William Wallace

by Andrew Fisher

  Wallace’s resignation, however, and the reasons for it, cannot be so easily dismissed. Scottish popular tradition has long judged him with sympathy. The belief persisted that he was so outraged by the conduct of the Scottish lords at Falkirk that he no longer wished to associate with them and so decided upon resignation. We find this attitude in Fordun:

  But after the aforesaid victory, which was vouchsafed for the enemy through the treachery of Scots, the aforesaid William Wallace, perceiving by these and other strong proofs, the glaring wickedness of the Comyns and their abettors, chose rather to serve with the crowd, than to be set over them, to their ruin, and the grievous wasting of the people. So, not long after the battle, at the water of Forth, he, of his own accord, resigned the office and charge which he held, of guardian.10

  It would appear, at first glance, that Fordun accepts the link between Falkirk and Wallace’s resignation, although emphasising the treachery of his allies at the battle as crucial. Betrayal by Bruce as well as by Comyn cannot be discounted,11 but it is unlikely to have been the main or the only explanation of Wallace’s resignation. Fordun does, after all, mention other factors influencing Wallace. He tells us that Wallace preferred to return to his roots, to his own people, rather than to continue at their head, to their ultimate detriment. We need not question that he did indeed wish to make such a return. To do so was not to admit to failure but to act in a realistic and responsible manner. His departure from the field of Falkirk illustrates this clearly. To the English, not unnaturally, he had fled the battle. Celebrating the carnage among the Scots, the English sang of Wallace: ‘Scared by the fear of punishment, the tyrant turns his back, whom the short jacket once pleased: faithless in the day of battle he flies like a truant … Wallace, thy reputation as a soldier is lost, since thou didst not defend thy people with the sword, it is just that thou shouldst now be deprived of thy dominion.’12

  This judgement is, of course, preposterous. Wallace’s courage was never at issue; it was not the least of his attributes, entirely to be expected of him. In this, if in no other way, he bears a strange resemblance to Edward II at Bannockburn. We read of that unhappy monarch bent on fighting to the death but advised to leave the field for reasons of state.13 So it was with Wallace at the earlier battle. He could not permit himself the luxury of a death sword in hand; he was of value to his country and its cause only if he remained alive. He could no longer save the army once Edward had forced a breach in its ranks, but he could retire to prepare further his role in the defence of Scotland. Major rationalises his behaviour thus:

  There are those still living in our midst who will not suffer the word ‘flight’ to be used in reference to Wallace, and will only allow that he avoided a danger; for flight, they say, must ever bear an ugly meaning. But in this they err. To attack the attacker by waiting for him; to delay; yea, to fly – these too are branches of fortitude; for the greatest general that ever lived may fly but in a certain contingency is bound to fly. For better it is that he should be able to keep himself and his men in safety against a fitting moment than by their death bring ruin quick and complete upon his country. Wherefore Wallace was justified in seeking safety for his men in flight.14

  Like Pluscarden,15 Major, further, has Wallace meet with Bruce after the battle and in a famous set-piece reply to the latter’s accusation that he had acted above himself and his station. Wallace is made to speak in moving terms both of his reasons for resignation and of his confidence in the people whom Bruce so despises. If we accept that Wallace, as we are told in these and other sources, was intent upon severing his association with the lords and relying henceforth upon the people from whom he had sprung, we may be close to the real reason for his resignation of the office of Guardianship.

  That reason cannot be understood unless one widely held assumption is looked at: that Wallace had no alternative to resignation. Modern opinion, as has been seen, stresses the inevitability of resignation. It is, however, interesting that early sources such as Fordun, together with tradition, imply that, for whatever reason, Wallace decided upon resignation; he had, that is, made a choice. We do not know when exactly he resigned; those who draw the connection between defeat and resignation do not offer a firm date for the latter.16 It is possible, therefore, that Wallace pondered his decision for some time, perhaps over a period of weeks. He had learned patience as Guardian; the army which he marshalled, trained, and brought to Falkirk was the product of months of work as was the cooperation, however fragile in the event, which he had forged with the likes of Comyn and Bruce. He had become a wiser, if now a sadder, man. That being so, it is not unreasonable to suppose, lacking as we do any irrefutable proof to the contrary, that he must have debated the possibility that he could, despite Falkirk, retain power.

  This is less of a fanciful suggestion than it may appear. There is no evidence that Wallace left the battle alone – quite the contrary – nor can it seriously be argued that his departure proved prejudicial among the people. Others, as we know, left either with him or about the same time.17 It is probable that the Scottish lords, whose ranks had by no means been decimated, made their own way without Wallace, to avoid what they saw as the taint of association with him. But Fordun tells us that Wallace escaped ‘to save himself and his’,18 a vague formula, it is true, open to more than one construction. Pluscarden, on the other hand, limits those who accompanied him to ‘but few’.19 Major writes of the ‘surviving remnant of his army’ which he took with him.20 If we cannot be precise as to the numbers with him, Wallace had some kind of force with him and, despite the slaughter at Falkirk, it would be of some consequence. If we return, briefly, to Wallace’s role in the battle, we may find support for this theory. He would have had with him on the day a nucleus of adherents upon whom he had come to rely greatly, such as had been with him from the early days, men who formed – and this was not contrary to established practice – a bodyguard. They would, through their attachment to their leader, be tried and proven soldiers. And can we lightly dismiss the thought that Wallace had foreseen the need for some such group, a need demonstrated beyond argument by the defection of others?

  Two factors must be considered in this context. The first relates to the famous remark attributed to him as he addressed the Scottish army before Falkirk.21 If there is any truth in it, it shows a man who believed that he had done the best he could for those under his command, and that now, with his preparations completed, he would put his talents to use wherever circumstances dictated. He would not have allocated himself to a place in the schiltroms. It follows from this that, second, he would not have remained stationary, an obvious and attractive target to the enemy, as the battle progressed and the superiority of the English became evident. With his own group – his household troops, as it were – he would have moved about the field, to encourage, to support, to prompt. Not all of those with him can have been killed.

  When at length he withdrew from the battle, he had about him, therefore, a force still capable of striking at the enemy. There is an account of a pursuit of Wallace by some of the English which seems to make this very point.22 While this is romanticised by Major23 in that Wallace himself turns upon the pursuers and kills one who has been unwise enough to outstrip his companions, the account does ring true. The departure of Wallace can hardly have gone unremarked by the English, and the subsequent pursuit could have involved a more general action than that reported, albeit a limited one quickly over. It is perhaps significant that Sir Brian le Jay, who with Sir John de Sawtry is the only English casualty of importance to be named by the chronicler,24 is said to have been despatched by Scots when his horse plunged into a bog. The story has all the elements of a classic ambush with the foolhardy Englishman, and possibly others with him, lured to his death, and the episode is reminiscent of the death of Normans in ‘the Malfosse’ at Hastings.25 Wallace was not a man to miss such an opportunity. The death of the master of the English Templars has the mark of Wallace. It would have proved that he and his men,
far from being demoralised by defeat and concerned only with saving their skins, were to be reckoned with. There is no further mention of pursuit at this time. Nor can we be certain that Edward, with victory his, was concerned with Wallace’s capture in the immediate aftermath of the battle. Indeed, his subsequent movements do not suggest a man with a plan to follow up his success. The fatal pursuit of Wallace was the act of a knight, adrenaline-driven, bent on individual glory. Warenne had fled from the catastrophe of Stirling Bridge, with Scots on his tail. Edward II was led away from the field of Bannockburn, then rode for his life, with James Douglas allocated the task of either capturing or killing him. But Edward seems not to have mounted a similar hunt for Wallace. No battlefield is tidy, after as well as during the actual engagement itself. Falkirk was no different in this respect. Prestwick has argued26 that for all his experience, including defeat at Lewes and victory at Evesham, as well as action in Wales, the Continent, and the Holy Land, Edward fought only one true battle – Falkirk. There, Edward’s control of his army had not been perfect at the time of the first encounter with the enemy. The contest had been fierce and long, without any of the agreed pauses to be found in some other battles. Even with the Scots broken, exhaustion must have set in among the English and Edward, wisely in the light of the fate of Sir Brian le Jay, may well have decided that pursuit of Wallace was not a priority. It is not impossible that, naturally elated with his hard-won achievement, Edward expected Wallace to seek terms. Used to a different set of rules from that of Wallace, Edward had misjudged his man.

  Events were to show that Wallace, the popular hero, survived the battle even if his position as Guardian was called into question. As was the case to the end of his life, he was able to attract followers; Falkirk was not enough to destroy the devotion he had inspired. Once, like other survivors, he had disappeared into ‘the woods and castles’27 north of Falkirk, he succeeded in moving quickly enough and with sufficient support to constitute a threat to the English as they advanced, tentatively and, it may be, reluctantly. The burning of Stirling and Perth to deny succour to the English has been attributed to him.28 No one argues that Edward had won Scotland with his victory at Falkirk, but Professor Barrow has stated that the resistance to Edward was immediately taken over by the nobles.29 But Wallace was still capable of playing a significant role after Falkirk. He continued to enjoy the sympathy of the people on whom he would have drawn for reinforcements, and was as committed as ever to the cause which dominated his life. It may be suspected also that, as he had done before,30 he dragooned the unwilling to join with him. By his presence he was menacing, and not only to the English.

  Wallace was powerful enough to refuse to give up the office of Guardian. If this be doubted, one question must be faced: who was to replace him? There were obvious candidates and, as time would prove, no shortage of them. Let it be remembered, however, that from the little we know, Wallace was not replaced at once. The defeat at Falkirk surely rendered that impossible. If Wallace had left the field for his own good reasons, others of note had either fled or beaten a tactical retreat. Survival was more urgent than discussion. Although we do not know when Wallace resigned, it would have required a formal meeting of the Scottish leadership for the decision to be taken. No such meeting would be possible without preparation; our sources indicate that the Scots leaders must have scattered after the battle.31 Once they were reunited, hard bargaining would have been a feature of the meeting no less than recriminations, and Wallace would be in a position, if he so elected, to influence that bargaining – and in no little measure. He would not have come alone, any more than would Bruce or Comyn, and his supporters would have watched over the negotiations, a reminder of what he represented. Nor would he have risked a further betrayal, the chance that he would fall a prey to his enemies in the Scottish camp. A defeated leader is a likely prey for those who have been less than enthusiastic in his support. There was no lack of Scots passively opposed to him before Falkirk. His failure there and his decision to vacate the office of Guardian would surely have encouraged their hostility. The Scottish magnates continued volatile, even a year after Falkirk,32 and we cannot discount the possibility of recrimination and accusations of treachery as a catalyst for an outburst of violence when the Scots came together after the battle. For that reason, we can assume that Wallace would have looked to his own protection and that he had with him a following considerable enough to deter any attempt on him. He cannot have been other than a potent figure at the time of his resignation.

  That resignation, and his replacement in the Guardianship, has never been placed more accurately than within the period July to December 1298. Our deplorable lack of certainty on this subject allows it to be argued that negotiations over both were protracted. Wallace’s resignation would therefore not have been immediate, and his role in this period would be a more important one than is usually conceded to him. He would want to ensure his own position but, more crucial to him, to ensure if possible a satisfactory outcome to the negotiations. If that is so, it is significant that those who accepted, even pressed for, his resignation, were unable even at a time of the gravest danger for Scotland to agree on one man to take his place.

  Instead, two were appointed, a clear acknowledgement of the problem caused by Wallace’s departure from the Guardianship. Robert Bruce and John Comyn the younger of Badenoch together filled the office held formerly by Wallace himself. It is of course indisputable that the office was never considered to be the province of any one man, nor had it been so in practice.33 But Wallace had laid a quite unique claim to it, and after his departure no other individual emerged with the necessary authority, either personal or inherited, to stand in his place. The alliance between Bruce and Comyn has been hailed as evidence of Bruce’s patriotism34 in that he sub-ordinated his claim to the throne of Scotland, and as proof that the Scots were determined on the survival of the principle of Guardianship.35 A more detached view of the relationship might be that the Scots lords were again unwilling to put aside their self-interest in the cause of their country. Bruce would not entrust the office to Comyn who, for him, represented the Balliol faction, although Balliol was, legally, still king. Comyn, for his part, was equally suspicious; he was not prepared to concede that Bruce might be the better choice to lead the Scots in the struggle against Edward.

  It does not require hindsight to believe that the alliance between Bruce and Comyn was an unlikely one and doomed not to last. In an incident to which we shall return, the two men were at blows in the course of a meeting at Peebles in August 1299. It was a sordid affair unrelated to the safety of Scotland but underlines the tension and mistrust between the Guardians. Bruce resigned possibly as early as November 1299 and certainly not later than May of the following year, when his place was taken by Ingram de Umfraville. The joint Guardianship of Bruce and Comyn, that is, lasted at most no more than eighteen months, and from its inception was ill-founded. Wallace could not have been unaware of this. He knew both men well, had striven during his tenure of the Guardianship to reconcile them, and had suffered from their selfishness. He was astute, as he must have been to hold together the disparate elements in Scotland in the months after he assumed the Guardianship. He was a man of great presence, with a partisan and hardened following, in numbers perhaps the equal of those following either Bruce of Comyn. Given all this, is it not possible that he could – by recourse to a simple expedient – have remained either as sole Guardian or as one of a number of Guardians, and therefore able to influence if not dictate policy and events?

  Wallace need have done no more than enter into a pact with Bruce or, perhaps more plausible because of their common allegiance to Balliol, with Comyn. To each he would have brought his personal army, his name, his popularity, and that unique determination which led him on. If he had chosen to remain at the forefront of the struggle at this time, are we seriously to believe that he would have been rebuffed? He could not be ignored if he insisted on a leading role; he had with him veterans wh
o were out of sympathy with the Scots lords after Falkirk and capable, unless restrained by him, of turning on those same lords. He was, in all, far from the negligible figure that is the alternative if we concede that Falkirk was as destructive of his reputation as is generally held to be the case. To the argument that neither Bruce nor Comyn would have tolerated Wallace in authority because of Falkirk one need only cite, again, the self-interest of both. Each was, and would continue to be until the murder of Comyn almost eight years later, suspicious and jealous of the other, to the extent that the adherence of Wallace must have been welcomed. An alliance with either would have offered Wallace a respectability which would have protected him if circumstances forced an accommodation with Edward. But Wallace withdrew. There is no evidence that he sought to hold on to power. He resigned and thus began that time of sacrifice which condemned him to Edward’s justice.

  It follows from this that Wallace had rejected the other alternative open to him, that is, of surrender to Edward. To suggest that he had ever considered the possibility is thought heresy, but no matter how unpalatable, it merits investigation. The argument that Edward would not have taken his enemy into his peace is not insuperable. At Wallace’s trial in 1305 a reference to an offer of mercy by the king to Wallace was read into the indictment.36 The approach came after Falkirk, and Edward was claiming at the trial that the prisoner had refused the offer of mercy seven years before. However hollow the proceedings were in 1305, Edward’s charge may have had a foundation in fact. It is, of course, true that Edward was intent on blackening Wallace’s name before judgement and on showing himself as one disposed to be reasonable to such as admitted the error of their ways and came into his peace. But in 1298 he had not yet become the violent and vicious destroyer of those who opposed him; he had not put to death Scots who defied him nor had he invoked the law of treason against them. Edward, after Falkirk, may have believed, as perhaps Bruce and Comyn did, that Wallace was a spent force; such damage as he did immediately after the battle may have been seen as a last desperate flourish. Had Edward been able to convince Wallace of the wisdom of surrender, it would have produced a greater psychological effect upon the people of Scotland than even the king himself could achieve. If mercy could be extended to Wallace, the great popular hero, and if Wallace accepted it, Edward’s hold on Scotland must have been tightened. With Wallace would have come, surely, his supporters; the rift between the magnates and the lowlier members of the Scottish resistance would have widened. Wallace did not come into the English king’s peace, but we do not know what form the rejection of the offer took or when he decided to continue the fight in his new role. What his frame of mind was in 1298 it is impossible to say, but he cannot entirely have escaped despair. And if he realised the futility of co-operation with the magnates, he may well have been tempted to look elsewhere in the hope of salvation for Scotland.