The story of how Edward profited from the situation in Scotland and of the events leading to the outbreak of war has been told so often and at such length35 as to make it unnecessary to repeat it here in any great detail. We need therefore to look at some of the more crucial events as a means of setting the background to the appearance of William Wallace. What he himself made of these events, if indeed he knew anything of them, it is impossible to say. We know only that from the time of his first fame he was, as he remained, Balliol’s man.
The death of Margaret of Norway was known in Scotland in early October 1290. As he had in 1286, Robert Bruce, lord of Annandale, despite his advanced age – he was now eighty – moved quickly to protect his interests and to lay claim to the vacant throne. The strongest opposition to that claim lay in the hands of John Balliol, lord of Galloway; he had the advantage of the friendship of the bishop of Durham, Antony Bek, the bellicose friend of Edward I and one of the king’s representatives at Birgham.36 There were other claimants to the throne; they were not deterred by the weakness of their position. Civil war was closer than it had been in 1286. It did not come. The same common sense which had prevailed after the death of Alexander III worked again. All those involved in the events of 1290 reached the same conclusion: that recourse should be had to the wisdom of Edward I. If therefore Bishop Fraser of St Andrews, in asking for Edward’s intervention, pressed the case of John Balliol, others, among them the earls of Angus, Atholl, and Mar, sought that intervention while arguing for Robert Bruce. Edward, recently bereaved by the loss of his beloved wife, Eleanor, did not neglect the opportunity. One account suggests that he was no longer disguising, at least from those about him, his warlike intentions; he would make Scotland his, as he had Wales.37 Words were still to be employed, for Edward loved their use in the cause of his own interests, but he now intended a show of force. From Norham on Tweed, where he had taken up residence in the palace of the bishop of Durham, he invited the Scots to meet with him on 30 May 1291. His army he summoned for 3 June. When the Scots appeared before him, he was careful to treat them with respect, but struck at once. He would judge the various claims to the throne of Scotland, but only upon the acceptance of his paramountcy.38 Not unnaturally disturbed by this attitude, the Scots were in time forced to agree to Edward’s terms.
What Edward’s motives were at this time we cannot tell. He had the opportunity to make himself master of Scotland in 1291. The Scots were divided, as they would be again, their morale damaged, their ability to raise an effective opposition gone. It is difficult to see how he could have been prevented from taking over the government of the country. Yet he preferred to enter into a prolonged and unnecessary selection process. If it could be argued that at the end of that process he had, through his choice of John Balliol, in any case made himself master of Scotland, we must still question his wisdom. Edward was renowned through Europe for mental powers, his experience and skill in diplomacy, his Solomon-like qualities.39 The time for him to seize control of Scotland was in 1291. As he was to learn, even if he was not already conscious of the fact, some of the claimants to the throne of Scotland would be prepared to subordinate the independence of the country to their own interests. He could, had he wished, have used that attitude to ensure his own hold on Scotland; he could, that is, have bought off a number, if not all, of the claimants with land. They were realistic enough to settle for something rather than nothing. It is hard to believe that, of the claimants, only John Hastings was ready to countenance partition if his own case failed. But Edward ignored the opportunity which such thinking presented to him. By doing so, by opting instead for what has been called the ‘splendid façade’40 of sitting in judgement on the claimants to the throne of Scotland, he showed, as he would do later, an inexplicable ineptitude. Ironically, it may be that Edward’s failure to act in character in 1291 caused war. He gave disparate elements in Scotland the time to return to something of the unity of 1286, and by his actions, once he had appointed a king, guaranteed that that unity would not break in the face of war.
On 17 November 1292, at Berwick, Edward’s decision was read by his justice, Roger le Brabazon. Edward had found the case for John Balliol proven. Once enthroned at Scone on St Andrew’s Day, Balliol discovered what kingship meant. Later generations have tended to judge Balliol unsympathetically. We may wonder whether in the circumstances any other claimant would have been more worthy of our sympathy. There was no Scot strong enough to resist Edward. Balliol’s opponent, Robert Bruce, known with reason as ‘the Competitor’, died in the year before the outbreak of war. The man who, as long before as 1238, in the reign of Alexander II, had first been seen as heir to the throne, may well have died with a bitter smile on his lips at the thought of Balliol acting at the dictate of Edward I. Bruce’s son was ineffectual, his grandson an unknown factor. The time of William Wallace had not yet come. Balliol soon had cause to regret his elevation. If it was natural that Edward should require him, on 26 December, to repeat the oath of homage he had already given in the previous month, Balliol might more readily question the first of the humiliations to which Edward subjected him. A week after Balliol’s enthronement, Roger Bartholomew, a burgess of Berwick, appealed to Edward against judgements entered against him in Scottish courts. Edward reversed one judgement. The reversal brought home to the Scots the fact that any promises made by Edward concerning the independence of Scotland were of doubtful value.
The inevitable reaction of the Scots to the reversal was dismissed by Edward. The English king aggravated the situation when, in the summer of 1293, his council insisted that the king of Scotland should appear personally to answer any appeals against judgements given in his courts. This was clearly insulting. Balliol continued for some time to conduct himself with dignity and authority in the face of Edward’s pressure, but he could not do so indefinitely. If a later account is to be believed, he was in any case disillusioned with his role as king and suspicious of his subjects. On 1 April 1298, his kingdom long lost and himself in custody, although not uncomfortable in the London palace of his friend, Antony Bek, Balliol is reported to have said: ‘When he possessed and ruled the realm of Scotland as king and lord of the realm, he found in the men of that realm such malice, deceit, treason, and treachery, arising from their malignity, wickedness, and stratagems, and various other execrable and detestable actions.’41 Having thus attacked the Scots for certain characteristics – from not all of which he himself was free – Balliol went on to maintain that he had feared for an attempt by poison upon his life while he was still king. It is of course possible that Balliol, for good reasons, was saying what he thought his hosts would wish to hear. Moreover, it is unfortunate that at the time of his remarks, his former subjects were, under William Wallace, preparing to face the army of Edward I, and that many of them were, within three months, to perish in the defence of his right to the throne of Scotland. Nevertheless, he had been subject to pressure, perhaps verging on the violent, from his own people before the outbreak of war. His own increasing diffidence, not to say fear, when Edward grew more demanding, cannot have endeared him to those who remembered the strength of Scotland when put to the test in 1286.
If there was not in Scotland in early 1294 a war party as such, there was unquestionably a party ready to fight in the event of Edward’s exceeding what was considered reasonable. He had come close to that. Clashing with Philip IV of France over Gascony, he now took the step which gave the Scots no further excuse to deceive themselves. Edward called upon his army for France to gather at Portsmouth. His absence from England might have given the Scots, as it gave the Welsh, the opportunity they needed. But they did not even have to wait for him to sail for France. Haughtily and mistakenly, Edward summoned Balliol and various of his subjects, among them James the Stewart, and Bruce the Competitor, then eighty-four years of age, to serve with him in France. Edward had turned the screw too far. The last Scottish king to serve abroad in the army of an English king had been Malcolm IV in 1159. Like Edward wi
th Balliol, Henry II had established a sort of mental superiority over Malcolm.42 But not even Balliol dared to go as far with Edward as Malcolm had gone with Henry, neither he nor the others summoned by Edward complied.
War with England could not now be prevented. The Scots began to seek allies and, understandably, turned to France. Philip IV was agreeable to discussions. In July 1295 four representatives were named to negotiate a treaty with the French king. They were William Fraser, Matthew of Crambeth, John de Soules, and Ingram de Umfraville. They travelled to France and on 23 October concluded an offensive and defensive alliance with Philip.43 The treaty was ratified in Scotland on 23 February 1296. What Balliol himself thought of these events is not recorded. Whether he wished it or not, he was at the head of a people ready for war. He was truly, as one chronicler aptly put it, ‘a lamb among wolves’.44
Edward, meanwhile, had been diverted by rebellion in Wales. He postponed sailing to France and dealt with it. That done, he had decided that he could no longer defer action against Scotland. France would have to wait. It is impossible not to admire the energy with which the king, fifty-eight years old, faced with problems in France, wearied after the Welsh campaign, embittered by what he believed to be the treason of the Scots, flung himself against them. He ordered his army to assemble before him at Newcastle upon Tyne on 1 March 1296, arranged for a fleet of ships to sail from East Anglia round the coast to provision the army, and set out to punish those who had defied him. Those who were the target of his wrath had themselves issued their own call to arms to their fellow-countrymen. In the name of John Balliol, the Scottish feudal host was summoned to meet on 11 March four miles north of Selkirk, at Caddonlee. Not all the principal Scots chose to obey the summons. Among these were Patrick, earl of Dunbar and Gilbert, earl of Angus; both remained faithful to Edward and were to play a crucial role in the Falkirk campaign.45 But more striking and disturbing was the attitude adopted by the Bruces. They stood apart. It may be true that their behaviour was ‘clear and consistent’, as one biographer of Robert I has put it.46 They owed no loyalty to Balliol. They held to their oath given in 1292 to Edward. He had flattered their hope of, one day, replacing Balliol.47 A precedent had been set. If William Wallace had known the reasoning of the Bruces, he would in all probability have thought it contemptible. Wherever he was, he was unlikely to have disregarded the summons to Caddonlee.
The war which followed was characterised in its early stages in two particular ways. First, it was an exceptionally brutal war, on both sides. On Easter Monday a Scottish army, under seven earls, crossed the Solway. The size of the army is unknown, but we can be in no doubt about their intentions. In the words of the Lanercost Chronicle the Scots began ‘burning houses, slaughtering men and driving off cattle, and on the two following days they violently assaulted the city of Carlisle; but failing in their attempt, they retired on the third day’.48 This is a sober and restrained account of what must have been horrifying. It was a rehearsal for worse still. In April the Scots raided into Northumberland. Again they burned houses, but now added sacrilege to their crimes. They burned churches and monasteries, and are reported to have burnt alive a group of schoolboys, perhaps as many as two hundred, at Corbridge.49 What the purpose of these raids was we can only guess. They were futile, failed to break Edward’s resolve, wasted energy, and diverted attention from what must be the main issue, the defeat of Edward.
He had not been idle. His response to the raid of the seven earls was the sack of Berwick. This was far in excess of anything the Scots had perpetrated and must cast doubt, again, on his stability. Whereas, at the time of the execution of Wallace, he had nine years behind him of frustrations and disappointments, he had no such excuse at Berwick. The failure of his first attack on the town, the jeers of the defenders, his own impatience and sense of betrayal, do not explain the slaughter which he condoned and even encouraged once the walls of the town were breached. For two days he allowed his army to kill and burn. Berwick, despite his own later efforts to rebuild and restore it, was never again to achieve its former status. If, strictly speaking, he had adhered to the rules of war in handing over to sack a town which had refused to surrender, Berwick was the first, and perhaps along with the execution of Wallace, the greatest stain on his reputation.
The second feature of the war at this time was the military ineptitude of the Scottish leaders. We have seen the futility of their raids into England. They were no more successful when put to a test for which, in theory at least, they ought to have been better prepared. From Berwick Edward moved slowly, confidently, north in the direction of Dunbar. He may have felt that Berwick was the true measure of the Scots’ competence. Success may have bred a certain complacency. If this was the case, it was imperative that the Scots strike back effectively, in order to redress the balance. Although the earl of Dunbar, Patrick, was Edward’s man, his castle had fallen into the hands of the Scots through the stratgem of his wife, who had embraced the Scottish cause.50 Edward detached a cavalry force under John de Warenne, earl of Surrey, to recapture Dunbar. The Scots now scorned the opportunity for the ambush of Warenne or for any tactic other than the obvious one. There was no reason why they should meet Warenne in the open field, and pit cavalry against cavalry. Where the English, the Welsh campaigns behind them, were experienced and hardened, the Scots were untried. This did not deter them. With a sublime arrogance, they accepted what they took to be a challenge. There was no Wallace among them to dissuade them, to put the alternatives before them. They could have delayed any form of action at this time, for Dunbar was not worth the risk of defeat. They could have drawn the English on, as Wallace did before Falkirk – a tactic adopted by Robert I. They could have allowed the lengthening of the English lines of communication to work against the invaders.
That they did none of these things doomed them. Even then, patience and discipline in the ranks of the cavalry might still have won the day. Warenne, as Wallace would clearly demonstrate at Stirling, was not an exceptional soldier, but he knew enough to profit from the Scottish abandonment of a good position. He had divided his force; one section he left before Dunbar to contain the garrison, the other he led to face the Scottish army. That army, sensing an opening which did not in reality exist, broke ranks and rushed to the attack. No doubt it was a splendid sight. No doubt it was exhilarating. But it ended in disaster. From the safety of a hill, the Scots had charged into defeat. Warenne’s troops had no difficulty in dealing with the Scots, whose own impetuosity had made the outcome certain. As quickly as they had attacked the Scots turned, intent on reaching Selkirk Forest, where not many months later a wiser man laid his own, different plans.
Warenne’s victory at Dunbar effectively ended resistance to Edward. It was scarcely a battle; it is difficult to think of it even as an engagement but it was a rout. How many fought at Dunbar, how many were killed, we have no means of knowing. An English version which numbers the Scottish dead at over ten thousand is hardly credible.51 The foot soldiers, left to their own devices by their leaders, suffered heavily. Many Scots of high position fell into English hands and were distributed in various prisons.52 Of those who joined Sir William Douglas, Wallace’s future ally, taken at Berwick, was the young Andrew Murray. Murray learned enough from the disaster at Berwick and the farce at Dunbar to recognise the need for change. It was unfortunate that those who did learn were to continue in the minority for some time.
After Dunbar, Edward undertook a leisurely progress through what was, in essence, his kingdom of Scotland. To emphasise his authority he caused the symbolic Stone of Destiny to be carried from Scone to Westminster Abbey. One after another the castles of Scotland were turned over to him. Balliol, meanwhile, bereft of ideas, slipped away before him. At length he begged for terms. He was forced to agree to a succession of public appearances in which he confessed to a variety of offences against Edward and, in the last act, he surrendered his kingdom to Edward on 10 July at Brechin. If humiliated, he kept his life, and was sent to the To
wer of London, escorted by the earl of Lancaster. He remained a scapegoat for the failure of the nation as a whole and entered the Scottish consciousness as ‘Toom Tabard’, the pathetic, broken figure of Brechin of whom Wyntoun wrote:
This Johun the Balliol dispoyilyeide he
Off all his robis and ryalte.
The pellour that tuk out of his tabart,
Tuyme Tabart he was callit efftirwart;
And all othir insignyis
That fel to kynge on ony wise,
Baythe septure, suerde, crowne and rynge,
Fra this Johun, that he made kynge,
Hallely fra hym he tuk thar,
And mad hym of his kynrik bare.53
Edward returned to Berwick in late August. There he produced his plan for the government of Scotland. He entrusted the functioning of it to Warenne, who was to be lieutenant or keeper. To assist Warenne, Edward named as treasurer Hugh Cressingham and as chancellor Walter of Amersham. His chief justice in the newly conquered kingdom was to be William Ormsby.54 He placed his officials in other lesser posts, assured himself of the safety of the castles, and in all things was, as always, thorough. He had reason to be pleased with himself. There remained one other task before he left Scotland to the care of his subordinates. All substantial landholders were required to give, or renew, their oath of loyalty to Edward as lord of Scotland. Whatever the actual number of those who swore fealty to Edward at Berwick,55 the name of William Wallace is not to be found among them. But, as has been noted, Alan Wallace is among those listed, with all that this might imply. Nothing however can alter the symbolic importance since attached to the absence from the ‘Ragman Roll’ of the name of William Wallace.56
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