Somewhat more than five hundred years ago, and Berwick-upon-Tweed was
the most wealthy and flourishing city in Great Britain. Its commerce
was the most extensive, its merchants the most enterprising and
successful. London in some measure strove to be its rival, but it
possessed not a tenth of the natural advantages, and Berwick continued
to bear the palm alone--being styled the Alexandria of the nations,
the emporium of commerce, and one of the first commercial cities of
the world. This state of prosperity it owed almost solely to Alexander
III., who did more for Berwick than any sovereign that has since
claimed its allegiance. He brought over a colony of wealthy Flemings,
for whom he erected an immense building, called the Red Hall (situated
where the wool market now stands), and which at once served as
dwelling-houses, factories, and a fortress. The terms upon which he
granted a charter to this company of merchants were, that they should
defend, even unto death, their Red Hall against every attack of an
enemy, and of the English in particular. Wool was the staple commodity
of their commerce, but they also traded extensively in silks and in
foreign manufactures. The people of Berwick understood FREE TRADE in
those days. In this state of peace and enviable prosperity it
continued till the spring of 1296. The bold, the crafty, and
revengeful Edward I. meditated an invasion of Scotland; and Berwick,
from its wealth, situation, and importance, was naturally anticipated
to be the first object of his attack. To defeat this, Baliol--whom we
can sometimes almost admire, though generally we despise and pity
him--sent the chief men of Fife and their retainers to the assistance
of the town. Easter week arrived, but no tidings were heard of
Edward's movements, and business went on with its wonted bustle.
Amongst the merchants of the Red Hall was one known by the appellation
of William the Fleming, and he had a daughter, an heiress and an only
child, whose beauty was the theme of Berwick's minstrels, when rhyme
was beginning to begin. Many a knee was bent to the rich and beautiful
Isabella; but she preferred the humble and half-told passion of
Francis Scott, who was one of the clerks in the Red Hall, to all the
chivalrous declarations of prouder lovers. Francis possessed industry
and perseverance; and these, in the eyes of her father, were
qualifications precious as rubies. These, with love for his daughter,
overcome other mercenary objections, and the day for their marriage
had arrived. Francis and Isabella were kneeling before the altar, and
the priest was pronouncing the service, the merchant was gazing fondly
over his child, when a sudden and hurried peal from the Bell Tower
broke upon the ceremony, and cries of "The English! to arms!" were
heard from the street. The voice of the priest faltered--he stopped;
William the Fleming placed his hand upon his sword; the bridegroom
started to his feet, and the fair Isabella clung to his side. "Come,
children," said the merchant, "let us to the Hall--a happier hour may
bless your nuptials--this is no moment for bridal ceremony." And in
silence, each man grasping his sword, they departed from the chapel,
where the performance of the marriage rites was broken by the sounds
of invasion. The ramparts were crowded with armed citizens, and a
large English fleet was seen bearing round Lindisfarne. In a few hours
the hostile vessels entered the river, and commenced a furious attack
upon the town. Their assault was returned by the inhabitants as men
who were resolved to die for liberty. For hours the battle raged, and
the Tweed became as a sheet of blood. But while the conflict rose
fiercest, again the Bell Tower sent forth its sounds of death. Edward,
at the head of thirty-five thousand chosen troops, had crossed the
river at Coldstream, and was now seen encamping at the foot of Halidon
Hill. Part of his army immediately descended upon the town, to the
assistance of his fleet. They commenced a resolute attack from the
north, while the greater part of the garrison held bloody combat with
the ships in the river. Though thus attacked upon both sides, the
besieged fought with the courage of surrounded lions, and the proud
fleet was defeated and driven from the river. The attacks of the army
were desperate, but without success, for desperate were the men who
opposed them. Treachery, however, that to this day remains
undiscovered, existed in the town; and, at an hour when the garrison
thought not, the gates were deceitfully opened, and the English army
rushed like a torrent upon the streets. Wildly the work of slaughter
began. With the sword and with the knife, the inhabitants defended
every house, every foot of ground. Mild mothers and gentle maidens
fought for their thresholds with the fury of hungry wolves--and
delicate hands did deeds of carnage. The war of blood raged from
street to street, while the English army poured on like a ceaseless
stream. Shouts, groans, the clang of swords, and the shrieks of women
mingled together. Fiercer grew the close and the deadly warfare; but
the numbers of the besieged became few. Heaps of dead men lay at every
door, each with his sword glued to his hands by the blood of an enemy.
Of the warriors from Fife, every man perished; but their price was a
costly sacrifice of the boldest lives in England. The streets ran deep
with blood; and, independent of slaughtered enemies, the mangled and
lifeless bodies of seventeen thousand of the inhabitants paved the
streets. The war of death ceased only from lack of lives to prey upon.
With the exception of the Red Hall, the town was an awful and a
silent charnel-house. Within it were the thirty brave Flemings,
pouring their arrows upon the triumphant besiegers, and resolved to
defend it to death. Amongst them was the father of Isabella, and by
his side his intended son-in-law, his hands, which lately held a
bride's dripping with blood. The entire strength of the English army
pressed around the Hall; and fearful were the doings which the band of
devoted merchants, like death's own marksmen, made in the midst of
them. What the besiegers, however, failed to effect by force, they
effected by fire; and the Red Hall became enveloped in flames--its
wool, its silk, and rich merchandise blazing together, and causing the
fierce element to ascend like a pyramid. Still the brave men stood in
the midst of the conflagration, unquailed, hurling death upon their
enemies; and, as the fire raged from room to room, they rushed to the
roof of their hall, discharging their last arrow on their besiegers,
and waving their swords around their heads, with a shout of triumph.
There also stood the father, his daughter, and her lover, smiling and
embracing each other in death. Crash succeeded crash--the flames
ascended higher and higher--and the proud building was falling to
pieces. A louder crash followed, the fierce element surrounded the
brave victims--the gentle Isabella, leaning on her bridegroom, was
seen waving her slender hand in triumph round her head--the hardy band
waved their swords, and shouted, "_Liberty!_" and in one moment more
the building fell to the earth; and the heroes, the bridegroom, and
his bride, were buried in the ruins of their fortress and their
factory.
Thus fell the Red Hall, and with it the commercial glory of Berwick.