A Child's History of England

by Dickens, Charles

  stir among the Scottish bonnets. Now, they all fluttered.

  'Forward, one party, to the foot of the Bridge!' cried Wallace,

  'and let no more English cross! The rest, down with me on the five

  thousand who have come over, and cut them all to pieces!' It was

  done, in the sight of the whole remainder of the English army, who

  could give no help. Cressingham himself was killed, and the Scotch

  made whips for their horses of his skin.

  King Edward was abroad at this time, and during the successes on

  the Scottish side which followed, and which enabled bold Wallace to

  win the whole country back again, and even to ravage the English

  borders. But, after a few winter months, the King returned, and

  took the field with more than his usual energy. One night, when a

  kick from his horse as they both lay on the ground together broke

  two of his ribs, and a cry arose that he was killed, he leaped into

  his saddle, regardless of the pain he suffered, and rode through

  the camp. Day then appearing, he gave the word (still, of course,

  in that bruised and aching state) Forward! and led his army on to

  near Falkirk, where the Scottish forces were seen drawn up on some

  stony ground, behind a morass. Here, he defeated Wallace, and

  killed fifteen thousand of his men. With the shattered remainder,

  Wallace drew back to Stirling; but, being pursued, set fire to the

  town that it might give no help to the English, and escaped. The

  inhabitants of Perth afterwards set fire to their houses for the

  same reason, and the King, unable to find provisions, was forced to

  withdraw his army.

  Another ROBERT BRUCE, the grandson of him who had disputed the

  Scottish crown with Baliol, was now in arms against the King (that

  elder Bruce being dead), and also JOHN COMYN, Baliol's nephew.

  These two young men might agree in opposing Edward, but could agree

  in nothing else, as they were rivals for the throne of Scotland.

  Probably it was because they knew this, and knew what troubles must

  arise even if they could hope to get the better of the great

  English King, that the principal Scottish people applied to the

  Pope for his interference. The Pope, on the principle of losing

  nothing for want of trying to get it, very coolly claimed that

  Scotland belonged to him; but this was a little too much, and the

  Parliament in a friendly manner told him so.

  In the spring time of the year one thousand three hundred and

  three, the King sent SIR JOHN SEGRAVE, whom he made Governor of

  Scotland, with twenty thousand men, to reduce the rebels. Sir John

  was not as careful as he should have been, but encamped at Rosslyn,

  near Edinburgh, with his army divided into three parts. The

  Scottish forces saw their advantage; fell on each part separately;

  defeated each; and killed all the prisoners. Then, came the King

  himself once more, as soon as a great army could be raised; he

  passed through the whole north of Scotland, laying waste whatsoever

  came in his way; and he took up his winter quarters at Dunfermline.

  The Scottish cause now looked so hopeless, that Comyn and the other

  nobles made submission and received their pardons. Wallace alone

  stood out. He was invited to surrender, though on no distinct

  pledge that his life should be spared; but he still defied the

  ireful King, and lived among the steep crags of the Highland glens,

  where the eagles made their nests, and where the mountain torrents

  roared, and the white snow was deep, and the bitter winds blew

  round his unsheltered head, as he lay through many a pitch-dark

  night wrapped up in his plaid. Nothing could break his spirit;

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  nothing could lower his courage; nothing could induce him to forget

  or to forgive his country's wrongs. Even when the Castle of

  Stirling, which had long held out, was besieged by the King with

  every kind of military engine then in use; even when the lead upon

  cathedral roofs was taken down to help to make them; even when the

  King, though an old man, commanded in the siege as if he were a

  youth, being so resolved to conquer; even when the brave garrison

  (then found with amazement to be not two hundred people, including

  several ladies) were starved and beaten out and were made to submit

  on their knees, and with every form of disgrace that could

  aggravate their sufferings; even then, when there was not a ray of

  hope in Scotland, William Wallace was as proud and firm as if he

  had beheld the powerful and relentless Edward lying dead at his

  feet.

  Who betrayed William Wallace in the end, is not quite certain.

  That he was betrayed - probably by an attendant - is too true. He

  was taken to the Castle of Dumbarton, under SIR JOHN MENTEITH, and

  thence to London, where the great fame of his bravery and

  resolution attracted immense concourses of people to behold him.

  He was tried in Westminster Hall, with a crown of laurel on his

  head - it is supposed because he was reported to have said that he

  ought to wear, or that he would wear, a crown there and was found

  guilty as a robber, a murderer, and a traitor. What they called a

  robber (he said to those who tried him) he was, because he had

  taken spoil from the King's men. What they called a murderer, he

  was, because he had slain an insolent Englishman. What they called

  a traitor, he was not, for he had never sworn allegiance to the

  King, and had ever scorned to do it. He was dragged at the tails

  of horses to West Smithfield, and there hanged on a high gallows,

  torn open before he was dead, beheaded, and quartered. His head

  was set upon a pole on London Bridge, his right arm was sent to

  Newcastle, his left arm to Berwick, his legs to Perth and Aberdeen.

  But, if King Edward had had his body cut into inches, and had sent

  every separate inch into a separate town, he could not have

  dispersed it half so far and wide as his fame. Wallace will be

  remembered in songs and stories, while there are songs and stories

  in the English tongue, and Scotland will hold him dear while her

  lakes and mountains last.

  Released from this dreaded enemy, the King made a fairer plan of

  Government for Scotland, divided the offices of honour among

  Scottish gentlemen and English gentlemen, forgave past offences,

  and thought, in his old age, that his work was done.

  But he deceived himself. Comyn and Bruce conspired, and made an

  appointment to meet at Dumfries, in the church of the Minorites.

  There is a story that Comyn was false to Bruce, and had informed

  against him to the King; that Bruce was warned of his danger and

  the necessity of flight, by receiving, one night as he sat at

  supper, from his friend the Earl of Gloucester, twelve pennies and

  a pair of spurs; that as he was riding angrily to keep his

  appointment (through a snow-storm, with his horse's shoes reversed

  that he might not be tracked), he met an evil-looking serving man,

  a messenger of Comyn, whom he killed, and concealed in whose dress

  he found lette
rs that proved Comyn's treachery. However this may

  be, they were likely enough to quarrel in any case, being hotheaded

  rivals; and, whatever they quarrelled about, they certainly

  did quarrel in the church where they met, and Bruce drew his dagger

  and stabbed Comyn, who fell upon the pavement. When Bruce came

  out, pale and disturbed, the friends who were waiting for him asked

  what was the matter? 'I think I have killed Comyn,' said he. 'You

  only think so?' returned one of them; 'I will make sure!' and going

  into the church, and finding him alive, stabbed him again and

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  again. Knowing that the King would never forgive this new deed of

  violence, the party then declared Bruce King of Scotland: got him

  crowned at Scone - without the chair; and set up the rebellious

  standard once again.

  When the King heard of it he kindled with fiercer anger than he had

  ever shown yet. He caused the Prince of Wales and two hundred and

  seventy of the young nobility to be knighted - the trees in the

  Temple Gardens were cut down to make room for their tents, and they

  watched their armour all night, according to the old usage: some

  in the Temple Church: some in Westminster Abbey - and at the

  public Feast which then took place, he swore, by Heaven, and by two

  swans covered with gold network which his minstrels placed upon the

  table, that he would avenge the death of Comyn, and would punish

  the false Bruce. And before all the company, he charged the Prince

  his son, in case that he should die before accomplishing his vow,

  not to bury him until it was fulfilled. Next morning the Prince

  and the rest of the young Knights rode away to the Border-country

  to join the English army; and the King, now weak and sick, followed

  in a horse-litter.

  Bruce, after losing a battle and undergoing many dangers and much

  misery, fled to Ireland, where he lay concealed through the winter.

  That winter, Edward passed in hunting down and executing Bruce's

  relations and adherents, sparing neither youth nor age, and showing

  no touch of pity or sign of mercy. In the following spring, Bruce

  reappeared and gained some victories. In these frays, both sides

  were grievously cruel. For instance - Bruce's two brothers, being

  taken captives desperately wounded, were ordered by the King to

  instant execution. Bruce's friend Sir John Douglas, taking his own

  Castle of Douglas out of the hands of an English Lord, roasted the

  dead bodies of the slaughtered garrison in a great fire made of

  every movable within it; which dreadful cookery his men called the

  Douglas Larder. Bruce, still successful, however, drove the Earl

  of Pembroke and the Earl of Gloucester into the Castle of Ayr and

  laid siege to it.

  The King, who had been laid up all the winter, but had directed the

  army from his sick-bed, now advanced to Carlisle, and there,

  causing the litter in which he had travelled to be placed in the

  Cathedral as an offering to Heaven, mounted his horse once more,

  and for the last time. He was now sixty-nine years old, and had

  reigned thirty-five years. He was so ill, that in four days he

  could go no more than six miles; still, even at that pace, he went

  on and resolutely kept his face towards the Border. At length, he

  lay down at the village of Burgh-upon-Sands; and there, telling

  those around him to impress upon the Prince that he was to remember

  his father's vow, and was never to rest until he had thoroughly

  subdued Scotland, he yielded up his last breath.

  CHAPTER XVII - ENGLAND UNDER EDWARD THE SECOND

  KING Edward the Second, the first Prince of Wales, was twenty-three

  years old when his father died. There was a certain favourite of

  his, a young man from Gascony, named PIERS GAVESTON, of whom his

  father had so much disapproved that he had ordered him out of

  England, and had made his son swear by the side of his sick-bed,

  never to bring him back. But, the Prince no sooner found himself

  King, than he broke his oath, as so many other Princes and Kings

  did (they were far too ready to take oaths), and sent for his dear

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  friend immediately.

  Now, this same Gaveston was handsome enough, but was a reckless,

  insolent, audacious fellow. He was detested by the proud English

  Lords: not only because he had such power over the King, and made

  the Court such a dissipated place, but, also, because he could ride

  better than they at tournaments, and was used, in his impudence, to

  cut very bad jokes on them; calling one, the old hog; another, the

  stage-player; another, the Jew; another, the black dog of Ardenne.

  This was as poor wit as need be, but it made those Lords very

  wroth; and the surly Earl of Warwick, who was the black dog, swore

  that the time should come when Piers Gaveston should feel the black

  dog's teeth.

  It was not come yet, however, nor did it seem to be coming. The

  King made him Earl of Cornwall, and gave him vast riches; and, when

  the King went over to France to marry the French Princess,

  ISABELLA, daughter of PHILIP LE BEL: who was said to be the most

  beautiful woman in the world: he made Gaveston, Regent of the

  Kingdom. His splendid marriage-ceremony in the Church of Our Lady

  at Boulogne, where there were four Kings and three Queens present

  (quite a pack of Court Cards, for I dare say the Knaves were not

  wanting), being over, he seemed to care little or nothing for his

  beautiful wife; but was wild with impatience to meet Gaveston

  again.

  When he landed at home, he paid no attention to anybody else, but

  ran into the favourite's arms before a great concourse of people,

  and hugged him, and kissed him, and called him his brother. At the

  coronation which soon followed, Gaveston was the richest and

  brightest of all the glittering company there, and had the honour

  of carrying the crown. This made the proud Lords fiercer than

  ever; the people, too, despised the favourite, and would never call

  him Earl of Cornwall, however much he complained to the King and

  asked him to punish them for not doing so, but persisted in styling

  him plain Piers Gaveston.

  The Barons were so unceremonious with the King in giving him to

  understand that they would not bear this favourite, that the King

  was obliged to send him out of the country. The favourite himself

  was made to take an oath (more oaths!) that he would never come

  back, and the Barons supposed him to be banished in disgrace, until

  they heard that he was appointed Governor of Ireland. Even this

  was not enough for the besotted King, who brought him home again in

  a year's time, and not only disgusted the Court and the people by

  his doting folly, but offended his beautiful wife too, who never

  liked him afterwards.

  He had now the old Royal want - of money - and the Barons had the

  new power of positively refusing to let him raise any. He summoned

  a Parliament at York; the
Barons refused to make one, while the

  favourite was near him. He summoned another Parliament at

  Westminster, and sent Gaveston away. Then, the Barons came,

  completely armed, and appointed a committee of themselves to

  correct abuses in the state and in the King's household. He got

  some money on these conditions, and directly set off with Gaveston

  to the Border-country, where they spent it in idling away the time,

  and feasting, while Bruce made ready to drive the English out of

  Scotland. For, though the old King had even made this poor weak

  son of his swear (as some say) that he would not bury his bones,

  but would have them boiled clean in a caldron, and carried before

  the English army until Scotland was entirely subdued, the second

  Edward was so unlike the first that Bruce gained strength and power

  every day.

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  The committee of Nobles, after some months of deliberation,

  ordained that the King should henceforth call a Parliament

  together, once every year, and even twice if necessary, instead of

  summoning it only when he chose. Further, that Gaveston should

  once more be banished, and, this time, on pain of death if he ever

  came back. The King's tears were of no avail; he was obliged to

  send his favourite to Flanders. As soon as he had done so,

  however, he dissolved the Parliament, with the low cunning of a

  mere fool, and set off to the North of England, thinking to get an

  army about him to oppose the Nobles. And once again he brought

  Gaveston home, and heaped upon him all the riches and titles of

  which the Barons had deprived him.

  The Lords saw, now, that there was nothing for it but to put the

  favourite to death. They could have done so, legally, according to

  the terms of his banishment; but they did so, I am sorry to say, in

  a shabby manner. Led by the Earl of Lancaster, the King's cousin,

  they first of all attacked the King and Gaveston at Newcastle.

  They had time to escape by sea, and the mean King, having his

  precious Gaveston with him, was quite content to leave his lovely

  wife behind. When they were comparatively safe, they separated;

  the King went to York to collect a force of soldiers; and the

  favourite shut himself up, in the meantime, in Scarborough Castle

  overlooking the sea. This was what the Barons wanted. They knew