It was called the Rising of the Forty an' Five. In 1745, Prince Charles Edward Stuart undertook to retake the throne of England for his father.
His grandfather was James II of England. James Francis Edward Stuart, the "Old Pretender," was Prince Charlies' father and son of James II. Prince Charlie was called the Young Pretender, because he was in line for the throne if he were successful in his effort.
But this diary is not about the politics of the time, nor is it about the personalities of the main characters and their cause. It is about heroes, bravery in the face of unspeakable odds, and about the futility of the cruel aftermath.
Prince Charlie had mustered thousands of Scots to his cause, and he had several victories. He did march toward London, getting as far as Derby, in England. At that point, things fell apart. The Prince was counseled by commanders who were of questionable competence at best. They feared marching further and convinced Charlie to retreat to the Highlands. The retreat was miserable in the cold and rain of early April. The Highlanders marched with dwindling food supplies. By this time, the English army was in hot pursuit, and it became a forced march.
On April 15, 1746, the Highlanders camped near Inverness, Scotland at a place called Culloden Moor. It was cold, raining and windy. The Scots were hungry, bone tired and cold. Most of their weapons were swords, a few small cannon, and muskets.
The next morning, 254 years ago today, the two armies faced each other. Aside from the mismatch in training, equipment and provisions, the two lines facing each other were uneven. This was a horrible tactical mistake. For those history buffs who are interested in the details of the battle, here is a map of how the two armies were arrayed against each other. For the real military history buff, here is a documentary about the battle.
Embedding has been disabled, so here is the link. But this anniversary diary is not about tactics, leadership, politics or who should be the King of England and Scotland. It is about poor farmers and merchants who wanted to live their lives in freedom with their own King. They fought for the same thing they had fought for with William Wallace and Robert the Bruce almost four centuries before. Seven thousand of these simple folk found themselves lined up facing eight thousand of the best trained, best equipped army in the world at the time.
The English had cannon loaded with grapeshot. They had learned to deal with the problem of the Highlander's targe, the formidable wooden shield of the Highlanders. The targe is bound in leather and often had a foot-long steel spike sticking out the front. The highly disciplined English soldiers did not thrust bayonets into the targe in front of them, but to the side going behind the targe, spearing the unlucky Highlander behind it.
When the cry to begin the battle began, Prince Charlie expected the English to charge, but they did not. Lord Cumberland held back, firing round after round from his artillery, cutting the Scots lines to pieces with grapeshot. Finally, when the Scots did charge, they had already been decimated.
The English met them with the new tactic of bayoneting the man behind the targe, further cutting the Scots to pieces. But still, these men came on.
When the smoke cleared fifty English were dead and about 250 wounded. The casualties among the Highlanders ran into the thousands. But that is not the worst of it. The worst came after the battle. Lord Cumberland ordered his men to butcher the wounded on the field.
Afterward, the English troops spread out across the countryside killing suspected Jacobite sympathizers. There are hundreds of stories of people being hung or murdered simply because they wore a tartan plaid. Others were locked in barns and houses, and the structures burned down.
Laws were passed making it illegal to wear or own tartan cloth. Let this video from a documentary explain it better than I can. Embedding has been disabled, so click here for the documentary by Peter Watkins. Isla Grant sings the haunting title song for this diary. Can you hear them, can you see them.…
Can you hear them, can you see them Marching proudly across the moor, Hear the wind blow thru the drifting snow, Tell me can you see them, the ghosts of Culloden. Thru the mist you'll hear - a lonely piper play, Listen carefully - you'll hear - a mournful cry......
It was on this day in 1746. 254 years ago on a cold and windswept moor near Inverness, Scotland. A haunted place known as Culloden Moor. A field that, like other killing fields, shall live forever in legend and tears. And infamy.
It is a story of heroes and of cold blooded brutality. The politics of the events are of little consequence, 254 years later. It is a story of inept leadership, poor generals and of a brutal aftermath. It is a story of unbelievable bravery against impossible odds. Poor farmers and shepherds aligned against the best army in the world. Swords and muskets against artillery and highly disciplined professional soldiers.
There is a lesson here for all of us. I am focused on the aftermath, because the futility of trying to change a culture does not only not work, it hardens resolve. The attempt to destroy the culture has resulted in a resurgence of the culture, but one tinged with an edge of bitterness.
I am descended from families on both sides of those battle lines and the bitter taste still lingers a quarter-millennium later. The lesson here in Iraq and Afghanistan is to remind everyone that we are leaving a lasting bitter harvest that will linger for many generations. There is no way we will change a centuries old culture to another way of life. It has to evolve on its own.
The futility of the slaughter by Cumberland is that his name is still hated in the Highlands, and the Scottish culture has seen a resurgence around the world.
I will close with Flower of Scotland.