the session, they are exercising the right first claimed at Runnymede,
striven for by Simon de Montfort, and won by Humphrey Bohun, who
succeeded through the careful self-command and forbearance which
hindered him from ever putting his party in the wrong by violence or
transgression of the laws. He should be honored as a steadfast bulwark
to the freedom of his country, teaching the might of steady resolution,
even against the boldest and ablest of all our kings. In spite of rough
words, Edward and Bohun respected each other, and the heir of Hereford,
likewise named Humphrey, married Elizabeth, the youngest surviving
daughter left by good Queen Eleanor. Another of Edward’s daughters had
been married to an English earl. Joan of Acre, the high-spirited, wilful
girl, who was born in the last Crusade, had been given as a wife to her
father’s stout old comrade, Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester. He
died when she was only twenty-three, and before the end of a year she
secretly married her squire, Ralph de Monthermer, and her father only
discovered the union when he had promised her to the Count of Savoy.
Monthermer was imprisoned; but Edward, always a fond father, listened to
Joan’s pleading, that, as an Earl could ennoble a woman of mean birth,
it was hard that she might not raise a gallant youth to rank. Ralph
was released, and bore for the rest of his life the title of Earl of
Gloucester, which properly belonged only to Joan’s young son, Gilbert.
Joan was a pleasure-loving lady, expensive in her habits, and neglectful
of her children; but her father’s indulgence for her never failed: he
lent her money, pardoned her faults, and took on himself the education
of her son Gilbert, who was the companion of his own two young sons by
his second marriage, Thomas of Brotherton and Edmund of Woodstock.
Their mother, Margaret of France, was a fair and gentle lady, who lived
on the best terms with her stepdaughters, many of whom were her elders;
and she followed the King on his campaigns, as her predecessor Eleanor
had done. Mary, the princess who had taken the veil, was almost always
with her, and contrived to spend a far larger income than any of her
sisters, though without the same excuse of royal apparel; but she was
luxurious in diet, fond of pomp and display; never moving without
twenty-four horses, and so devoted to amusement that she lost large sums
at dice. She must have been an unedifying abbess at Ambresbury, though
not devoid of kindness of heart.
Archbishop Winchelsea held a synod at Mertoun in 1305, where various
decrees were made respecting the books and furniture which each parish
was bound to provide for the Divine service. The books were to be “a
legend” containing the lessons for reading, with others containing
the Psalms and Services. The vestments were “two copes, a chasuble, a
dalmatic, three surplices, and a frontal for the altar.” And, besides
these, a chalice of silver, a pyx of ivory or silver, a censer, two
crosses, a font with lock and key, a vessel for holy water, a great
candlestick, and a lantern and bell, which were carried before the Host
when taken to the dying, a board with a picture to receive the kiss of
peace, and all the images of the Church. The nave, then as now, was the
charge of the parish; the chancel, of the rector.
This synod was Archbishop Winchelsea’s last act before the King took
vengeance on him for his past resistance. His friend and supporter,
Boniface VIII., was dead, harassed to death by the persecutions of
Philippe IV.; and Clement V., the new Pope, was a miserable time-server,
raised to the papal chair by the machinations of the French King, and
ready to serve as the tool of any injustice.
Edward disliked the Archbishop for having withstood him in the matter of
the tithe, as well as for having cited him in the name of the Pope to
leave Scotland in peace. The King now induced Clement to summon him to
answer for insubordination. Winchelsea was very unwilling to go to Rome;
but Edward seized his temporalities, banished eighty monks for giving
him support, and finally exiled him. He died in indigence at Rome.
He was a prelate of the same busy class as Langton, not fulfilling the
highest standard of his sacred office, but spirited, uncompromising, and
an ardent though unsuccessful champion of the rights of the nation.
If Langton be honored for his part in Magna Charta, Winchelsea merits a
place by his side, for it was the resistance of his party to the “Evil
Toll” that placed taxation in the power of the English nation, and in
the wondrous ways of Providence caused the Scottish and French wars to
work for the good of our constitution.
CAMEO XXXVI. ROBERT THE BRUCE (1305-1308.)
_King of England_.
1272. Edward I.
_King of Scotland_.
1306. Robert I.
_King of France_.
1285 Philippe IV.
_Emperor of Germany_.
1298. Albert I.
_Pope_.
1305. Clement V.
The state of Scotland had, ever since the death of the good King
Alexander, been such that even honest men could scarcely retain their
integrity, nor see with whom to hold. The realm had been seized by a
foreign power, with a perplexing show of justice, the rightful King had
been first set up and then put down by external force, and the only
authority predominant in the land was unacknowledged by the heart of
any, though terror had obtained submission from the lips.
The strict justice which was loved and honored in orderly England, was
loathed in barbarous Scotland. It would have been hated from a native
sovereign; how much more so from a conqueror, and, above all, from a
hostile race, exasperated by resistance! Whether Edward I. were an
intentional tyrant or not, his deputies in Scotland were harsh rulers,
and the troops scattered throughout the castles in the kingdom used such
cruel license and exaction as could not but make the yoke intolerable,
and the enmity irreconcilable, especially in a race who never forgot nor
forgave.
The higher nobility were in a most difficult situation, since to them it
fell to judge between the contending parties, and to act for themselves.
Few preserved either consistency or good faith; they wavered between
fear of Edward and love of independence; and among the lowland baronage
there seems to have been only William Douglas, of Douglasdale, who never
committed himself by taking oaths of fealty to the English king. Some
families, who were vassals at once of the English and Scottish crowns,
were in still greater straits; and among these there was the line of
Bruce. Robert de Brus had come from Normandy with William the Conqueror,
and obtained from him large grants in Yorkshire, as well as the lordship
of Annandale from one of the Scottish kings; and thus a Bruce stood
between both parties, and strove to mediate at the battle of the
Standard. His grandson married Isabel of Huntingdon, the daughter of the
crusader, David of Scotland, and thus acquired still larger estates
and influence in both countries. His son Robert made another English
marriage with Isabel de Clare, daughter of the Earl of Gloucester.
The eldest son, Robert Bruce, had gone as a crusader to Palestine, in
company with his friend Adam de Kilcontack, who was Earl of Carrick in
right of his wife Martha. Kilcontack died at the siege of Acre, and
Bruce, returning, married the young countess, and had a large family.
There were three Robert Bruces living at the time of the judgment at
Norham--the father, Lord of Annandale; the son, Earl of Carrick; and
the grandson, still a child. As he grew up, he was sent to serve in the
English army, and for some time did so without apparent misgivings; and
the connection was drawn closer by his marriage with Joan de Valence,
one of the cousins of Edward I. In order to secure a part of the
property at all events, the father gave up his Scottish fiefs to his
son, and returned to England, there to live in unbroken allegiance to
Edward.
When Balliol was driven to declare against Edward, he confiscated the
estates of all who adhered to the English, and gave Annandale to John
Comyn of Badenoch, the son of his sister Marjory. The Red Comyn, as
he was called, seized Bruce’s Castle of Lochmaben, and sowed seeds of
deadly hatred; but on the downfall of Balliol he shared the captivity of
the unfortunate “toom tabard,” and did not return to Scotland for some
years. When Wallace’s revolt broke out, young Bruce, who was only
twenty-three, at first followed his instinct of obedience to Edward, and
took an oath to support him against all his enemies, and in pursuance
of it ravaged the lands of the brave Douglas, and carried his wife and
children into captivity. Some sense either of ambition or patriotism,
however, stirred within him, and assembling his men of Annandale, he
told them that he had taken a foolish oath, but that he deeply repented
of it, and would be absolved from it, inviting them to join him in
maintaining the cause of their country. They took alarm, and all
disappeared in the course of the night, and he joined the patriots
alone, but not with all his heart, for he soon made his peace with
Edward, and gave his only child, Marjory, as a hostage. Thenceforward he
vacillated, sometimes inclining to the King, sometimes to the Scottish
party, and apparently endeavoring to discover how far he could be secure
of the Scots giving him their crown, provided he took their part. He
showed a lamentable contempt for his word; for, on his father’s death,
he again did homage, and swore fealty to Edward, both for his lands in
England and Scotland, and at the same time he was making secret treaties
with Lamberton, Bishop of St. Andrew’s, and with Comyn. Balliol having
resigned the crown, and being in prison with all his family, was
considered to be set aside, and Bruce proposed to Comyn, that whichever
of them should claim the kingdom, should purchase the support of the
other by resigning to him his own inheritance. Comyn appeared to agree,
and, to prevent suspicion, Bruce attended the court in London; but while
he was there, Comyn wrote to betray his proposal to Edward, who took
measures for seizing the conspirator; but these becoming known to his
cousin, young Gilbert de Clare, the King’s grandson, he contrived to
give Bruce warning by sending him a pair of spurs and some pieces of
gold.
Bruce understood the hint, and galloped off with his horse’s shoes
turned backward, so as to baffle pursuit. He came safely, on the fifth
day, to his own border castle of Lochmaben, where he found his brother
Edward. Keeping watch, they seized a messenger on his way to the English
court, bearing letters from Comyn, which explained to Bruce what the
peril had been, and who the traitor. Still he was forced to dissemble,
and went as usual to the court of the English justiciary at Dumfries,
which he was bound to attend. Comyn was likewise present, and there were
deadly glances between the two. Bruce called Comyn to hold a private
interview with him in the church of the Minorite friars, and, while
their words waxed fierce, Bruce reproached Comyn with treachery. The
answer was, “You lie!” and Bruce, enraged, struck with his dagger at his
enemy; then, horror-struck at seeing him fall, rushed out of the church,
and called, “To horse!” Two of his attendants, Lindsay and Kirkpatrick,
struck by his pale looks and wild eyes, asked what had befallen him.
“I doubt,” he said, “that I have slain the Red Comyn!”
“You doubt!” cried Kirkpatrick; “I’ll mak sicker”--or sure: and, so
saying, hurried back into the church, and slew not only the wounded man,
but his uncle, Sir Robert Comyn, who tried to defend him. The “bloody
dirk” and the words “mak sicker” were adopted as crest and motto by the
Kirkpatrick family. Strange instance of barbarism, that the dastardly,
sacrilegious murder of a helpless man on the steps of the altar should
be regarded as an achievement worthy of pride!
Still, the fruits of that deed were the deliverance of Scotland. The man
who had hitherto wavered, cast about by circumstances, and swayed by
family interest, assumed a new character, and became the patient,
undaunted champion of his country.
In utter desperation, Bruce’s first measure was to defend himself
against the English justiciaries, and, rallying his friends, he took
possession of the castle of Dumfries, where they were holding their
court in a hall. They barricaded themselves within, but the fierce Scots
set fire to the doors, and they surrendered, whereupon Bruce permitted
them to depart in safety.
Nothing was left for Bruce, blood-stained and branded with treachery and
impiety, but to set up his standard and fight to the last; since he had
offended too deeply ever to find mercy, and the lot of Davydd or of
Wallace were samples of what he had to expect. He was handsome, well
educated, of great personal strength and prowess, and frank, winning
address, and the Scots had suffered so much under their oppressors, that
they were ready to rally round the first leader who offered himself.
Going to his castle of Lochmaben, he mustered his adherents. They
amounted only to three bishops, two earls, and fourteen barons, with
their followers, and his own four brothers, Edward, Nigel, Thomas,
and Alexander. With his little force he get out for Scone, where the
Scottish kings were crowned, and on his way met a young knight, riding
alone, but well mounted and well armed. As he raised his visor to do
his homage to the King Robert of Scotland, and showed his dark hair and
complexion, he was recognized as James, the eldest son of that William,
Baron Douglas, of Douglasdale, who alone had withheld his allegiance
from Edward, and whose lands, after Bruce himself had ravaged them, had
been given to the English Lord Clifford. The youth had been educated in
France, and brought the graces of a gentler school of chivalry when he
cast in his lot with his ill-used country men. Thus began the lifelong
friendship of Bruce and “good Sir James Douglas,” who was, “wise, wight,
and worthy,”
“Was never over-glad in winning, nor over-sad in tyneing.”
From Scone, the crown, royal stone, and robes had been carried off to
England; and the Earl of Fife, who, since the days of Macduff, had had
the right of placing the King upon his throne, was in the hands of the
English: but the Bishop of Glasgow provided rich raiment; a little
circlet of gold was borrowed of an English goldsmith; and Isabel,
Countess of Buchan, the sister of the Earl of Fife, rode to Scone,
bringing her husband’s war-horses, and herself enthroned King Robert.
The coronation took place on the Feast of the Annunciation, 1306, and
thus began a dynasty whose fate was remarkably similar to the sacrilege
and murder in which their rise was founded. Never was royal line of whom
it could so truly be said, that the sword never departed from them, and
there was not an old man in their house for ever. High endowments and
honest purposes could not redeem them, and Scotland never rested nor was
purified from deadly hate and the shedding of innocent blood till the
last of them was dying, a childless exile, and her sceptre was in the
hands of that power against which Bruce arose.
The news of Brace’s coronation filled Edward I. with rage. Fourteen
years’ work, at the cost of honor, mercy, and the love of his people,
all was undone, and the spirit of independence still uncrushed.
Edward regarded Bruce as so sacrilegious a traitor, that a war with him
was almost sacred; he swore to revenge Red Comyn’s death, and prepared
for the war in the most solemn manner. His son Edward was in his 22d
year, and had not yet been knighted, and the King convoked all the young
nobles to share in the solemnity.
On Whitsun-eve three hundred tents were erected in the Temple gardens,
and in each was a young esquire of noble blood, clad in white linen and
scarlet cloth, from the King’s own wardrobe. Around the circular church
of the Temple they watched their armor, and in the early morning the
Prince received knighthood in private from the hands of his father, who
had become too unwell to encounter the whole fatigue of the day. The
Prince conferred the order on his companions, and a magnificent banquet
took place in Westminster Hall, where the old King himself presided. In
the midst a golden net was brought in containing two swans, the emblems
of constancy and truth; and laying his hand on these, the King vowed
that he would never sleep two nights in the same place till he should
have chastised the Scots, and that he then would embark for Palestine,
and die in the holy war. All the young knights made the same vow; and
Edward made them swear that, if he should die in the course of the
war, they would keep his body above ground till the conquest should be
completed.
In the meantime, Clement V. had visited Bruce’s crime with
excommunication; and though the primate, Lamberton, would not receive
the letters bearing the sentence, it was less easy to be inattentive
to the enormous force that Edward I. had despatched under his viceroy,
Aymar de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, while he followed with mind only
bent on revenge.
Bruce ravaged Galloway, and marching on Perth, where De Valence was in
garrison, challenged him to come out to battle. Aymar answered that it
was too late in the day, and he must wait till morning; and the Scots
settled themselves in the wood of Methven, where they were cooking their
suppers, when Valence ungenerously took them by surprise, falling on
them with a far superior force. Robert was on the alert, and killed
Aymar’s horse; but three times he was himself unhorsed: and once
Philippe Mowbray was crying out that he had the new-made King, when
Christopher Seton came to the rescue, and killed the Englishman. Robert,
with about five hundred men, retreated safely into the rugged country
of Athol; but he lost many of his best friends, who were slain or made
prisoners, the latter being for the most part hung as rebels, except
his sister’s son, Thomas Randolph, who made his peace by renouncing his
uncle.
King Edward had advanced as far as Carlisle. But he was now in his 67th
year, and though his blue eye was not dim, nor his tall form bent, age
was beginning to tell on him, and he was detained by sickness. His
armies advanced, and while their cruelties shocked even his stern heart,
he set them a fatal example by the unsparing manner in which he ordered
the execution of all whom he considered as accomplices in rebellion.
The King and his small band of followers lived a wild, outlaw life, in
the hills, hunting and fishing; and his English wife, Joan de Valence,
with his two sisters, Mary and Christian, and the Countess of Buchan,
came, under the escort of young Nigel Bruce, to join them. A few weeks
ensued in the wilds of Bredalbane which had all the grace of “As You Like
It.” The Queen and ladies were lodged in bowers of the branches of trees,
slept on the skins of deer and roe, and the King and his young knights
hunted, fished, or gathered the cranberry or the whortleberry for their
food; while the French courtliness of James Douglas, and the gracious
beauty of young Nigel, threw a romance over the whole of the sufferings
so faithfully and affectionately endured.
But advancing autumn forced them to think of providing shelter, and
as they advanced toward the Tay, they came into the country of John
Macdougal, Lord of Lorn, a son-in-law of the Red Comyn, and therefore at
deadly feud with the Bruces. He collected his Highland vassals, and set
upon the little band in a narrow pass between a lake and a precipice,
where they could not use their horses: and the Highlanders did dreadful
execution with their Lochaber axes; James Douglas was wounded, and so
many of the horses destroyed, that Bruce ordered a retreat, and set
himself to cover it, almost alone. Lorn himself was reminded of the
heroes of Highland romance, as he saw the knightly figure riding calmly
along the shore of the lake, guarding his flying army by the might of
his presence, and the Archdeacon of Aberdeen found a simile for him in
the romances of Alexander; but three men named M’Androsser, a father
and two sons, all of great strength, sprang forward, vowing to slay the
champion, or make him prisoner. One seized his rein, and at the same
moment Bruce’s sword sheared off the detaining hand, but not before the
other brother had grasped his leg to hurl him from the saddle. With a
touch of the spur the horse leaped forward, and as the man fell, his
head was cleft by the King’s sword. The grapple with the father was more
severe; he grasped the King’s mantle, and when Bruce dashed out his
brains with his mace, the death-clutch was so fast, that Bruce was
forced to undo the brooch at his throat to free himself from the dead
man. The brooch was brought as a trophy to Lorn, whose party could not
help breaking out into expressions of admiration, which began to anger
him.
“It seems to give you pleasure,” he said, “to see such havoc made among
us.” “Not so,” answered one; “but be he friend or foe who achieves high
deeds of knighthood, men should do faithful witness to his valor.”
When the King had safely conducted his friends from this danger, he
decided that the ladies should be placed in Kildrummie Castle, in Mar,
under the keeping of young Nigel, while his followers dispersed for the
winter, and he would shelter in the Hebrides. It was a sad and long
parting, for Kildrummie Castle was soon taken, and Edward sternly
condemned Nigel to be hung, in spite of his youth and innocence; and
Christopher Seton, the King’s dearest friend, was soon after taken, and
shared the same fate. The bishops were carried in chains to England,
and Queen Joan also was sent home as a prisoner with her little daughter
Marjory. Mary Bruce and Isabel of Buchan were still more harshly
treated, being each shut up in an open cage of latticed wood, exposed
to the weather and to the public gaze, the one at Berwick, the other
at Roxburgh Castle. Christian had the better fate of being placed in a
convent.
In the meantime, Bruce and his few friends had wandered on to the banks
of Loch Lomond, where they could only find one leaky boat, unable to
hold more than three. Bruce, Douglas, and one other were the first
to cross, and the third then rowed back for another freight, while
throughout this tedious waiting the King made his friends forget their
troubles by reciting poems and tales of chivalry. He spent part of the
winter in Kentire, and the rest at the little island of Rachrin,
so entirely lost to the knowledge of his enemies, that derisive
proclamation was made for Robert Bruce, lost, stolen, or strayed. The
Pope’s legate solemnly excommunicated him at Carlisle, with bell, book,
and candle; and Annandale was given to the Earl of Hereford, and Carrick
to Henry Percy, whilst the executions of his relatives and adherents
were both savage and cruel.
It was while depressed by such dreadful tidings that Bruce, as he lay on
his bed at Rachrin, drew counsel and encouragement from the persevering
spider, resolved to stake his fortunes on another cast, and, if
unsuccessful, to die as a warrior in the Holy Land. The spring of 1307
was coming on, and he had found a friend in Christina, the Lady of the
Isles, who furnished him with some vessels, in which Douglas descended
upon the Isle of Arran, and surprised Brodick Castle, which was full of
supplies.
Bruce was not long in following them, and, landing secretly, blew his
bugle horn.
“The King!” cried James Douglas; “I know his manner of blowing!”
“The King!” cried Robert Boyd; “let us make speed to join him!”.
Bruce had brought with him thirty-three galleys, and, meditating a
landing in his own county of Carrick, just opposite, he sent a trusty
friend, named Cuthbert, to feel his way; agreeing that, if he found
the people favorably disposed, he should light a fire as a signal on
Turnberry Head. The flame burst out at night, and Bruce and his little
band embarked; but, on landing, he found no welcome on the shore, only
Cuthbert, who knelt in dismay to assure the King that he knew not what
hand had kindled the blaze; it was none of his, for the people were
terror-stricken, Turnberry Castle was full of English, and he feared
that it was the work of treachery. Nor has that strange beacon ever been
accounted for; it is still believed to have been lit by no mortal hand,
and the spot where it shone forth is called the Bogle’s Brae. Whether
meteor or watch-fire, it lit the way to Robert Bruce’s throne.
He took counsel whether to return, or not; but his fiery brother,
Edward, vowed that, for his part, he would never return to the sea, but
would seek his adventures by land, and Bruce decided on being led by his
strange destiny. Percy’s horses and men were quartered in the villages
round, and falling on them by surprise, he made a rich booty, and drove
the remainder to take refuge in the castle.
A lady of Bruce’s kindred brought him forty men and a supply of money
and provisions, but, on the other hand, she told him the sad news of the
loss of Kildrummie and the death of Nigel; and nearly at the same time,
his two youngest brothers, who had been to collect forces in Ireland,
were met as they landed by the Macdowalls of Galloway, routed, wounded,
and made prisoners. They were taken to King Edward at Carlisle, and at
once hanged without mercy. Bruce vowed a deadly vengeance, but he was
again put to dreadful straits. He had four hundred men with him at
Ammock, in Ayrshire, when Aymar de Valence and John of Lorn pursued him
with eight hundred Highlanders and men-at-arms, setting on his traces a
bloodhound, once a favorite of his own, and whose instinct they basely
employed against his master.