Memoirs of the Jacobites of 1715 and 1745. Volume III. — Reading Notes

A House as a Historical Witness

Thomson devotes unusual attention to Exeter House in Derby, where Charles Edward Stuart held court in December 1745. She describes the building in precise architectural detail: its Elizabethan gables, the wide staircase rising from a small hall, the square oak-panelled drawing room that served as a presence chamber, and the back lawn extending to the River Derwent. The house, she notes, still stood in her own day, its walls largely unchanged though the furniture had been replaced. This physical description does more than set a scene; it anchors the narrative in a tangible location that readers could, in 1846, still visit. Thomson also records a local tradition about a Highland officer escaping through the garden and swimming down the Derwent to avoid capture by Cumberland's army. By weaving topography and anecdote together, she turns a building into a silent character in the story.

The Derby Council and the Decision to Retreat

The excerpts capture the pivotal moment when the Jacobite army, having reached Derby, abruptly turned back. Thomson describes the confusion among the townspeople: on Friday morning the drums beat to arms and bagpipes played, leading many to believe the march toward London would continue. Instead, the Prince's council had met the previous day and resolved on retreat. Thomson does not speculate on the reasons—whether it was lack of English support, the approach of government forces, or divided counsel—but she lets the sequence of events speak. The detail that the magistrates of Derby appeared without their gowns of office, having sent them out of town, underscores the ambivalence of the local authorities. The Chevalier was proclaimed king in the marketplace, yet the ceremony had a makeshift quality. Thomson's account, drawn from contemporary letters, preserves the uncertainty of those hours.

The Texture of Occupation: Daily Life in Derby

Thomson includes a letter from a Derby resident describing the arrival of the Highlanders: they were treated to bread, cheese, beer, and ale, and after supper most slept on straw beds. The writer notes that the burgesses began to think they 'should never have seen the last of them.' This domestic detail—the provisioning of an army, the filling of every house, the weary soldiers resting after a long march—offers a ground-level view of the occupation. Thomson also records that the Dukes of Atholl and Perth, along with Lady Ogilvie and Mrs. Murray of Broughton, were lodged in the best gentlemen's houses. The inclusion of women among the retinue hints at the social complexity of the campaign. By juxtaposing the grand with the mundane, Thomson creates a layered portrait of a town under unexpected military occupation.

Acknowledgments as a Map of Sources

The preface functions as a guide to the volume's evidentiary base. Thomson thanks Sir John Maxwell and Lady Matilda Maxwell for suggestions on the Nithsdale family, and Mons. Amedée Pichot for access to French archives. Madame Colmache conducted inquiries at the Bibliothèque du Roi for original papers. W. E. Aytoun supplied information about the Duke of Perth. These acknowledgments reveal a network of aristocratic families and continental scholars who preserved Jacobite materials. Thomson's method is collaborative: she gathers oral traditions, family papers, and foreign documents. The preface also mentions her regret at completing the work, a sentiment that underscores her personal investment. For the reader, this list of names and places offers a roadmap to the sources behind each biography, inviting scrutiny of how Thomson shaped her narratives from disparate fragments.

Thomson's volume rewards readers who attend to its physical settings and its named informants. The houses, letters, and local traditions she records are not decorative; they are the scaffolding of her argument that Jacobite history survives in places and private papers. A first reading might focus on the Derby episode as a microcosm of the rebellion's momentum and collapse, while noting how Thomson's own voice emerges through her acknowledgments and corrections. The book is best approached as a collection of interlinked biographies, each dependent on a specific archive.

I often revisit Mrs. Thomson’s third volume, those Jacobite memoirs rooted in Exeter House’s very floors, and find myself drifting to a quieter shelf companion—The Winning of the West, Volume 4 Louisiana and the Northwest, 1791-1807 — Edition Insights. Both hold the ache of lost causes, the same dust of old footsteps, each a patient keeper of vanished loyalties.