Jacobitism: A Stubborn Echo of Divine Right in the British Isles

For other uses, see Jacobite. Not to be confused with the Syriac Orthodox Church or the Jacobite Syrian Christian Church. Not to be confused with Jacobin (politics).

Jacobitism (Scottish Gaelic: Na Seumasaich; Irish: Seacaibíteachas, Na Séamasaigh) was a political ideology, more a persistent historical grievance than a coherent movement, that stubbornly advocated for the restoration of the senior, Catholic line of the House of Stuart to the British throne. This wasn't merely a preference; it was, for its adherents, a matter of fundamental, divinely ordained right. The entire premise of the movement was born from the seismic political shift of November 1688, when James II of England chose exile over compromise. The Parliament of England, with a remarkable display of self-assertion, declared that James had "abandoned" the English throne – a rather convenient narrative – and proceeded to offer it to his Protestant daughter, Mary II of England, and her husband, his nephew, William III. The Scottish Convention followed suit in April, effectively sealing the fate of the Stuart dynasty's direct male line.

This "Glorious Revolution," as it was rather optimistically termed, established a revolutionary principle: the idea of a contract existing between monarch and people. If this contract was violated, the monarch could, theoretically, be removed. Jacobitism, however, clung fiercely to the older, more absolute doctrine that kings were appointed by God, and therefore, the post-1688 regime was inherently illegitimate. This fundamental clash between divine right and parliamentary sovereignty formed the bedrock of Jacobite thought, making it a backward-looking movement even as it attempted to grapple with the emerging political landscape. Yet, it was never a monolithic entity; Jacobitism also served as a convenient conduit for all manner of popular discontent, evolving into a complex tapestry of ideas, some of which were surprisingly at odds with the Stuarts' own dynastic aspirations. The internal contradictions were often glaring, such as the profound disagreements between Prince Charles and his Scottish Jacobite supporters over the profoundly unpopular Acts of Union 1707 and the very concept of divine right, which significantly undermined the coherence and ultimate success of the 1745 rising.

Geographically, Jacobitism found its most fertile ground in regions with deep-seated historical grievances and distinct cultural identities: Ireland, the rugged Western Scottish Highlands, Perthshire, and Aberdeenshire. These areas often harbored resentments against central authority or had strong loyalties to the old order. Smaller, yet notable, pockets of support also existed in Wales, Northern England, the West Midlands, and South West England – regions that had historically shown strong Royalist sympathies during the tumultuous Wars of the Three Kingdoms decades earlier. Beyond the British Isles themselves, the Stuarts frequently received intermittent, and often self-serving, backing from continental powers, most notably France, whose strategic objectives rarely aligned perfectly with the Stuarts' desire for restoration.

The history of Jacobitism is punctuated by a series of desperate, often bloody, attempts to reverse the 1688 settlement. These included the protracted Williamite War in Ireland (1689–1691) and the immediate Jacobite rising of 1689 in Scotland. Later, more significant revolts flared up in 1715, 1719, and the most famous, 1745. France, ever keen to destabilize its British rival, also orchestrated invasion attempts in 1708 and 1744, alongside numerous less ambitious, and inevitably unsuccessful, plots. While the 1745 Rising briefly managed to pose a genuine, if fleeting, threat to the fledgling Hanoverian monarchy, its decisive defeat in 1746 effectively extinguished Jacobitism as a serious, viable political force. The movement lingered, of course, but as a nostalgic sentiment rather than a credible challenge to the established order.

Leaders:

• James II (1688–1701) – The exiled monarch whose obstinacy sparked the entire movement.
• James Francis Edward Stuart [a] (1701–1766) – Known as the "Old Pretender," a figurehead whose attempts at leadership were largely ineffectual.
• Charles Edward Stuart [b] (1720–1788) – "Bonnie Prince Charlie," the romantic, yet ultimately flawed, leader of the '45.
• Henry Benedict Stuart (1725–1807) – A Cardinal in the Catholic Church, his claim was more symbolic than political.

Military leaders:

• Tyrconnell – A key figure in Ireland, attempting to secure Catholic interests.
• Dundee – "Bonnie Dundee," a charismatic Scottish commander in the initial rising.
• Saint-Ruhe – A French general, more interested in strategic gains for France than Stuart restoration.
• Patrick Sarsfield – An Irish Jacobite hero, known for his military prowess.
• Earl of Mar – The leader of the 1715 rising, whose strategic ineptitude became legendary.
• Thomas Forster – Led the English Jacobite forces in 1715, with similarly underwhelming results.
• Tullibardine – A veteran of multiple risings, a persistent, if not always effective, presence.
• Lord George Murray – A capable military commander in the '45, often at odds with Prince Charles.

Dates of operation: 1688–1780s. A remarkably long, drawn-out affair for a lost cause. Active regions: British Isles, though support varied wildly in intensity and purpose. Ideology:

• Restoration of the House of Stuart – The core, undeniable, and rather simple objective.
• Indefeasible dynastic right – The belief that their claim was absolute, unchallengeable by man or Parliament.
• Divine right of kings – A rather quaint notion, even then, that monarchs ruled by God's direct will.
• Irish nationalism – A complex, often conflicting, layer of motivation.
• Scottish nationalism – Another distinct, sometimes dominant, thread within the broader movement.

Battles and wars:

• Jacobite rising of 1689 – The immediate, and ultimately unsuccessful, response to James's deposition.
• Williamite War (1689–91) – Ireland's brutal struggle, largely a proxy war for larger European powers.
• Jacobite rising of 1715–16 – "The Fifteen," a significant but poorly managed rebellion.
• Jacobite rising of 1719 – A minor, Spanish-backed attempt, quickly crushed.
• Jacobite rising of 1745–46 – "The Forty-Five," the final, most dramatic, and ultimately tragic act.

Political background

The very genesis of Jacobite ideology can be traced back to the lofty pronouncements of James VI and I, who in 1603 ascended to the throne as the first monarch to simultaneously rule the disparate kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland. His political treatise, "The True Law of Free Monarchies," laid out the foundational, and frankly rather self-serving, principles that would underpin Stuart absolutism and, by extension, Jacobitism. At its core was the concept of divine right, asserting that a monarch's authority flowed directly from God, rendering them accountable to no earthly power, certainly not to a mere Parliament. This was coupled with the doctrine of indefeasible hereditary right, which proclaimed that the crown's descent by blood was absolute and could not be altered or annulled by any human agency. James and his proponents were keen to emphasize his undeniable claim by blood, a strategic move to preempt any lingering controversy over his somewhat ambiguous appointment by Elizabeth I as her successor. His vision of personal rule, rather conveniently, sought to diminish the necessity of Parliaments and championed a political and religious union across his realms – grand concepts that, predictably, proved widely unpopular in all three kingdoms, but particularly in England, which had a rather inconvenient attachment to its parliamentary traditions.

This principle of divine right, so central to the Stuarts, found itself on a collision course with two powerful forces: the Catholic allegiance to the Pope, which posited a higher spiritual authority, and the burgeoning Protestant nonconformists, who often believed in a direct, personal covenant with God that superseded royal decree. The 17th century was a time when "true religion" and "good government" were inextricably linked in the popular imagination. Disputes in one domain inevitably spilled over into the other, creating a volatile political landscape. Furthermore, the pervasive influence of Millenarianism and the fervent belief in the imminent Second Coming meant that many Protestants viewed these religious and political issues not as abstract debates, but as matters of urgent, cosmic significance, adding a layer of apocalyptic fervor to the already simmering tensions.

As a preliminary step towards his desired union, James embarked on a project to standardize religious practices across the churches of England, Scotland, and Ireland. This ambitious, and ultimately disastrous, endeavor was continued with considerably less political finesse by his son, Charles I, after James's death in 1625. Charles's reign quickly spiraled into crisis. Instituting Personal Rule in 1629, bypassing Parliament entirely, and rigorously enforcing unpopular Laudian reforms on the Church of England, he managed to alienate large segments of the political and religious elite. Similar heavy-handed measures in Scotland ignited the 1639–1640 Bishops' Wars, which saw the installation of a fiercely Presbyterian Covenanter government, a direct challenge to royal authority.

The October 1641 Irish Rebellion, meticulously organized by a small cadre of Catholic nobility, was the culmination of decades of festering grievances: systematic land confiscation, the erosion of political control, punitive anti-Catholic legislation, and a pervasive sense of economic decline. While initially conceived as a relatively bloodless coup to secure concessions, its leaders swiftly lost control, unleashing a wave of brutal atrocities from both sides. In May of the following year, a Covenanter army disembarked in Ulster, ostensibly to protect and support the Scots settlers, further complicating an already dire situation. Both Charles and Parliament ostensibly supported raising an army to quell the rebellion, yet their deep-seated mutual distrust meant neither would allow the other control over such a force. These irreconcilable tensions ultimately provided the catalyst for the outbreak of the First English Civil War in August 1642.

By 1642, the Catholic Confederacy, representing the Irish insurgents, declared a pragmatic allegiance to Charles. However, the Stuarts proved to be an exceptionally unreliable ally. Any concessions granted to the Irish Catholics invariably cost them crucial Protestant support across all three kingdoms, a political tightrope Charles consistently failed to walk. Furthermore, the Adventurers' Act, which Charles himself had approved in March 1642, funded the suppression of the revolt by confiscating vast tracts of land from Irish Catholics – much of it belonging to members of the very Confederacy claiming loyalty to him. The result was a brutal, three-way struggle for control between the Confederacy, Royalist forces commanded by the Protestant Duke of Ormond, and a Covenanter-led army entrenched in Ulster. The latter, increasingly alienated from the English government, eventually combined with Ormond's Royalists after Charles's execution in January 1649, attempting a desperate, and ultimately futile, resistance against the brutal 1649-to-1652 Cromwellian conquest of Ireland.

In 1650, Charles II, in a clear demonstration of the Stuarts' transactional approach to alliances, repudiated his pact with the Confederacy in exchange for much-needed Scottish military support, leaving Ormond to go into exile. The inevitable defeat that followed resulted in the mass confiscation of Catholic and Royalist land, a vast redistribution of wealth and power among Parliamentarian soldiers and Protestant settlers. The three kingdoms were then forcibly merged into the Commonwealth of England, a republican experiment that only saw their distinct status restored with the 1660 Stuart Restoration.

Charles I, whose policies caused instability throughout his three kingdoms. A king whose fatal flaw was perhaps believing his own divine hype.

Charles II's reign was largely defined by the aggressive, expansionist policies of Louis XIV of France, a figure widely perceived as an existential threat to Protestant Europe. The political landscape was further complicated when Charles's brother and heir, James, openly declared his conversion to Catholicism in 1677, triggering a furious, albeit ultimately unsuccessful, attempt to bar him from the English throne. Nevertheless, James ascended to the throne in February 1685, surprisingly, with widespread support from the Protestant majorities in both England and Scotland. The acceptance of a Catholic monarch, however begrudging, was seen as the lesser of two evils, preferable to the chaos that might ensue from excluding the "natural heir." Protestant dissident rebellions in England and Scotland were swiftly and brutally suppressed, reinforcing the perception that James's rule, while religiously inconvenient, might be stable. This acceptance was also tempered by the widespread belief that his reign would be temporary, given James was 52, his second marriage had been childless for 11 years, and his Protestant daughter Mary was the presumptive heir.

James's Catholicism, however, made him immensely popular among Irish Catholics, whose precarious position had seen little improvement under his brother's rule. Catholic land ownership in Ireland had plummeted from a dominant 90% in 1600 to a mere 22% by 1685, a decline partially masked by some Catholic landlords pragmatically converting to the Protestant Church of Ireland. After 1673, a series of punitive proclamations stripped Catholic gentry of the fundamental right to bear arms or hold any public office. In a move that would prove deeply destabilizing, the Catholic Richard Talbot, 1st Earl of Tyrconnell, was appointed Lord Deputy of Ireland in 1687. Tyrconnell immediately embarked on an ambitious, and rather reckless, program to construct a robust Catholic establishment that he hoped could withstand James's inevitable, and likely short, reign. Fearing time was against them, Tyrconnell's furious pace of reform managed to destabilize all three kingdoms simultaneously.

When the English and Scottish Parliaments, unsurprisingly, refused to repeal the civil restrictions on Catholics and Non-Conformists, James, with characteristic stubbornness, simply dismissed them. He then resorted to the Royal Prerogative to unilaterally force his measures through. These actions, designed to assert his absolute authority, backfired spectacularly. They reignited dormant disputes over religious freedom, ironically rewarded the very Protestant dissidents who had rebelled against him in 1685, and, most critically, alienated and undermined his own natural supporters. This tone-deaf policy also entirely ignored the devastating impact of the 1685 Edict of Fontainebleau in France, which revoked tolerance for French Protestants and generated an estimated 400,000 refugees, a significant 40,000 of whom sought asylum in London, bringing with them stark warnings of Catholic absolutism.

Two pivotal events finally transformed this widespread discontent into outright rebellion. The first was the birth of James's son on 10 June 1688, shattering the comforting illusion of a temporary Catholic monarch and instead raising the terrifying prospect of an enduring Catholic dynasty. The second was James's ill-advised prosecution of the Seven Bishops of the Church of England, an act that seemed to confirm fears that his policies extended beyond mere tolerance for Catholicism to an active, hostile assault on the established Church of England itself. Their subsequent acquittal on 30 June sparked widespread public rejoicing, a clear and undeniable sign that James's political authority had utterly collapsed.

In 1685, many had genuinely feared the specter of civil war if James were to be bypassed in the succession. By 1688, however, the consensus had shifted so dramatically that even his chief minister, the calculating Earl of Sunderland, believed only James's removal could avert such a catastrophe. Sunderland, with a remarkable lack of loyalty, secretly orchestrated an Invitation to William, assuring Mary and her husband, William of Orange, of substantial English support for armed intervention. William landed in Brixham on 5 November with an imposing force of 14,000 men. As his advance proceeded, James's army, riddled with desertions and wavering loyalties, simply melted away, leaving the king with little choice but to flee into exile on 23 December. In February 1689, the English Parliament formally appointed William and Mary as joint monarchs of England, with the Scots following suit in March, cementing the "Glorious Revolution" and ushering in a new era of parliamentary supremacy.

James II, 1685, dressed in military uniform. A man who, despite the regalia, managed to lose three kingdoms.

Most of Ireland, however, remained under the control of Tyrconnell, a fact James exploited by landing there on 12 March 1689 with 6,000 French troops, hoping to use Ireland as a springboard for his return to England. The ensuing 1689-to-1691 Williamite War in Ireland starkly illustrated two recurring patterns that would plague the Jacobite cause. Firstly, for James and his Stuart successors, the ultimate prize was always the restoration to the English throne. Ireland, for them, was a strategic side-show, a means to an end. Secondly, the primary objective for the French was not necessarily a Stuart restoration, but rather to strategically tie down British resources, viewing rebellions in Scotland and Ireland as the most cost-effective means to achieve this. Elections held in May 1689 produced the first Irish Parliament with a decisive Catholic majority since 1613. This "Patriot Parliament" swiftly moved to repeal the Cromwellian land seizures, confiscate land from Williamite supporters, and boldly proclaimed Ireland a "distinct kingdom from England." These measures, however, were all subsequently annulled following the Jacobite defeat in 1691.

Meanwhile, a Jacobite rising in Scotland, led by Viscount Dundee, achieved some initial, dramatic successes, particularly at the Battle of Killiecrankie, but was ultimately suppressed. Several days after the Irish Jacobites suffered a devastating defeat at the Battle of the Boyne in July 1690, a temporary victory at Beachy Head granted the French fleeting control of the English Channel. James, ever eager to reclaim his primary prize, immediately returned to France to implore Louis XIV for an immediate invasion of England. However, the Anglo-Dutch fleet swiftly reasserted its maritime supremacy, and the strategic window for a cross-Channel invasion was irrevocably lost.

The Irish Jacobites and their French allies were finally and decisively defeated at the Battle of Aughrim in 1691, a battle that effectively ended the war in Ireland. The subsequent Treaty of Limerick brought an end to organized Jacobite resistance in Ireland, ensuring that future risings on behalf of the exiled Stuarts would be largely confined to England and Scotland. The Act of Settlement 1701 was a critical legislative blow, explicitly barring Catholics from the English throne. Consequently, when Anne became the last Stuart monarch in 1702, her designated heir was her Protestant cousin Sophia of Hanover, entirely bypassing her Catholic half-brother, James. While Ireland managed to retain its separate Parliament until 1800, the 1707 Union formally combined England and Scotland into the Kingdom of Great Britain. Anne, somewhat idealistically, viewed this as the fulfillment of her predecessors' elusive dream: a unified Protestant kingdom.

Despite these legislative and military setbacks, the exiled Stuarts stubbornly continued to agitate for a return to power, clinging to the belief that they retained significant support within the three kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland. However, their efforts were consistently hampered by the undeniable truth that any serious attempt at restoration necessitated substantial external assistance. This aid was most reliably, if pragmatically, supplied by France, though Spain did back the ill-fated 1719 Rising. While diplomatic overtures were also made at various times to distant powers like Sweden, Prussia, and Russia, these never materialized into concrete support. The harsh reality was that while the Stuarts were a useful lever for foreign powers to exert pressure on Britain, their foreign backers generally had little genuine interest in their actual restoration; chaos and distraction were often the preferred outcomes.

Ideology

Historian Frank McLynn, with a rather weary accuracy, identifies seven primary ideological drivers within Jacobitism. He astutely notes that while the movement certainly contained "sincere men [...] who aimed solely to restore the Stuarts," it also, and perhaps more significantly, "provided a source of legitimacy for political dissent of all kinds." This inherent duality makes establishing a clear, singular ideology for active Jacobite participants remarkably difficult. Compounding this challenge is the inconvenient truth that "by and large, those who wrote most did not act, and those who acted wrote little, if anything." This leaves historians in the rather unenviable position of piecing together motivations from fragmentary evidence, often leading to divergent interpretations regarding its core driving force. Was it an aristocratic backlash against an increasingly unitary state? A feudal resistance to the encroaching tide of capitalism? Or perhaps, more simply, a manifestation of burgeoning Scots and Irish nationalism? The answer, like most things in history, is likely "all of the above, and then some."

Jacobitism drew heavily upon elements of a specific political theology that resonated primarily with mostly non-juring Tory elements within the Church of England and members of the Scottish Episcopal Church. This theological framework rested on several key tenets. Firstly, the divine right of kings was paramount: monarchs were accountable only to God, not to man or Parliament, a rather convenient arrangement for the monarchs themselves. Secondly, monarchy was considered a divine institution, implying its inherent sacredness and inviolability. Thirdly, and perhaps most stubbornly, was legitimism: the belief in the crown's descent by indefeasible dynastic right, which, by definition, could not be overturned or annulled by any earthly power, including a revolution or an act of Parliament. Finally, there was the scriptural injunction of passive obedience and non-resistance, even when confronted with monarchs of whom the individual subject might profoundly disapprove – a principle that, one might argue, made active rebellion rather difficult to justify.

Alexander Forbes, 4th Lord Forbes of Pitsligo. His unwavering support of indefeasible hereditary right placed him firmly in the minority of Jacobites by 1745, clinging to a principle others found increasingly inconvenient.

Jacobite propagandists, with a certain predictable zeal, argued that such divinely sanctioned authority constituted the main moral safeguard of society. Its absence, they claimed, inevitably led to the chaos of party strife and political corruption. The 1688 Revolution, in their narrative, was not a step towards liberty but a catastrophic betrayal that had opened the floodgates to political corruption and allowed a cabal of "selfish opportunists" – code for Whigs, religious dissenters, and, rather xenophobically, foreigners – to seize control of the government and oppress the common people. This narrative, while appealing to a certain conservative mindset, often glossed over the very real grievances that had led to James's downfall.

However, even within Jacobite circles, views on the "correct" balance of rights and duties between monarch and subject were far from uniform. Propagandists often struggled to articulate a clear distinction between "arbitrary" and "absolute" power, a semantic tightrope walk designed to make their favored monarchs seem less tyrannical. Charles Leslie, a fiercely non-juring Church of Ireland clergyman and arguably the most extreme divine right theorist, still conceded that the monarch was bound by "his oath to God, as well as his promise to his people" and "the laws of justice and honour." It seems even divine right had its limits, at least in theory. Jacobite pamphlets frequently attributed domestic misfortunes and societal ills to divine punishment inflicted upon the British people for their grievous sin of rejecting their rightful king. After 1710, however, this divine wrath was conveniently narrowed, blamed specifically on the perfidious Whigs.

It's important to note that these rigid, theological views were by no means universally held by all Jacobites. Indeed, many pragmatic Whigs, with a rather impressive feat of theological gymnastics, argued that the post-1688 succession was also "divinely ordained," demonstrating the remarkable flexibility of divine providence when it aligned with political convenience. After the decisive Act of Settlement 1701, which firmly excluded Catholics from the succession, Jacobite propagandists, recognizing the writing on the wall, began to downplay the purely legitimist elements in their rhetoric. By the time of the 1745 rising, active promotion of hereditary and indefeasible right was largely confined to a dwindling number of Scots Episcopalians, such as the rather anachronistic Lords Pitsligo and Balmerino, who seemed determined to cling to principles long abandoned by most.

Instead, the movement shifted its focus to more populist themes, articulating opposition to a standing army (a perennial fear of the populace), railing against political corruption, and championing the cause of social justice. By the 1750s, Charles himself, in a rather desperate attempt to broaden his appeal, was promising concessions straight out of a Whig manifesto: triennial parliaments, the disbanding of the standing army, and even legal guarantees on freedom of the press. Such tactics certainly broadened Jacobite appeal beyond its traditional base, but they also carried inherent risks. A government astute enough to offer similar concessions could effectively neutralize the Jacobite platform. Indeed, the Triennial Act and the lapse of the Licensing of the Press Act meant that regular Parliaments and a relative degree of press freedom were already firmly established after 1695, making Charles's promises somewhat redundant. The ongoing, often myopic, Stuart focus on England and the ultimate goal of regaining a united British throne frequently led to significant tensions with their broader-based supporters. This was particularly evident in 1745, when the primary objective of most Scots Jacobites was not the restoration of a Stuart king to London, but rather the outright termination of the deeply resented 1707 Union. This fundamental divergence meant that following their stunning victory at Prestonpans in September, the Scottish forces were far more inclined to negotiate a favorable settlement than to embark on a risky invasion of England, as Charles, with his blinkered vision, so desperately desired.

More broadly, Jacobite theorists, in their own way, reflected a wider conservative current within Enlightenment thought. They appealed to those disillusioned by what they perceived as modern decadence and saw a monarchist solution as the antidote to societal decay. Populist songs and tracts, often imbued with a heavy dose of nostalgia, presented the Stuarts as benevolent figures capable of rectifying a wide array of societal ills and restoring a lost social harmony. They skillfully contrasted the "foreigners" – the Dutch and later the Hanoverians – with a truly "English" monarch who, even in exile, supposedly continued to partake of traditional English beef and beer. While these appeals were particularly calculated to resonate with disaffected Tories, the broad range of themes adopted by Jacobite pamphleteers and agents periodically attracted disaffected Whigs and even former radicals. These individuals, often interested in issues of constitutional reform, saw in a new, potentially weak, Stuart dynasty an opportunity to extract parliamentary concessions. Such "Whig-Jacobites" were highly prized by the court-in-exile, even if many secretly viewed James II as a king from whom it would be relatively easy to extract significant concessions regarding the structure of Parliament, should a restoration actually occur. A rather cynical calculation, one might say.

Jacobite supporters in the three kingdoms

Ireland

The precise role of Jacobitism in Irish political history remains a subject of considerable scholarly debate. Some historians contend that it represented a broad-based popular movement, acting as the primary engine of Irish Catholic nationalism between 1688 and 1795. This view often emphasizes the deep resonance of the Stuart cause with the aspirations of the Catholic majority. Others, however, perceive Jacobitism in Ireland as merely a component of "a pan-British movement, rooted in confessional and dynastic loyalties," fundamentally distinct from the more modern, secular Irish nationalism that would emerge in the 19th century. Historian Vincent Morely, offering a more nuanced perspective, describes Irish Jacobitism as a distinctive ideological strand within the broader movement, one that "emphasised the Milesian ancestry of the Stuarts, their loyalty to Catholicism, and Ireland's status as a kingdom with a Crown of its own." For the first half of the 18th century, Jacobitism was undeniably "the primary allegiance of politically conscious Catholics," offering a tangible symbol of hope for a reversal of their diminished status.

Tyrconnell, Deputy Governor of Ireland. His rapid appointment of Catholics to military and political positions created widespread, if ultimately fleeting, support for the Jacobite regime.

Irish Catholic support for James was, quite pragmatically, predicated upon his shared religion and the strong assumption that he would be willing, or at least unable to prevent, the implementation of their long-standing demands for Irish autonomy and religious freedom. In 1685, the renowned Irish bard Dáibhí Ó Bruadair celebrated James's accession with fervent verse, hailing it as the harbinger of a revived supremacy for both the Catholic Church in Ireland and the embattled Irish language. Tyrconnell's aggressive expansion of the army through the creation of numerous Catholic regiments was enthusiastically welcomed by figures like Diarmuid Mac Carthaigh, who saw it as an opportunity for the native Irish "Tadhg" to finally be armed and assert dominance over "John," the English Protestant. Conversely, the vast majority of Irish Protestants viewed James's policies with profound alarm, interpreting them as a calculated design to "utterly ruin the Protestant interest and the English interest in Ireland." This stark sectarian divide effectively confined Protestant Jacobitism in Ireland to a rather small, ideologically rigid group: "doctrinaire clergymen, disgruntled Tory landowners and Catholic converts," who, despite their profound anti-Catholic sentiments, still viewed James's removal as a transgression against divine law. A few Church of Ireland ministers, steadfast in their principles, refused to swear allegiance to the new Williamite regime and consequently became Non-Jurors, the most famous among them being the prolific propagandist Charles Leslie.

While regaining England remained his paramount objective, James, with a rather dismissive pragmatism, viewed Ireland as a strategic dead-end. However, Louis XIV of France, ever the geopolitical chess master, shrewdly argued that Ireland represented the most advantageous starting point for a counter-revolution, given that the administration was already firmly under Tyrconnell's control and the Jacobite cause enjoyed widespread popularity among the majority Catholic population. James landed at Kinsale in March 1689 and, in May, convened the first Parliament of Ireland since 1666, primarily seeking the necessary taxes to fund his war effort. Tyrconnell, ever the astute political operator, ensured a predominantly Catholic electorate and slate of candidates by issuing new borough charters, admitting Catholics into city corporations, and ruthlessly removing "disloyal members." As elections were not even held in many northern, predominantly Protestant, areas, the Irish House of Commons was 70 members short, with an overwhelming 224 out of 230 MPs being Catholic – a truly transformative, if fleeting, demographic shift.

This Parliament, famously lauded by 19th-century Irish historians as the "Patriot Parliament," commenced its proceedings by unequivocally proclaiming James as the rightful king and condemning the "treasonous subjects" who had dared to oust him. However, internal divisions quickly surfaced among Irish Jacobites, particularly on the contentious issue of restoring all Catholic lands confiscated in 1652 following the brutal Cromwellian conquest of Ireland. The overwhelming majority of the Irish House of Commons vehemently demanded the complete repeal of the 1652 Cromwellian Act of Settlement, advocating for land ownership to revert to the pre-1641 status quo. This radical proposal, however, was staunchly opposed by a minority within the Catholic elite who had ironically benefited from the more moderate 1662 Act of Settlement, a group that, rather inconveniently for the Commons, included James himself, Tyrconnell, and other influential members of the Irish House of Lords. They proposed a compromise: those dispossessed in the 1650s should be restored to half their estates and receive financial compensation for the remainder. Yet, with the Commons overwhelmingly in favor of complete restoration, Tyrconnell, understanding the political imperative, reluctantly persuaded the Lords to approve the more radical bill.

A more profound and ultimately fatal issue was James's unwavering unwillingness to sanction any action that might jeopardize his potential support from Protestants in England and Scotland, which he considered his main prize. These priorities were fundamentally at odds with the demands emanating from the Irish Parliament, which, in addition to comprehensive land restoration, also insisted upon full toleration for Catholicism and, crucially, genuine Irish autonomy. When it became unequivocally clear that Parliament would only vote for war taxes if he met their minimum demands, James, with visible reluctance, finally assented to Tyrconnell's ambitious land bill and passed a sweeping bill of attainder, confiscating estates from 2,000 mostly Protestant "rebels." Although he also approved Parliament's resolution declaring Ireland a "distinct kingdom" and asserting that laws passed in England did not apply there (a legal truth already, though often ignored), he steadfastly refused to abolish Poynings' Law, a deeply resented statute that effectively denied the Irish Parliament the crucial right of initiative in proposing legislation.

Despite his own Catholicism, James, with an eye on his broader base of support, viewed the Protestant Church of Ireland as an important component of his potential restoration. He therefore insisted on retaining its legal pre-eminence, though he did agree that landowners would only be required to pay tithes to clergy of their own specific religion. However, the heavy price of these compromises was that Irish Jacobitism became almost entirely confined to Catholics, who, after James's ignominious departure in 1690, further fractured into two factions: Tyrconnell's 'peace party,' which pragmatically sought a negotiated settlement, and a more radical 'war party' led by the legendary Patrick Sarsfield who advocated fighting on to the bitter end.

The Spanish Regiment of Hibernia, c. 1740. Foreign military service remained a grim reality for Irish Catholics, a tangible commitment to a cause often far removed from their homeland.

James abandoned Ireland after his crushing defeat at the Boyne in 1690, famously, and rather callously, advising his supporters to "shift for themselves." This perceived betrayal led some contemporary Irish poets to portray him as Séamus an chaca, or "James the shit," a monarch who had callously deserted his loyal followers. However, the eminent Gaelic scholar Breandán Ó Buachalla contends that James's reputation subsequently recovered, morphing into that of "the rightful king... destined to return," a messianic figure in Irish folklore. Upper-class Irish Jacobites, such as Charles O'Kelly and Nicholas Plunkett, conveniently deflected blame, attributing his apparent desertion to "corrupt English and Scottish advisors" rather than James's own strategic priorities.

Following the decisive defeat in 1691, the measures passed by the 1689 Parliament were summarily annulled. A series of draconian penal laws were enacted, effectively criminalizing the practice of Catholicism and systematically barring Catholics from public life. The earlier Act of Attainder was ruthlessly employed to justify further, extensive land confiscations. Approximately 12,000 Jacobite soldiers, a significant portion of Ireland's fighting force, went into exile in the tragic diaspora famously known as the Flight of the Wild Geese, the vast majority of whom were subsequently absorbed into the French Army's renowned Irish Brigade. Annually, about 1,000 men were recruited for the French and Spanish armies, many undoubtedly carrying a "tangible commitment to the Stuart cause" in their hearts, even as they served foreign masters. Elements of this French Irish Brigade even participated in the Scottish Jacobite rising of 1745, a testament to their enduring, if geographically distant, loyalty.

Irish-language poets, particularly those in Munster, continued to passionately champion the Stuart cause long after James's death. In 1715, Eoin O Callanain, in his fervent verse, described James's son, Prince James Francis Edward Stuart, as taoiseach na nGaoidheal or "chieftain of the Gaels," imbuing him with a powerful, almost mythical, leadership over the Irish. As in England, throughout the 1720s, Prince James's birthday on 10 June was marked by public celebrations in cities like Dublin, and towns such as Kilkenny and Galway. These events were often accompanied by boisterous rioting, which some historians interpret as tangible proof of widespread popular pro-Jacobite sympathies. Others, however, argue that riots were a common feature of 18th-century urban life, seeing them more as a "series of ritualised clashes" reflecting general social discontent rather than explicit Jacobite allegiance.

Some historians confidently assert that the pervasive Jacobite rhetoric and symbolism found in the numerous works of Aisling poetry, a distinctive "dream vision" genre composed in the Irish language, coupled with popular support for rapparees (Irish guerrillas or bandits) like Éamonn an Chnoic, John Hurley, and Galloping Hogan, provides irrefutable proof of widespread popular backing for a Stuart restoration. Others, however, caution that it is exceedingly difficult to discern "how far rhetorical Jacobitism reflected support for the Stuarts, as opposed to discontent with the status quo." The line between genuine dynastic loyalty and generalized frustration with oppression was often, it seems, rather blurry. Nevertheless, the very real fears of resurgent Jacobitism among the ruling Protestant minority ensured that the harsh anti-Catholic Penal Laws remained rigorously enforced for the vast majority of the eighteenth century.

Crucially, in both 1715 and 1745, there were no significant Irish risings to coincide with those in England and Scotland. One compelling suggestion for this notable absence is that, for various complex reasons, post-1691 Irish Jacobites increasingly looked towards powerful European allies for salvation, rather than attempting a domestic revolt that had proven so catastrophic in the past. From the 1720s onwards, many middle-class Catholics, seeking a degree of pragmatic accommodation, were willing to swear loyalty to the Hanoverian regime, but they consistently balked at the stringent Oath of Abjuration. This oath, beyond merely swearing allegiance, demanded that they explicitly reject the authority of the Pope and fundamental Catholic doctrines such as Transubstantiation and the Real Presence – a bridge too far for most devout Catholics. After the effective demise of the Jacobite cause in the 1750s and '60s, new organizations like the Catholic Convention emerged. These groups were specifically established to agitate for the redress of Catholic grievances before Parliament, consciously decoupling the cause of Catholic emancipation from the now moribund Jacobitism. When Charles died, a disappointed and embittered man, in 1788, Irish nationalists, ever seeking a path to liberation, shifted their gaze to alternative champions, among them the radical French First Republic, the ambitious Napoleon Bonaparte, and later, the formidable Daniel O'Connell.

England and Wales

In England and Wales, Jacobitism frequently intertwined with the political currents of the Tories, many of whom had, rather inconveniently, supported James's inherent right to the throne during the fraught Exclusion Crisis of the late 1670s and early 1680s. Tory positions on constitutional matters, often steeped in traditionalism, fostered the belief that neither "time nor statute law [...] could ameliorate the sin of usurpation" – a rather rigid stance, one might observe. The shared Tory and Jacobite themes of divine right, sacred kingship, and unwavering loyalty to the monarch offered a compelling, if ultimately unsustainable, alternative to the ascendant Whig concepts of "liberty and property," which often seemed to prioritize individual rights and economic gain over hereditary principle. A minority of academics, notably Eveline Cruickshanks, have provocatively argued that until the late 1750s, the Tories effectively functioned as a crypto-Jacobite party, or at the very least, that Jacobitism was a "limb of Toryism." However, this perspective often overlooks a critical counter-argument: the supremacy of the Church of England was also a central, non-negotiable tenet of Tory ideology. Consequently, James, with his unwavering commitment to Catholicism, irrevocably lost their support when his policies seemed to directly threaten that cherished primacy. The decisive Act of Settlement 1701, which explicitly excluded Catholics from the English throne, was, rather ironically, passed by a Tory administration. For the vast majority of Tories, Stuart Catholicism remained an insurmountable barrier to active support, while the deeply ingrained Tory doctrine of non-resistance also discouraged them from actively supporting the exiles against a reigning monarch, even one whose legitimacy they might privately question.

Tory minister and Jacobite Lord Bolingbroke; driven into exile in 1715 and pardoned in 1720. A man who understood the fickle nature of political loyalty.

For most of the period between 1690 and 1714, the English Parliament was either firmly controlled by the Tories or saw a precarious balance of power with the Whigs. When George I succeeded Anne, the last Stuart monarch, in 1714, most Tories harbored hopes of a pragmatic reconciliation with the new Hanoverian regime. Indeed, the Earl of Mar, who would later lead the disastrous 1715 rising, observed, with a touch of wishful thinking, that "Jacobitisme, which they used to brand the Tories with, is now I presum out of doors." However, George I, with a distinct lack of political acumen, harbored a deep resentment towards the Tory ministry for negotiating the Peace of Utrecht, which he perceived as detrimental to his home state of Hanover. His deliberate isolation and marginalization of prominent Tory ministers like Lord Bolingbroke and the Earl of Mar effectively drove them first into opposition, and then, rather dramatically, into exile. This exclusion from power, a prolonged political wilderness between 1714 and 1742, led many disaffected Tories to maintain or initiate contact with the Jacobite court. For them, the exiled Stuarts were less a cause to die for and more a convenient political tool to exert pressure on the dominant Whig government, a last resort should all peaceable parliamentary means fail.

In 1715, there were notable, coordinated celebrations on 29 May, Restoration Day, and 10 June, James Stuart's birthday, particularly in staunchly Tory-dominated towns such as Bristol, Oxford, Manchester, and Norwich. These displays of loyalty, however, remained largely symbolic; these towns notably remained quiet and offered little active support during the actual 1715 Rising. In the 1730s, many so-called "Jacobite" demonstrations in Wales and other regions were often fueled by deeply localized sectarian tensions, especially a fervent hostility towards burgeoning Methodism, and frequently featured violent attacks on Nonconformist chapels. Most English participants who did join the 1715 rising hailed from traditionally Catholic areas in the Northwest, such as Lancashire, where historical grievances and religious loyalty ran deep. By 1720, the Catholic population in England and Wales had dwindled to fewer than 115,000, and remarkably, most English Catholics remained loyal to the Hanoverian regime in 1745. This included the Duke of Norfolk, the acknowledged leader of the English Catholics, who, despite having been sentenced to death for his role in 1715 (and later pardoned), chose not to participate in the '45. Even then, sympathies were complex and nuanced; Norfolk's agent, Andrew Blood, for instance, joined the Jacobite Manchester Regiment, and the Duke later employed another ex-officer, John Sanderson, as his master of horse, indicating a lingering, if discreet, connection. Indeed, some English Catholics continued to provide the exiles with crucial financial support well into the 1770s, a quiet testament to their enduring, if hidden, loyalty.

In 1689, approximately 2% of the clergy within the Church of England, a small but principled minority, refused to take the oath of allegiance to the new monarchs, William and Mary. One comprehensive list identifies a total of 584 clergy, schoolmasters, and university dons as nonjurors. This figure, however, likely understates their true numbers, as many sympathizers undoubtedly remained within the established Church of England, quietly harboring their dissenting views. Nevertheless, this relatively small population of nonjurors was disproportionately represented in Jacobite risings and riots, providing a steady stream of "martyrs" for the cause. By the late 1720s, internal theological disputes and the natural attrition of its aging leadership had reduced the nonjuring church to a mere handful of scattered congregations. Yet, tellingly, several of those executed for their involvement in the 1745 rising hailed from Manchester, which had become the last significant nonjuring center in England.

Support for Jacobitism also emanated from quarters less obviously aligned with conservative monarchism. The prominent Quaker leader William Penn, for instance, was a notable Nonconformist supporter of James, though this was primarily based on their personal relationship and did not survive James's deposition. Another intriguing element within English Jacobitism was a small number of disaffected Radicals, whose decidedly left-wing (for the era) ideology appeared, on the surface, entirely incompatible with Jacobite conservatism. Yet, they saw a pragmatic opportunity: the possibility of extracting significant Parliamentary reform from a new, potentially weak, Stuart dynasty, and perhaps even replacing the (presumably) displaced Whigs as a major political party. John Matthews, a Jacobite printer executed in 1719, exemplified this unusual alliance; his pamphlet Vox Populi vox Dei boldly emphasized the Lockean theory of the social contract, a doctrine that very few Tories of the period would have ever openly supported. Such alliances, born of political opportunism rather than ideological purity, highlight the complex, often contradictory, nature of Jacobite support.

Scotland

Scottish Jacobitism, unlike its English counterpart, possessed far wider and deeper roots, intertwining with profound historical grievances and distinct nationalistic sentiments. A staggering 20,000 Scots actively fought for the Jacobites in 1715, a stark contrast to the 11,000 who joined the government army. This imbalance was even more pronounced in 1745, where Jacobite forces comprised the majority of the 9,000 to 14,000 combatants. One significant, and often romanticized, reason for this widespread support was the tenacious persistence of feudalism in many parts of rural Scotland, particularly in the Highlands. Under this system, tenants could still be legally compelled to provide their landlords with military service, a potent mechanism for raising armies. Many of the iconic Highland clansmen who formed such a distinctive feature of Jacobite armies were raised through these traditional obligations. In all three major risings, the bulk of the rank and file were supplied by a relatively small number of powerful north-western clans whose leaders, for a complex mix of reasons, chose to join the rebellion.

Jacobite commander George Murray. A pro-Union, anti-Hanoverian Scot who fought in three risings, yet loathed Prince Charles. He was, in essence, a walking contradiction, embodying the many paradoxical motivations of Jacobite support.

Despite the enduring popular image, a significant portion of Jacobite support actually came from Protestant Lowlanders, rather than being solely the domain of the Catholic, Gaelic-speaking Highlanders of legend. By 1745, fewer than 1% of Scots were Catholic, their numbers largely confined to the remote far north-west and a few aristocratic families. The overwhelming majority of the Jacobite rank and file, as well as many of its prominent leaders, belonged to Protestant non-juring Episcopalian congregations. Throughout the tumultuous 17th century, the intimate connection between Scottish politics and religion meant that successive regime changes were invariably accompanied by the systematic expulsion of those on the losing side from the established Church of Scotland. In 1690, over 200 clergymen, primarily in Aberdeenshire and Banffshire – regions that had been strongly Episcopalian since the 1620s – lost their parishes. Unsurprisingly, in 1745, approximately 25% of all Jacobite recruits originated from this historically disaffected part of the country.

Episcopalianism held a particular appeal for social conservatives, as its doctrines emphasized indefeasible hereditary right, absolute obedience to the monarch, and implicitly suggested that the deposition of the senior Stuart line constituted a profound breach of natural and divine order. The Scottish Episcopal Church, in a defiant display of loyalty, continued to offer prayers for the exiled Stuarts until as late as 1788, and many of its adherents steadfastly refused to swear allegiance to the Hanoverians after 1714. However, even in 1690, a substantial minority of Episcopalians pragmatically accommodated themselves to the new regime, a number that increased significantly after the official establishment of the Scottish Episcopal Church in 1712, which offered a degree of legal recognition.

Episcopalian ministers, such as Professor James Garden of Aberdeen, skillfully framed the deeply unpopular 1707 Union as merely one in a long series of disasters to befall Scotland, directly provoked by "the sins [...] of rebellion, injustice, oppression, schism and perjury." This widespread opposition to the Union was further inflamed by legislative measures imposed by the newly formed Parliament of Great Britain, including the punitive Treason Act 1708, the 1711 ruling that barred Scots peers holding English or British peerages from their rightful seats in the House of Lords, and a series of unpopular tax increases. Despite their own personal preferences for a united British throne, the Stuarts, recognizing this potent anti-Union sentiment, made concerted efforts to appeal to this disgruntled group. In 1745, Charles Edward Stuart issued explicit declarations dissolving the "pretended Union," a move that, while politically astute in Scotland, caused considerable concern among his English supporters, who had rather different objectives.

However, it's crucial to understand that opposition to post-Union legislation was not exclusively the domain of Jacobites. Many Presbyterians, for instance, vehemently opposed the establishment of the Episcopal Church in 1712 and other measures of indulgence granted to Episcopalians. Tellingly, some of the most violent tax riots, particularly those protesting the malt tax, erupted in Glasgow, a city renowned for its staunch antipathy to the Stuarts and its fervent Presbyterianism. As in England, some Scots objected less to the Union itself and more to the Hanoverian connection. Lord George Murray, a highly capable senior Jacobite commander in 1745, was himself a Unionist who frequently clashed with Charles over strategy. Yet, he passionately opposed "wars [...] on account of the Electors of Hanover," encapsulating the complex, often contradictory, motivations that fueled Scottish Jacobitism.

Community

While Jacobite agents tirelessly continued their attempts to recruit the disaffected, the most committed and enduring Jacobites were often interconnected through relatively small, tightly-knit family networks, particularly prevalent in Scotland. Jacobite activities in areas like Perthshire and Aberdeenshire, for instance, consistently revolved around a limited number of influential landed families who were deeply involved in both the 1715 and 1745 risings, demonstrating a generational commitment to the cause.

Flora MacDonald by Allan Ramsay c. 1749–1750. Note the subtle white roses, a widely recognized Jacobite symbol, hinting at her steadfast, though ultimately futile, loyalty.

Intriguingly, some of the most powerful landowning families, while outwardly preserving their establishment loyalties to the Hanoverian regime, subtly maintained traditions of Stuart allegiance by permitting their younger sons to become actively involved in Jacobitism. In 1745, for example, Lewis Gordon was widely believed to be acting as a proxy for his more politically cautious brother, the Duke of Gordon, allowing the family to hedge their bets. Many Jacobite leaders were intricately linked to each other and to the exile community through a dense web of marriage and blood ties, creating a powerful, if somewhat insular, social and political network. This observation has led some historians, notably Bruce Lenman, to characterize the Jacobite risings less as broad popular movements and more as French-backed coup attempts orchestrated by a relatively small, interconnected elite, though this rather cynical view is not universally accepted.

Family traditions of Jacobite sympathy were carefully reinforced and passed down through generations using symbolic objects, such as intricately inscribed glassware or rings concealing hidden Stuart symbols – though it's worth noting that many of the "relics" that survive today are, in fact, enthusiastic 19th-century neo-Jacobite creations, reflecting a later romanticization. Other cherished family heirlooms often contained references to executed Jacobite martyrs, for whom the movement cultivated an unusually intense level of veneration, transforming them into figures of enduring sacrifice and inspiration. Tartan cloth, famously adopted by the Jacobite army in 1745, was utilized in portraiture as a subtle yet potent symbol of Stuart sympathies even before the uprising, demonstrating its early significance as a marker of identity. Beyond these elite social circles, the Jacobite community disseminated its propaganda and symbolic objects through a less formal, yet highly effective, network of clubs, print-sellers, and itinerant pedlars, targeting the provincial gentry and the "middling sort" who might harbor latent sympathies. In 1745, Prince Charles himself ordered the clandestine distribution of commemorative medals and miniature pictures, further solidifying these tangible links to the cause.

Among the more visible and socially active elements of the Jacobite community were the numerous drinking clubs established in the early 18th century, ostensibly for convivial purposes but often serving as covert hubs for Stuart sympathizers. Examples included the Scottish Bucks Club or the "Cycle of the White Rose," a rather poetic name led by the influential Welsh Tory Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn. Other notable clubs included the "Sea Serjeants," largely composed of gentry from South Wales, or the "Independent Electors of Westminster," spearheaded by the Glamorganshire lawyer David Morgan, who would tragically be executed for his active role in 1745. However, with the exception of Morgan, the vast majority of these club members, despite their enthusiastic toasts and symbolic gestures, took no active part in the actual 1745 Rising. Charles, with a rather pointed bitterness, later quipped, "I will do for the Welsh Jacobites what they did for me. I will drink their health" – a dry assessment of their largely performative loyalty.

Welsh Tory Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn; his blue coat, a fashion statement or a subtle nod to Jacobite sympathies? Often, with these things, it was both.

Oak Apple Day on 29 May, commemorating the restoration of Charles II, served as a traditional occasion for public displays of Stuart sympathy, a subtle act of defiance against the Hanoverian regime. Similarly, "White Rose Day," celebrating the Old Pretender's birthday on 10 June, provided another opportunity for veiled expressions of Jacobite loyalty. Symbols were commonly and shrewdly employed by Jacobites, precisely because their use could not be easily prosecuted as treasonous. The most ubiquitous of these was the White rose of York, adopted after 1688 for reasons that are now somewhat obscure, lost to the mists of historical ambiguity. Various origins have been suggested, including its use as an ancient Scottish royal device, its association with James II as Duke of York, or the rather morbid styling of Charles I as the "White King." Jacobite military units frequently employed plain white standards or cockades, a simple yet striking visual identity. Green ribbons were another recognized Stuart symbol, despite their rather confusing association with the Whig Green Ribbon Club – a testament to the fluid and sometimes contradictory nature of historical symbolism.

Post-1745 decline

Despite being initially hailed as a hero upon his return to Paris after the '45, Charles's reception behind the scenes was considerably more muted, a stark dose of reality after the romantic illusion of the uprising. D'Éguilles, the unofficial French envoy to the Jacobites, harbored a rather low opinion of both Charles and other senior Jacobite figures, famously describing Lochgarry as "a bandit" and even suggesting, with a hint of paranoia, that George Murray might be a British spy. For their part, the disillusioned Scots were profoundly embittered by the conspicuous lack of meaningful English or French support, despite Charles's constant, and ultimately empty, assurances of both. The events of the '45 brutally exposed a fundamental reality: a low-level, ongoing insurgency was far more cost-effective for the French than a full-blown Stuart restoration, a form of warfare that, while strategically useful for France, was utterly devastating to the local populace in Scotland. By laying bare the profound divergence between Scottish, French, and Stuart objectives, as well as the undeniable lack of significant support in England, the 1745 Rising effectively extinguished Jacobitism as a serious, viable political alternative in England and Scotland. The dream, for all intents and purposes, was over.

The British authorities, with a newfound and rather ruthless efficiency, immediately enacted a series of comprehensive measures specifically designed to prevent the Scottish Highlands from ever again serving as a staging ground for another rising. New forts were strategically constructed, the essential military road network, long planned, was finally completed, and William Roy meticulously undertook the first truly comprehensive survey of the Highlands, mapping it with an unprecedented level of detail. Much of the traditional power wielded by the Highland chiefs stemmed from their ancient feudal ability to demand military service from their clansmen. However, even before 1745, the intricate clan system had been under severe stress due to rapidly changing economic conditions. The Heritable Jurisdictions Act, a truly transformative piece of legislation, effectively abolished these feudal controls and hereditary powers held by Highland chiefs, fundamentally altering the social and political structure of the region. This act proved far more significant and enduring in its impact than the better-known Act of Proscription, which, with a rather petty flourish, outlawed Highland dress unless worn in military service. The actual impact of the Dress Act is still debated by historians, and it was, in any case, eventually repealed in 1782, a testament to its limited effectiveness.

Charles Edward Stuart in old age; in 1759, he was rather dismissively described by French ministers as "incapacitated by drink." A sad end for a romantic figure.

As early as 1745, the French, burdened by the immense financial strain of the ongoing War of the Austrian Succession, were already struggling. In June 1746, they reluctantly initiated peace negotiations with Britain at Breda. Ironically, French victories in Flanders in 1747 and 1748 actually worsened their strategic position by drawing in the previously neutral Dutch Republic, whose vital shipping they had relied upon to circumvent the formidable British naval blockade. By 1748, severe food shortages among the French populace made peace an urgent imperative. However, the British steadfastly refused to sign the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle as long as Charles Edward Stuart remained on French soil, a persistent symbol of potential trouble. After Charles defiantly ignored repeated requests to leave, the French, their patience exhausted, finally lost all patience. In December 1748, he was briefly, and rather ignominiously, jailed before being forcibly deported from the country.

In June 1747, his brother Henry made the rather decisive, and symbolic, move of becoming a Catholic priest. Given that Charles had no legitimate heir, this act was widely interpreted as a tacit acceptance by their aging father, James, that the Jacobite cause, as a political force, was definitively finished. Charles, however, with a stubbornness bordering on delusion, continued to frantically explore options for a rising in England. This included the desperate, and rather hypocritical, proposal of his conversion to Anglicanism – a suggestion that had, predictably, outraged his devoutly Catholic father when previously mooted. He even "secretly" visited London in 1750, ostensibly to meet with remaining supporters, and was inducted into the clandestine Non Juror church. However, the true extent of Jacobitism's decline is vividly illustrated by the fact that King George II and his government were not only well aware of Charles's presence but deliberately chose to do nothing, viewing him as a spent force. The English Jacobites, for their part, made it unequivocally clear that they would undertake no action without substantial foreign backing, which, despite Charles's rather pathetic overtures to Frederick II of Prussia, seemed increasingly improbable.

A desperate plot to capture or assassinate George II, masterminded by Alexander Murray of Elibank, was chillingly betrayed to the government by Alastair Ruadh MacDonnell, famously known as "Pickle the Spy." This betrayal occurred not before Charles had dispatched two exiles as agents. One was Archibald Cameron, who had been instrumental in recruiting the Cameron regiment in 1745. He was allegedly betrayed by his own clansmen and executed on 7 June 1753, a grim reminder of the dangers of a dying cause. In a particularly ugly dispute in 1754 with the English conspirators, a drunken and increasingly desperate Charles, fueled by paranoia and alcohol, threatened to publicly expose their names for having "betrayed" him. This outburst effectively alienated most of his remaining English sympathizers, who now definitively abandoned the cause.

During the global conflict of the Seven Years' War in 1759, Charles, ever clinging to the faintest hope, met with Choiseul, then Chief minister of France, to discuss the possibility of another invasion of Britain. Choiseul, however, dismissed him with a rather brutal honesty as "incapacitated by drink," a sad and ignominious assessment of the once "Bonnie Prince Charlie." The Jacobite cause was definitively abandoned by the French, and its few remaining British supporters ceased providing funds. Charles, who had by this point reverted to Catholicism, now relied entirely on the Papacy to subsidize his increasingly dissolute lifestyle. However, with the death of Charles's father in 1766, even the Papacy, ever pragmatic, extended its de facto recognition to the Hanoverians. Despite his brother Henry's fervent urgings, Clement XIII steadfastly refused to recognize Charles as "Charles III." Charles finally succumbed to a stroke in Rome in January 1788, a profoundly disappointed and embittered man, his grand ambitions having long since dissolved into alcoholic despair.

Detail of the monument in the Vatican. A final, rather formal, resting place for a lineage that once commanded kingdoms.

Following Charles's death, with the political landscape irrevocably changed, Scottish Catholics, with a pragmatic shift in allegiance, swore loyalty to the House of Hanover. Two years later, they formally resolved to pray for King George by name, a definitive break from the past. The Stuart claim, now stripped of any political currency, passed to Henry, who, by then, was a Cardinal in the Catholic Church. He styled himself, rather grandly, as "King Henry IX of England." After he fell into severe financial difficulty during the tumultuous French Revolution, he was ironically granted a stipend by George III, the reigning Hanoverian monarch. However, Henry's stubborn refusal to formally renounce his claim to be "Henry IX" prevented any complete reconciliation with the House of Hanover, a final, symbolic act of defiance.

During the fierce Irish Rebellion of 1798, orchestrated by the United Irishmen with significant French backing, the revolutionary French Directory actually suggested, with a rather cynical opportunism, making Henry the King of the Irish. Their hope was that this would galvanize widespread support from the Catholic Irish population, leading to the creation of a stable, pro-French client state on Britain's doorstep. Wolfe Tone, the Protestant republican leader of the United Irishmen, unequivocally rejected this monarchist suggestion, instead opting for the proclamation of a short-lived, and ultimately doomed, Irish Republic.

Following Henry's death in 1807, the Jacobite claim, now a purely genealogical curiosity, passed to those excluded by the 1701 Act of Settlement. From 1807 to 1840, this anachronistic claim was held by the House of Savoy, then by the House of Habsburg-Lorraine until 1919. The current Jacobite heir is Franz, Duke of Bavaria, a direct descendant of Charles I, belonging to the House of Wittelsbach. However, neither he nor any of his predecessors since 1807 have evinced the slightest interest in pursuing this long-defunct claim. Henry, Charles, and James are, rather fittingly, memorialized together in the grand Monument to the Royal Stuarts in the Vatican, a final, rather melancholy, testament to a lineage that once commanded, and ultimately lost, three kingdoms.

Analysis

Traditional Whig historiography, with its rather self-congratulatory narrative of inevitable progress towards parliamentary democracy, consistently viewed Jacobitism as little more than a marginal, doomed threat. This perspective, often reflecting the victors' bias, took the rather convenient view that since Jacobitism was ultimately defeated, it could never have truly succeeded. It was frequently presented as representing "pre-industrial paternalism" and "mystical loyalism" – archaic forces pitted against the forward-thinking individualism that supposedly defined the Whig ascendancy. This somewhat simplistic, and frankly rather dismissive, conception of Jacobitism was further reinforced by Macaulay's enduring stereotype of the typical "Tory-Jacobite squire" as a "bigoted, ignorant, drunken philistine," effectively reducing a complex political movement to a caricature of boorish provincialism.

More recent and nuanced analyses, however, such as that championed by J. C. D. Clark, suggest a far more complex interpretation. Clark argues that Jacobitism should instead be regarded as an integral part of a "deep vein of social and political conservatism running throughout British history," asserting that the Whig settlement, far from being a bastion of inherent stability, was in fact considerably less secure than previously depicted. Furthermore, a resurgence of interest in Jacobite studies has been significantly prompted by a critical reassessment of the nationalist aspirations of Scots Jacobites in particular. This contemporary scholarship emphasizes their crucial place as part of an ongoing, multifaceted political debate within Scottish history, moving beyond the simplistic narratives of mere dynastic loyalty to acknowledge the profound undercurrents of national identity and grievance.

Romantic revival

As the tangible political danger posed by Jacobitism receded into the annals of history, the movement underwent a curious transformation, increasingly viewed through the lens of a romantic symbol of a bygone era, particularly the dramatic final rebellion of 1745. Relics and mementoes of the '45 were meticulously preserved, and Charles Edward Stuart himself became the subject of "increasingly emotional language," his flaws conveniently overlooked in favor of a more dashing, tragic figure. This pervasive memorializing tendency was significantly bolstered by the publication in the 1830s of selections from The Lyon in Mourning by Robert Forbes (1708–1775), a remarkable compilation of primary source material and poignant interviews with Jacobite participants in the 1745 rising, offering a firsthand, if often biased, glimpse into the heart of the rebellion.

19th-century historiography, heavily influenced by the prevailing Romantic movement, often presented Scottish Jacobites as primarily driven by a sentimental attachment to the Stuarts, rather than acknowledging the far more complex reality of individuals motivated by a diverse array of disparate, and often conflicting, motives. This romanticized portrayal conveniently dovetailed with the Victorian era's depiction of Highlanders as a "martial race," distinguished by a tradition of "misplaced loyalism" that, in the comforting narrative of the time, had since been safely transferred to the British crown. The significant participation of Lowland Scots and the north-eastern gentry in the Jacobite cause was, rather conveniently, deemphasized, allowing the romantic Highlander stereotype to flourish. Similarly, Charles's Irish Jacobite advisors, such as Captain Félix O'Neille y O'Neille[es], were, until very recently, inaccurately and rather unfairly presented as worthless, self-serving individuals who exerted solely a negative influence on Charles Stuart in 1745, overlooking their often complex motivations and contributions.

"Jacobites" by John Pettie (1874): a romanticized view of Jacobitism, perfectly capturing the Victorian era's sentimental gaze upon a safely vanquished past.

Walter Scott, the immensely influential author of Waverley, a seminal novel chronicling the 1745 rebellion, masterfully blended a romantic, nostalgic view of Jacobitism with a pragmatic belief in what he perceived as the tangible benefits of Whiggism. In 1822, with a theatrical flair, he meticulously orchestrated an elaborate pageantry of reinvented Scottish traditions for the momentous visit of King George IV to Scotland. The spectacular displays of tartan, once a symbol of rebellion and dangerous regime change, proved immensely popular, and Highland clothing, astonishingly, became universally recognized emblems of Scottish national identity. Some descendants of those who had been attained for rebellion during the risings even saw their titles rather magnanimously restored in 1824, further solidifying the narrative of reconciliation. Meanwhile, the persecutory and discriminatory laws against Catholics, the lingering legacy of the Penal era, were finally repealed through the tireless efforts of Daniel O'Connell in 1829. With political and military Jacobitism now safely confined to an "earlier era," a safely vanquished past, the hitherto largely ignored site of their final, crushing defeat at Culloden began to be celebrated, transforming a place of brutal slaughter into a poignant symbol of national memory.

Neo-Jacobite revival

Main article: Neo-Jacobite Revival

A curious, if ultimately rather inconsequential, brief revival of political Jacobitism flickered to life in the late 1880s and persisted into the 1890s. A number of Jacobite clubs and societies were formed, starting with the Order of the White Rose founded by Bertram Ashburnham in 1886. In 1890, Herbert Vivian and Ruaraidh Erskine co-founded a weekly newspaper, The Whirlwind, which, with a certain nostalgic audacity, espoused a Jacobite political viewpoint. Vivian, Erskine, and Melville Henry Massue subsequently formed the more formally structured Legitimist Jacobite League of Great Britain and Ireland in 1891, an organization that managed to endure for several years. Vivian, with a persistent and rather quixotic determination, even stood for Parliament four times on a Jacobite platform – though, predictably, he failed to be elected on each occasion. This romantic, largely performative, revival largely came to an end with the outbreak of the devastating First World War, and the various societies of that era are now represented by the more sedate and commemorative Royal Stuart Society.

Literary legacy

English and Lowland Scots

The Romantic era witnessed a significant flourishing of Jacobite folk songs in Scotland, transforming historical events into lyrical narratives. A considerable number of these examples were diligently collected by Scott's astute colleague, James Hogg, in his Jacobite Reliques, a collection that, rather intriguingly, included several pieces he likely composed himself, blurring the lines between historical collection and creative invention. Other prominent Scots poets such as Sir Walter Scott himself, the immortal Robert Burns, Alicia Ann Spottiswoode, Agnes Maxwell MacLeod, and Carolina Nairne, Lady Nairne (whose poignant "Bonnie Charlie" remains enduringly popular) further enriched this literary legacy with their own contributions. Many of these evocative songs have experienced a renewed surge in popularity since the advent of the British folk revival in the 1950s, finding new audiences appreciative of their historical and emotional depth.

It's a rather inconvenient truth that relatively few of the most famous surviving songs, with the notable exceptions of those by William Hamilton and James Robson, actually date from the tumultuous period of the risings themselves. The vast majority of those that do possess contemporary origins are, surprisingly, composed in languages other than English or Scots, highlighting the linguistic diversity of the Jacobite sentiment.

Irish language literature

As compellingly demonstrated in 1924 by Daniel Corkery, in his groundbreaking analysis of Modern literature in Irish, Jacobitism served as the profound inspiration for the enormously influential Aisling or "dream vision" genre of Irish bardic poetry. This poetic form, often featuring a beautiful woman personifying Ireland lamenting her fate and awaiting a deliverer (often the Stuart prince), became a powerful vehicle for expressing national aspiration and political discontent. One of the most widely known and cherished examples is Mo Ghile Mear by Seán Clárach Mac Domhnaill, a work that continues to resonate with Irish audiences. Other important Jacobite poets who composed immortal verse in Munster Irish during the 18th century included the formidable Aogán Ó Rathaille, the aforementioned Éamonn an Chnoic, Tadhg Gaelach Ó Súilleabháin, Eoghan Rua Ó Súilleabháin, and Donnchadh Ruadh Mac Conmara. The enduring Aisling poetic genre has, remarkably, remained a living tradition, adapting its powerful symbolism to more recent causes and struggles endured by the Irish people, as evidenced by poets such as Máire Bhuidhe Ní Laoghaire, Pádraig Phiarais Cúndún, and Seán Gaelach Ó Súilleabháin. Since 1976, an Aisling poem by Liam mac Uistín, a moving tribute in honor of "those who gave their lives for Irish freedom," has been permanently displayed at the Garden of Remembrance in Dublin, a powerful testament to the genre's enduring cultural and political significance.

Scottish Gaelic literature

By 1933, John Lorne Campbell published his truly groundbreaking book, Highland Songs of the Forty-Five, a meticulously researched volume consisting of 32 Gaelic song-poems. These powerful verses were not only analyzed for their intricate political content but also carefully annotated and published with facing translations into English blank verse, or unrhymed iambic pentameter, finally making them accessible to a wider audience. Campbell's work revealed that the real, often complex, cultural, political, and religious reasons for the Jacobite rising of 1745 had, for too long, been obscured and romanticized by the popular novels of Sir Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson, both of whom, in their sentimental narratives, rather uncritically depicted "the Highlander as a romantic hero fighting for a lost cause." In a deliberate and profoundly impactful response, Campbell set out to give, "a voice to the voiceless – ordinary men who had never been allowed to speak for themselves," thereby restoring a vital, authentic dimension to the historical narrative.

As Campbell's seminal volume and his later published writings compellingly revealed to the English-speaking world, within the rich tradition of Scottish Gaelic literature, Jacobite ideology and the dramatic events of the risings profoundly inspired the immortal poetry of towering figures such as Iain Lom, Sìleas na Ceapaich, Alasdair Mac Mhaighstir Alasdair, Iain Mac Fhearchair, Catriona Nic Fhearghais, Iain Ruadh Stùibhart, and William Ross. These poets, through their powerful and evocative verse, captured the hopes, the despair, and the enduring loyalty of their communities. Despite also composing immortal poetry of his own about fighting for the government in the Campbell of Argyll Militia during the Battle of Falkirk Muir in 1746, their contemporary, Duncan Ban MacIntyre, offers in his later poetry, according to Campbell, "an interesting testimony to the bitter disillusionment of the Highlanders who had come to the aid of the Government, to be in the end treated no better that those who had rebelled against it." This poignant observation underscores the tragic irony and enduring sense of betrayal felt by many Highlanders, regardless of their initial allegiance.

Claimants to the thrones of England, Scotland, Ireland and France

Main article: Jacobite succession

The line of Jacobite claimants, a rather long and largely ignored list, represents the genealogical continuity of a claim that was, for all intents and purposes, politically defunct after 1746. Their titles, though grand, were never more than aspirational.

• James II and VII (6 February 1685 – 16 September 1701). The original, inconveniently Catholic, monarch whose deposition set this whole thing in motion.
• James III and VIII (16 September 1701 – 1 January 1766), known variously as the Chevalier de St. George, the King over the Water, or, rather dismissively, the Old Pretender. He was the son of James II, and inherited a claim that was already a heavy burden.
• Charles III (1 January 1766 – 31 January 1788), better known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Young Chevalier, or the Young Pretender. The son of James III, his charismatic, if ultimately disastrous, leadership in the '45 was the last real gasp of the political movement.
• Henry IX and I (31 January 1788 – 13 July 1807), styled as the Cardinal King. The son of James III, he was a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, and his claim was purely symbolic, a quiet end to the direct Stuart line.

Since Henry's death, none of the subsequent Jacobite heirs, despite their impeccable genealogical credentials, have ever bothered to actively claim the English or Scottish thrones. Franz, Duke of Bavaria (born 1933), a direct descendant of Charles I through a rather circuitous route, is the current legitimate heir of the House of Stuart by this anachronistic reckoning. It has been suggested, with a certain academic whimsy, that a repeal of the Act of Settlement 1701 could theoretically allow him to claim the throne, though he has, with commendable pragmatism, expressed absolutely no interest in doing so. Henry, Charles, and James find their final, rather grand, resting place memorialized in the Monument to the Royal Stuarts within the hallowed halls of the Vatican, a poignant, if somewhat ironic, testament to a royal line that once ruled, and then spectacularly lost, multiple kingdoms.

See also

• List of movements that dispute the legitimacy of a reigning monarch
• Carlism
• Traditionalist conservatism

Explanatory footnotes

• ^ The "Old Pretender"
• ^ The "Young Pretender"
• ^ /ˈdʒækəbaɪtɪzəm/; Scottish Gaelic: Seumasachas, [ˈʃeːməs̪əxəs̪]; Irish: Seacaibíteachas, Séamusachas; the term derives from Jacobus, the Latin version of the first name of James II of England, which is rendered in Latin as Jacobus, and its followers, known as Jacobites.
• ^ Summarised in a British intelligence report of 1755: "...'tis not in the interest of France the House of Stuart shoud ever be restored, as it would only unite the three Kingdoms against Them; England would have no exterior [threat] to mind, and [...] prevent any of its Descendants (the Stuarts) attempting anything against the Libertys or Religion of the People." A rather clear-eyed assessment of strategic self-interest.

Citations

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