

Not Such A Fine Romance: Clementina Walkinshaw and Prince Charles Edward Stuart

by Lauren Gilbert

Clementina Maria Sophia Walkinshaw c. 1760 

Prince Charles Edward Stuart, known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, was the very stuff of romance. A gallant prince, eldest son of James III/VIII (the Young Pretender to the throne of England, Scotland and Ireland), known for his charm, and a lost cause... Who could resist such a creature? Surprisingly, there are rather fewer identified mistresses for Prince Charles than one might think. One of this number was Clementina Walkinshaw.

Clementina was born to John Walkinshaw of Barrowfield and his wife Katherine Paterson of Bannockburn, their 10th (and youngest) child, all of whom were daughters. Her full name was Clementina Maria Sophia Walkinshaw. Accounts of her place and date of birth vary, some sources placing it between 1720-1725 in Barrowfield in Scotland, others in Rome, Italy. Her father was a staunch supporter of the Jacobite cause, having supported the Stuarts previously in the 1715 uprising and having helped to bring his affianced wife to James III/VIII in 1719. There are suggestions that the family spent a great deal of time on the continent, that Clementina was named for the spouse of James III/VIII, Clementina Sobieski, possibly even her goddaughter, and that Clementina personally was known to the Stuarts in exile. Although suggestions that Clementina and Prince Charles Edward, born December 31, 1720 in Rome, had been childhood friends seem questionable, it does seem possible that there may have been an acquaintance.

At any rate, they definitely became known to one another in 1745. In January of 1746, he stopped at Bannockburn House apparently after the successful battle of Falkirk. Bannockburn was the home of Clementina’s uncle, Sir Hugh Paterson. Clementina was there visiting her uncle and her father may also have been present at this visit. During this time, the prince became ill with a cold and fever, and Clementina was supposedly one of the ladies assigned to nurse him. Much was made in some accounts of her cinnamon possets; there were even suggestions that she may have met him earlier and planned to meet him again in Bannockburn. Whatever prior connections there may (or may not) have been, Clementina and the prince definitely became known to each other at this time. Although David Wemyss, Lord Elcho (once the prince’s aide-de-camp, and a member of the council), and some others, stated unequivocally that Clementina became the prince’s mistress during this visit, it seems to me to be questionable, given her father’s and uncle’s status and the indications of Clementina’s possible connection to the prince’s family.

Prince Charles Edward Stuart, 1720-1788. By Allan Ramsay, c. 1745

At any rate, once the prince left Bannockburn in February of 1746, he did not return, as his road led to disaster at Culloden in April, then five months of running and hiding before finally escaping back to France in September of 1746. Once there, he continued to try to rally support for his cause with little success. When Pope Benedict XIX announced in 1747 that he planned to make Prince Charles Edward’s younger brother Henry a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church, Prince Charles Edward was enraged, especially when he discovered that the move was made with their father’s support and approval, as this close familial allegiance to the Pope and Church (on top of his family’s known preference for the Catholic Church) would make it virtually impossible to convince the English of his Protestant sympathies, and to make a successful claim to the thrones of England, Scotland and Ireland. He became estranged from his father and brother because of this perceived betrayal.

Sometime during 1747, he became reacquainted with his cousin Marie Louise Henriette de la Tour D’Auvergne, who was then married to Jules Hercule Meriadec de Rohan, prince of Guemene. The Prince of Guemene was away in the French army at this time, and Marie Louise and Prince Charles Edward fell passionately in love. They began a passionate secret affair that was quite difficult to conduct as Marie Louise’s mother-in-law tried to keep a close eye on her. It does not seem to have been a particularly happy affair, as Charles Edward subjected her to jealous rages and was known to have abused her. However, she was passionately in love with him. This may have been his first real relationship. The affair began to leak out, causing something of a scandal, and Marie Louise ultimately became pregnant. She was forced to end the affair and resumed sleeping with her husband to try to confuse the paternity of the infant. Enraged that she was sleeping with her husband, Charles refused her repeated attempts to see him alone, even though he continued to engage with the family. He told her that he had another mistress, and some sources indicate that the new mistress was Clementina Walkinshaw. However, in BONNIE PRINCE CHARLIE IN LOVE, this mistress was identified as the Princess de Talmont with whom he spent at least a couple of years travelling after he was expelled from France in December of 1748. Marie Louise had the child in July of 1748, and named him Charles Godefroi Sophie Jules Marie de Rohan. Although it appears that James III/VIII was told that he had a grandson, there is nothing to indicate what Charles may have felt about the child. Sadly the child, who had been recognized as a legitimate de Rohan, died in infancy.

Where was Clementina Walkinshaw during this time? It is hard to say as little appears to be known. Her older sister Catherine Walkinshaw (about 12 years older than Clementina) was in England in the household of the Augusta, Princess of Wales (wife of Frederick, Prince of Wales). (After Culloden, there was an apparently an unsuccessful attempt to get rid of her.) Her family appears to have had a foot in both camps. Charles had made efforts to find a suitable German princess to marry, and had his relationship the Princesse de Talmont into 1750-51, marred as it was by jealousy and rages. He also made a brief clandestine visit to Jacobite supporters in London in September of 1750. Although numerous sources implied or stated that Catherine went with him when he returned to the Continent in 1746, this does not appear to be the case. There is no indication of even a correspondence between them.

Clementina appears to have lived quietly until she left Scotland in 1751 for France with the intention of joining a convent. Charles apparently heard she was in France, and asked for her to be found and brought to him. This is hardly an indication of a long-term, passionate affair on his part. Clementina agreed to join him, which does argue feelings for him on her part. Available data indicates she joined him sometime in 1752. Because of this, Clementina’s family cut all ties with her. Although Charles’ continental connections were courteous to her, the English and Scottish Jacobites urged him to break with Clementina, as they were convinced she was a spy for the English crown, passing information through her sister Catherine. (A real irony since Catherine had nothing further to do with Clementina once the liaison with Prince Charles Edward was known, just like the rest of the family.)

Charles and Clementina moved to Liege in the summer of 1753, and their daughter Charlotte was born in October of 1753. Prince Charles was by this time moody, bitter about his lost opportunities and increasingly drunk. Most accounts describe his drunken rages. They increasingly quarrelled, and he was known to mistreat her. However, they stayed together and there is an indication that they may have had another child that died in infancy. There were also rumours of a possible marriage between the prince and Clementina, although there is nothing to indicate either Charles or Clementina acknowledged a marriage. However, be that as it may, Prince Charles Edward continued to deteriorate and finally, after years of verbal and physical abuse, Clementina took their daughter and left him in July of 1760. They had lived together for eight years.

Clementina and Charlotte were supported by the prince’s father, James III/VIII until his death January 1, 1766, then by his brother the cardinal (albeit at a reduced rate, and he apparently had her sign an affidavit that she had never married Prince Charles Edward which was done in Paris in March of 1767). Charles refused to contribute to the support of Clementina or their child. The prince married in 1772, to the Princess Louise of Stolberg-Gedern. Unfortunately, his personal decline continued and the marriage was unhappy. It ended when he attacked her in November of 1780, causing her to leave him. There were no children of this marriage. After the end of that marriage, he made a will, leaving Charlotte as his heir, written in March of 1783. He also granted her the Scottish title of Duchess of Albany and signed an act of legitimation allowing Charlotte to inherit French properties. Unbeknownst to him (and apparently everyone else), Charlotte had had a long-term affair with Prince Ferdinand de Rohan, Archbishop of Bordeaux and subsequently Cambrai. They had two daughters and a son. She left them to move in with Charles in Florence in 1784, and she cared for him until his death the end of January of 1788. There are indications that she may have persuaded him to help Clementina, and certainly he wrote to Clementina occasionally before he died. Sadly, Charlotte herself died in November 17, 1789.

Charlotte Stuart, Duchess of Albany by Hugh Douglas Hamilton,  c. 1785-1786

At some point, Clementina was given the title of Comtesse d’Alberstroff. After Charlotte went to live with Prince Charles Edward, Clementina moved to Paris and then subsequently to Switzerland. Accounts indicate that Charlotte left her estate to her uncle, Cardinal York, with instructions for him to take care of her mother. A pension was generated. However, the payment of the pension is not clear. There are indications that, although Clementina should have been comfortably off, she was actually maintained by irregular payments generated by Thomas Coutts, a banker in London, with whom she maintained a friendly correspondence. Many sources indicate she was actually poor and in difficult circumstances. Clementina died in November of 1802. Most sources indicate she died in Fribourg, Switzerland, although there is also an indication that she may have returned to Paris and died there. There is no indication that she ever had any contact with any member of her family. A sad end to a mistress badly treated in a most unromantic affair.

Sources include:

Douglas, Hugh. BONNIE PRINCE CHARLIE IN LOVE The Private Passions of Prince Charles Edward Stuart. 1995: Alan Sutton Publishing Ltd, United Kingdom; 2016: The History Press, Stroud, England-ebook edition. (Kindle)

Archive.org. A HISTORY OF GLASGOW Vol. III. By George Eyre-Todd. 1934: Jackson-Wylie & Co. Chapter 15 “A Glasgow Jacobite: John Walkinshaw of Barrowfield.” P. 121.  HERE  (An easier to read PDF of this chapter can be found HERE)

GoogleBooks.com. MACMILLAN’S MAGAZINE, Vol. XL May 1879 to October 1879. 1879: Macmillan and Co, London and New York. “Burns Unpublished Common-place Book” by William Jack, Part III, PP. 34-39. HERE

GoogleBooks.com. THE SCOTTISH HISTORICAL REVIEW, Vol. XVII, No. 67, April 1920. “Last Days of Clementina Walkinshaw” by A. Francis, Steuart. PP. 249-251.  HERE

HistoryofRoyalWomen.com. “The Real Woman of ‘Outlander’: Marie Louise de la Tour D’Auvergne” posted May 24, 2017 by Franziska. HERE

Jacobites.net. Jacobite Rebellion of 1745 (I) “Clementina Walkinshaw, 1720-1802” (no date or author shown)  HERE

Jacobite.ca. “Charlotte, Duchess of Albany” (no author or post date shown, site maintained by Noel S. McFerran.)  HERE

Scotsman.com. “Bonnie Prince Charlie and his Glaswegian Mistress” by Alison Campsie, January 4, 2017.   HERE

Clanmacfarlanegenealogy.info. MacFARLANE & FAMILIES GENEALOGY. Maintained by Andrew J. Macfarlane. “Individual Report for Clementine Maria Sophia Walkinshaw, Comtesse d’Alberstroff (1603).” HERE; "Lt-Col. John Walkinshaw of Barrowfield, J.P." HERE; "Katherine (Catherine) Walkinshaw" HERE

Images from Wikimedia Commons: Clementina HERE, Prince Charles Edward Stuart HERE and Charlotte HERE

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About the author:

Lauren Gilbert, a long-time member of the Jane Austen Society of North America, lives in Florida with her husband.  In addition to contributing to the English Historical Fiction Authors blog, she published a novel set in Regency England titled HEYERWOOD: A NOVEL, and is working on a second novel, A RATIONAL ATTACHMENT.  You can visit her website http://www.lauren-gilbert.com/ for more information.

Barbarous Usage – A Murder Case that Shocked the Nation

By Chris Thorndycroft

In February of 1748, an elderly customs official named William Galley was escorting a witness called Daniel Chater from Southampton to Chichester to testify against a gang of smugglers who had broken into the customs house at Poole earlier that year. The pair stopped at the White Hart in Rowlands Castle for refreshment before the final leg of their journey. Unfortunately for them, the inn was a regular meeting point for members of the Hawkhurst Gang; the very smugglers whom the witness was to testify against. Once aware of the mission of the two men, the smugglers plied them with drink and spirited them away into the night. 

Galley’s body was later found shoved inside an enlarged foxhole at Harting Coombe. His arms were raised upwards as if shielding himself from being buried alive. Chater was found at the bottom of a well in Lady Holt Park, his body crushed by debris that had been pelted down on him. Both men had been cruelly tortured. The hunt for their killers began in earnest and the village of Rowlands Castle became the centre of a criminal investigation that shocked the nation. 

This was the village I was born to. 

The smugglers finish off Daniel Chater after throwing him
down a well at Lady Holt Park.

For the first eight years of my life I lived in a little cottage a mile down the road from where the White Hart once stood (it was torn down around 1853 to make room for the railway). Other than an old rumour that the track way past my terrace was once used by smugglers in the 18th century, this colourful chapter in the village’s history was wholly unknown to me until much later.

The gruesome events of February, 1748 were first described to me simply as a violent altercation between smugglers and customs men. Imagining some sort of Wild West gunfight occurring in my local village pub, I did a bit of digging. The truth was not hard to find. As well as the Old Bailey records and an entry in the Newgate Calendar, the whole nasty affair was recorded in a series of illustrated pamphlets entitled The Genuine History of the Inhuman and Unparalleled Murders of Mr. William Galley, a Custom-House Officer, and Mr. Daniel Chater, a Shoemaker. 

Written by ‘a gentleman of Chichester’, the pamphlets were published in 1758 and began by outlining the background to these appalling crimes. In September of 1747, a smuggling run organised by the notorious Hawkhurst Gang went awry when their cutter, the Three Brothers and its cargo of two tons of tea and thirty casks of spirits was seized by a revenue ship. The cargo was stored at the customs house at Poole. 

Incensed by this, the Hawkhurst Gang held council in Charlton Forest and, on the 6th of October, they raided the customs house and stole back the tea and spirits. Making their way back east, they passed through the village of Fordingbridge where a crowd tuned out to greet them as heroes. One of the smugglers - John ‘Dimer’ Diamond - shared a few words with Daniel Chater (an old acquaintance) and passed him a small bag of tea. This exchange did not go unnoticed. 

Frontispiece for the collected pamphlets
that sensationalised the case

Soon Dimer was arrested and put in irons at Chichester jail. The rest of the Hawkhurst Gang were thrown into a panic. If Dimer turned king’s evidence, he could name every last one of them. Fortune favoured the gang and, on the 14th February, customs officer William Galley and his charge Daniel Chater, wandered into the yard of the White Hart. 

The smugglers’ decision to remove this threat to them was unanimous although the means were a matter of heated debate. Should they kill them? Kidnap them and hold them until the trial had been held? Ship them to France? 

Whatever their decision it was clear that the two strangers had to be made as drunk as possible. Round after round of drinks was bought and, as the two inebriated men were escorted to their beds, a letter was pilfered from the pocket of William Galley. The contents of the letter – a request to the local Justice Battine to examine the witness – emphasised the danger to the smugglers. The most senior of them – William Jackson and his accomplice, William Carter – seized the men in their beds and dragged them out into the yard where they were put on horses, their legs tied underneath. 

The unfortunate men were horsewhipped for five miles in the direction of Lady Holt Park where the smugglers intended to dispatch them and toss their bodies down a well. William Galley begged for his life which drove Jackson (a sadistic villain even in these circles) to further savagery. 

The gang made a detour for Rake where Daniel Chater was chained up in a turf hut to await further punishment. William Galley, who was now presumed dead after sliding off his horse and having his skull kicked in by its hoof, was taken to Harting Coombe and buried, although not before regaining consciousness it seems.

After showing their faces at their respective employments the following week, the smugglers returned to the turf hut to finish off Chater. Ben Tapner, a smuggler who showed a nasty streak almost the equal of Jackson’s, slashed Chater twice across the face with his knife, severing his nose and nearly blinding him. The wretch was then taken to the well at Lady Holt Park where, after failing to hang him (the rope was too short) the gang threw him into the well and hurled rocks and bits of timber down on him until his screaming stopped. 

William Galley’s coat was found on the road, torn and bloody, but of the two unfortunate men, no further trace could be found.

Charles Lennox, the 2nd Duke of
Richmond was instrumental in
bringing the smugglers to heel.

Enter Charles Lennox, the second Duke of Richmond. This local aristocrat, whose seat was Goodwood House (now famous for its racetracks), hated smugglers with a passion. He was a staunch anti-Jacobite (he served under the king’s son against the ’45 rebellion) and the support smugglers often lent the Catholic cause only fuelled his wish to see them destroyed. The mysterious disappearance of a customs official and his witness while travelling through the duke’s domain would likely have roused his personal interest. 

Somebody clearly counted on this for an anonymous letter was sent to the duke, telling where Galley’s body was buried. A second letter even named one of the smugglers – William Steele – as an accomplice in the murders and he quickly joined his comrade Dimer at Chichester jail. A confession was wrung out of him along with thirteen other names. The manhunt began and in January, 1749, the villains went on trial for the murders of Galley and Chater.

The case was sensational for its time, no doubt helped by the series of illustrated pamphlets written by our anonymous ‘gentleman of Chichester’ (widely believed to have been the Duke of Richmond himself). The sadistic violence of the smugglers shocked the public and dispelled the belief that smuggling was a harmless crime committed by heroic types brave enough to flaunt King George’s harsh tax laws. The trial and media coverage turned the public’s opinion against smuggling and the days of its golden age were numbered. 

The Duke of Richmond died the following year and is perhaps better remembered for his patronage of cricket, but his contributions to stamping out smuggling in Hampshire and Sussex cannot be ignored. The trial effectively broke up the Hawkhurst Gang and various other leaders of the group were apprehended, tried and executed shortly after. The life of the duke and his relationship with his four rebellious daughters formed the basis of Stella Tillyard’s book Aristocrats and the 1999 BBC miniseries of the same name. 

The Castle Inn at Rowlands Castle stands on the same site
the White Hart once did.

Having learned the details of what I had previously thought of as a quick battle between smugglers and excise men in my local area, I knew that I had to work them into a novel somehow. The Hawkhurst Gang and its practice of murdering witnesses and intimidating judges smacked of an 18th century English mafia that extended from Kent to Dorset and was a thrilling piece of local history I had been wholly unaware of before my investigations. 

The White Hart, sadly gone, is remembered in the bricks and mortar of the Castle Inn which was built very nearby purportedly using the same materials. Rowlands Castle now has a railway station, at least three other pubs, countless shops and small businesses and a housing estate. It looks little different from any other village in the south of England but it will always have this dark chapter in its history that recalls casks of brandy deposited on shingle beaches, shadowed types leading packhorses down moonlit country lanes, and murder, torture and violence employed to ensure that people kept their mouths shut.  

Chris Thorndycroft’s new novel The Rebel and the Runaway is told from the point of view of Alice Sinclair; a young girl who runs away from home and winds up as a barmaid at the White Hart. In love with one of the smugglers, she becomes embroiled in the dreadful events surrounding the murders of Galley and Chater. On the run, in peril and torn between family and love, Alice’s story is one of passion and defiance, entwined with one of England’s most shocking murder cases.

Chris Thorndycroft is also the author of the Hengest and Horsa Trilogy and the ghost story novella The Visitor at Anningley Hall (a prequel to M. R. James’s ‘The Mezzotint’). He also writes Steampunk and Retropulp under the pseudonym P. J. Thorndyke.

Visit his blog here.  

The Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Prime Minister

by Lauren Gilbert

 Henry Pelham was the second son of Sir Thomas Pelham, baronet, a prominent mover of the Revolution that placed William & Mary on the throne. Sir Thomas was a Whig, and was raised to peerage as Baron Pelham. Henry’s mother was Grace Holles, the daughter of Gilbert, Earl of Clare. He was born in 1696, admitted to Hart-hall in the University of Oxford Sept 6 1710, at age 15.

On July 22, 1715, Henry was appointed Captain in General Dormer’s regiment. This appears to be his first and only commission. He served during the rebellion of 1715, and was known to have participated in the battle of Preston in Lancashire, where the Jacobites were defeated. It seems probable that he did not continue in the army.

On October 29, 1726, Henry Pelham married Lady Catherine Manners, daughter of John Manners, second Duke of Rutland. Rutland also had Whig connections: his father was a Whig, and Catherine’s sister Elizabeth married John Monckton, Viscount Galway, who was also a Whig. They had eight children, including two sons who both died in 1739. They also had six daughters, four of whom lived to adulthood: Catherine, Countess of Lincoln (married Henry Fiennes Pelham-Clinton, a first cousin) 1727-1760; Frances Pelham (never married) 1728-1824; Grace, Baroness Sondes 1735-1777 (married Lewis Watson, Baron Stokes of Lees Court); and Mary Pelham 1739-?, who also never married.

Henry Pelham was, of course, a Whig (this would appear inevitable with his own family tradition subsequently reinforced by his wife’s connections as well as his personal convictions). As so many other second sons did, he turned to politics to make his way. In February 1719, he went into Parliament for the borough of Seaford in Sussex (thanks to family influence). In 1720, he was appointed treasurer of the chamber, thanks to recommendation by Lord Townshend, (the president of the council and his brother-in-law) and Robert Walpole (paymaster of the forces). On May 6, 1720, he made his first speech in the House of Commons.

Henry’s alliance with Robert Walpole, later Lord Orford, continued. When Lord Townshend was returned to his post and secretary of state and Mr Walpole to his post as minister of finance in 1721, Henry was called to the Treasury Board. Mr. Walpole took note of Henry’s diligence and hard work. He was returned as one of the members for Sussex, and continued to represent that county for the rest of his life.

He served as Secretary at War from 1724 until 1730, when he was awarded the advantageous position of paymaster of the forces. In his various positions, he became known for his civility and candour, as well as his hard work and dependability, and was widely respected. He also developed a friendship with Henry Fox, another of Walpole’s supporters.

Henry Pelham’s older brother Thomas, Duke of Newcastle was in the cabinet. They formed an effective political partnership. His brother appears to have been more emotional, sensitive and jealous (the Duke expected deference to his opinion, worried that others had greater influence), while Henry was calmer and more rational. In their working partnership, the Duke was more flamboyant, while Henry was quieter, more “behind the scenes” in the House of Commons. Their combined influence in both houses of Parliament strengthened the stability of the government. Although they did disagree sometimes which caused some stress and difficulty, they managed to maintain a good working relationship and affectionate personal relationship.

The Duke was also a political ally of Robert Walpole. In 1724 he became Secretary of State after Lord Carteret was dismissed, thanks to the influence of Mr Walpole and Lord Townsend.

Lord Carteret was a favourite of George II and actively lobbied the King against the Whigs who were hostile to the King’s foreign policy, which was heavily weighted for the support of Hanover, at the perceived cost for England. Pelham was not a proponent of the wars, and was particularly disturbed by the amount of money required to maintain them. Robert Walpole and Pelham had managed to allay some of the king’s distrust, but Pelham resigned when King George II refused to approve offices for Pitt and Fox. Carteret’s choice Lord Granville was recalled but unable to form a government. Pelham et al returned very quickly.

Pelham served as prime minister 10 years, and was noted for his ability to work with and unite multiple political factions. Although the financial scandals that affected Walpole and Fox seem to have touched him, there appears to have been no significant effect on his career.

Although Henry Pelham’s administration was not particularly flamboyant, and I found several references implying that the successes of his administration were more due to his brother the Duke’s influence, there were significant accomplishments:

He is credited with the reduction of the national debt 1747-48 (improved credit, interest reduced to 3%).

He worked to end of the War of the Austrian Succession in 1748, which resulted in peace with France and trade with Spain.

He supported the Consolidation Act 1749 which was passed and resulted in the reorganization of the Royal Navy.

The calendar was reorganized (in 1751, New Year’s Day changed from March 25 to January first; in 1752, the adoption of Gregorian Calendar was passed).

Pelham attempted several social reforms and, although he did not achieve all he attempted, his administration succeeded in the passage of the “Jew Act” of 1753 which allowed Jews to become naturalized by applying to Parliament, and the Marriage Act of 1753 (aka the Hardwicke Act) which established the minimum age of consent for marriage.

His was a relatively stable administration, with several years of peace.

Henry Pelham died unexpectedly in March 6, 1754. He had had a succession of illnesses during his life, and his sudden death was said to be the result of having eaten too much and exercised too little. He was succeeded by his brother the Duke of Newcastle. At his death, George II, who had not particularly liked Pelham, said, “Now I shall have no peace.”

Sources of information about Henry Pelham include:

Chancellor, E. Beresford. Memorials of St. James’s Street and Chronicles of Almack’s. 1922: Brentano’s, New York.

Tillyard, Stella. ARISTOCRATS Caroline, Emily, Louisa & Sarah Lennox 1740-1832. 1994: Chatto & Windus, London.

Williams, E. N. Life in Georgian England. 1962, 1967: B. T. Batsford LTD, London.

GoogleBooks. Coxe, William. Memoirs of the Administration of the Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Collected from the Family Papers, and Other Authentic Documents. Vol. I. 1829: Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, London. http://google.com/books?id=jrw_AAAAcAAJ

Gov.UK. Past Prime Ministers. “Henry Pelham Whig 1743 to 1754.” https://www.gov.uk/government/history/past-prime-ministers/henry-pelham

The Peerage online. “Rt. Hon. Henry Pelham.” Person Page 1595. http://www.thepeerage.com/p1595.htm

The University of Notthingham-Manuscripts and Special Collections. “Biography of Henry Pelham (c. 1696-1754; Prime Minister). http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/manuscriptsandspecialcollections/collectionsindepth/family/newcastle/biographies/biographyofhenrypelham(c1695-1754;primeminister).aspx

The World of Heyerwood blog. “An Almack’s Mystery: Who was Miss Pelham?” by Lauren Gilbert, posted 1/12/2014. http://laurengilbertheyerwood.wordpress.com/2014/01/12/an-almacks-mystery-who-was-miss-pelham

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Lauren Gilbert is the author of HEYERWOOD: A Novel. A long-time member of JASNA and life-long reader of historical novels, she lives in Florida with her husband and is working on her second novel.

Of Scotland, Glencoe and the Reformers

by Shawn Lamb

Have you ever run across a story that just had to be told? That is what happened to me when my husband and I visited Edinburgh, Scotland. History buff that I am, I loved touring England, Wales and Scotland, and took every opportunity to find historical gems to bring home.  One such find, was an intriguing non-fiction book by John Prebble titled "Glencoe". I bought it and tucked it away in my suitcase. 

Not until I returned home to the U.S., did I read it and became hooked!  The story of Glencoe gnawed at me, needing to be told and wouldn’t let me go until I set down to write. Yet not fictionalized in any trivial way, but told as it happened to those involved, the the good and bad of the entire incident.

I expanded my research to discover a rich, yet complex series of circumstances leading up to Glencoe. Most know the time period called the "Highland Clearances" ended in the fateful battle of Culloden in 1745. However, not many realize Glencoe sparked the revolt.

For centuries Scotland and England clashed, with the Civil War being a great turning point. This factor played a part in the events leading to Glencoe. One of the most powerful clans at time –Clan Campbell, rose to political prominence, and used its influence to execute personal vendettas. Some of these revenge-laced initiatives came in response to robber raids or acts during the Civil War committed against the clan.

Robber raids were a common practice in the Highlands, sort of a training exercise for the real act of war. They mostly involved stealing livestock, and could result in injury and death, but that was something to avoid. The MacDonalds of Glencoe were part of raiding group called “The Gallows Herd”. MacIain, the Glencoe chief, also participated in the Civil War as a young man. Needless to say, the Campbells didn’t think very highly of the MacDonalds of Glencoe.

Whereas governmental politics and clan rivalry played a part in shaping events in the Highlands, so did the Scottish Reformers. Second only to John Knox was a man named Alexander Henderson. He played such a crucial role in establishing the National Covenant and Reforming the Church of Scotland that a statue of him stands in Stirling.

Why do I bring up Alexander Henderson? Because relatives of his lived in Glencoe. Known for their large stature and physical strength, these Hendersons were the hereditary pipers and bodyguards of the MacDonald chief. The MacDonalds were predominately Catholic and among the Jacobites, those clans remaining loyal to King James VI after being deposed by William of Orange.

Imagine being related to one of the most power Reformers in Scotland while living and serving the chief of a Catholic Clan? Add to that fact, the Kirk and Church of Scotland commissioned Protestant missionaries from England and sons of clan chiefs educated in universities to win over the Jacobites.  There are records of missionaries in around Glencoe since the Civil War. A seed for conflict perhaps? Yes and no.

The code of clan life went beyond religious affiliations, beyond personal and clan feuds. In such a hostile and unforgiving environment as the Highlands, survival ruled. Story after story in Scottish lore tells of the unbiased acts of hospitality giving no thought to blood feuds or allegiances when sanctuary is sought and granted. In my book, I use the telling of the story involving my husband’s own clan – Lamont, to help illustrate this point. It is perhaps the most horrendous aspect of what happened at Glencoe, which some call murder under trust.

All these complexities figure into the events leading up to the fateful February night. The story practically told itself, with little fictionalizing from me. With the publication of Glencoe, the gnawing I felt is now satisfied, but the echoes of what happened there, are still heard today.