of Windsor, and in due time this daughter was married to Eric, king
of Norway. Her brother, the only surviving son of Alexander, was also
married, about the same time, to a daughter of the count of Flanders.
But the lapse of a few years saw the removal of almost the whole family
by death. Margaret, Alexander’s wife and Edward’s sister, died in 1274,
her son in 1282 or 1283, and her daughter, the queen of Norway, in the
following year. Alexander himself was killed by a fall from his horse
in 1286; and thus the only successor to his house remaining was the
young princess, his daughter’s child, who was styled “the maiden of
Norway.”
When Alexander suffered the loss of both his children in 1283-4, a
meeting of the estates of the realm was held at Scone, at which meeting
the succession was declared to belong to “the maiden of Norway.” When,
two years later, the unexpected calamity of Alexander’s own death
occurred, another meeting was held, and recourse was had to Edward,
whose niece, the late queen of Norway, had been the young maiden’s
mother. He was in Gascony at the time, and he contented himself with
counselling the Scotch to choose a regency, and to carry on the
government in the young queen’s name. The intelligence does not seem to
have hastened his return from the continent, which did not take place
until two or three years afterward.[42]
A council or parliament was accordingly held at Scone on the 11th of
April, 1286, at which a regency, consisting of six “guardians of the
realm,” was appointed. The persons chosen were, _the bishop of St.
Andrew’s_, the earl of Fife, the earl of Buchan, the bishop of Glasgow,
the lord of Badenoch, and James, the steward of Scotland.
But in the absence of any visible sovereign, it was not surprising
that the Bruces, and Baliols, and other families which claimed to be
in the line of succession, should draw together, consult, and form
confederacies, having in view the contingency which afterwards did
actually arise—that the young “maiden of Norway” might die before she
could ascend the throne. These rivalries and confederacies increased,
and the parties strove with each other, until, at length, as the
historian of Scotland confesses, “open war broke out between the
adherents of Baliol and Bruce; and, for two years after the death of
the king, continued its ravages in the country.”
Such was the state of affairs during the last portion of Edward’s stay
on the continent; and assuredly, for this sad predicament of Scotland,
he was in no way answerable. But the natural and inevitable consequence
was, that so soon as he arrived in England, he was compelled, by
appeals directed to him from all sides, to begin to concern himself
with the troubles of that kingdom. Sir Francis Palgrave has shown, by a
reference to the original documents, that such appeals were addressed
to him by the earl of Mar, by Robert Bruce, lord of Annandale, and
by a body called “the seven earls of Scotland.” These parties all
“appealed to the king of England and his royal crown.” So invoked, the
king invited them to send commissioners to meet him at Salisbury in
November, 1289, there to treat of “certain matters of import;” and to
which meeting the king of Norway would also send an ambassador of his
own. The Scotch readily acceded to his proposal, and they sent to this
meeting at Salisbury the bishop of St. Andrew’s, the bishop of Glasgow,
Robert Bruce, and John Comyn.
The “matters of import” which Edward propounded to this meeting,
concerned a plan, the best which human skill could have devised, for
restoring and securing the tranquillity of Scotland. The young prince
of Wales was now in his sixth year—the maiden of Norway was of nearly
the same age. If these two children were betrothed to each other, the
kingdom of Scotland would at once be placed under the joint protection
of England and Norway. Thus all would be security and order; and, in
course of time, on the succession of the young prince to the throne of
England, the unity and harmony of the two kingdoms, under one head,
would be secured in the best and most unobjectionable manner. Even the
Scottish historians, with one consent, admit the wisdom and prudence of
this plan, which Hume himself describes as “favourable to the happiness
and grandeur of both kingdoms.”
They also concede, that the negociation was conducted with the greatest
fairness and liberality on Edward’s part. Appealed to on all sides,
he could not question his own position, as, practically, the superior
lord. The king of Norway had instructed his ambassadors to treat with
the Scottish commissioners “only _in the presence_ of the king of
England.” And, referring to a claim which he had upon the Scots for a
sum of about 3,000 marks, he requests the king “to issue his commands
to the guardians of Scotland” to pay him the money. The young queen,
also, while she was the daughter of the king of Norway, was also the
daughter of Edward’s niece. In every way, therefore, the interposition
of these two kings was the reverse of officiousness or assumption.
Nevertheless, Edward, with his usual liberality of feeling and
practical wisdom, allowed the Scottish commissioners to make almost
their own terms. He treated with them, says one Scottish writer, “quite
on a footing of equality.” “The terms agreed upon,” says another, “were
strictly honourable to the weaker party.” And thus was framed and
completed, so far as human beings could accomplish it, “a project,”
which Hume describes as “so happily formed and so amicably conducted.”
But everything human is uncertain, and this wise and prudent plan
was wholly subverted in a few short months by the death of the young
queen on her voyage from Norway in the autumn of 1290. “This fatal
event,” says Mr. Tytler, “which may justly be called a great national
calamity, struck sorrow and despair into the heart of the kingdom.”
Obviously, that state of anarchy and civil war which had recently
called for the interposition of the two kings, might now be expected
to return. The pretensions of the rival candidates so nearly resembled
each other, and the difference between them was so slight, that
neither could be expected to give way; and a bloody, and perhaps a
long‐protracted strife, seemed almost inevitable.
It is abundantly clear that the arbitration of some eminent and
powerful personage was the only conceivable way by which the Scottish
nation could escape from this fearful peril. And to whom, but to
Edward, should they appeal in this emergency? To him they had already
gone, more than once or twice, in their recent troubles. Bruce, one of
the claimants, had been so far connected with Edward in times past,
that had any other referee been named, he would probably have refused
to acquiesce. But to an appeal to the king of England no objection
seems to have been made in any quarter.
The bishop of St. Andrew’s, whose name has just been given, as the
first on the list of the “guardians of the realm,” and the first of the
commissioners sent to Salisbury, wrote to Edward on the 7th of October,
1290, “_entreating_ him to approach the border, to give consolation to
the people of Scotland, to prevent the effusion of blood, and to enable
the faithful men of the realm to preserve their oath, by choosing him
for their king, _who by right ought to be so_.[43]” For so calling upon
Edward, the bishop is severely handled by many Scottish historians. But
surely, with a civil war impending, the bishop deserves little blame;
especially when we see that the prince to whom he thus applied was
afterwards accepted as the arbitrator by all the competitors, and by
the assembled nobles of Scotland.
On the fact, that Edward was called upon by the chief men in Scotland
at this juncture, there is no dispute, even among the Scottish
historians themselves. Dr. Henry says, “The regents, the states,
and even the competitors, agreed to refer this great controversy to
the king of England;” and “the bishop of St. Andrew’s was sent into
England to inform Edward of this reference, and to entreat him to take
upon him the office.”[44] And Mr. Tytler adds, that “there is also
reason to suspect, from documents recently discovered, that Bruce
and his adherents had not only claimed his (Edward’s) protection
at this moment, but secretly offered to acknowledge his right of
superiority.”[45]
Thus invoked by the leading men in Scotland, who wrote to him—“We
shall be involved in blood, unless the Most High provide a remedy
by your interposition”—Edward, so soon as he had recovered from the
depression occasioned by the loss of his queen, wrote to the chief men
in that country, desiring them to meet him at Norham, on the English
side of the Tweed, on the 10th of May, 1291. Hume adds that the king,
“carrying with him _a great army_, advanced to the frontiers.” But
this statement is shown by the existing records to be utterly untrue.
Edward, knowing that he was about to meet all the nobles and chiefs
of Scotland, who, in the existing state of things, would assuredly
come armed and well attended, issued writs to about fifty‐eight of his
military tenants in the northern counties, desiring them to meet him
at Norham _in the beginning of June_. This was obviously a measure of
precaution. He went to the place of meeting with the Scottish chiefs,
attended by his ordinary retinue. But, foreseeing that some troubles
might arise, and that it would be most inexpedient that the umpire
or superior lord should be powerless in the presence of the Scottish
barons, he took measures to have in attendance, in about _three weeks
after_ the commencement of the proceedings, a few thousand men, being
merely such a force as two or three counties could easily raise. Hume
again speaks of Edward’s “powerful army,” and represents the Scottish
barons as having been “betrayed into a situation, in which it was
impossible for them to make any defence.” But, of any “powerful army”
there is not the slightest trace in history; and if Hume had consulted
Rymer, he would have seen, that among the fifty‐eight military tenants
who were summoned to meet in June, there appeared the names of John
Baliol, Alexander Baliol, John Comyn, and Robert Bruce, all of whom
held lands of Edward, as English barons. Thus the Scottish leaders,
so far from any “betrayal,” were fully apprised several weeks before
of Edward’s plans, and were quite at liberty, if they thought fit, to
adopt measures for resistance.[46]
We reach now, then, the 10th of May, 1291. The military retainers whom
the king had summoned to meet in June were scarcely yet assembling
at their homes. Edward stood, surrounded by his nobles and lawyers,
without any other than his usual retinue. He began, therefore, without
any thought of force, by proceeding to explain in what capacity he
came among them.
Scotchmen now often strive to assume that he had been invited,—had
been selected, merely as an umpire, to decide upon a single point, by
agreement of all parties. In such arbitrations, however, we generally
hear of some document, some contract or treaty; as when Louis of
France arbitrated between Henry and his barons in 1264. But of such an
agreement or contract there is no trace in the present instance. The
lords and great men of Scotland had begged his interposition, and they
now simply “appeared,”—as men are usually wont to appear when any court
sits in which they have a question depending.
Edward, however, was pre‐eminently a man of order and of respect
for law. He therefore began by leaving no doubt as to this part of
the case. He at once told them, without the least reserve or delay,
by the mouth of Roger Brabazon, his chief justiciary, “that the
disturbances which had arisen, in consequence of the late king’s death,
were grievous to him, and that, in consequence thereof, and for the
restoration of peace, he had travelled a great distance, in order, as
lord paramount, to do justice to all.” And first, he asked them, in
the most distinct manner, whether they heartily recognized him as lord
paramount of the kingdom of Scotland?
This was, unquestionably, the most frank and open way of proceeding,
and it was also rendered necessary by the position of the question. It
would have been manifestly absurd for the king to have undertaken the
decision of the controversy, without first having it distinctly settled
and understood in what capacity or character he was acting.
Edward here advanced no new pretensions. The English claim for
centuries had been the same—a claim always advanced when England had
a powerful sovereign, though often carelessly abandoned when she had
a weak or worthless one. Thus, in 1189, the two kingdoms came into
violent collision, and, after a great defeat, William the Lion of
Scotland consented to make peace on the following terms:—
“William was to become the liegeman of his lord the king Henry, for
Scotland, Galloway, and all his other lands, and to perform fealty
to his liege lord in the same way as other vassals. His brother, his
barons, his clergy, and all his other vassals, were to become the
liegemen of the English crown, acknowledging that they held their
lands of the English king, and swearing to support him, their liege
lord, against the king of Scotland, if the latter ever failed in his
fidelity.”[47]
And yet, not many years after, Richard I. of England, caring much more
for Palestine than for Scotland, easily relinquished this fealty. Thus
was it always. England, having many records of Scottish homage, always
claimed it when she was strong, but easily relinquished it when she was
weak, or had some other quarrel on her hands.
Was it, then, noble or generous in Edward to seize this opportunity of
Scotland’s greatest weakness to assert this obnoxious claim? This is a
question which may deserve a moment’s consideration.
In affairs of state, questions will sometimes arise which require
to be handled with reference not to feelings or sentiments, but to
the general utility. Spain might say to England now, “Is it kind or
generous in you to retain possession of a corner of Spain, merely
because the fortune of war gave it to you a century ago?” But before
England evacuated Gibraltar, her sovereign and government would feel
bound to consider the matter, not in the light of sentiment, but with
a view to the general good of the English realm and people. And so
with Edward in that day. He had been called to the banks of the Tweed
in May, 1291, not by any occasion or desire of his own, but by the
urgent need of Scotland. Placed in that position, he must act, he felt,
with a constant eye to England’s good. Not aggressively, but firmly
maintaining that same position which, nearly twenty years before, like
former English kings, he had asserted to be England’s right.
The superiority which he claimed, was no vain or ostentatious
pre‐eminence. It was a thing of vast importance to England; while to
Scotland itself, though resisted, it was a positive good. The object
sought was, that this island of Britain should be at peace with
itself—should be preserved from intestine dissensions. If the king
of England was really the lord paramount, then the king of Scotland,
paying fealty to him, was bound to be always on his side, and thus
war between the two was precluded. But if, as the Scots were fond of
maintaining, the two kingdoms were wholly independent of each other,
then the smaller might, whenever it pleased, make war upon the larger.
And hence it was always found, that whenever France quarrelled with
England, she sent to Scotland, and persuaded the Scottish king to take
part in the contention. And thus this island of Britain, instead of
being, as at present, united and strong, was frequently divided against
itself, the northern part attacking the south, and inflicting heavy
injuries upon it. It was this state of disunion which Edward tried to
terminate, as he had previously tried in Wales. To both he said: “Pay
to me that homage which you owe; vow to be my true man against all
enemies. Pay this vow and keep it; so will this island know no more
internal contention.” Had Llewellyn of Wales and Baliol of Scotland,
making this vow, “kept their covenant,” neither of them would ever have
been disturbed in his seat by the covenant‐keeping king of England.
Edward met the assembled lords of Scotland, then, and began by plainly
avowing the position in which he deemed himself to stand. He had
invented no new claim; he asserted no right, now, which he had not
asserted many years before. To justify his position he had desired his
law‐officers to gather from the records of the kingdom, proofs that
his claim was neither new nor destitute of foundation. A collection of
these proofs was now presented to the Scottish lords, going back to
the days of Edward the Elder, the son of Alfred. Many of the instances
alleged were merely incidental:—that England’s leave was asked before
Scotland did this or that. But some more positive testimonies were on
record.
Going back as far as to the times of Athelstan, A.D. 926, Roger de
Hoveden, and William of Malmesbury, and Henry of Huntingdon, describe
the king’s victory over Constantine, king of the Scots, and how
Constantine submitted and swore fealty to him. In Edred’s reign, say
William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon, the Scots were again
defeated, and again made to take the oath.
Under Edward the Confessor, say Hoveden and Malmesbury, Siward of
Northumberland defeated Macbeth, king of Scotland, and gave the crown
to Malcolm, as king Edward had commanded. In 1091, say Hoveden and
Huntingdon, William Rufus marched against the Scots; and Malcolm,
being afraid, made peace, “paying homage to him as he had done to his
father.” And in 1097, say the same writers, William sent Edgar into
Scotland, where he defeated an usurper in a great battle, and made the
son of Malcolm king.
Of the treaty of 1189, between William the Lion and Henry II., we have
already spoken. Still, however, amidst all these proofs, it should
never be forgotten, that whenever England was weak or perplexed,
Scotland had always been ready to throw off the yoke, and to declare
that she was, and always had been, entirely independent.
Edward had now been called, by the general voice of Scotland, to come
forward and decide an important question, and so to save the realm from
a civil war. Was it to be expected that in doing this he could forget
his own position, or the claim which England had asserted for the last
three or four hundred years? Would it have been right or commendable if
he had done so, seeing that upon the decision of this claim depended
the unity and harmony, the internal peace and strength, of the two
sister kingdoms in all succeeding ages?
Was it to be expected, either, that he could overlook the circumstances
attending the present appeal? What meant the application made by the
Scotch to him while in Gascony, or the repeated appeals to him since by
the bishop of St. Andrew’s, by the seven earls of Scotland, by Robert
Bruce, by the earl of Mar, and others, all “_appealing_ to the king
of England and his royal crown,” if Scotland was as independent of
England as it was of France or of Norway? Sir Francis Palgrave has well
observed, that “We have now full evidence that the interposition of
Edward was neither wanton nor aggressive, and that it little deserved
the terms by which it has been described. Kings have hard measure
meted out to them by historians. Let the English monarch be tried by
the test and example of an English gentleman: If, on the death of the
copyhold tenant, all the persons claiming the right of admission unite
in applying to the lord of the manor for a new grant, will it be easy
for him to doubt that he is the lawful owner of the domain?”[48]
Such, then, was the first question opened at Norham. It was, clearly,
a necessary one; for how could Edward commence his duties as judge, or
arbiter, until he knew whether, and upon what grounds, he was admitted
by the contending parties to occupy that position. Hence he said to
them, at the very outset, “I come here as lord paramount; do you
receive me in that character?”
Their first reply seems to have been, that they were not prepared to
give an answer to such a question; and that they wished for time to
deliberate. The king expressed surprise that they should be unprepared
to give an answer, _since they were not ignorant of his intentions_. We
gather from this expression, that the king had made no secret of his
views or purposes; and that there was nothing sudden or unexpected in
the demand which he made. Still, as they desired time to deliberate,
he adjourned the meeting to the next day; and on their then appearing
still undecided, he gave them a further delay of three weeks.[49]
The lords of Scotland, therefore, had the fullest liberty, the most
entire freedom to choose their course. Edward, as he told them, had
made no secret of his intentions. Called by them to the meeting at
Norham, he had never purposed to go there in any doubtful character.
The position he assumed was identically the same which he had assumed
throughout his whole reign. He was lord paramount of Britain, just
as Philip was lord paramount of France. He found in divers ancient
records, English kings acting in this character in Scotland, even as
far back as the time of Alfred’s sons. More recently, he found William
of Scotland, just one hundred and three years before, consenting
to “become the liegeman” of his great grandfather, Henry II., “for
Scotland, Galloway, and all his other lands.” His own principle through
life had been to maintain the just claims of the crown of England, and
“while he was careful in performing his obligations, to be similarly
jealous in exacting his rights.”[50] He therefore frankly told them,
at the very outset, in what character he came there, and he claimed
of them an equally frank recognition of his place and dignity. They
hesitated, they asked for time. He gave it as soon as asked. He
dismissed them, desiring them to return in three weeks with their
decision. Had they chosen to resist his claim, this delay gave them
ample time to assemble their forces, and to return to Norham in June at
the head of an army. The charges, therefore, which Hume and Mackintosh
and others have brought, of a “circumvention,” or a “surprise,” are
wholly unfounded, and more than usually unjust. Edward’s whole conduct
in this part of the transaction was frank, deliberate, and manly.
The lords of Scotland, however, were in no mood for fighting. Several
of the chief of them indulged hopes of the crown, and expected a
favourable sentence at the hands of Edward. To unite in an indignant
rejection of the English claim was, therefore, a thing out of the
question. With one consent they submitted to the necessity which
seemed inevitable. The three weeks elapsed; no measures for resistance
had been taken; they returned to Norham in the beginning of June,
unprepared to withstand, and consequently prepared to admit, the
English claim.
A second time assembled in full conclave, the king’s able minister,
chancellor Burnel, opened the business. He reminded them that the
king his master had conceded to them a sufficient time to prepare any
objections they might have to offer to his claim of superiority; and,
as they had produced none, he would now proceed in the capacity of lord
paramount, to do justice in the matter.
“The chancellor then turned to Robert Bruce, and demanded whether
he was content to acknowledge Edward as lord paramount of Scotland,
and willing to receive judgment from him in that character; upon
which this baron expressly answered, that he recognized him as such,
and would abide by his decision. The same question was then put to
the other competitors, all of whom returned the same answer. Sir
Thomas Randolph then stood up, and declared that John Baliol, lord of
Galloway, had mistaken the day, but would appear on the morrow, which
he did, and then solemnly acknowledged the superiority of the English
king.”[51]