for internal development, and at the time of the Union she was without manufactures, shipping, or commerce. With the end of her independent nationality a new social life began, and a spirit of industry and enterprise was awakened, which has since raised her people to their present eminence in trade, manufactures, and agriculture. The Union struck the last blow at the Scottish nobles. They were not placed by any means on the same level with the peers of the sister kingdom. It brought to the commons, who during this period had been much despised and oppressed, an increase in dignity and independence, by admitting them to a share in the liberty and privileges which the commons of England had won for themselves with the sword. But what did even more for the prosperity of Scotland was the removal of all restrictions on her trade, which was now placed on the same footing as that of the larger kingdom.

Though the Union was such a good thing for Scotland, the people were a long time in finding this out. The old national jealousy was aroused; they thought that their dearly-loved independence was being sacrificed. There were riots in different places; and though the people were quieted by the assurance that the insignia of loyalty, the regalia or crown jewels, should not be carried out of the kingdom, for long afterwards the Union was very unpopular, and had to bear the blame of everything that went wrong. There was still, too, a large party, chiefly in the Highlands, attached to James Stuart, known as the Chevalier de St. George or the Old Pretender, as the Whigs called him. Jacobitism, which was in England a mere empty word used to express any sort of discontent with the existing state of things, meant something more in Scotland. There it was the traditionary feeling of loyalty and love towards the ancient line of kings; and for James, their representative, there were many who were ready to venture their lands, or their life if need were. As long as Anne lived there was no excuse for an outbreak, for she, too, was a Stuart, and it was hoped that her brother might succeed her.

When Anne died, the son of Sophia, George, elector of Hanover, succeeded without opposition, according to the Act of Settlement. Before long, he and his German favorites became very unpopular. This gave the Jacobites hopes that, if they

raised the standard for James, all the discontented in both kingdoms would join them in an attempt to restore him to the throne of his fathers.

THE JACOBITE RISING.

To give to such an attempt the least chance of success, three conditions were necessary. First, that the rising should take place at the same time in both kingdoms; secondly, that it should be helped by France; and thirdly, that the prince for whom it was made should come among his people, and lead them in person. All three were wanting in this unfortunate rebellion. James made no personal effort to get the crown on the death of his sister, though six weeks passed before George came over from Hanover. During this interval James issued a manifesto from Plombières, Aug. 29, 1714. In this manifesto he asserted his right to the crown, and explained that he had remained quiet while his sister lived, because he had no doubt of her good intentions towards him. A year, however, was allowed to pass before any active steps were taken. Just when the plans for the rising were all made, Louis XIV. of France, who was the best friend the Chevalier had, died, and was succeeded by the next heir, his great-grandson, an infant. The Duke of Orleans, who became regent, was disposed to be friendly to the government of England; indeed his regency was one of the few times when there was any real friendliness between the two countries. By his order some ships lying at Havre, which had been fitted out for James, were unloaded, and the arms stored in the royal magazines. These ships were intended for the succor of the rebels in Scotland, where the standard was raised for James by John Erskine, earl of Mar, at the junction of the Clung and the Dee, Sept. 6, 1715. Mar had begun life as a Whig, but had changed sides so often that he was nicknamed "Bobbing John." He had addressed a loyal letter to King George on his accession, but as, by the change of ministry, he lost his office of secretary of state for Scotland and saw no hope of getting it back again, he became an ardent Jacobite, and the leader of the party in Scotland. The very day before he set off to raise the Highlands for James he attended a levee of the king. Before his going north he sent letters to the principal Jacobites, inviting them to a hunting-match. At this meeting they all swore to be true to one

another, and to Mar, as James's general. The government suspended the Habeas Corpus Act, and offered £100,000 ($500,000) for seizing the Pretender, dead or alive.

Argyle commanded for the English government, Mar for the Jacobites. The battle of Sheriffmuir was claimed by both. After the battle Argyle went back to Stirling, and Mar to Perth. There the clans began to desert him, going home as usual with their plunder, while Argyle's force was increased by six thousand Dutch troops.

James at last made his appearance, but not till his followers had been taken prisoners in the one country and had lost their spirit in the other. He landed at Peterhead, Dec. 22, attended by only six persons. He was met by Mar, and went on to Scone, whence he issued six proclamations, and fixed his coronation for January 23. The news of his landing had somewhat revived the spirit of his followers, but, when they met, both parties were disappointed; James with their scanty numbers, and they with his heaviness and stupidity. Soon after, a vessel coming from France with gold for the rebels was stranded and the money lost. At last Argyle began to advance against James, who retreated from Perth, greatly to the disgust of the clans. From Perth they went to Dundee, and from thence to Montrose. Twelve hours after they had left Perth Argyle entered it, but he was so slack in his pursuit of the rebels as to give rise to suspicions of his own loyalty. A few days later, Feb. 4, James set sail secretly for France with Mar and some other nobles. He left a letter for Argyle, and all the money he had with him for the benefit of the poor people in the villages round Perth, which had been burnt by his order. His men, grieved and disappointed to find that their leader had deserted them, went back to their native glens. Most of the officers escaped to the Orkneys, and from thence to the Continent. The following year another Jacobite conspiracy was got up. In this both Spain and Sweden were concerned; Spain promised to help with money, while Charles XII. of Sweden was to invade Scotland with twelve thousand soldiers. It was discovered, and prevented by the arrest of the persons suspected of sharing in it.

In 1713 there were riots over a proposed malt tax. The brewers of Edinburgh made a compact to brew no more beer unless the tax were taken off.

Twelve years later came the Porteous Riots. One Wilson, a smuggler, was hanged at the Grass Market. He was, however, very popular, and the guard at the execution was pelted with stones. On this, Porteous, captain of the city guard, ordered his men to fire, and several eminent persons in the crowd were killed and wounded. Porteous was tried, and condemned to death as a murderer, but a reprieve was sent down from London. On the evening before the day which had been fixed for the execution of the sentence, while Porteous was feasting with his friends to celebrate his escape from danger, the people gathered in great numbers. To insure against surprise they disarmed the city guard, took their weapons, and themselves guarded the gates, so as to prevent any tidings being carried to the regiment quartered in the suburbs. Then they marched to the Tolbooth, formerly the Parliament House, but now used as a prison. The door was so strong that it defied all their efforts to burst it open. They set fire to it, upon which the jailor threw out the keys. Leaving the door open to let the other prisoners escape, they then went straight to Porteous's cell, dragged him out of the chimney, where he was hiding, and carried him to the Grass Market, the place of public execution.. There they hanged him to a dyer's pole with a rope they had taken from a dealer's stall on the way, and in payment for which they had left a guinea.

"THE FORTY-FIVE.”

In 1719 there was a small attempt made to get up another Jacobite rising. This attempt was favored by Spain, which, just at this time, under the guidance of Cardinal Alberoni, minister of Philip V., once more began to take an active part in European affairs. England had joined the Quadruple Alliance against Spain, which was therefore ready to help in an attempt to overthrow the English government. The Marquess of Tullibardine landed on the Lewis with a body of three hundred Spanish soldiers. But the stores and arms which were to have been sent to him were lost on the way, and, though about two thousand Highlanders mustered, they were defeated at Glenshiels by the regular troops. The Highlanders fled to the hills, while the Spaniards surrendered, and thus the attempt came to nothing. But the clans were still unsubdued, and were ready to break out again at any

time. General Wade, who had been commanderin-chief since 1715, made excellent roads in many places where there had been none before, and an Act was passed for disarming the Highlanders. But this did more harm than good. The clans that were faithful to the government gave up their arms; but this only made them unable to resist the rebels, who kept theirs hidden and ready for use when occasion should come. England was now engaged in a continental war; most of the troops were out of the kingdom, and the time seemed favorable for another effort. France too promised help. Early in 1744 an army of 1,500 men under the command of Marshal Saxe, one of the most skilful generals in the French service, was collected at Dunkirk, and embarked in French transports for the invasion of England. But the fleet was dispersed by a storm, and the French were unwilling to give any further help. The next year Charles Edward, son of the Old Pretender, called the Young Chevalier, who was to have led this expedition, determined to make a venture on his own account.

Without money, without arms, with only seven followers, he landed at Moidart, on the west coast of Inverness, and called on the Jacobite clans to muster and follow him, July 25, 1745.

Sir

The standard of James was raised at Glenfillan, August 19, and the commission naming Charles regent in his stead was read to about one hundred motley but enthusiastic followers. Already a small band of them had had a foretaste of victory. John Cope was sent to oppose the rebels with all the troops that the government could raise. Instead of bringing the enemy to battle, he let the Highland army, which was gathering like a snowball, pass him. While he went northward, it came down unopposed upon the Lowlands, entered Perth, and advanced towards Edinburgh, where James was proclaimed. Charles Edward summoned the city to surrender. The magistrates were for gaining time, till one morning a body of five hundred Camerons under Lochiel surprised and entered one of the city gates. They then secured the watchmen, opened the other gates, and thus the city was in the hands of the rebels. At noon of the same day the heralds and pursuivants were obliged to proclaim James at the Cross as King James VIII., and to read his Royal Declaration and the Commis

sion of Regency. Charles entered the city the same day, September 17, and took up his quarters in the Palace of Holyrood. That night all the Jacobites in the city gathered at a ball to celebrate his arrival.

Meanwhile Cope had brought back his troops by sea and landed them at Dunbar. Charles marched out from Edinburgh to meet him. At a village near Preston-pans, so called from the pans used there for crystallizing the sea-salt, the Highlanders defeated the regular troops, and came back triumphant to Edinburgh with the money and the cannon which they had taken, September 20. Charles lingered at Edinburgh, holding his court at Holyrood, till November 1, when he began his march towards England, at the head of an army of five to six thousand men. Carlisle surrendered to Charles, who left a garrison to defend the castle, and marched on unresisted through Preston and Manchester, as far as Derby, which he reached on December 4. Charles was now two days' march nearer London than the army under William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, son of George II., which had been sent to oppose him. A panic prevailed in London, where the citizens expected hourly to see the wild Highlanders enter and spoil the city. Their fears were, however, unfounded. Jealousies and discord were rife among the rebel chiefs. At Derby Charles held a council of war. Some of his officers advised one thing, some another. But as they would not agree to march on to London without delay, Charles, sorely against his will, was obliged to give the order to retreat. The Jacobites had some further successes till the "butcher" Cumberland came to grapple with them. Charles hurried north, and entered Inverness, but the king's troops were closing round the rebels, who, cooped up in the barren mountains, were in the direst straits. All supplies sent from France were cut off before they reached them, and for several days they had no food but a little raw oatmeal.

Culloden Moor was the scene of the last battle fought on British ground. The rebels, who were nearly starving, and who had been worn out by a long march and an attempted night-attack that had altogether failed, soon gave way, and were easily routed by the duke's well-disciplined and nearly twice as numerous army, April 16, 1746. The French auxiliaries fled towards Inverness,

where they laid down their arms. The rebels lost one thousand men, a fifth of their whole number; the victors only three hundred and ten. About twelve hundred of the fugitives rallied at Ruthven; but Charles begged them to disperse, and every man sought his own safety as he best might. The after measures of the victors were disgraceful to all concerned. No quarter was given; the wounded were slaughtered in cold blood, or burnt in the houses to which they had crawled for shelter. For three months martial law prevailed; the country was wasted, the houses burnt, the cattle lifted, the people left to perish. It was not till July that the duke, who in Scotland was called the butcher, went back to London, where he was hailed as the deliverer of his country, and rewarded with a pension of £25,000 ($125,000) a year.

Charles, whose foolhardy ambition had brought all this misery on his simple followers, passed five months in perilous wanderings. A great price was set on his head; but, poor as the Highlanders were, not one of them would stoop to win it by betraying him. At one time, when he was tracked by the soldiers, he was saved by a young lady called Flora MacDonald, who got a passport for him under the name of Betty Burke, her maid. In this disguise he escaped to Skye. After this he came back to the mainland, and lived for some time with seven robbers in a cave. They kept him hidden and sup

plied his wants as well as they could, and used to go in disguise to the nearest town to pick up what news they could. One day, as a great dainty, they brought him back a pennyworth of gingerbread. When he left them Charles joined two of his adherents, MacPherson of Cluny and Lochiel, and he and they stayed in a strange hiding-place called the Cage, on the side of Ben-alder, till two French vessels appeared on the coast. In one of these he embarked, Sept. 20, at Lochnannagh, the same place where, fourteen months before, he had landed. Thus Charles escaped to the Continent, but his memory was long cherished in the country that had suffered so much for him. He was compelled to leave France after the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and ended an unsettled, discontented, dissipated life at Rome in 1788. His brother Henry, called the Cardinal of York, the last of the Stuart line, survived him nearly twenty years.

The separate history of Scotland, which may be said to have ceased with the Union, ends with the "Forty-Five," and from that romantic episode is chiefly remarkable from its unconnected and fragmentary character. But now that the two nations have become so closely united, national jealousy and national pride are both alike well-nigh forgotten, and Scotchmen are content to throw their energy and talents at home and in the colonies into the common stock of British glory.

T

HE national spirit created by the agitation against Wood's halfpence never again forsook the "Protestant garrison." Their hatred of the "Papist" softened into contemptuous indifference among the worldly, and among the religious into a desire to "compel them to come in" to the pale of the Establishment. The gentler spirits among the Anglicans, the good, highminded Bishop Berkeley, Primate Boulter, and others felt that it was not by penal codes or persecutions that real conversions would be made, and in the hope of moulding the young in the ways of the Establishment, charter schools were founded about seven years after the close of the copper war.

These charter schools were originally free day schools, where children of every creed could be taught and instructed in the orthodox Anglican faith, but in this form they did not answer. Many of the Catholic poor preferred ignorance to even a risk of heresy, and among such children as frequented the schools, home influence was far stronger than any that could be gained at a day school. Accordingly the institutions were changed to boardingschools, where only Papists were received, and that they might be utterly cut off from the pernicious influence of home, the children were sent to distant parts of the country. The effect of this may easily be imagined the charter schools became more dreaded than the jail. Only in time of famine could the parents be induced to send their children to the institutions, and when once the hour of starvation was passed they rescued their little ones from the wiles of the heretic. Perhaps had the schools been well managed, and the wan little children returned home fat and rosy, a different feeling would

have grown up; but the sad old tale of funds misappropriated, officials growing fat and children thin, haunted the charter schools, and Howard, who visited them toward the end of the century, describes a scandalous state of dirt, hunger, misery, and squalor.

A more successful, because less bigoted, effort of patriotism was the Dublin Society, which was founded about the same time as the schools, and which had for its object the increase of industrial knowledge and the encouragement of agriculture and manufacture in Ireland.

The patriotism of Swift himself, though sincere, was not of an exalted nature. For the Anglicans only he reserved his sympathy; and though all the severe laws against the Catholics were passed during his lifetime, he never wrote a word for the defence of his oppressed countrymen.

After his death, his place as leader was filled by a man as honest, more bigoted, and infinitely less able than the old dean-Charles Lucas, a Dublin apothecary, now chiefly remembered as the founder of the Freeman's Journal. Lucas entered the Irish Parliament in 1745, four years before the death of Swift. His career was stormy, and at one time he had to leave the country for some years. On his return he was the idol of the people, and again headed his party in Parliament; still, the patriots were a small minority, never, throughout the thirtytwo years of George II.'s reign, able to count on more than eight-and-twenty votes in a Parliament composed of three hundred members. The powers of the Irish Parliament, already stunted by Poyning's Law, were further curtailed by an English bill, passed in the time of George I., by which the English Parliament was enabled to make laws to