of the two earls really was—whether they were prepared to let France
defraud England of her fairest foreign possession—we know not; but it
is quite clear that, either on principle or from views of expediency,
they disliked the war with France; and disliking the war, it was
natural that they should still more dislike the heavy requisitions,
aids, and talliages which that war rendered necessary. One main
feature of the case, however, is the tolerant and reasonable nature of
Edward’s government, which now, for the first time, allowed questions
such as these to be discussed: first in parliament, and then by a
public correspondence; for the king, receiving this public manifesto
disapproving his policy, expressed no anger at it. On the contrary,
he received and treated it with more tolerance than would be shown
for a similar document in most European states in the present day. To
the messengers who brought him the earls’ remonstrance, he answered
with calmness, that he had not his council with him, and could not, in
their absence, reply to matters of so great importance; that he should
have been better pleased if the remonstrants had gone with him; but
since they would not, he trusted that they would raise no disturbance
in his absence. Before he embarked, however, he took care to reply
to this document in the most public and emphatic manner. A royal
declaration was drawn up, and sent to the sheriffs of all the counties
for publication. In this document the king recounts the various steps
of the disobedience of the two earls, and then repeats the apologies
and assurances which he had made at Westminster Hall. He declares
that “he grieves that he should so burden his people; and promises
that, if he should return, he will amend all things as he ought; and
if not, he will desire his heir to do so—for he knows well that no man
is so much indebted to the people, or so much bound to love them as he
himself. But there is great necessity for him to go to the assistance
of his ally, the earl of Flanders; and his going over is of immediate
consequence, by reason of the danger which his friends are in—whom, if
he should lose, the kingdom might be in great jeopardy.” He ends with a
desire that his people would pray that his voyage might be prosperous,
and have a good result, to the honour of God and the good of the realm;
and that a durable peace might follow.
A recent writer, who takes no very friendly view of Edward’s course,
here remarks, that “The king’s greatness of nature carried him through
every difficulty. He could demand confidence, for his people knew that
he did everything for England; he inspired trust, for he never broke
his word; and between a king risking captivity or death, and two nobles
refusing the service which thousands of meaner men rendered, public
opinion pronounced emphatically for the sovereign. He carried the
nation with him.”[81]
Having issued this, his public reply to the objections of the two
earls, the king, on the 22nd of August, sailed, carrying with him 500
ships, in which were 1,800 knights and a large force of infantry.
But he could scarcely have landed in Flanders before great events
occurred both in England and in Scotland—events which concurred with
disappointments abroad to induce him speedily to prepare for his return
home.
In the course of the summer, various rumours had reached England, of
a spirit of insurrection which had shown itself in Scotland, and of
various successes in partizan warfare which had been gained by a leader
named Walays or Waleis. Twice or thrice had Edward written to Scotland,
to desire his representatives there to suppress these disorders without
delay. Had it not been for his engagements with the earl of Flanders,
there can be no doubt that he would himself have returned into the
north, and have stopped the progress of these troubles in the summer of
1297. But his engagements bound him to appear in Flanders; and he was
obliged, therefore, to neglect the warnings of the two earls, who told
him that the Scotch, having begun to rebel, would do so with the more
hardihood when they heard of his departure.
The English must have disembarked in Flanders at the end of August or
beginning of September; and it was in the early part of the latter
month that the folly of Cressingham, the treasurer of Scotland, gave
Walays the victory of Stirling, and thus nearly destroyed, in one hour,
all the great results of Edward’s campaign of the preceding year. The
news must have reached London by the middle of September; and the
young prince found it necessary immediately to summon a parliament, to
consider what steps it would be expedient to take.
Norfolk and Hereford now saw an opportunity offered them of a more
favourable kind than they could have anticipated. The peril of
England was manifest, and all men would feel that union—the union
of all her leading men—was so desirable, that no slight difficulty
could be allowed to stand in the way. The two earls attended the
parliament, having first demanded some guarantees of safety. Their
claims were not exorbitant; and we are not entitled to lay to their
charge more factious purposes or conduct than has often been seen in
opposition‐leaders in modern times. The chief grievance which they
desired to have redressed was the practice to which Edward had latterly
been obliged to resort, of levying aids or talliages without consent
of parliament. This, however, was no new claim set up by the crown.
Mr. Hallam remarks, that “hitherto the king’s prerogative of levying
money, by name of talliage or prise, from his towns or tenants in
demesne, had passed unquestioned.” Edward, then, in his hour of need,
had merely resorted to an old prerogative of the crown; and the earls,
in demanding the surrender of this prerogative, were claiming a large
and important concession from the sovereign to the people.
Some writers have awarded a large meed of praise to the two earls, for
their courage and patriotism in wresting such a concession from such
a king. But it should be remembered that Edward himself was _absent_
when the two earls are said to have shown so much courage; that his
return was uncertain and improbable, and that the perils of the state
from the Scottish rebellion, were such as to render it impossible that
any reasonable request should be denied. It should also be added, that
the two earls, who are praised for their courage, took care to send
over for Edward’s signature, along with the charter—an act of grace,
securing their own full pardon for what they had done. It would have
been a better and a more befitting proof of courage, had they, after
preferring their request or demand, proceeded to raise a few thousand
men, and to chase Walays out of Cumberland, where all this autumn he
was committing the most fearful ravages.
However, the demands of Norfolk and Hereford were immediately conceded.
On the 10th of October the parliament at Westminster framed a new
confirmation of the charters, with fresh clauses prohibiting the
levying of talliages or prises, without the assent of the prelates,
barons, knights, and burgesses; and another statute or order, whereby
the king granted a full pardon to the two earls, “for all manner of
offences which they may have committed.” These statutes were sent
over to the king, and within three days they were signed by him and
returned. Some historians have actually argued, that this short delay
in the adoption of a decision, is to be taken as manifesting Edward’s
great reluctance and his many internal struggles. It rather shows, that
which we may observe in many other important junctures in the king’s
life—that no question of moment was decided by him without protracted
and anxious deliberation. On this concession, however, the laity
granted the king an aid of an eighth, the clergy of Canterbury a tenth,
and the clergy of York a fifth.
But it is time that we turned to the state of affairs in Flanders. This
expedition and this war proved one of the most fruitless efforts of the
king’s life. A regard to his own pledges and obligations carried him
there, at a time when it would have been far more desirable for him to
march into Scotland; a disregard of their pledges and obligations on
the part of his allies, made all his efforts and sacrifices nugatory.
“All Edward’s measures in Flanders,” says Rapin, “were broken by the
treachery of his allies, who forsook him after taking his money.” “His
embarkation,” says Hume, “had been so long retarded by the various
obstructions thrown in his way, that he lost the proper season for
action.” He was merely able to stop Philip’s career; and Philip,
finding his resources exhausted, and dreading a reverse, began to
wish for an accommodation, which Edward, disgusted with his faithless
allies, and anxious about the state of Scotland, was quite willing to
agree to. A reference of all matters of dispute to the arbitration of
the pope was proposed and accepted, and on the 23rd of November a truce
for five years was signed, immediately after which Edward directed
writs to be issued to the earls and barons of England, calling upon
them to meet him at York, on the 14th of the following January.
Footnotes:
[76] Mackintosh, Hume, etc.
[77] Pearson’s History, vol. ii., p. 310.
[78] Among the writs of that time we find many addressed to the
sheriffs of counties, wherein the king “requests you to advise and
take order how you can assist him with one thousand quarters of
wheat, for which he will pay you punctually at Midsummer next.”
[79] Hemingford says, “Exiratus Rex prorupit in hæc verba, ut
dicitur, ‘Per deum, comes, aut ibis aut pendebis.’ Et ille, ‘Per
idem juramentum, O Rex, nec ibo nec pendebo.’”—See Appendix.
[80] Matthew of Westminster.
[81] Pearson’s History of England, vol. ii., p. 399.
IX.
WILLIAM WALAYS, A.D. 1297, 1298.
We come now to a passage in this history which is beset with more than
ordinary difficulties. Romance has entered the field, and has nearly
thrust truth out of it. “Wallace,”[82] as he is called in modern times,
has been elevated to a similar place in Scottish story that Arthur
holds in English, and Patrick or Brian Boru in that of Ireland; but
with this difference, that while nobody in England takes “the romaunt
of Arthur” to be a history,—in Scotland “the romaunt of Wallace” has by
degrees occupied and taken possession of the place which history ought
to hold.
Nor has this strange error been confined to Scotland.
Into England, by the industry of Scottish historians, it has been
largely introduced, so that now the descendants of those who regarded
Walays as a mere marauder and cut‐throat, have been taught to look upon
him as “the renowned Sir William Wallace, his country’s deliverer.”
To find our way through or over such obstacles as these can be no easy
task. Our first duty is to seek for credible testimony; but in the
present case this is all on one side. “It is a necessary condition,”
says Sir G. C. Lewis, “for the credibility of a witness, that he be a
contemporary.”[83] Now, of writers who lived in Edward’s day, we have
in England some ten or twelve,[84] but in Scotland we search for a
single contemporary in vain. Not a line of history written in Scotland
in Edward’s day can be found.
Yet, if we draw our idea of William Wallace from the English
chroniclers of that time, what other belief can we discover but that
which was universal in England from the thirteenth century down to
the eighteenth? The Scottish leader was, with all those generations
of Englishmen, a rebel leader, a marauder, a ruthless homicide, a
miscreant. He had ravaged the north of England with relentless fury,
“sparing neither sex nor age.” How, then, could Englishmen regard him,
but as their descendants regarded Nana Sahib of Cawnpore in more recent
days? But the horror excited by the name of Wallace was naturally the
more intense of the two, because the Scottish leader had committed a
thousand times more cruelties than ever were perpetrated by the Indian
insurgent.
Whence came, then, the opposite view;—that which in Scotland is both
deeply seated and quite universal? It was mainly engendered by a
wandering minstrel, a village Homer, who lived two centuries after
Edward’s day, and who, taking Wallace for his Achilles, composed a
whole Iliad of rhymes, by which he gained a subsistence during his
life, and which, surviving after his death, gradually convinced the
people of Scotland that their forefathers had known “one of the
greatest of heroes.” Major, the Scotch historian, who wrote in the
first half of the sixteenth century, thus speaks: “Henry, who was blind
from his birth, in the time of my infancy composed the whole ‘Book of
William Wallace,’ containing the things which were commonly related of
him. By the recitation of these he obtained food and raiment. For my
own part, I give only partial credit to writings of this description.”
That Major was quite right in “giving only partial credit” to the
itinerant minstrel, will be evident enough to any one who reads a page
of “Blind Harry.” The book, composed two centuries after the time of
which it treats, bears the same relation to real history as did the
“Iliad,” or king Arthur’s “Romaunt.” It extends Wallace’s military
career, which began in A.D. 1297 and ended in 1298, over more than
twenty years. It multiplies the two battles which he really fought into
seven. It brings a queen of England to his feet—there being no queen
of England at that time in existence. It makes him “duke of Guienne,”
and places him under the patronage of the archbishop of Canterbury; in
short, it is a romance, having no more resemblance to real history than
is possessed by “The Seven Champions of Christendom.”
Yet out of this very unpromising sort of document there have been
fabricated, in modern times, a score or two of “historical tales,” both
in prose and verse. Some of our best female writers—such as Joanna
Baillie and Felicia Hemans, have delighted in extolling “the noblest
of Scotia’s sons.” Yet, a strange subject is this for a female pen! Of
Wallace’s personal character we have scarcely an outline traceable to
any Scottish origin, except we receive as true the legends of “Blind
Harry.” And this writer’s descriptions convey no other idea than that
of a being of extraordinary ferocity.
The minstrel thus introduces him to our notice:—
“He of age was but eighteen year old;
Weapons he bore, either good sword or knife.”
And these weapons were meant for use against the English; of whom—
“If he found one without another’s presence [_i.e._, alone]
After, to Scots they did no more grievance;
To cut his throat, or stick him suddenly
He cared nought, found he them anerly” [alone].
And so we find at page 8—
“Without rescue he stickit him to death.”
At page 13—
“Three slew he there, two fled with all their might.”
At page 15—
“It was his life, and most part of his food,
To see them shed the burning Southron blood.”
At page 16—
“Wallas, with that, upon the back him gave
Till his back‐bone he all in sunder drave.”
At page 17—
“Five slew he there, before he left the town.”
At page 18—
“A cruel knife fast through his heart struck he.”
And again—
“Out through the body stickit him to death.”
And again—
“Through buckler, hand, and brainpan also,
To the shoulders, the sharp sword gert he go.”
And again—
“Wallas commanded they suld no man save;
Twenty and two they stickit in that steid.”
In fact the “Book of Wallace” reads like the chronicle of a
slaughter‐house. That our lady poets never studied it, we may be
sure; they derived their idea of the Scottish insurgent from modern
historians, who had magnified the feats of arms, and had said nothing
of the deeds of blood.
But let us turn from the mere legend‐writer and panegyrist, and
endeavour to ascertain, as far as we are able, the real truth of
Wallace’s acts and of his character. And probably the safest course
to take, on the whole, will be to draw our information chiefly from
those Scottish historians of our own day who have seen the error of
indiscriminate eulogy, and have endeavoured to present a narrative of a
more credible and trustworthy kind. The only other course to take would
be to accept the account of the English chroniclers, ten or twelve in
number, who lived in Wallace’s own day. These, however, write under the
influence of a strong prejudice. Some of them, like the Chronicler of
Lanercost in Cumberland, had actually seen something of the Scottish
leader, and they cannot speak of him but as “a man of blood,” “a leader
of banditti.”
Let us try, then, to glean something of this history from the
narratives of those more recent Scottish writers, who have shown some
degree of moderation. William Walays was the younger son of a small
proprietor in Renfrewshire. “Malcolm (the father) got the five‐pound
land of Elderslie” (Wallace Documents). “The name Walleys or Waleis,”
says the editor of that collection, “simply designates any native of
the ancient kingdom of Wales.” Such persons were often met with in
England. There was a sheriff of London named Waleys, or Waleis, in
1272, and about the same time a Waleys or Walays in Wilts, and another
in Essex, and a third in Somerset. These, like William Walays of
Elderslie, were natives of Wales, or sons of natives who had migrated
into England or into the northern parts of the island.
“The family,” says Mr. Tytler, “was neither rich nor noble.”[85]
Allowing for the altered value of money, we may deem the father to be
equal to a yeoman of the present day, who holds a copyhold farm of the
value of £80 or £100 per annum; and of such a man, William was the
second son. He is described as a frequenter of fairs and markets, and
as often engaged in brawls. “His make,” says Mr. Tytler, “approached
the gigantic; his passions were violent; and a strong hatred of the
English began to show itself.” The vehement irascibility and enduring
animosity of the Welsh character had not been much abated by a change
of abode.
Wallace had, we can easily perceive, many of the qualities which go
to form a guerilla leader. He had great bodily strength and “violent
passions;” he had learned, by frequent exercise, expertness in the
use of both sword and cudgel; and such a gallant as this was sure
to be followed by multitudes of young admirers. So prepared for the
fray, he seems to have entered the arena of public life just at that
critical period when the conquest of Scotland had been accomplished,
and the English rule of Scotland had but just been begun. This English
rule was, to one of his feelings, intolerable. We may look with some
degree of allowance on prejudices of this kind; but our indulgence can
hardly be extended so far as to justify the young Scotch‐Welshman in
the course which his eulogist describes him to have adopted;—of killing
every Englishman that fell in his way, so soon as he could find an
opportunity.
After several homicides of this kind, it was inevitable that Wallace
should be under the necessity of disappearing from the neighbourhood of
his abode. He had been able, repeatedly, when an Englishman came in his
way,
“To cut his throat, or stick him suddenly;”
but to such amusements there is always a natural limit. Mr. Tytler
says, “He was driven to seek safety in the wilds and fastnesses. Here
he collected, by degrees, a little band of men of desperate fortunes.”
“In his attacks on straggling parties of the English, he was generally
successful. Confidence came with success, and multitudes flocked round
the standard of revolt.”[86] “Wallace and his men lived by plunder;
retreating, when pursued, to the woods and fastnesses, whence they
again issued forth to attack the English convoys. All the soldiers who
fell into their hands were instantly put to death.” “Great numbers
of the English were openly massacred in almost every district beyond
the Frith of Forth.”[87] Mr. Tytler adds: “It was not uncommon for
them, at these times, to drive before them troops of aged priests and
nuns, whose hands were tied behind their backs; and while the brutal
soldiery and their hard‐hearted leaders sat on the bridges, these
unhappy wretches were cast down headlong, or compelled to precipitate
themselves into the stream, while their drowning agonies were the
subject of savage derision.”[88] These atrocities are recorded by
Knighton and Trivet, two historians who lived at the time; and Knighton
adds that he had received the description from the lips of a priest,
who himself had been present at, and managed to escape from, one of
these massacres.
Thus establishing a reign of terror, Wallace and his followers were
rapidly clearing the country of the English; those who could not find
safety in some fortified place, naturally taking to flight. News of
these troubles reached England in June and July; but Edward had pledged
himself to his allies to join them in Flanders; and to turn northwards
instead, would have been a dishonourable abandonment of his friends,
and a breach of his deliberate engagements. He could, therefore, only
write to earl Warenne, urgently and repeatedly, to collect a force,
and to put down these disturbances—spending, if needful, the whole
revenues of Scotland in this duty. But Cressingham, the treasurer of
Scotland, an arrogant and supercilious man, despised the insurgents,
and thus brought on a terrible defeat and loss. The forces of Wallace
continued to increase, and towards the end of the summer, one name of
note was added to his array. Sir William Douglas, who had been governor
of Berwick, and who had, on the surrender of that place, been readily
admitted to the king’s peace—receiving his liberty and a new grant
of his estates, and swearing fealty to the king—was the first man in
Scotland to set the evil example of a disregard of a solemn oath.
This perfidy and treachery subsequently spread, and became so common
in Scotland as to drive the king, towards the end of his life, into a
state of absolute exasperation; leading him to abandon that mild and
generous policy, which, for the first thirty years of his reign, he
had followed.
We have been describing the occurrences of the former half of the year
1297. The insurgent leader must be assumed to have been gradually
becoming more obnoxious for weeks and months before his name occurs on
any historic records. The date of his public appearance is not a matter
of any doubt. One Scottish publication tells us that “he first appears
in May, 1297.”[89] Another says that “he first began his operations
in May, 1297.”[90] A third states that “he is first mentioned in May,
1297.”[91] It is evident, therefore, that after divers market brawls
in the opening months of 1297, Wallace had arrived, in the May of that
year, at the dignity of a known partizan leader.
Success, in such a quarrel, naturally begets success. All who disliked
the English intruders, and had a delight in guerilla warfare, would
eagerly gather themselves around this rising champion. He soon found
himself at the head of a force to which the English authorities could
oppose no similar array. The open country was in his hands; but he
had none of the nobility on his side. Still, he had the only visible
power in Scotland. The earl Warenne, however, had, in a few weeks,
assembled a force of some 40,000 or 50,000 men in the southern counties
and on the border, and was marching northwards in quest of Wallace and
his followers. The rebel leader had about an equal power. About the
beginning of September the two armies approached each other in the
neighbourhood of Stirling. An overweening confidence was, as it is
often found, a precursor of defeat. Lord Henry Percy brought to the
earl a reinforcement of 8,000 men; but Cressingham, the treasurer,
deeming this an unnecessary increase of the expenditure, dismissed
them to their homes.
The English army came in sight of that under Wallace on the 11th of
September. The Scotch force occupied a good position on the northern
bank of the river, awaiting, as policy evidently suggested, the English
attack. A narrow bridge spanned the river at that point, and offered
the only visible means of crossing to the opposite bank. A Scottish
knight, Sir Richard Lundin, who knew the country, and rode by the
earl’s side, exclaimed to him: “If you attempt to cross the bridge,
you throw away your lives! The men can only pass over by twos, and the
Scotch command our flank, and will be instantly upon us. I will show
you a ford, where you may pass by sixty at a time; give me five hundred
horse, and I will secure it.”