to bring matters into a more regular state, but without success; the
great nobles either feared to offend the English, or would not submit to
his authority.
In 1298, Edward, having freed himself from his difficulties in England
and France, hurried to the North to put down in person what in his eyes
was not patriotism, but rebellion. How violently enraged he was, was
shown by his speech to Sir John Marmaduke, who was sent by Anthony Beck,
Bishop of Durham, to ask his pleasure respecting Dirleton Castle and two
other fortresses to which he had laid siege. “Tell Anthony,” he said,
“that he is right to be pacific when he is acting the bishop, but that,
in his present business, he must forget his calling. As for yourself,
you are a relentless soldier, and I have too often had to reprove you
for too cruel an exultation over the death of your enemies. But, now,
return whence you came, and be as relentless as you choose; you will
have my thanks, not my censure; and, look you, do not see my face again
till those three castles be razed to the ground.”
The castles were taken and overthrown, but the difficulties of the
English continued to be great; the fleet was detained by contrary winds,
and this delay of supplies caused a famine in the camp. Edward was
obliged to command a retreat; but at that juncture, just as the country
was so nearly rescued by the wise dispositions of Wallace, two Scottish
nobles, the Earls of Dunbar and Angus, were led by a mean jealousy to
betray him to the English, disclosing the place where he was encamped in
the forest of Falkirk, and his intention of making a night-attack upon
the English.
Edward was greatly rejoiced at the intelligence. “Thanks be to God,” he
exclaimed, “who has saved me from every danger! They need not come after
me, since I will go to meet them.”
He immediately put on his armor, and rode through the camp, calling on
his soldiers to march immediately, and at three o’clock in the afternoon
all were on their way to Falkirk. They halted for the night on a heath,
where they lay down to sleep in their armor, with their horses picketed
beside them In the course of the night the King’s horse trod upon him,
breaking two of his ribs; and a cry arose among those around him that he
was slain, and the enemy were upon them. But Edward, regardless of the
pain, made the alarm serve as a reveillè, mounted his horse, rallied his
troops, and, as it was near morning, gave orders to march. The light of
the rising sun showed, on the top of the opposite hill, the lances of
the Scottish advanced guard; but when they reached the summit, they
found it deserted, and in the distance could see the enemy preparing
for battle, the foot drawn up in four compact bodies of pikemen, the
foremost rank kneeling, so that the spears of those behind rested on
their shoulders. “I have brought you to the ring; hop if ye can,” was
the brief exhortation of the outlawed patriot to his men; and grim was
the dance prepared for them.
Edward heard mass in a tent set up on the hill, and afterward held a
council on the manner of attack. An immediate advance was determined on,
and they charged the Scots with great fury. The horse, consisting of the
time-serving and cowardly nobility, fled without a blow, leaving Wallace
and his archers unsupported, to be overwhelmed by the numbers of the
English. Wallace, after a long resistance, was compelled to retreat into
the woods, with a loss of 15,000, while on the English side the slain
were very few.
Edward pushed on, carrying all before him, and wasting the country with
fire and sword; but, as has happened in every invasion of Scotland,
famine proved his chief enemy, and he was obliged to return to
England, leaving unsubdued all the lands north of the Forth. But his
determination was sternly fixed, and he made everything else give way to
his Scottish wars.
The last stronghold which held out against him was Stirling Castle,
under Sir William Oliphant, who, with only one hundred and forty men,
for ninety days resisted with the most desperate valor; when the walls
were broken down, taking shelter in caverns hewn out of the rock on
which their fortress was founded. Edward, who led the attack, was often
exposed to great danger; his horse was thrown down by a stone, and his
armor pierced by an arrow; but he would not consent to use greater
precautions, saying that he fought in a just war, and Heaven would
protect him. At last the brave garrison were reduced to surrender, and
came down from their castle in a miserable, dejected state, to implore
his mercy. The tenderness of his nature revived as he saw brave men in
such a condition. He could not restrain his tears, and he received them
to his favor, sending them in safety to England.
Scotland was now completely tranquil, and entirely reduced. Every noble
had sworn allegiance, every castle was garrisoned by English. Balliol
was in Normandy, Bruce in the English army, and at last, in August,
1305, the brave outlaw, Sir William Wallace, was, by his former friend,
Monteith, betrayed into the hands of the English. He was brought to
Westminster, tried as a traitor to King Edward, and sentenced to die. He
had never sworn fealty to Edward, but this could not save him; and on
the 23d of August, 1305, he was dragged on a hurdle to Smithfield,
and suffered the frightful death that the English laws allotted to a
traitor. His head was placed on a pole on London Bridge, and his several
limbs sent to the different towns in Scotland, where they were regarded
far more as relics than as tokens of disgrace.
Had Edward appreciated and pardoned the gallant Scot, it would have
been a noble deed. But his death should not be regarded as an act of
personal, revenge. Wallace had disregarded many a proclamation of
mercy, and had carried on a most savage warfare upon the Scots who had
submitted to the English with every circumstance of cruelty. Edward,
who believed himself the rightful King, was not likely to regard him as
otherwise than a pertinacious bandit, with whom the law might properly
take its course. More mercy might have been hoped from the prince who
fought hand to hand with Adam de Gourdon; but ambition had greatly
warped and changed Edward since those days, and the fifteen years of
effort to retain his usurpation had hardened his whole nature.
Wallace himself, half a robber, half a knight, has won for himself a
place in the affections of his countrymen, and has lived ever since in
story and song. To the last century it was regarded as rude to turn a
loaf in the presence of a Monteith, because that was the signal for the
admission of the soldiers who seized Wallace; and there can be little
doubt that this constant recollection was well deserved, since
assuredly it was the spirit of resistance maintained by Wallace, though
unsuccessful, that lived to flourish again after his death.
He was one of those men whose self-devotion bears visible fruits.
CAMEO XXXV. THE EVIL TOLL. (1294-1305.)
_King of England_.
1272. Edward I.
_King of Scotland_.
1296. Edward I.
_King of France_.
1285. Philippe IV.
_Emperors of Germany_.
1292. Adolf.
1298. Albert I.
_Popes_.
1294. Boniface VIII.
1303. Benedict XI.
Unlike the former Plantagenets, Edward I. was a thorough Englishman; his
schemes, both for good and evil, were entirely insular; and as he became
more engrossed in the Scottish war, he almost neglected his relations
with the Continent.
One of the most wily and unscrupulous men who ever wore a crown was
seated on the throne of France--the fair-faced and false-hearted
Philippe IV., the “pest of France,” the oppressor of the Church, and the
murderer of the Templars; and eagerly did he watch to take any advantage
of the needs of his mighty vassal in Aquitaine.
Edward had made alliances to strengthen himself. He had married his
daughter Eleanor to the Count of Bar, and Margaret to the heir of
Brabant, and betrothed his son Edward to the only daughter of Guy
Dampierre, Count of Flanders, thus hoping to restrain Philippe without
breaking the peace.
Unluckily, in 1294, a sailors’ quarrel took place between the crews of
an English and a Norman ship upon the French coast. They had both landed
to replenish their stock of water, and disputed which had the right
first to fill their casks. In the fray, a Norman was killed, and his
shipmates, escaping, took their revenge by boarding another English
vessel, and hanging a poor, innocent Bayonne merchant from the masthead,
with a dog fastened to his feet. Retaliation followed upon revenge; and
while the two kings professed to be at peace, every ship from their
ports went armed, and fierce struggles took place wherever there was an
encounter. Slaughter and plunder fell upon the defeated, for the sailors
were little better than savage pirates, and were unrestrained by
authority. Edward, who had a right to a share in all captures made by
his subjects, refused to accept of any portion of these, though he did
not put a stop to them. The Irish and Dutch vessels took part with the
English, the Genoese with the French. At last, upward of two hundred
French ships met at St. Mahé in Brittany, and their crews rejoiced over
the captures which they had obtained, and held a great carousal. Eighty
well-manned English vessels had, however, sailed from the Cinque Ports,
and, surrounding St. Mahé, sent a challenge to their enemies. It was
accepted; a ship was moored in the midst, as a point round which the two
fleets might assemble, and a hot contest took place, fiercely fought
upon either side; but English seamanship prevailed over superior
numbers, every French ship was sunk or taken, and, horrible to relate,
not one of their crews was spared.
Such destruction provoked Philippe, and he summoned Edward, as Duke of
Aquitaine, to deliver up to him such Gascons as had taken part in the
battle. This Edward neglected, whereupon Philippe sent to seize the
lands of Perigord, and, on being repulsed by the seneschal, called on
Edward to appear at his court within twenty days, to answer for his
misdeeds, on pain of forfeiting the province of Gascony. Edward sent
first the Bishop of London, and afterward his brother Edmund Crouchback,
to represent him. Edmund’s second wife was the mother of Philippe’s
queen, and it was therefore expected that he would the more easily come
to terms, especially as he was commissioned to offer the hand of his
royal brother to Blanche, the sister of Philippe, a maiden who inherited
the unusual beauty of her family. Apparently all was easily arranged:
Philippe promised Edmund that if, as a matter of form, Gascony were put
into his hands by way of forfeit, it should be restored at the end of
forty days on the intercession of the two ladies, and Blanche should be
betrothed to the King.
All was thus arranged. But at the end of the forty days it proved that
what Philippe had once grasped he had no notion of releasing; and,
moreover, that Blanche la Belle was promised to Albert of Hapsburg! If
Edward chose to marry any French princess at all, he was welcome to
her little sister Marguerite, a child of eleven, while Edward was
fifty-five. The excuse offered was, that Edward, had not obeyed the
summons in person, and that another outrage had been perpetrated on the
coast. After another summons, he was adjudged to lose not only Gascony,
but all Aquitaine.
On discovering how he had been duped, Edward’s first impulse was to send
out his writs to collect his vassals to recover Gascony, chastise the
insolent ill faith of Philippe, and to stir up his foreign connections
to support him. He collected his troops at Portsmouth, hoping to augment
his army by a general release of prisoners, Scottish, Welsh, and
malefactors alike; but while he was detained seven weeks by contrary
winds, all these men, after taking his pay, made their escape, and
either returned to their countries, or marauded in the woods. A great
insurrection broke out in Wales, and he was forced to hasten thither,
and from thence was called away to quell the rising of the Scottish
barons against Balliol.
Meanwhile, it fared ill with his foreign allies. The Duke of Brabant,
father-in-law to his daughter Margaret, was killed in a tournament at
the court of her sister Eleanor; and when Eleanor’s husband, Henri of
Bar, took up arms in the English cause, and marched into Champagne, he
was defeated, and made prisoner by the Queen of France. The poor old
Count of Flanders and his Countess were invited to Paris by Philippe,
who insisted that they should bring his godchild and namesake, the
betrothed of young Edward, to visit him. When they arrived, they were
all thrown into the prison of the Louvre, on the plea that Guy had no
right to bestow his daughter in marriage without permission from his
suzerain.
Edward’s head was so full of Scotland, that he was shamefully
indifferent to the sufferings of his friends in his behalf. Poor Eleanor
of Bar, after striving hard to gain her husband’s freedom, died of
grief, after a few months; and Guy of Flanders contrived to obtain his
own release by promising to renounce the English alliance; but Philippe
would not set free the poor young Philippa, whom he kept in his hands as
a hostage.
One cause of the King’s neglect was his great distress for money. He
had learnt to have recourse to his father’s disgraceful plea of a sham
Crusade, and thus, for six years, gained a tenth of the Church revenues;
but in 1294, requiring a further supply, he made a demand of half the
year’s income of the clergy. The new Archbishop, Robert Winchelsea, was
gone to Rome to receive his pall; the Dean of St. Paul’s, who was sent
to remonstrate with the King, died suddenly in his presence; but Edward
was not touched, and sent a knight to address the assembled clergy,
telling them that any reverend father who dared to oppose the royal will
would be considered to have broken the King’s peace. In terror they
yielded for that time; but they sent a petition to the Pope, who, in
return, granted a bull forbidding any subsidies to be paid by church
lands to the King without his permission.
Little did Edward reck of this decree. He knew that Boniface VIII. had
his hands full of his quarrels with the Romans and with Philippe le Bel,
and his own ambition was fast searing the conscience once so generous
and tender. Again he convened the clergy to grant his exactions, but
Archbishop Winchelsea replied that they had two lords, spiritual and
temporal; they owed the superior obedience to the spiritual lord, and
would therefore grant nothing till the Pope should have ratified the
demand; for which purpose they would send messengers to Rome.
The lay barons backed Edward in making a declaration of outlawry against
the clergy, and seizing all the ecclesiastical property, both lands and
treasures, except what was within churches or burying-grounds, declaring
that, if not redeemed by submission before Easter, all should be
forfeited forever. The Archbishop of York came to terms; but the
Archbishop of Canterbury held out, and was deprived of everything,
retiring to a country village, where he acted as parish priest, and
lived upon the alms of the parishioners. He held a synod, where
excommunication was denounced on those who seized church property;
but the censures of the Church had lost their terrors, and the clergy
gradually made their peace with the King, Winchelsea himself among the
last.
The laity had looked on quietly at the oppression of the clergy, and
indeed had borne their share of exactions; but these came at last to
a point beyond endurance, and Edward’s need, and their obstinate
resistance, led to another step in the formation of our constitution.
In 1297 he made a new alliance with Guy of Flanders, and was fitting
out three armies, against Scotland, Guienne, and Flanders. To raise the
means, he exacted five marks as a duty on each sack of wool exported to
Flanders, and made ruinous requisitions for wheat on the landowners.
Merchants and burghers, barons and clergy, took counsel together, and
finding each other all of one mind, resolved to make a stand against
this tax on wool, which was called the “Evil Toll,” and to establish
what Magna Carta had already declared, that the nation would not be
taxed against its own consent.
The King’s brother, Edmund of Lancaster, had lately died while
commanding in Guienne, and Edward, meeting his vassals at Salisbury,
gave the command of the army, thus left without a head, to Humphrey
Bohun, Earl of Hereford, and Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk--the one
Constable, the other Marshal of England. To his great wrath, they
answered that their offices only bound them to attend the King’s person
in war, and that they would not go. Edward swore a fierce oath that they
should either go, or hang. Bigod coolly repeated the same oath, that he
would neither go nor hang, and back to their own estates they went, and
after them thirty bannerets, and 1,500 knights, who, by main force,
hindered the King’s officers from making any further levies on their
barns and storehouses.
Nothing was left Edward, but to speak them fair. He summoned his vassals
to meet him in London, reconciled himself to Archbishop Winchelsea, and
on the 14th of July, 1297, when all were assembled at Westminster, he
stood forth on a platform, attended by his son, the Primate, and the
Earl of Warwick, and harangued the people. He told them that he grieved
at the burthens which he was forced to impose on them, but it was for
their defence; for that the Scots, Welsh, and French thirsted for their
blood, and it was better to lose a part, than the whole. “I am going to
risk my life for your sake,” he said. “If I return, receive me; and I
will make you amends. If I fall, here is my son: he will reward you, if
faithful.”
His voice was broken by tears; and his people, remembering what he once
had been rather than what he was now, broke into loud shouts of loyal
affection. He appointed his son as regent, and set out for Flanders, but
not in time to prevent poor Guy from again falling into captivity, and
pursued by requisitions, to which he promised to attend on his return.
All the nobles who held with him accompanied him, and Bohun and Bigod
were left to act in their own way.
They rode to London with a large train, lodged complaints of the illegal
exaction before the Exchequer, and then, going to the Guildhall, worked
up the citizens to be ready to assert their rights, and compel the
King to revoke the evil toll, and to observe the charter. They had
scrupulously kept within the law, and, though accompanied by so many
armed followers, neither murder nor pillage was permitted; and thus they
obtained the sympathies of the whole country.
Young Edward of Caernarvon was but thirteen, and could only submit; and
a Parliament was convoked by his authority, when the present taxes were
repealed, the important clause was added to the Great Charter which
declared that no talliage or aid should thenceforth be levied without
the consent of the bishops, peers, burgesses, and freemen of the realm,
nor should any goods be taken for the King without consent of the
owners.
Further, it was enacted that Magna Charta should be rehearsed twice a
year in all the cathedrals, with a sentence of excommunication on all
who should infringe it. The Archbishop enforced this order strictly,
adding another sentence of excommunication to be rehearsed in each
church on every Sunday against any who should beat or imprison
clergymen, desiring it to be done with tolling of bell and putting out
of candle, because these solemnities had the greater effect on the
laity. This statute is a sad proof how much too cheaply sacred things
were held, and how habit was leading even the clergy to debase them by
over-frequent and frivolous use of the most awful emblems.
Young Edward and his council signed the acts, and they were sent to the
King for ratification, with a promise that his barons would thereupon
join him in Flanders, or march to Scotland, at his pleasure. He was
three days in coming to his resolution, but finally agreed, though it
was suspected that he might set aside his signature as invalid, because
made in a foreign country.
Wallace’s proceedings in Scotland made Edward anxious to hasten thither
and rid himself of the French war. He therefore accepted the mediation
of Boniface VIII., and consented to sacrifice his unfortunate ally, Guy
of Flanders, whom he left in his captivity, as well as his poor young
daughter. Both died in the prison to which the daughter had been
consigned at twelve years old. The Prince of Wales, for whose sake her
bloom wasted in prison, was contracted to Isabelle, the daughter of her
persecutor, Philippe le Bel; and old King Edward himself received the
hand of the Princess Marguerite, now about seventeen, fair and good.
Aquitaine was restored, though not Gascony; but Edward only wanted to
be free, that he might hasten to Scotland. And, curiously enough, the
outlaw Wallace, whatever he did for his own land, unconsciously fought
the battles of his foes, the English nation; for it was his resistance
that weakened Edward’s power, and made necessity extort compliance with
the demands of the Barons.
At York, Bigod and Bohun claimed a formal ratification of the charter
of Westminster. He put them off by pleading the urgency of affairs in
Scotland, and hastened on; but when he returned, in 1299, the staunch
Barons again beset him, and he confirmed the charter, but added the
phrase, “Saving the rights of the Crown,” which annulled the whole force
of the decree. The two barons instantly went off in high displeasure,
with a large number of their friends; and Edward, to try the temper of
the people, ordered the charter to be rehearsed at St. Paul’s Cross; but
when the rights of the Crown were mentioned, such a storm of hootings
and curses arose, that Edward, taught by the storms of his youth not to
push matters to extremity, summoned a new parliament, and granted the
right of his subjects to tax themselves.
This right has often since been proved to be the main strength of the
Parliament, by preventing the King from acting against their opinion,
and by rendering it the interest of all classes of men to attend to the
proceedings of the sovereign: it has not only kept kings in check,
but it has saved the nobles and commonalty from sinking into that
indifference to public affairs which has been the bane of foreign
nations. For, unfortunately, the mass of men are more easily kept on
the alert when wealth is affected, than by any deeper or higher
consideration.