CAMEO

XXXIV.

Warrenne weakly gave way, and the English troops began to cross the bridge, the Scots retaining their post on the high ground until Sir Marmaduke Twenge, an English knight, impetuously spurred up the Battle of hill, when about half the army had crossed, and charged the Scottish Stirling

ranks. In the meantime Wallace had sent a chosen force to march down the side of the hill and cut off the troops who had crossed from the foot of the bridge, and he himself, rushing down on the advancing horsemen, entirely broke them, and made a fearful slaughter of all on that side of the river, seizing on the bridge, so that there was no escape. One of the knights proposed to swim their horses across the river. "What," said

Sir Marmaduke Twenge, “drown myself when I can cut my way through the midst of them by the bridge? Never let such foul slander fall on me!" He then set spurs to his horse, and, with his nephew and armourbearer, forced his way back to his friends, across the bridge, by weight of man and horse, through the far more slightly-armed Scots. Warrenne was obliged to march off, with the loss of half his army and of Cressingham, whose corpse was found lying on the plain, and was barbarously mangled by the Scots. They cut the skin into pieces, and used it for saddle-girths, even Wallace himself being said to have had a sword-belt made of it.

This decisive victory threw the greater part of Scotland into Wallace's hands; and though most of the great earls still held with the English, the towns and castles were given up to him, and the mass of the people was with him. He plundered without mercy the lands of such as would not join him, and pushed his forays into England, where he frightfully ravaged Cumberland and Northumberland; and from St. Luke's to St. Martin's day all was terror and dismay, not a priest remaining between Newcastle and Carlisle to say mass. At last the winter drove him back, and on his return he went to Hexham, a rich convent, which had been plundered on the advance, but to which three of the monks had just returned, hoping the danger was over. Seeing the enemy entering, they fled into a little chapel; but the Scots had seen them, and rushing on them, demanded their treasures. "Alas!" said they, "you yourselves best know where they are!" Wallace, coming in, silenced his men, and bade the priests say mass; but in one moment, while he turned aside to take off his helmet, his fierce soldiery snatched away the chalice from the altar, and tore off the ornaments and sacred vestments. He ordered that the perpetrators should be put to death, and said to the priests, "My presence alone can secure you. My men are evil disposed. I cannot justify, I dare not punish, them."

On returning to Scotland, he assumed the title of governor, and strove 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

CAMEO XXXIV.

Battle of Falkirk. 1298.

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.

"Thanks be to

Edward was greatly rejoiced at the intelligence. 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 armour, 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 armour, with their horses picqueted 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 reveillé, 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 gif 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 afterwards 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. determination was sternly fixed, and he made everything else give way to his Scottish wars.

But his

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 valour; 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 armour 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 favour, 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 23rd 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 severed 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

CAMEO XXXIV.

Siege of
Stirling.

Death of

Wallace.

1305.

САМЕО XXXIV.

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.

UNLIKE the former Plantagenets, Edward I. was a thorough Englishman; his schemes, both for good and evil, were entirely insular; and as

САМЕО XXXV.

he became more engrossed in the Scottish war, he almost neglected his Philippe IV. 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