died. His son, the earl of Carrick, whom we recently saw styled in
one of Edward’s letters, “our beloved Robert Bruce,” and who was,
throughout his life, faithful to Edward, would naturally keep the king
acquainted with all that was going on. He would apprise him of this
state of general disorder, usurpation, and confiscation; the king in
prison; all power monopolized by a faction, who plundered and banished
their rivals, and who were collecting a force avowedly intended for
the invasion of England. This state of affairs would satisfy Edward
that, before he could sail for Gascony, he must do something for the
pacification of Scotland. The treaty with France was no secret; it was
made by an embassy consisting of several persons, and it was discussed
in the Scottish council. Its main provisions would thus inevitably
become known, and Robert Bruce would be able to warn Edward that an
invasion on the side of Scotland was to be anticipated.
The king was thus involved in war at once in two opposite directions.
Gascony had been fraudulently seized upon, and he could not, for a
moment, contemplate submission to such a wrong. He therefore prepared
a fleet of three hundred and fifty‐four ships, on board of which about
seven thousand men were embarked; but the state of affairs in Scotland
rendered it inexpedient that he should himself accompany this force.
He therefore placed it under the command of his brother, the earl of
Lancaster, who, after gaining some advantages, died at Bayonne, and
left the command to the earl of Lincoln.
Meanwhile, the king knew that it was absolutely necessary that he
should take effectual measures to protect his northern frontier against
the threatened Scottish invasion. But, although his revenues were so
well managed as to suffice for all ordinary demands, the extraordinary
exigencies of two wars had placed him in a position of financial
difficulty. A year or two previously he had despatched one expedition
into Gascony, and now another had exhausted his means, and the armament
for Scotland was still to be provided for. A larger supply than usual
was needed, and how should it be obtained? The consideration of this
question in Edward’s mind, produced at last what Hume describes as “the
real and true epoch of the House of Commons,” and the “dawn of popular
government in England.”
Two earlier dates have been assigned for this great epoch; but that
which is now before us may on some grounds claim the preference. Simon
de Montfort, in 1265, while he held both Henry and prince Edward in
his custody, summoned a kind of parliament or assembly in Westminster,
to sanction some of his transactions with the king; and to this
parliament he called a portion of the barons—_i.e._, those of his own
party—some knights, and the representatives of certain borough towns.
But this whole transaction was regarded, as Hume remarks, as “the act
of a violent usurpation;” and no one ever dreamed in after years of
treating it as a precedent.
Nearly twenty years had passed away, when Edward himself, in 1283,
not wishing to determine arbitrarily the fate of David of Snowdon,
called to Shrewsbury not only the barons and the knights, but also
representatives from several of the larger towns; and before these
representatives he placed not only the case of David, but also the
great “Statute of Merchants”—the first English law, probably, to which
the assent of any regularly‐appointed borough representatives was ever
asked or desired.
But, in the present case, a new cause for this appeal to the people was
apparent. A national peril, an exigency affecting the whole realm, had
shown itself, and Edward, with his characteristic manliness, resolved
to place it frankly before his people, and to ask their aid in a matter
in which, as he told them, “all were equally concerned.” The writs
convening this parliament of November, 1295, must be taken to speak
the very language of Edward’s own noble mind.[69] Those writs commence
as follows: “As the rule of justice teaches us that what concerns all
should be by all approved, so, it also indicates that common perils
should be met by remedies provided in common.” The dangers to which
the realm was exposed are then set forth, and the writ concludes:
“Seeing, therefore, that your welfare, as well as that of the whole
realm, is concerned, we charge you, on your loyalty and attachment to
us, that on the day after the feast of St. Martin, you do attend,” etc.
These writs were addressed not only to the nobles, the prelates, and
the knights or lesser barons, but also to the sheriffs or bailiffs
of about one hundred and twenty cities and towns. Each sheriff was
directed “to cause to be elected of his county, two knights, and of
each city in their county, two burgesses.” And these were to meet,
for the first time in the annals of England, “to provide against the
dangers which threatened the kingdom;” and they were to be invested
“with power from the communitates to do what the matter should require.”
On this 27th of November, 1295, accordingly, the outline sketched at
Shrewsbury in 1283 was filled up, and there met, for the first time,
a parliament like that of our own day;—a parliament “the archetype of
all the representative assemblies which now meet, either in the old
world or in the new.”[70] And, not unnaturally, the burgesses, now for
the first time consulted on an emergency of the state, met the king’s
appeals and requests with even more warmth and liberality than either
of the other sections of the parliament. The clergy granted to the king
a tenth; the barons and knights an eleventh; but the burgesses gave
him, without hesitation, a seventh. Such was the cordial response given
to Edward by his people, on his frank appeal to them for support, in
this, one of the great emergencies of his reign.
These “aids” granted to the king in the last month of 1295, enabled
him to prepare with vigour for the important business of the following
spring. To Gascony, as we have seen, he had despatched a considerable
force. The coasts of Kent and Sussex had shown themselves, for two
years past, able to cope with all the power of Normandy. The chief
point of disquietude, therefore, was in the north. Invasions of the
northern counties by Scottish armies had been seen in former reigns;
and Edward had received full notice that such a step had been resolved
upon by the faction which now bore sway in Scotland.
To wait in London until the Scotch had ravaged Cumberland, would not
have been the course of a statesman or of a general. Whether as friend
or foe, Edward was always prompt, frank, and outspoken. He directed a
parliament to be summoned to meet at Newcastle on the 1st of March,
1296, and to this parliament the Comyns, Baliols, Bruces, and other
Scottish leaders would, as English barons, naturally receive summonses.
Baliol, especially, not only as an English baron, but also as the chief
vassal of the crown, was called to this meeting, there to perform his
oath, sworn at that same Newcastle only three years and three months
before, in which oath he had pledged his “faith and loyalty” to stand
by Edward and his successors on the throne of England, “against all men
that may live or die.” Edward, as his manner was, would take care to
proceed with strict regularity. But he could not feel any doubt that it
was a campaign rather than a parliament that he was about to open; and
he had made his arrangements accordingly.
Mr. Tytler tells us, of 1295, that “to Bruce, son of the competitor for
the crown, Edward affected uncommon friendship; regretted his decision
in favour of the now rebellious Baliol, and declared his determination
to place him on the throne.” And, in 1296, that “Bruce reminded him of
his promise to place him on the throne.” “Have I nothing to do?” said
the haughty monarch, “but to conquer kingdoms for you?” Here is an
important statement, which represents Edward as false and deceitful.
But when did it first see the light? In Fordun, and in Bower’s history,
which appeared some time after 1440, or _nearly one hundred and fifty
years after_ the period referred to! It is no wonder, then, that Hume
passes it over in silence, or that sir Walter Scott reduces it to this:
“Bruce, after the victory of Dunbar, _conceived_ his turn of triumph
was approaching, and hinted to Edward his hope,” etc.
The object of Fordun, as of the other Scottish historians, was to
make out some legal right or title for Bruce. In order to do this,
they scruple not to invent. Thus, as we have already seen, they tell
us that, before the arbitration was decided, Edward offered to decide
in favour of Bruce if he would own him as his superior lord, and that
_Bruce refused to do so_. Whereas we know, from documents which are
still extant, that Bruce had at that very time actually applied to
Edward as his superior lord!
The present fiction is refuted by many well‐known facts. Had Edward
deceived and disappointed this Bruce (the son of the competitor),
it must have followed that the party so deceived would have become
bitterly hostile. Instead of which, we immediately find this very
Bruce employed by Edward, as “his dear and trusty friend,” to receive
to his peace the inhabitants of Annandale; and three times after this
does Mr. Tytler distinctly recognize this Bruce as being always loyal
and faithful to Edward; a thing most improbable, if he had been—as
represented by Fordun a century after—grossly deceived and wronged by
the king.
The king of Scotland, as Mr. Tytler remarks, was at this time “confined
in a mountain fortress,” and the Scottish barons who had assumed
the management of affairs were busily engaged in the collection and
organization of an army. All this would be known to Edward, and
accordingly, finding that neither the king nor the barons made their
appearance at Newcastle, he put his own forces in motion, and began to
approach the Tweed.
Before, however, he could reach the frontier, tidings came that
the Scotch had already, without any public warning, complaint, or
declaration of war, actually invaded England. On the 26th of March,
the earls of Buchan, Menteith, Strathern, Lennox, Rosse, Athol, and
Mar, with a force of about forty thousand men, broke into Cumberland,
and ravaged the whole country with savage ferocity. The “Chronicle
of Lanercost,” a record written at the time and on the spot, thus
describes the invasion: “In this raid the Scotch surpassed the cruelty
of the heathen, for, not being able to seize upon the strong, they
wreaked their vengeance on the weak, the decrepit, and the young;
children of two or three years old they impaled upon lances and threw
into the air; consecrated churches they burned; women dedicated to God
they ravished and slew.”
This exhibition of savage ferocity, however, gained for the Scotch
neither honour nor advantage. When they came before Carlisle, a place
of some strength, “a handful of the citizens,” says Mr. Tytler,
“compelled them to retreat with loss.” The only real result of this
movement was a disastrous one for the Scotch. They had, by taking the
initiative, decided Edward’s course. He was, throughout his whole
career, “slow to strife,” but he was not likely to sit in silence
while his realm was invaded and his subjects slaughtered. He had
reached Berwick on the 30th of March, and there the intelligence
reached him of the Scotch invasion of Cumberland, and of the cruelties
they were perpetrating. His exclamation on receiving this news is a
characteristic one. “Blessed be God!” he exclaimed, “who hath up to
this time preserved our hands blameless! But now, since they themselves
have entered our realm in hostile array, we, under his guidance, will
retaliate what they have done, and will return their mischief upon
their own heads.”
Surely those who are fond of representing Edward as an ambitious and
unscrupulous man, ought to hesitate when they see him, at a crisis like
this, so manifestly anxious to be _right_, and feeling such relief of
mind when the aggressions of the Scotch made his path perfectly clear.
He forthwith sent to those who held the command in Berwick, a summons
for the surrender of the town on honourable terms. It was refused in
the language of scorn. Edward accordingly took measures for an assault.
He ordered his fleet to enter the harbour, while he would assault the
walls. Three of his ships fell into the hands of the garrison, who
instantly put every man to the sword.[71]
But the avenger was at hand. Edward himself led the assault, and was
the first to clear the ditch.[72] The English, animated by such an
example, carried everything before them. The castle surrendered upon
terms the next day, and thus one of the largest and most important
towns in Scotland was gained in the first three days of the campaign.
Some of the Scottish historians have striven to tarnish Edward’s fame
by representing the storming of Berwick as a massacre. There is not
the slightest ground for such an imputation. The carrying any town by
storm must always be a dreadful operation, whether the town be Badajos
or Berwick; but there was nothing to render the storming of Berwick
worse than other efforts of the same kind.[73]
The Scots had themselves already provoked severity. In their invasion
of Cumberland a few days previous, they had “killed all they found,
sparing neither age nor sex;” and in this very siege, as we have just
seen, when some English ships and sailors had fallen into their hands,
they showed no mercy.
While Edward was occupied with the repair and restoration of Berwick,
the abbot of Arbroath was announced, who brought to him a message
or letter from Baliol, renouncing his homage. But, as Mr. Sharon
Turner remarks, “if Baliol had not become Edward’s liegeman, such a
renunciation was unnecessary; and if he were so, no liegeman could
cancel his fealty without the consent of his lord. The renunciation
was, therefore, evidence of its own absurdity.” The Scottish
chronicles, written long after, tell us that Edward exclaimed, “Ah!
fool and felon! Of what folly is he guilty?” We may easily believe
that he would receive such a communication with indignant contempt. He
turned his face towards Edinburgh, and began his march towards that
city.
Midway between Berwick and the present Scottish capital stood the
castle of Dunbar. Its lord, the earl of that name, was with Edward; but
the countess, “hating the English,” called in, in her lord’s absence,
some of the Scottish leaders, and put the castle into their hands.
So important was the possession of this strong place considered to
be, that the earls of Athol, Rosse, and Menteith, with several barons
and thirty‐one knights, threw themselves into it, with a large force,
hoping to maintain it against Edward’s strongest efforts. The king,
equally aware of its importance, despatched earl Warenne, with 10,000
foot and 1,000 horse, to capture it if possible. The garrison, alarmed
at his approach, sent to “the guardians of Scotland” for aid, and the
whole Scottish army, of 40,000 foot and 1,500 horse, moved down to its
support. The garrison, now confident of victory, insulted the English
as if already beaten. But the earl, says Mr. Tytler, “on the appearance
of the Scottish army, at once advanced to attack it. On approaching
the high ground, it was necessary to deploy through a valley, and the
Scotch imagined they observed some confusion in the English ranks when
executing this movement. Mistaking this for flight, they precipitately
abandoned their position on the hills, and rushed down with shouts upon
the enemy. But instead of an enemy in flight, they found an army, under
perfect discipline, advancing upon their disordered columns. Having
in vain endeavoured to regain their ranks, after a short resistance
they were entirely routed. The victory was complete, and for a time it
decided the fate of Scotland. Ten thousand men fell on the field or
in the pursuit. A great multitude, including the principal Scottish
nobility, were taken prisoners, and the next day, the king coming in
person before Dunbar, the castle surrendered at discretion. The earls
of Rosse, Athol, and Menteith, four barons, and seventy knights,
submitted to the mercy of the conquerors.”[74]
Edward lost no time in following up his advantage. He sat down before
the castle of Roxburgh, which was surrendered to him by James, the
steward of Scotland; Dumbarton castle was yielded by Ingelram de
Umfraville; Jedburgh castle followed; and a considerable reinforcement
arriving from Wales, Edward was enabled to dismiss to their homes part
of his English army.
He now advanced to Edinburgh, where the castle surrendered after
a siege of eight days; then to Stirling, where a body of Irish
auxiliaries joined him. At Perth he kept the feast of St. John the
Baptist, creating new knights, with the accustomed festivities. Here
messengers from Baliol found him, with letters announcing the Scottish
king’s submission. As Baliol had long been kept in durance by the
rebellious barons, and as these were now, for the most part, prisoners
in Edward’s camp, we may reasonably suppose that this submission was
one of the first spontaneous acts of the Scottish king on finding
himself at liberty. Edward sent back, as his answer, a message
signifying that he intended, in fifteen days, to proceed to Brechin,
whither the now humbled king of Scotland might repair to meet him.
Accordingly, on the 10th of July, Baliol presented himself at Brechin,
acknowledged his offence, admitted Edward’s right, and resigned the
kingdom of Scotland into his hands, as a fief justly forfeited. Edward
then assigned him the Tower of London for a residence, with the liberty
of a circle of twenty miles round it. Here the dethroned king took up
his abode, residing in London for the following three years, after
which he was allowed to retire to his estates in Normandy.
On the 28th of August, Edward held a parliament at Berwick, where he
received the fealty of the clergy, barons, and gentry of Scotland.
Multitudes of all ranks resorted to him—earls, barons, knights,
and esquires. “The oaths of homage, the renunciation of the French
alliance, and the names of the vassals, which fill thirty‐five skins of
parchment, are still preserved among the English archives.”[75]
Edward next directed his attention to the settlement of his new
dominion; and “the measures he adopted,” says Mr. Tytler, “were equally
politic and just.” The jurisdictions of Scotland were suffered to
remain with those who possessed them under ancient and hereditary
titles; no wanton or unnecessary act of rigour was committed, no
capricious changes introduced; yet all proper means were adopted to
give security to his conquest. The earl Warenne was made guardian
of Scotland, Hugh de Cressingham treasurer, and William Ormesby
justiciary. The four castles of Roxburgh, Berwick, Jedburgh, and
Edinburgh, were committed to English captains. A new seal, in place of
the ancient seal of Scotland, was given to Walter de Agmondesham, the
chancellor; and an exchequer for the receipt of the king’s rents and
taxes was instituted at Berwick, on the model of that at Westminster.
The ancient coronation‐stone of Scotland was removed from Scone and
placed in Westminster Abbey, where to this hour it still remains.
Such, then, was Edward’s first conquest of Scotland. No one disputes
the skill and talent displayed by him. The only charge alleged has
reference to the moral character of these transactions. Upon this
point, therefore, it will be right to add a few words.
That the union of the several divisions of a great country, like
England or France, into one great power, is a desirable thing for
the country itself, is self‐evident. No one doubts that the union of
Normandy with France, and of Scotland with England, furthered the
interests of all these countries; or that to sever, now, Scotland from
England, or Normandy from France, would be disastrous to all the people
of all these territories. It was both right and expedient, then, that
the sovereigns of England and France should watch for opportunities of
effecting such unions, wherever this could be done consistently with
justice and honour. For such an end might be attained by lawful means:
as when Philip II. took Normandy from John; or it might be attempted by
fraud: as when Philip IV. endeavoured to take Gascony from Edward.
Was, then, Edward’s conduct, in the acquisition of Scotland, marked by
any kind of injustice or wrong? Hume alleges that it was;—charging him
with “numerous acts of fraud and violence.” But, instead of _numerous_
acts of this kind, has any one act of either fraud or violence been
proved?
We are unable to find a scintilla of such proof. Going back to 1286-7,
we find that the only charge brought against Edward, up to that time,
is that he abstained from interfering! Next, his proposal in 1289 is
approved by all historians as wise, and just, and liberally framed.
In 1290 he attempted no interference until the chief men in Scotland
earnestly besought his interposition. Their approaches to him had
all the aspect of appeals to a superior lord; and he could hardly
understand them in any other sense. He accepted them as such, and
plainly told the Scottish barons that it was in this character that
he came among them. After some hesitation, they accepted him as “lord
paramount,” and as such they swore fealty to him.
Scotland obtained, then, at last a king, John Baliol, but now both
king and people had paid homage to Edward, and had acknowledged his
supremacy. Soon after, a Scottish earl lodges an appeal against one
of Baliol’s decisions, and calls upon Edward to do him justice.
Edward proceeds, in the discharge of his office, to hear this appeal;
and for so doing, heavy complaints are brought against him. Yet, in
taking this course, he was guilty, in reality, of no offence whatever.
Nevertheless, upon no other ground than this, did Baliol and the
Scottish barons deliberately break their oaths, ally themselves with
Edward’s enemies, and raise an army for the invasion of England.
By all the laws of feudal sovereignty at that time known, they had
by this act incurred the penalties of perjury and treason; and, by
their invasion of Cumberland, they had commenced a war against their
acknowledged lord. They rashly appealed to arms, and defied the
power of England, wielded by the first captain of the age. They were
overthrown, even before the waning of a single moon. But here, as
everywhere, Edward’s clemency is the most remarkable feature in the
case. Not Baliol only, but all those who had forced him into this war,
were justly exposed to the loss of property, if not of life. Yet, the
contest once ended by Baliol’s resignation, all that we hear of, on
Edward’s part, is a willing amnesty and a ready forgiveness. Up to this
point of the story, then, we must deem the king to stand clear of any
kind of moral condemnation.
Footnotes:
[60] Hume adds, very strangely, “Edward had thus fallen into _a like
snare_ with that which he himself had spread for the Scots.” What
“like snare”? Scotland had been placed in his hands on his promise
to restore it, which promise he kept. Gascony was placed in the
hands of Philip on a similar promise; but that promise was broken.
Instead of likeness here is contrast.
[61] Walter Hemingford.
[62] Matthew of Westminster.
[63] Turner’s History of England, vol. v., p. 75.
[64] Lingard’s Hist., vol. ii., p. 540.
[65] Tytler’s History of Scotland, vol. i., p. 108.
[66] Rymer, vol. ii., p. 590.
[67] Turner’s History of England, vol. i., p. 76.
[68] Tytler’s History of England, vol. i., p. 110.
[69] Nor can we, in this instance, attempt to divide the credit
between the king and his able chancellor. Robert Burnel had been
taken from his side, by death, in October, 1292.
[70] Macaulay, vol. i., p. 17.
[71] Wyntoun, the Scottish chronicler, says—
“Of these they saved never a man,
* * * * *
For prisoners in such awhile,
To kepe is dowte and grete perille.”
[72] Peter Langtoft writes—
“What then did Sir Edward? Peer he had none like;
Upon his steed Bayard first he won the dike.”
[73] Both Tytler and sir W. Scott condescend to borrow an
exaggerated statement, that 17,000 persons fell in this storming
of Berwick; but the complaint of the regents of Scotland, made a
year or two after, states the number at “nearly 8000.” Allowing for
some exaggeration, and remembering that some of the dead must have
been English, we may believe that the Scotch lost some 5000 or 6000
men—a number not at all remarkable.
[74] Tytler, vol. i., p. 116.