HISTORICAL NOTE
The historical notes I’ve included in the back of previous books in this series have proved very popular with readers, so I thought I’d keep the custom going for those who are interested in knowing a little more about the historical aspect of the Chronicles. Please be aware, this note is to be read after the book, as it contains a good few spoilers!
The prologue deals with Prince Charles accepting a dinner invitation from his brother Henry, only for him to fail to appear, leaving an annoyed Charles sitting in the library pondering events of the recent past. Although it was a useful ‘catch-up’ scene, it actually did happen.
Prince Henry was a very different person from his impetuous, courageous and charismatic older brother. He was extremely pious, devoted to the Catholic Church, academic, somewhat reclusive and had an absolute terror of women and of being forced to marry. Following Charles’ disastrous mission to Spain, (even the promised shipment of goods to the Highlands was never delivered) he refused to marry anyone less than a reigning monarch or daughter of a monarch, which possibility was highly unlikely. Therefore all eyes turned to Henry to make a dynastic marriage and continue the Stuart line.
In desperation Henry contacted his father stating his aversion to the worldly life and to marriage. James replied with a light-hearted comment that perhaps he should become a cardinal, which Henry seized on. James agreed to make representations to the Pope on Henry’s behalf, and asked him to come to Rome. Knowing what Charles’ reaction would be if he heard of this possibility, James and Henry hatched an elaborate plan behind his back, making all the preparations in the utmost secrecy.
On 30th April 1747 Henry invited Charles to dinner, instructed that a meal be prepared and then, even as Charles waited for him in ever-growing worry and frustration, Henry was already on his way to Rome. Three days later Charles received an apologetic letter from his brother in which he stated that he was upset by the attitude of the French and wanted to spend some time with his father. Charles accepted this, as relations between the French court and the Stuarts were no longer amicable, and he knew that Henry was very sensitive.
Henry reached Rome on 25th May to find that James had already made all the arrangements with the Pope for him to become a cardinal in July, which was then done.
Charles had absolutely no inkling of this until he received the devastating letter from his father when it was too late for him to do anything to prevent it, and his reaction was, understandably extreme. He saw it, rightly, as an utter betrayal of him by his father, who he had devoted his life to trying to restore to the throne of Great Britain.
It’s difficult for a twenty-first century mind to appreciate just what a huge blow this was to the Stuart cause in Britain; in our relatively secular society, Roman Catholics are seen as no threat to the stability of the country, or to the Anglican Church.
Charles’ grandfather had been removed from the throne in the main because it was believed he was trying to impose Roman Catholicism on his British subjects, and a huge part of the Hanoverian propaganda against a restoration of the Stuarts was that they would enforce the Catholic faith on the whole population and bring back the horrors of Mary Tudor’s reign.
Although untrue, and in view of the tiny proportion of the country that was of the Roman faith, highly unlikely ever to happen in any case, it was widely believed. Fear of popery was endemic in Britain and in becoming a cardinal, Henry handed the Hanoverians a huge victory.
James’ Jacobite supporters were as horrified as Charles by this decision, and made their views clear on the matter, and, to James’ surprise, even the Catholic clergy were deeply critical of the move. It was the bishop of Soissons who baldly stated to the exiled king that in making Henry a cardinal, James had effectively resigned the Stuart claim to the throne of Great Britain.
Charles sank into a deep depression, and only started to come out of it on becoming infatuated with his married cousin, which relationship is just starting at Chapter Thirteen, when Alex visits the prince at St Ouen. This visit is fictional, but some of the things talked about are not. Alex notes that there was a desperation to Charles’ drinking that had not been there before. This had been remarked on by a number of the princes’ associates, and presaged his later descent into alcoholism and depression.
There were rumours that Henry had homosexual leanings at the time, although nobody would voice this openly. In later years the cardinal did have a number of very close relationships with other men. Having said that, in fairness to him, to the best of my knowledge no evidence has ever been found proving any sexual relationships, and as Henry had an abhorrence of debauchery in all its forms, it is possible that his fear of women was due to asexual or deeply moral tendencies rather than homosexual ones.
In Chapter Thirteen Alex also pays a visit to the Cameron chief, Lochiel, who was living with his wife and children in apartments at Fontainebleau. Charles, recognising the extraordinary devotion and sacrifice of Donald Cameron of Lochiel, had petitioned King Louis unceasingly, trying to get him to raise a regiment for his most loyal devoted supporter, and finally succeeded in doing so. Lochiel was made the Colonel of the newly formed Régiment d’Albanie. The position also carried a handsome salary. Unfortunately, Lochiel did not survive long enough to enjoy the fruits of Charles’ labour, tragically dying on 26th October 1748 of what was probably meningitis.
On to Beth’s adventures! You might be interested to know that the Veteran was a real ship, and was indeed captained by John Ricky. Every prisoner I name on the voyage was a real person too, and they were all transported to Antigua as indentured servants. A list survives of all one hundred and forty-nine prisoners, which includes their names, regiments, occupations, ages and physical description, which I make use of in the book.
One day away from their destination, the Veteran was captured by the sloop Le Diamant, captained by one Paul Marsal, a privateer, and was taken to Martinique, where the prisoners were all freed by the Marquis de Caylus, Governor of Martinique. The agent who had arranged for the transportation of the prisoners at a charge of £5 per head, Samuel Smith, now petitioned the government for the money.
The Duke of Newcastle instructed the Governor of the Leeward Islands to write to the Marquis de Caylus. So there followed an exchange of beautifully worded letters between the two governors, in which the British demanded the return of the prisoners, and the marquis refused.
What happened to the Jacobites after their release isn’t known. Some of them may have stayed in Martinique, or gone to France, as the marquis suggested in one of his letters, or may even have returned to Britain.
The whole episode is a historical author’s dream, but I have to admit to taking some minor liberties with history. In reality the Veteran sailed out of Liverpool on 8th May 1747, and was captured by Marsal on 28th June. For the sake of the plot, I’ve changed the departure date to April and telescoped the sailing time to four weeks (the minimum it could take for such a voyage) rather than the actual six it took in reality.
Similarly, in fairness to Captain Ricky, in the records it states that he surrendered after a ‘short engagement’, which may well have been more than merely a shot fired across the bows. I have no wish for people to believe him a coward when there is no evidence for it!
Elizabeth Clavering’s history before transportation is partly real. She was taken ‘in actual rebellion’, so could have been part of the garrison at Carlisle Castle, or more likely captured after the battle of Clifton Moor on 18th December 1745. It is possible that she was following her husband, and that he was killed in the battle.
As for her marriage to Edmund Clavering in prison, this is true. Edmund and Elizabeth married on 9th June 1746 in prison in York Castle. She stated at the time that she was a widow. Edmund Clavering was hung on 1st November, and gave a defiant speech, blessing King James III.
Elizabeth was indeed on board the Veteran when she wrote her petition for mercy, in which she stated the facts and gave no apologies.
Her life after that is a mystery, but she was clearly a spirited woman. She was listed as a ‘lady’ and as very few ‘ladies’ were transported, she must have been pretty feisty to have merited such treatment. With that in mind, and being unable to find any more details about Captain Paul Marsal than that he was a privateer, I have invented their future relationship and adventures in their entirety.
The Marquis de Caylus was also real, and the story of the naval battle that he entertains Beth with over dinner really happened. He seems to have been quite a character.
I feel I have to comment about the chapters in which I deal with plantation life on Martinique. I did a considerable amount of research before writing these, and although the Delisles, Raymond and Rosalie, and everyone else on the plantation are fictional, the conditions under which the slaves lived, and the method of sugar production are all taken directly from factual accounts of life in the West Indies.
In Britain, we tend to think of black slavery as a primarily American issue – I certainly was never taught in school about the huge trade in slavery which brought enormous wealth to Britain as well as other countries in Europe, at such a terrible human cost. But although slavery in Britain itself was illegal, the British had no moral compunction when it came to using slaves in their overseas territories, including the American Colonies and the British West Indies.
Life on sugar plantations was particularly brutal, partly due to the climate and partly due to the intense labour needed to cultivate and produce sugar. If any of you are shocked by the descriptions of life at Soleil plantation in Tides of Fortune, I have to tell you that the events portrayed in my book, although all based on actual occurrences, are mild compared to the unspeakable brutalities of the punishments and living conditions the slaves endured in reality. Some of the things I read in my research will stay with me forever – and I am far from sensitive and squeamish.
I felt I had to write about this here, in case readers thought that slavery was a French institution only, as my story is set on a French island. It is not; such appalling treatment of fellow human beings was common to all the islands, French, Spanish, Dutch and British. The history of sugar is one of brutality and greed, and as it was decisive in shaping the British Empire, I feel it should be part of the history curriculum, at least for older students.
To continue on a somewhat lighter note: anyone who has visited Martinique as a tourist might struggle to identify with my description of the island – but I am writing primarily from the point of view of the eighteenth century, and of Beth, a reluctant visitor. Not only was the climate dangerous, with hurricanes and earthquakes a relatively common occurrence, but the heat and humidity were ideal conditions for mosquitoes to breed in, and malaria and yellow fever wiped out an enormous number of people. The whites were particularly vulnerable, having no acquired immunity to the diseases, and approximately a third of all settlers died within three years of arriving in the islands. Infant mortality was very high, and few families survived for more than a few generations.
Nevertheless, in spite of the heat, many of the whites still insisted on wearing the highly unsuitable European fashions which are the bane of Beth’s life. The French regulations on mourning at this time were six weeks in wool wearing badges of mourning, a further six weeks in wool, and then another six in silk. In the book I dispensed with the first six weeks, as I did not wish Beth to spend three months at Pierre’s after the death of his wife, but thought it unlikely that she would be capable of throwing knives and diving into the undergrowth to retrieve them dressed in heavy black wool!
Finally, the general amnesty, or Act of Grace, which is mentioned by Caroline in Chapter Six and Simon in Chapter Sixteen. In June 1747 George II granted a ‘general and free pardon, in a free and bountiful manner’.
Very generous of him, until you read the list of exclusions to ‘His Most Excellent Majesty’s’ Act. This included, among many others; anyone who had already been convicted of high treason, anyone already transported for any reason, anyone who had been concerned in the rising and who had been ‘beyond the seas’ at any time between 20th July 1745 and 15th June 1747 – which included Lochiel and all the other Jacobites in France or Italy at the time. Also exempted was a long list of individuals, including Alexander MacDonald of Glencoe, and, of course, the whole of Clan Gregor.
I hope you’ve found these notes interesting! As for the future life of Prince Charles, I intend, now this book is finished, to write blogs, not only about him, but about other historical characters that feature in my books, and also about other aspects of the period that readers might find interesting. These will appear on my website at irregular intervals (in other words, when I’m not frantically researching for the next series, or writing my next book!)