In Byways of Scottish History

by Louis A. Barbé

THE OLD SCOTTISH ARMY

One of the earliest, if indeed it be not actually the most ancient of extant enactments for the organization of the national forces of Scotland, is a Latin document drawn up in the form and style of a proclamation and purporting to be based on "the Book of Wyntoun laws". It is undated, but this reference to Edward I's Statute of Winchester shows it to have been subsequent to the year 1285. This Scottish adaptation of the English system required every man between sixteen and sixty years of age to be provided with defensive and offensive armour in proportion to the quantity of lands and chattels which he possessed. The owner of chattels to the value of 40 marks was to have a horse; an habergeon, or sleeveless coat of mail; a chaplet, that is to say, an iron skull-cap without vizor; a sword, and "a knife called dagger". The equipment of such as held land worth 40s. or upwards, but less than 100s., was to consist of a bow and arrows, a dagger, and a knife; and, in their case, the absence of defensive armour suggests that they were intended as light infantry. The lesser people, with an income under 40s. were expected to have a hand-axe, bow and arrows. All others, whose means allowed of it, were to be armed with a bow and arrows if they dwelt outside forest lands, or a bow and "pyles" if within them. These pyles being square-headed quarrels or bolts, it may be supposed that the use of them was prescribed because they were looked upon as less suitable for the purposes of poaching. The same ordinance also enjoined that there should be two wapenshaws or inspections every year.[278]

Earlier, though more incidental indication of a system of military service, is to be found, however, in an enactment which is ascribed to William the Lion, who began his reign in 1165, and which set forth that if a man borrowed a horse to join the King's army and the horse were challenged as stolen, he was to be allowed respite until his return to the county within which he alleged that the horse had been lent him. And, rather more than half a century later, in 1220, under Alexander II, further evidence of military obligation is supplied by a statute fixing the fines to be imposed on men of various ranks for remaining away from the King's host in Inverness. A thane was to forfeit six cows and a heifer; an "ochtyern", which is interpreted as meaning "one equal in rank to a thane's son", was liable to be mulcted in the amount of fifteen sheep and 6s., and a yeoman in that of a cow and a sheep.

In 1318, under Robert Bruce, it was ordained that, in time of war, every layman in the realm who had £10 in goods, should have for his body, in the defence of the country, a sufficient acton—a kind of padded and quilted coat, which protected not only the breast but the lower part of the body also; a bascinet or light unvizored helmet; and gloves of plate, with a spear and a sword. The acton and bascinet might, however, be replaced by an habergeon and "a hat of iron". Whoever failed to comply with the requirements of the statute was to forfeit all his goods, of which one-half was to go to his immediate superior, the laird on whose lands he dwelt, and the other half to the King. It was also decreed that every man having in goods the value of a cow should have a stout spear or a serviceable bow, with a sheaf of twenty-four arrows. In the same year another Act ordained that men on their way to join the army should pay for what they took, but enjoined, at the same time, that they should be supplied at moderate rates.

When James I returned from his captivity in England, he lost no time in putting into practice the lesson which he had learnt there as to the efficiency of the bow. Amongst the enactments of his first Parliament there was one which ordained that every male person should, from his twelfth year, busk himself to be an archer; that, near every parish church, "bow marks should be made, at which, on holidays, men might come and shoot, at least thrice about", and have usage of archery; and that whoever did not use the said archery, the laird of the land or the sheriff should raise of him a wedder.[279] This was in 1424. In the same year it was also enacted that, in every sheriffdom, four musters should be held every year for the inspection of arms.[280]

Following closely upon this, there were issued supplementary instructions of a somewhat more comprehensive nature than hitherto. Gentlemen having £10 worth of land, or more, were to provide themselves with a bascinet with whole legharness, that is to say, complete coverings which came up to the hips, and with spear, sword, and dagger. Gentlemen owning less land, or no land at all, were to be accoutred "at their goodly power", subject to the oversight and discretion of the sheriff. Honest yeomen, "having sufficient power", and willing to serve as men-at-arms, were to be "harnessed sufficiently" to the satisfaction of the same official; whilst all other yeomen in the realm, within the statutory limits of age, that is, between sixteen and sixty, were to be "sufficiently bowit and schaffit", or, in other words, adequately equipped with a good bow and a suitable supply of arrows, and were also to have a sword, buckler, and knife. All burgesses and indwellers in the burghs of the realm were to be similarly armed. Failure to attend the four wapenshaws involved fines ranging from 40s. to £10, according to the number of absences, in the case of a gentleman; and from 10s. to 40s. in that of a bowman.[281]

Four years later, in 1429, "by the advice of the whole Parliament", further modifications were made, both in the outfit and in the valuation according to which it was regulated. Every man who disposed of a yearly rent of £20, or who possessed £100 in movable goods, was required to be well horsed and "haill enarmyt", which meant completely armed from head to foot, as a gentleman ought to be. The man of lower standing, with no more than £10 of rent, or £50 of movable goods, was to provide himself with a gorget—a piece of armour which protected the throat and upper part of the chest; with rearbraces and vambraces, as the coverings for the upper arm and the forearm were respectively called; with gloves of plate, breastplate, leg-splints, and knee-pieces, "at the least, or better, if he liked". The yeomen were divided into three classes, of which the highest, consisting of those whose property amounted to £20 in goods, was to be equipped with a good "doublet of fence", an iron hat, bow and sheaf of arrows, sword, buckler, and knife. Yeomen possessing no more than £10 in goods formed the second class. They were required to have a bow and arrows, sword, buckler, and knife; but though no defensive armour was mentioned in their case, it may be assumed that they were not expected to be less protected than the yeoman of the third class, who was no archer and could not deal with a bow, but for whom a good "suir" hat and a "doublet of fence" were prescribed, in addition to a sword, a buckler, and a good axe, or else a staff with a sharp iron point. Every citizen having £50 in goods was placed on the same level as a gentleman, and was required to be armed in the same manner as one. The burgess of lower degree, whose property was not valued at more than £20, was to provide a "suir" hat and doublet, an habergeon, sword, and buckler; a bow with the necessary sheaf of arrows; and a knife. Barons and bailies were required to see that these enactments were duly complied with in their respective districts, under certain pains and penalties which the sheriff was empowered to impose.

During the fifteenth and the sixteenth century there were several other Acts of Parliament and of the Privy Council dealing with wapenshaws. It may be gathered from the preambles to some of them that these periodical inspections were occasionally discontinued for years together; whilst the repeated injunctions to the various local authorities and officials to use their utmost diligence in enforcing the law afford proof that the burden of military service was irksome to those on whom it fell. But the special interest of those enactments lies in the information which they supply both as to the variations in the assessment on which that service was based and as to the changes which took place in the outfit of the several classes of fighting men.

In 1456 it was made obligatory on every man whose goods amounted to 20 marks to be provided at least with a jack having sleeves to the hands, or, failing that, with a pair of "splints" encasing the arms; with a sallet—a light helmet, of which the characteristic feature was a projection behind—or with a spiked hat; and with a sword, buckler, and bow together with a sheaf of arrows. Such as could not shoot were to be armed with an axe, and with a targe either of leather or of deal, with two bands on the back.[282] In the following year steps were taken to organize a system of military training. As a preliminary measure, golf and football were to be "utterly cried down". "Bow marks" were to be set up. The smaller parishes were not required to have more than a pair of these butts; but, in the larger, according to their size, there were to be three, four, and even five. All the male inhabitants, from twelve to fifty years of age, were expected to practise every Sunday, and to shoot at least six shots. Defaulters were liable to a fine of not less than 2d.; and the money thus raised was to be given to those who were more regular in their attendance "to drink". This archery practice was to be kept up from Easter to Allhallowmas. As a necessary supplement to these ordinances, every county town was to have a bowyer and a fletcher, otherwise a maker of bows and a maker of arrows, and was to furnish them "with stuff and graith that they might serve the country with".[283] But as Scotland was not self-sufficing in the matter of either weapons or accoutrements, there was a further enactment which required all merchants of the realm passing over the sea for merchandise to bring home at each voyage as they might "goodly thole" harness and armours, spear-shafts and bow staves "after the quantity of their merchandise".

No further Act of Parliament concerning the equipment of the Scots fighting men was passed till 1471. In that year it was found necessary to fix the length of the spear, or rather, to forbid either the importation or the making of any that fell short of the six ells that had always constituted the regulation size. For those yeomen who could not handle the bow, the substitution of a good axe and a targe of leather was authorized, as it had been in 1456. With regard to the latter, a suggestive standard of toughness and strength was indicated. It was to be sufficiently stout "to resist the shot of England". And a characteristic remark concerning it was, that it would entail "no cost but the value of a hide".[284]

There was practically no change in arms and accoutrement during the fifteenth century; and an Act passed in 1491 is almost verbally identical with that of 1425. More than forty years were yet to elapse before James V, realizing the advantage which other nations had secured for themselves by the adoption of "small artillery", and the consequent necessity of providing himself with similar "instruments of war and battle", caused an Act to be passed with a view to bringing Scotland's armament abreast of that "commonly used in all countries both by sea and land". This was in 1535.[285]

Hand-guns, or hand-cannon as they were called, had been introduced into England in the year 1471, when Edward IV, landing at Ravenspur, in Yorkshire, brought with him, amongst other forces, three hundred Flemings armed with those new weapons. They are also said to have been used at the siege of Berwick in 1521. These portable firearms soon got to be known under the names of culverins and hagbuts. The culverin was originally a small tube of half or three-quarters of an inch internal diameter, fixed to a straight piece of wood or welded to an iron handle. The smallest were about four feet long and weighed some fifteen pounds, and the management of them was as complicated as the weapons themselves were unwieldy. The culveriner had, in addition to his cumbrous piece, "his coarse powder, for loading, in a flask; his fine powder, for priming, in a touch-box; his bullets in a leathern bag, with strings to draw to get at them; whilst in his hand were his musket rest and his burning match". The hagbut was a smaller and improved culverin. At their first introduction into Scotland these firearms appear to have been used mainly for purposes of sport; but it is suggestive of a lack of familiarity with them to find James V paying 40s. to "Walter Cunynghame's wife in Stirling" for a cow which he had slain with a culverin.

By the Act of 1535, which was repeated in 1540, it was ordained that every landed man should have a hagbut of cast-iron, called "hagbut of crochert", together with the mould, bullets, and "pelloks" of lead or iron, and with the powder convenient thereto for every £100 of land that he owned. He that had but 100 marks of land was to supply two culverins; whilst only one was required of the smaller landowner whose valuation did not exceed £40. These pieces were to be furnished with all the necessary accessories. Those who supplied the weapons were also called upon to provide men, not only to fire them, but also to teach others to do so. Neither the clergy nor even women were exempted from the general obligation; and the fine to be imposed on all who neglected to comply with the requirements of the Act was fixed at twice the price that would buy "each piece of the said artillery". As to the burghs, a commission was to be appointed for the purpose of deciding in what proportion each of them was to contribute. And, as a corollary to this enactment, it was further ordained that, because neither artillery nor harness could be furnished nor made ready unless the same were imported into the country, every merchant sailing forth of the realm or exporting goods amounting to a last, that is to twelve tons, should bring home two hagbuts or more, in proportion to the quantity of merchandise shipped, with powder and moulds, or else as much metal as would make the hagbuts.

From another Act passed in the same year it appears to have been anticipated that, in spite of these ordinances, the number of men that could be armed with hand-guns would be but slight as compared with those who would still have to retain the older weapons, for no alteration was prescribed in the matter of defensive armour. This statute is noteworthy, however, by reason of a paragraph bearing the heading, "That the army of Scotland be unhorsed, except great Barons".[286] It was introduced by a reference to the great hurt, scaith, and damage done by the coming, in multitude, of horsemen, through the destruction of cornfields and meadows and the harrying of poor folk, and also to the great impediment made by them in the host, where all men had to fight on foot. It then went on to ordain that no manner of men should have horses with them, but should be ready to march on foot from the first meeting-place it might please the King to assign. For the journey to that meeting-place, however, the use of palfreys was authorized. And if any man came on horseback, or brought horses with him, he was to send them home again immediately, but only with a riding-boy, and not with anyone able to bear arms. The matter was considered to be of such importance that no less a penalty than death was to be imposed for disobedience of the order. A proviso was, however, added, excepting earls, lords, barons, and great landed men from the operation of the Act.

There is a further clause to which also special interest attaches from the fact that it supplies the first evidence to be met with in Parliamentary records of an attempt at organizing a system of military drill. It ordained that a board consisting of the local authorities, the most able persons in the shire, and the commissioners appointed by the King, should, in every parish, choose a suitable man for each company levied within it, and should assign to him the duties of Captain. It was to be his special office to teach the men to march together and to bear their weapons, so that they might be "the more expert to put themselves in order hastily and keep the same in time of need". The companies were to muster for drill before noon on at least two of the most suitable holidays during each of the three summer months, and as often as could be conveniently arranged for during the other nine.

Such efforts were well meant; but perseverance, the first of the conditions necessary to ensure their success, appears to have been wanting. In 1546, a special wapenshaw was ordered to be held on Low Sunday, and the reason given for this step was, that the lieges were out of use of armour and weapons because such inspections had been neglected.[287] The accoutrements mentioned as requiring to be produced on this occasion were practically the same as formerly. In so far as evidence can be found in Acts of either Parliament or Privy Council, this was one of the last occasions on which specific mention was made of the armour and weapons to be borne by the respective classes of fighting men. In the closing years of the sixteenth century, however, the periodical complaint of laxity in the performance of military duties in time of peace again appears in an Act which, besides appointing a general wapenshaw to be held on the 1st of May, 1599, specifies the arms with which persons of various ranks were to be furnished, and thus affords material for an estimate of the change which had taken place in the equipment of the Scots forces, as well as on the obligations which military service now entailed. Earls, lords, barons, and gentlemen were to be armed with corslet of proof, headpiece, vambraces, teslets or coverings for the thighs, and a Spanish pike. In addition to this, every earl was to have twenty stands of similar armour for his household; every lord, ten; and every baron, one, for every 15 chalders of corn. Every baron and gentleman whose living did not depend upon "victual"[288] was to provide a complete stand for every 1000 marks of his yearly rent; every gentleman worth 300 marks in yearly rent was to be furnished with a light corslet and pike, or else with a musket, together with rest and bandoleer, and a headpiece. The regulation was to extend to the burghs; and the local authorities were to see that every burgess worth £500 of free gear should have a light corslet, a pike and halbard, or a two-handed sword, or else a musket, with its accessories, and a headpiece. But they were also to arrange in such a way that, for every light corslet and pike within the burgh, there should be two muskets. The penalties with which defaulters were threatened afford evidence that, although the country was still far from rich, it had made considerable progress since the days when fines were levied in kind. They were graded as follows: Every earl, 2000 marks; every lord, 1000 marks; every baron, for every 15 chalders of victual that he could spend, 100 marks; and every other person of the rank and substance indicated, £40.

It was one thing to require all ranks, degrees, and qualities to provide themselves with arms on this liberal scale, but it was another to put it into the power even of the most willing, to comply with the order. As a subsequent Act frankly admitted, there was "no such quantity of armour made within the realm as anywise might furnish the lieges thereof", and there consequently arose "a great necessity of bringing of the same home, forth of other countries". It was Sir Michael Balfour of Burleigh who, "not upon any respect of gain and profit that he might reap thereby, but upon the earnest affection and great regard he had to his Majesty's service and to the benefit of the realm", suggested a way out of the difficulty. He undertook to bring home 10,000 stands of armour, of which 2000 were to be for horsemen—figures which, in default of more precise data, are of some assistance towards forming an estimate of the military strength of the country.[289]

Sir Michael Balfour's offer was accepted; and the conditions of the contract duly fixed. The outfit for horsemen was to be complete in all pieces, and was to be supplied in two qualities: lance and sword proof, and hagbut proof. The former was to cost £50, and the latter £10 more. A complete suit of armour for a footman was to be charged £18, and was to be of one quality only—lance and sword proof. The price of a hagbut, with flask or bandoleer, was set at £6, 13s. 4d.

From the long list of defaulters that might be made up from the records of the Privy Council, and in which the names of all sorts and conditions of the lieges, of earls and of yeomen alike, would figure side by side, as well as from the legal proceedings which were taken by Sir Michael Balfour, on the one hand, and, on the other, by those who, on various grounds, claimed to be exempted from the operation of the Act, it appears that there was but little military enthusiasm in the country at this time. And this is borne out by an Act of Privy Council passed in July, 1607. It set forth that, notwithstanding the Act of 1599 for general arming and wapenshawing, there had been no inspection within the kingdom for several years past, and that the "lovable custom, which of old was very precisely kept and was very necessary and expedient for the good of the kingdom", had fallen into desuetude by reason of the negligence of the sheriffs and other officials; and it required these "to charge all and sundry, by open proclamation at the market crosses of the head burghs, to give and make their musters and wapenshawing" on the 4th of the following month. A few days later, however, the order was prorogated, for no more urgent reason than the meeting of Parliament; and with that, the periodical inspection of arms appears to have been finally abandoned for the remainder of the reign of James VI, who, by this time, had become James I of England also, a circumstance which goes far to explain the general indifference on the subject.

The first and main object that was always kept in view, and towards which Scotland's military dispositions were directed, was the protection of the country against the attacks of the "old enemy", as England was repeatedly styled. In more than one of the ordinances it was expressly set forth, that all manner of men were to hold themselves in readiness "to come to the Border for the defence of the land when any wittering came of the incoming of a great English host". And if the ever-present danger assumed more definite form and an invasion was actually expected, letters were sent throughout the country, charging all the lieges to be prepared to take the field in all possible haste, well equipped and duly supplied with provisions for a fixed number of days, usually forty, as soon as they were summoned. Warning of the approach of an invading army was signalled round the country by means of bale-fires which were lighted on certain specified hills.

For the purpose of defraying the expenses entailed by a campaign, recourse was had to extraordinary taxation. In 1550, for instance, the Privy Council ordained that "for resisting of our auld ynemyis of Ingland, the defence of the West Borders, and the repairing of a fort of strength in the town of Annan, the sum of £4000 should be raised and uplifted of the prelates and clergy of the realm. If the amount were "thankfullie payit and debursit", exemption from further taxation for the next year was promised.

To meet the requirements of the transport service, certain districts were laid under requisition. Thus, for the same campaign, the sheriffs of Edinburgh principal, Edinburgh lying within the constabulary of Haddington, Selkirk, and Lauderdale, were called upon to assist and concur with the Lairds of Lethington, Whittingham, Elphinstone, Trabroun, and Wauchton, in devising measures for furnishing the oxen and pioneers required for the forthbringing of the munition and artillery to the host and army which was to assemble in Edinburgh.

It was not solely for the defence of their own country that Scotsmen were obliged to bear arms. Occasion might arise when, in conformity with the "old leagues, bands, amity and alliance" which were supposed to have been entered upon by King Achaus and the Emperor Charlemagne, and to have been renewed and confirmed by every king and prince since that time, Scotland was obliged to furnish a contingent for the support of the Most Christian King. Such was the case in 1552. In the month of November of that year, the Regent Arran and the Lords of the Secret Council ordained that every 40-mark land, whether it were royal, temporal, or spiritual, should supply "one able, sufficient footman, well furnished, clad in new hose and a new doublet of canvas at the least, with a jack of plate, steel bonnet, splint sleeves of mail or plate, with a spear of six ells long or thereby". Every burgh within the realm was to provide a company consisting of 300 men, who were, as far as possible, to be hagbutters, furnished with powder flask, morsing horn, and all other gear belonging thereto. Two further companies of footmen were likewise to be raised in the highland parts of the realm, within the bounds of Lord Huntly's lieutenancy. Horsemen to the number of 400, each having "ane dowbill horse", were to be supplied by the bishops, abbots, priors, and prelates, earls, lords, and barons of the Borders and Lowlands. Gilbert, Earl of Cassillis, was appointed Lieutenant-General of the army, and Patrick, Lord Ruthven, Colonel of the footmen. The subordinate officers numbered fifty-five. The expense of the expedition was to be borne by the King of France.[290]

It was not only when Scotland was engaged in actual warfare, either on her own account or as the ally of France, that she required to call out her fighting men. The state of the country was such that the "fencibles" of some district might, at any moment, be required to take the field. Within less than a decade—between 1569 and 1578—there were at least twelve local levies. The first and five others of them, that is to say, a full half of the whole number, were raised for purposes similar to those indicated by an Act of Privy Council, in September, 1569, "to pass forthward for pursuit and invasion of the thieves, traitors, and rebellious subjects, inhabitants of the bounds of the Middle and West Wardencies". For such an expedition as that, there were called out "all and sundry his Majesty's lieges betwixt 40 and 16 years, and other fencible persons" dwelling in 12 sheriffdoms, 2 stewartries, and 3 bailliries. And they were required to assemble, not only "weill bodin in feir of weir"—the current phrase for complete fighting equipment—but also to bring with them twenty days' victuals and provisions, and to provide themselves with tents to lie in the fields.

As it was impossible for every man to carry with him twenty days' provisions otherwise than in the shape of money wherewith to buy them, a commissariat of some kind became a matter of necessity. To provide it, the inhabitants of some town might be required, as was the case with those of Glasgow, in 1572, "to follow the army where it shall repair, with bread, ale, and all other kinds of vivers for men and horse, which shall be bought from them with ready money and thankful payment". If circumstances made it more convenient, a number of burghs, towns, and other places where "hostelry was used" were informed beforehand, by public proclamation, that they would have to "prepare and have in readiness, baked bread, brewed ale, wine, and all other manner of horse meat and men's meat, and address them to transport and carry the same, by land or sea, to the camp, where it shall happen to be, there to be sold upon sufficient and good prices". If, as might be the case in the "countries most ewest of the Borders", lochs or rivers should have to be crossed or otherwise utilized for the purpose of the expedition, commandment and direction was given to all and sundry owners, masters, and skippers of ships, barks, "birlingis", boats, and other vessels meet for ferrying, to have their craft prepared and in full readiness to receive, carry, and transport men, munition, horses, victuals, or other warlike provisions to such place as should be specially appointed. For disobedience to any of the orders issued for the purpose of levying an expeditionary force or of furthering its movements and operations, the penalty to be imposed was always the same, "forfeiture of life, lands, and goods".

The last phase in the development of the old Scots army began at the death of James VI. Shortly after the accession of his successor, the Estates issued a proclamation which had for its object the revival of "that lovable custom of wapenshawings" which "the laziness of the people themselves", but "specially the sloth and careless negligence" of the magistrates whose office it was to make arrangements for those inspections, had allowed to lapse. And the reason given for this renewal of interest in the ancient institution was contained in a reference to the "universal combustion and bruittis, and rumours of foreign preparation throughout Christendom". But nothing more practical was yet to come of it than an order for the holding of a muster. Nearly twenty years were to elapse before the same Estates were moved to give "their most serious consideration" to the reorganization of the national forces. This had become necessary by reason of "the great and imminent danger of the true Protestant religion and of the peace of the kingdom from the treacherous and bloodie plots, conspiracies, attempts, and practices of papists, prelates, malignants, and their adherents". In order to put the kingdom, with all possible speed, in a posture of defence, order was given that all fencible persons within sixty and sixteen years of age, should provide themselves with forty days' provisions of all sorts, in the most substantious manner, for horse and foot, with tents and all other furnishing requisite; that horsemen should be armed with pistols, broadswords, and steel caps; that where those arms could not be had, jacks or secrets, lances, and steel bonnets, and swords should be substituted for them. Footmen were to be armed with musket and sword, or pike and sword; but, failing these, they were to be furnished with halbards, Lochaber axes, or Jedburgh staffs, and swords. Colonels of horse and foot, and Committees of War were appointed in each sheriffdom, and were enjoined to form "their whole fencible persons into regiments, foot companies, and horse troops". The men were to be "drilled and exercised in managing their arms—every regiment once in the month, every company and troop once in the week". The captains of each company were to be provided with colours and drums, and the "rootmasters", or captains of horse, with trumpets and cornets. For the purpose of enforcing this Act, another was passed in the following year, again requiring all to arm, under a penalty of £20 to be paid by those who, being in a position to buy a musket and sword, should yet be found unprovided with them. Those who, though able to purchase a pike, neglected to do so, were to be fined 10 marks. Yeomen or servants lacking the means to provide themselves with the weapons prescribed by the Act were to be equipped by their respective heritors or masters. Further, the Committees of War in each shire were called upon to acquire and store, two pounds weight of powder and four pounds weight of match and ball, for every fencible person within their district.

It was at this time, too, that the first Act dealing with desertion from the army was passed. It gave strict injunctions to the Colonels and Committees of War to apprehend all those, both of horse and foot, who ran away from their colours, and empowered them, if they thought it expedient for the good of the army, to "decimate the fugitives, and cause hang the tenth man". If there were less than ten offenders, one might still be put to death, "for terrifying others"; and if there were only one, he might be made to suffer the extreme penalty.

Milder legislation originated at this time, too. It was in 1645 that an Act "in favour of lamed soldiers" promised maintenance upon the public charges to all who were so hurt and wounded in the defence of the public cause as to be unfit for their ordinary employment; and that another appointed a Committee to devise measures for the relief of the widows and orphans of those who fell. And so anxious were the Estates that their good faith should not be doubted, that they pledged the honour of the kingdom in proof of it.

From this point, the story of the Scots army merges into that of the civil wars of the period. And to relate it further would be to recapitulate what general histories of Scotland have already made more or less familiar to all.

---

THE STORY OF THE
"LONG-TAIL" MYTH

The 17th of December, 1566, was the christening day of Mary Stuart's infant son. Amongst the festivities arranged in celebration of the event, there was a "great banquet", to which the representatives of foreign sovereigns had been invited, and at which a foremost place had been assigned to Hatton and the Englishmen who had accompanied him to Scotland. To enliven the entertainment, George Buchanan had written a masque, in which the actors were satyrs who, whilst reciting his complimentary verses, were to bring various symbolical gifts to the royal infant. The performance of this interlude had been entrusted to a Frenchman named Bastien. As the meat was being brought through the great hall, on a "trim engine", that seemed to move of itself, he made his appearance with a band of men disguised to represent the mythological monsters, and wearing long tails, in keeping with their assumed character. But he and his associates "were not content only to red roun". Whether merely acting on a mischievous impulse or deliberately carrying out a preconcerted joke, the mummers, as they passed near the English guests, put their hands to their tails and began wagging them. Hatton and his party "daftly apprehending that which they should not seem to have understood", and placing the worst construction on the silly and unseemly trick, chose to believe that it had been planned in derision of them and out of spiteful jealousy "that the Queen made more of them than of the Frenchmen". To mark their sense of the insult offered them, "they all set down upon the bare floor behind the back of the board, that they should not see themselves scorned, as they thought". In relating the incident to Sir James Melville, who records it in his Memoirs, Hatton added that, if it had not taken place in the Royal palace and in presence of the Queen herself, he would "have put a dagger to the heart of the French knave Bastien".[291]

Coarse and unmannerly as was the satyrs' by-play, it would hardly seem to have deserved to be taken so seriously and so ill by the English guests, if it were not remembered that it expressed in dumb show what had for centuries been looked upon by Englishmen as a deadly insult—a reference to the popular belief that they were distinguished from the natives of other countries by the physical monstrosity of bearing tails. That this was accepted as an actual and disgraceful fact there is abundant evidence to prove. In a medieval Latin poem[292] devoted to an enumeration of the distinctive characteristics of the various nations of Europe, the unflattering lines that fall to the share of the English, jeer at them for this deformity, whilst not omitting to denounce the treachery so commonly and so spitefully attributed to them by their enemies:

A brute beast is the Englishman, For he doth bear a tail; Beware, and treat him as a foe, E'en when he bids thee "Hail!"[293]

The anonymous satirist, however, was not original. He had not the merit, such as it might be, of having invented the slander which he flung as an insult at the people against whom he obviously entertained a bitter animosity. If, as there is reason to believe, he was a Frenchman, he merely repeated a gibe which had long been one of the commonplaces of vulgar vituperation amongst his compatriots. In the description which the thirteenth-century chronicler, Jacques de Vitry, gives of the depraved state of Paris in his day, and more particularly of the rude behaviour and coarse jests of the students who flocked to its famous university, he states that diversity of nationality aroused amongst them dissensions, hatred and violent animosities, to which they gave vent by indulging in all kinds of invectives against each other. As an example of their scurrility, he mentions that they called the English drunkards and "tailards".[294] To suppose, from the very absurdity of the imputation, that it was merely cast as a taunt, and that no actual belief lay behind it, would be to ignore all that medieval credulity was capable of. Moreover, the attitude taken up by the English themselves, implied shame at an alleged deformity fully as much as anger at a wanton insult. On this point evidence is supplied by the Dominican monk Etienne de Bourbon, a moralist who flourished about the middle of the thirteenth century. In a treatise which is devoted to the exposition of subjects suitable for the pulpit, and which abounds in quaint stories as well as in caustic commentaries on contemporary manners, he does not omit to deal with the inordinate love of dress displayed by women, and to denounce the prevailing fashion of wearing extravagantly long trains to their gowns. He rebukes them for impiously presuming to better God's work, for doing away with the honourable distinction conferred upon them as human beings, and for deliberately assuming that which brings them down to the same level as brute beasts. As a climax, he inveighs against their shamelessness in making themselves what the English blush to be called—"tailards".[295]

The events that were chiefly instrumental in bringing the English into either contact or conflict with Continental nations, during the Middle Ages, were the Crusades and the Hundred Years' War. The chronicles that deal with these are not wanting in instances from which it may be gathered how readily the obnoxious gibe came to the lips of those that wished to show their contempt for the islanders. Richard of Devizes, who wrote one of the earliest and most authentic narratives of the reign of Richard I, with whom he was contemporary, describes how, in 1190, the inhabitants of Messina manifested their hatred for the strangers whom the King had brought to their shores, and how they tried to wreak vengeance on him and his "tailards"; for, explains the chronicler, the Greeks and the Sicilians gave the name of "tailards" to all who followed the English monarch.[296]

Another very early reference to the use of the term "tailard" as an opprobrious synonym for "Englishmen" is that which occurs in a metrical romance dealing with the same period and also recording, but with poetical freedom, the life and exploits of Richard Cœur de Lion. The exact date of the poem is unknown; but the fact of its being mentioned in the Chronicles of Richard of Gloucester and in those of Robert de Brunne, supplies evidence of its having been written earlier than the year 1300. It is confessedly a translation from the French; and that may account for the appearance in it of an insulting epithet which an English writer might have hesitated to use, even as an invective in the mouth of an enemy. The Second Book of this romance is devoted to a journey to the Holy Land, which the English King is supposed to have undertaken prior to the actual crusade, but which is, however, made to include the well-known incident of his capture. The poet tells how, when returning from Palestine, with "Sir Foulke Doyly of renown, and Sir Thomas of Multoun", Richard was betrayed, captured, and brought as a prisoner before the King of Allemayne; and how, when he represented himself and his companions as pilgrims,

"The Kyng callid Rychard be name, And clepyd him 'taylard', and sayde him schame."[297]

In the Sixth Book of the same poem, it is related how the English King, on his way to Acre, put in at Cyprus and sent messengers to the Emperor, and how that monarch "began to rage", threw a knife at one of them, and followed this up by peremptorily ordering them out of his presence, with the words:—

"Out, 'taylards', of my paleys! Now go and say your 'tayled' King That I owe him no thing."[298]

When the Emperor's steward ventured to represent to his master that such treatment of honourable knights who came to him in the character of ambassadors was not justifiable, the furious but apocryphal potentate

"Carved off his nose by the grusle, And said: Traytour, thief, steward, Go, playne to English 'taylarde'."[299]

There is a further account of Richard's journey to the Holy Land in a poem by a writer of whom we know that his name was Ambrose, and that he witnessed various historical events between 1188 and 1196. It would also appear from his narrative that he actually accompanied the Crusaders on the expedition which he records. He, too, refers to the hostile attitude assumed by the inhabitants of Messina towards the English King's followers, and states that they jeered at the foreigners and called them "foul dogs", an epithet which, in the light of the parallel texts, may be looked upon as an allusion to the tails which the English were commonly believed to bear.[300]

At the beginning of the thirteenth century, there is an instance of the use of the offensive gibe which shows to what purpose it was beginning to be turned by the literate class of the day. During the minority of Henry III, Louis VIII, continuing the aggressive policy inaugurated by his father, Philip Augustus, against the incapable administration of King John, made a vigorous effort to wrest Poitou from the English. Amongst the most noteworthy achievements of this campaign, was the capture of La Rochelle, in 1224. In celebration of this event, a poetaster of the day wrote some doggerel verses, which the Chronicle of Lanercost[301] has preserved:—

'Tis our own native King, 'tis a stranger no more, Who reigns in Rochelle, by the fortune of war; And the fear of the English no longer prevails, For he's made them all harmless by breaking their tails.[302]

On the other side, however, it was not forgotten that, a few years earlier, in 1217, the same Louis, after being deserted by the discontented barons who had called him over, had suffered a crushing defeat at Lincoln. This supplied fair material for a retort in the same style:—

We have dragged our French foes, Strung like larks in long rows, And made fast to our tails with a rope;

That it really was so, Why, there's Lincoln to show, And that won't be questioned, I hope.[303]

The circumstances in which we next hear the contemptuous appellation of "tailards" applied to the English are particularly dramatic. It is in the course of the seventh crusade, that which was undertaken, in 1248, by Louis IX with an English contingent, and of which Matthew of Paris is one of the chroniclers. This time, however, it is not from the enemy that the insult comes. It is from an impetuous and overbearing ally, from the French King's brother, Count Robert of Artois. The Count was jealous of William Longsword; and on one occasion, when the leader of the English was returning from a successful but unauthorized raid, he was arbitrarily deprived by his arrogant rival of the booty which he was bringing back to the camp. Having in vain appealed to Louis, who appears to have been quite powerless against his brother's presumption, the English chief retired to Acre, with his two hundred knights; and the news of their departure drew from Artois the scornful exclamation that the army of the noble French was well purged of those "tailards".[304] Longsword was ultimately prevailed upon by the king to return; but it was not long before he had again to bear the brunt of Artois' overweening pride and insolence. A difference of opinion had arisen between the rash and headstrong Count and the more cautious Master of the Templars, as to the advisability of following up a successful attack that had just been made on the infidels. Longsword was present and attempted to intervene as a peacemaker between the disputants; but he only succeeded in drawing on himself the anger of the hot-headed Frenchman, who put a climax to his violent invectives by insultingly referring to the pusillanimity of the timid "tailards", and expressing a wish that the army might, once for all, be purged of tails and "tailards".[305] Even the dignified self-possession of Longsword was not proof against such jeers. "Count Robert," he replied, "I shall certainly proceed, undismayed by any peril of impending death. We shall, I fancy, be to-day where you will not dare to touch my horse's tail."[306] In the engagement thus recklessly forced on—it was the battle of Mansourah—both Artois and Longsword perished. But whilst the French prince lost his life when trying to swim his horse across a river, after ignominiously turning tail,[307] the English knight fell fighting valiantly with his face to the overwhelming foe.

The chronicles which record the events that marked the closing years of the thirteenth century supply a grim illustration of the ignominious treatment which their reputation as "tailards" sometimes brought upon the English. The war which broke out about this time between Edward I and Philip IV of France had for its cause, or, perhaps more correctly, for its pretext, one of the brawls which frequently arose when the sailors of the two countries met in the ports on either side of the Channel. Whether rightly or wrongly, the Frenchmen represented the English as the aggressors. They brought the matter under the notice of their own king, and represented it as an insult to him and to the whole nation that they should have been so wantonly ill-used by the "tailards". In the reprisals which followed, Philip's brother, Charles, took a conspicuous part. Having a previous and personal grievance against the English, he vented his spite even on unoffending pilgrims and students. He hanged several of the poor wretches who fell into his hands; and, adding insult to injury, strung up dogs side by side with them, to intimate, says the Chronicle of Lanercost, the resemblance which he thought to exist between the two, or, as another record even more plainly puts it, to show that he made no difference between a dog and an Englishman. Amongst the State Papers relative to the history of Edward I, there is a document which very strikingly confirms the truth of this barbarous incident. It consists of a long roll containing an account of the various outrages committed by the French on English mariners and on inhabitants of the Cinque Ports. One of the charges brought against the Norman seamen is illustrated in the margin by a contemporaneous sketch representing a row of Englishmen hanging up, with a dog between each two.[308]

It is suggestive of the annoyance which the English felt at their opprobrious nickname that, when we find their writers noticing it, it is almost invariably under provocation and in a tone of indignant protest. One noteworthy exception to this is to be met with in a curious, half-literary, half-historical production, attributed to John of Bridlington. It is a political retrospect of the reign of Edward III, and consists of a supposed ancient text, in Latin verse, with a recent commentary on it. The poem itself purports to be a prophecy, whilst the notes indicate in what manner the predictions were fulfilled. As the leading event for the year 1356, the date of the battle of Poitiers, it is foretold that,

"The four cockrels shall learn what defeat is, that day When the French meet the English in battle array, And the big-buttocked bullies are shamefully routed By the men whom as 'tailards' their ribaldry flouted".[309]

The imaginary scholiast explains the meaning of this to be, that the brood of the Gallic cock, or, in other words, the French, will be vanquished by the English, whom they jeeringly call "tailards"; that the appellation which is here applied to them and which has been somewhat euphemistically translated by "big-buttocked", is intended as a set-off against the ignominious term by which they commonly designate the English; and that the four cockrels especially referred to, are the king and his three sons. "And, indeed, these four," it is added, "were actually vanquished in that battle, the King himself being captured with one of his sons, whilst the other two fled from the field."[310]

After Poitiers, the invasion of France by Henry V is chronologically the next important event in the long medieval struggle between England and France. The initial success of the English, whilst embittering the animosity of their enemies, inspired a restraining respect; and there is an expression of those mingled feelings of aversion and of fear in the lines which a poetaster of the day addressed to the invaders, partly as a reproach, partly as an appeal:

"Perfidious race that perjured England breeds, Whose evil nature shows in all your deeds, Why must you still, with baneful purpose, seek Your spite on righteous Frenchmen thus to wreak? Christ's servants they, and constant to the faith Which twice from you has suffered wanton scathe; Your words are fair, but yet in all you do, The crooked paths of falsehood you pursue; Cut off that poisonous tail you long have worn, A byword to the nations, and their scorn! For thee, their king, be not my warning vain, And, in thy mem'ry let this truth remain: That God who willed thou shouldst a 'tailard' be Has not denied his hallowing grace to thee."[311]

But the fortune of war began to turn against the English on the death of Henry V in 1422; and the exultation caused by that event is voiced by Olivier Basselin, in one of his popular poems:—

"The King who sat upon the English throne The crown of France claimed also for his own; He strove to drive as outcasts from their land The men that dared to stem the invading tide; But, when death dashed the sceptre from his hand, The alien host was scattered far and wide, And France is now from English 'tailards' freed; May curses light on all the recreant breed!"[312]

A few years later, possibly about 1430, a popular ballade, in which an unknown writer celebrated the exploits of Jeanne d'Arc, opened with a repetition of the old insult:—

"Back, English 'tailards', back!"[313]

And Enguerrand de Monstrelet, the Burgundian chronicler of the events that marked the latter half of the Hundred Years' War, records another historical occasion on which the French gave utterance to their triumph in the traditional gibe at the alleged monstrosity of their old enemies. In his account of the evacuation of Paris, in 1436, he relates that, as the English retired from the city which they had held for sixteen years, the inhabitants hooted them with great cries of "Tails!"[314]

Coming down to the sixteenth century, we find that, in the early years of it, when hostilities broke out between Louis XII and Henry VIII, the old insult fell readily from the pen of the French versifiers who found subjects for their rhymes in the military incidents of the time. Thus, in the Dépucellage de la ville de Tournay, the town, referring to its ill-advised refusal of help when the English laid siege to it, is made to say:—

"To guard my ramparts from the foe's attack A ready offer from the King was brought; But, I refused, and sent the answer back: 'With men for watch and ward, no means I lack To bring the "tailards'" enterprise to nought'".[315]

But pride went before a fall. Tournay was occupied by the English in 1513.

In Anatole de Montaiglon's collection of fifteenth and sixteenth century verse, there is a poem which bears the title of Courroux de la Mort contre les Anglois, and which is in substance a bitter invective against the English generally. It is undated; but an allusion to the porcupine, the well-known emblem of Louis XII, points to its having also been written at this same period. In an apostrophe, the poet promises his countrymen an easy victory over the English:—

"In war your arms will speedily prevail Against your foe, the King 'that wears a tail'".[316]

The fight of Guinegate, commonly known as the battle of the Spurs, can hardly have been looked upon by him as a fulfilment of his prophecy. It may rather, if that were still possible, have increased the animosity which inspired the two scurrilous lines in which he strung together as many opprobrious epithets as the measure of his verse would admit, and which duly included the traditional slander, linked, in this instance, with the equally popular nickname of "godon", supposed to have originated in the frequent and profane use which the English made of God's name:—

"Ye noisome, greedy, fetid braggarts, go! Ye 'tailard' godons, rid me of your sight!"[317]

So far, the use of the abusive term "tailard", in French coué and in Latin caudatus, has been traced in immediate connection with events that brought the English into direct conflict with their enemies. There are not wanting instances, however, to show that no special provocation was required, and that from century to century it currently served the purpose of those whom national antipathy prompted to revile the English, or to hold them up to ridicule. To begin with Eustache Deschamps, the most prolific and versatile versifier of the late fourteenth and the early fifteenth centuries, we find him giving Englishmen and their tails a conspicuous place in his satirical verses. In a poem of which only a fragment remains, he describes how

"They swagger grandly down the street, An awsome sight to all they meet";

but how, in order not to mar the effect of the imposing appearance which they assume,

"Between their legs they hide with care The tail which rumour says they wear".[318]

The Englishmen's tails also supply the subject of a rondeau in which Deschamps mockingly compares the strength of the French with that of the English, ironically proclaiming the superiority of the latter as proved by the greater mass of flesh they have to carry, and the additional appendage they are obliged to drag about with them:—

The English are more stout, 'tis clear, Than any Frenchman you can meet.

Slight burdens only Frenchmen bear; The English are more stout, 'tis clear.

Two butts they carry everywhere, And eke a tail, so trig and neat, The English are more stout, 'tis clear, Than any Frenchman you can meet.[319]

In addition to this, Deschamps has a satirical ballade, in which he again drags in the English by the tail, professing concern for the inconvenience which it must cause them, and earnestly advising them to hold it up. "Billy", the predecessor of John Bull, as a typical Englishman, opens the poem with a gibe at the "French dogs", who "do nothing but drink wine". "Frenchy" does not deny the soft impeachment, but retorts that he considers it better to indulge in the juice of the grape than to swill beer. Then, by an abrupt transition and, if with rhyme, without any special reason, he compares red-haired Englishmen to mastiffs. On the strength of that canine similitude, he impresses upon them the necessity for holding up their tails. He commiserates them on the additional burden which they have to carry, though not endowed with the physical vigour of Jacques Thommelin, the strong man of the day. He warns them against walking abroad in dirty weather; and if, in spite of the rain, they must take their corn to the mill or gather grapes in the vineyard, he bids them imitate their four-footed neighbours the dogs, and hold up their tails to prevent their trailing in the mud. The satire is not keen, nor is the humour brilliant; and the whole point lies in the rather scurrilous than apt refrain: —

BALLADE (Sur les Anglais)

"Franche dogue," dist un Anglois, "Vous ne faites que boire vin." "Si faisons bien," dist le François, "Mais vous buvez le henequin; Roux estes com pel de mastin, Vuillequot, de moy aprenez, Quant vous yrez par le chemin: Levez vostre queue, levez!

Vous n'estes pas de membres fais Si comme est Jaques Thommelin Qui porte si merveilleus fais Que vous n'y pourriez mettre fin: Ce sont deux tonneaulx de sapin, C'est voir, et la queue delez. Advisez-vous, dit Franchequin; Levez vostre queue, levez!

N'alez a piet, par le temps frais, Porter vostre blé au moulin; S'il pluet, troussez vo queue prés, Autel facent vostre voisin; Et si vous pinciez le raisin, Afin que vous ne vous crotez, Soit en France ou en Limosin, Levez vostre queue, levez!"[320]

Another ballade records an incident which is supposed to have happened in Calais. In company with Granson, a mercenary captain in English pay, but without the necessary safe-conduct, the poet entered the town, which was then in possession of the English. He was at once pulled up by two men-at-arms who addressed him in language of which he quotes such scraps as "dogue" and "goday", "ride" and "commidre". He, on his side, intimated his recognition of their nationality by exclaiming: "Oh yes! I see your tail!" Whilst Granson, who had led him into the trap, made off laughing and calling out that he had no wish to stand surety for him, Deschamps was told that he would be kept in durance, an announcement which again drew from him the taunt, "Oil, je voy vo queue!" Though confessedly blue with fright, he nevertheless summoned up enough courage to make a dash for liberty. Digging his heels vigorously into his cob, he made it rear with a suddenness that sent his captors sprawling; and whilst they lay helplessly on the ground, he hastily betook himself out of their reach, uttering the inevitable refrain:—

BALLADE (Récit d'une Aventure à Calais)

Je fu l'autrier trop mal venuz Quant j'alay pour veir Calays; J'entray dedenz comme cornuz, Sanz congié; lors vint deux Anglois, Granson devant et moy aprés, Qui me prindrent parmi la bride: L'un me dist: "dogue", l'autre: "ride"; Lors me devint la coulour bleue: "Goday", fait l'un, l'autre: "commidre". Lors dis: "Oil, je voy vo queue."

Pour mal content s'en est tenuz L'un d'eulx, qui estoit le plus lays, Et dist: "Vous seres retenuz Prinsonnier, vous estes forfais." Mais Granson s'en aloit adés Qui en riant faisait la vuide: A eulx m'avoit trahi, ce cuide, En anglois dist: "Pas ne l'adveue." Passer me font de Dieu l'espite; Lors dis: "Oil, je voy vo queue."

Puis ay mes talons estenduz De mon roucin, le serray prés, Lors sault, si furent espanduz; Delez Granson fut mes retrais Là ne me vault treves ne pais, De paour la face me ride, De tel amour ma mort me cuide; Au derrain leur dist: "Je l'adveue." "Chien, faisoit l'un, vez vous vo guide?" Lors dis: "Oil, je voy vo queue!"[321]

Another writer of the same period, Olivier Basselin, refers to the Englishmen's tails in a satirical poem, in which he alleges this physical deformity as his reason for not wishing to live in their country:—

"Do you think it's a joke that I never would dwell 'Mongst the English, as oft I declare? Nay, believe me, my friend, 'tis the truth that I tell, For I hate the long tails that they wear."[322]

In one of his minor poems, Jean Molinet, part-author of the Roman de la Rose, who also belongs to the fifteenth century, humorously goes one step further than his fellow satirists, and gives even animals of English race a share in the distinctive peculiarity which birth in England entailed on the human Islanders. Of a certain tom-cat he says:—

"This Cat for his mother had Cathau the Blue, To Calais he does not belong; There's something about him of English breed, too, And that's why his tail is so long."[323]

About the beginning of the sixteenth century, Crétin, a Norman poet, combines encouragement of the French with the usual abuse of the English:—

"Praise shall reward the doughty deeds you do, And store of crowns, and golden angels, too; And, in the ransom of the 'long-tailed' crew, Their flesh and bone shall be as gold to you."[324]

As late as the seventeenth century, an echo of the gibe may still be heard. Larivey, in one of his comedies, Les Tromperies, makes a swaggering captain boast of the reputation which he has acquired by valiantly charging the English "tailards" when they attempted to land at Dieppe.[325] Still nearer our own day, Saint-Amant, who, indeed, is so modern that he was one of the original members of the French Academy and figures in Boileau's satires, has a reference to the English longtails in his Rome Ridicule. He incidentally claims for the French the strange merit of having rid their country of the goitre and of the king's evil by making carrion of the English invaders:—

"The goitre now we never see, And cruels, too, have ceased to be, E'er since we slew our 'tailard' foes And made them food to gorge the crows".[326]

By this time, however, the tradition had ceased to be popular; for in a note on this passage, Saint-Amant's contemporary, Conrart, thought it necessary to give an explanation of the epithet "quouez". According to him, it was justified by the fact that, in the case of the majority of Englishmen, the end of the os sacrum, called coccyx, actually protrudes and forms a tail![327]

But, even yet, the old cry has not wholly died out. In the Island of Guernsey, that genuine bit of Normandy, where it was once so frequently heard, it is perpetuated by the country children. They have a custom of slyly throwing at passers-by a hairy, clinging weed, which grows abundantly by the wayside. If any of it catches on to the victims of their childish trick, these are made aware of it by hearing themselves jeered at with cries of "la Coue!" The words are the very same as those recorded by Monstrelet; and this identity seems to justify the belief that they are a survival of the medieval scoff.

The Scots, sharing as they did the feeling of animosity entertained by the French against their English foes, were no less ready than they to give it expression; and the insulting taunt which they had learnt from their continental allies was adopted as an effective means to that end. It is not, however, amidst the excitement of international strife that the cry is first heard. The earliest instance of its use in the North Country is given by Bower. Under the date of 1217, he has an account of the mission to Scotland, undertaken by the Prior of Durham and the Archdeacon of York, in connection with the interdict under which the kingdom had been laid. These two prelates made themselves very unpopular by the mercenary spirit which they displayed; and a monkish satirist voiced the irritation which they aroused, in a strongly worded Latin poem, containing amongst other terms of reproach and invective, a denunciation of them as "tailards": —

"Those clerics, both in treach'rous England born, Are of the breed by whom long tails are worn".[328]

As regards the other instances supplied by the chroniclers, it is noteworthy that the insult was, in each case, avenged by the defeat of those who flung it at their enemies. The first occasion on which this is reported to have occurred was the battle of Dunbar, in 1296. The Castle, at that time one of the most important in Scotland, had been delivered over to the Scottish leaders by the Countess of Dunbar. Edward I at once sent John Plantagenet, Earl of Warrenne and Surrey, to recapture it. The garrison, conscious of its inability to hold out against the ten thousand foot and the thousand heavy-armed horse which the English leader commanded, agreed to surrender to him if it were not relieved within three days. In the meantime, John Baliol, anxious to retain so important a stronghold, sent his whole army of forty thousand foot and fifteen hundred horse to its succour. When the besieged saw this formidable force encamped on the heights above Spot, they felt confident of success; and in their premature exultation, they jeered at the English, calling them "tailed dogs", and threatening not only to kill them, but also to cut off their tails. Their boasts were not justified by the result. In the engagement that followed, the rashness of the Scots in abandoning their favourable position proved disastrous. Ten thousand of them fell on the field or during the pursuit; and next day the Castle surrendered at discretion to Edward, who came up from Berwick with the remainder of his army.[329]

In the following year, Lord Robert Clifford made an incursion into Annandale, at the head of twenty thousand infantry, preceded by a body of only one hundred cavalry. On passing the Solway, it was proclaimed by sound of trumpet that every soldier might plunder for himself and keep his own booty. On hearing this welcome announcement, the infantry dispersed over the country, and the horse alone remained together and marched on Annan, where the Scots, thinking they had to do with a mere handful, received them with jeers and insults, as a pack of "tailed" dogs. But when it came to actual fighting, the heavy-armed cavalry proved too much for the dalesmen. They were driven into marshy ground, where they were easily overpowered by the infantry that had hurried up to reinforce the vanguard. Over three hundred of the Scots were slain, many prisoners were taken; and before the Englishmen returned to Carlisle with their booty, the destruction of ten villages had given the scoffers good reason to think less contemptuously of the "tailards".[330]

At least once again the ill-omened cry was heard. It was on the eve of the battle of Dupplin, which was fought on the 12th of August, 1332, between Edward Baliol, with his English supporters, and the army of David II, under the Earl of Mar. Trusting to their superior numbers and to their advantageous position, the Scots were confident of success. They spent a part of the night in drinking and in singing songs that contained insulting reference to

"The English 'tailards', jeered at for their tails",

and they bragged that they would turn those same tails to practical use, by binding their wearers, and dragging them to the gallows with them.[331] But the boastful Scots were beaten, and one of the chroniclers who record their defeat, reminds them of Seneca's saying, that never did proud joy stand on a sure footing. "Now," he adds, by way of moral, "you who, but the day before, declared you would make ropes of the Englishmen's tails to bind them with, are yourselves bound in real fetters."[332]

In Wright's collection of medieval political songs, there are some doggerel verses, which are ascribed to this same half of the fourteenth century, and which probably refer to the driving out of the English from some of the strongholds which they had occupied. In his crabbed Latin, the writer, doubtless some monkish patriot, bids Scotland rejoice at the happy deliverance:

"The 'tails' appeared, a while they held their sway, But now, at last, they've all been lopped away; The 'tails' have gone, and fearlessly we may Proclaim 'O Scotland, hail the happy day!'"[333]

Those lines, such as they are, may serve as a connecting link between the historical instances of the use of the derogatory appellation and those which refer to no special incident, but are merely adaptations of the old scoff for the purpose of literary invective. The latter are not numerous; but one of them is interesting from the fact that it introduces the familiar "tails" under a new name. It occurs in The Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy, that remarkable production which, though probably nothing more than a jeu d'esprit, a kind of friendly sparring-match between two adversaries "who give each other plaguy knocks with all the love and fondness of a brother", is assuredly one of the most astonishing instances of verbal scurrility to be found in literature. In this wordy tournament the two poets allude in uncomplimentary language to each other's family history, and Kennedy reproaches Dunbar, who was a native of Lothian, with being descended from a traitor, from Corspatrick, who,

"Throu his tressoun brocht Inglis 'rumpillis' in".[334]

John Skelton, a satirist of the late fifteenth and the early sixteenth century, has preserved three Latin hexameters in which a Scottish scholar, George Dundas, at one time a professor at the University of Aberdeen, scoffs at the English in the familiar way, by alluding to their tails. The Englishman himself, after the battle of Flodden, had written against the Scots, with the scurrility which characterized him and which made him obnoxious even to his own countrymen; and it seems probable that Dundas's lines occurred in a poem written as a retort. The only connection between them, however, consists in the repetition of the same idea in a slightly different form; and it is hardly possible to assume that they stood together, and are to be taken as an epigram. It may also be noted that the first of them is almost identical with one that is known to have been current at a much earlier date:

"An Englishman's a dog, because we find That, like a dog he bears a tail behind".

"Thou English 'tailard', hold thy tail with care, For fear it drop from thee, at unaware."

"By reason of their tails, the English race Must bear about a burden of disgrace."[335]

In whatever connection the lines may have appeared, they provoked "the noble poet Skelton", as he styles himself, to a reply which has for its heading the statement that, "The most vile Scot, Dundas, alleges that Englishmen have tails". Apostrophizing him as a "shameless, noxious, foul-mouthed, lying Scot", he asks him how he dares utter such a slander. Then, dropping into macaronic verses, he adorns them with such flowers of vituperation as these:

This Dundas, This Scottishe as, He rymes and railes That Englishmen have tailes.

Skelton Laureat After this rate Defendeth with his pen All Englishmen Agayn Dundas The Scottishe as. Shake thy tayle, Scot, like a cur, For thou beggest at every mannes dur. Tut, Scot, I sey, Go, shake the, dog, hey! Dundas of Galaway With thy versyfyeng rayles How they have tayles.[336]

Though recalled, some half a century later, by the insulting piece of by-play which it suggested to Mary Stuart's French courtiers, and at which, as we have already recorded, Hatton and his countrymen waxed so wroth, the "tailard" taunt is not again heard in the story of the old feud between England and Scotland. From the sixteenth century to its final disappearance from use and even from memory, it seems to have remained as exclusively French as it doubtless was in its origin.

PART II

The use which some of the Latin chroniclers and verse-makers make of the words caudatus and cauda suggests that the former of these may have been intended to bear the sense of "cowed" or "coward", and the latter to symbolize the evil qualities, more particularly, perhaps, the treachery ascribed to the English. Thus, in Matthew of Paris, one, at least, of Count Robert's insulting outbursts, though hardly both, remains perfectly intelligible even if a figurative rather than a literal meaning be given to the epithet.[337] And, again, when John Oxenedes, in his account of the battle of Lewes, fought, in 1264, between Henry III and the Barons, under Simon of Montfort, places it in immediate juxtaposition to "full of guile", "false", "unstable", and "dispirited", it seems more natural to interpret it as a reference to a moral defect than to take it as a taunt at a physical deformity.[338] As regards the substantive, a symbolical sense, not, indeed, excluding the primary meaning, but rather taken in combination with it, is obviously consistent with the anonymous poetaster's advice to "cut off that poisonous tail".[339] And the Annales Gandenses, the most noteworthy chronicle of the closing years of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth century, whilst doubtless alluding to the popular belief in a real caudal appendage worn by Englishmen, seem to employ the word metaphorically in the passage which records the incendiarism and the looting by which the troops of Edward I disgraced themselves in Ghent, where they had been cordially received and hospitably entertained by the inhabitants in 1298. "The English, like the most ungrateful men that they were," says the Minorite author, "dragging after them their habitual tail, and eager to plunder the town of Ghent and to slay those that resisted them, set fire to it in four places, at the four corners, so to speak, in order that the people of Ghent, whilst endeavouring to extinguish the conflagration, should be less careful about the custody of their property."[340] In the Eulogium Historiarum, too, there is a passage where the word cauda occurs in such a connection as to make it quite clear that the literal acceptation would be out of place, the more so, indeed, from the circumstance that the "tail" is bestowed, not on an Englishman, but on a Scot, and on a Scot no less genuine than Robert the Bruce. Referring to the capture and punishment of the Scottish King's adherents, the chronicler adds that Bruce himself found safety in flight and concealment, but that this did not in the least trouble Edward, who, now that his enemy's tail was completely cut off, was quite willing that he should wander about, wherever he found it easiest to save his life.[341] And if, in this instance, the amputation of the tail is a figure of speech intended to convey the notion of reducing to powerlessness, it might be argued, with some show of reason, that, even when applied to Englishmen, as in the lines which exultingly proclaim how the French King made them harmless by submitting them to similar treatment, the expression does not necessarily imply the actual possession of a real tail. This would add yet another passage to those which, if they stood by themselves, would justify some hesitation in accepting them as proofs of a serious conviction as to the alleged anatomical peculiarity of Englishmen. But when the fullest allowance has been made for all of them, they do not appreciably affect the evidence of the many witnesses who not only testify to the general acceptance of the phenomenon as an actual fact, but are also ready with a reason for its cause and an explanation of its origin. The first of these in age, and by no means the least in point of standing and respectability, is the biographer Goscelin. He is said to have been born at or near Terouanne, and was originally a monk in the monastery of St. Bertin, but was brought over to England, possibly as early as 1053, by Hermann, Bishop of Salisbury. Being a monk at Canterbury, he became interested in the founder of the see, and not only drew up an account of the translation of Augustine, a ceremony at which he was present, but also wrote a life of the Saint. He professes to have based this work on older records; and it may be assumed that it embodied local tradition as it existed prior to the Norman Conquest. It consists of two versions of the story of the life of the Apostle of England. One of them, known as the Historia Minor Sancti Augustini, is brief and compendious. The other, or Historia Major as it is called, which enjoys the distinction of having been selected by the Bollandists for inclusion in their Acta Sanctorum, whilst identical with it in substance, has that greater fulness of details which its title suggests.

Both texts relate an incident which is said to have taken place in the province of Dorset, in a little village which, for its heathenish impiety, is likened to the nether regions themselves. There, the devil-inspired inhabitants not only refused to give the messenger of the Gospel a hearing, but also raised a very storm of mocking and contumely against the Saint and his companions. In their shameless audacity, they fastened the tails of sea-fish to the garments of the holy men. Indignant at this sacrilegious outrage, the Spirit of the Lord, through the mouth of Augustine, condemned those who had committed it to perpetuate in themselves and in all their posterity the ignominy to which they had submitted the saints of God.[342]

Shorn of its miraculous and spiteful sequel, and presented in a form to which critical history is not compelled to raise objection, the same episode reappears about the middle of the twelfth century, that is, approximatively, a hundred years later, in the Gesta Pontificum of William of Malmesbury. The chronicler narrates how, at Cerne, in Dorsetshire, the infuriated inhabitants, at the instigation of the Evil One, attacked Augustine and his brethren, and expelled them from their midst, after having heaped insults upon them, and how they carried the indignity of their conduct so far as to fasten the tails of ray-fish, or skate, to the clothes of the holy missionaries. The attitude which William of Malmesbury credits Augustine with assuming in the circumstances seems less in keeping with what we elsewhere read of the Saint's temper than does the vengeful sentence which Goscelin makes him pronounce against the offenders. William says of him that, for Christ's sake, he bore their affronts patiently, modestly, and even joyfully, and shaking against them the dust of his feet, retired a distance of some three miles, as a precaution against further irritating the insane anger of the poor people.[343]

When next the story of the insult offered to Augustine reappears, the Divine vengeance, which Goscelin hardly does more than suggest, is unhesitatingly asserted, and is recorded with a fullness of details such as medieval credulity would readily accept as evidence of a genuine miracle. The writer to whom we owe the legend in this complete form is Robert Wace, of Jersey, the Anglo-Norman poet and author of the Brut, a rhymed chronicle written but a few years, probably not more than a decade, after William of Malmesbury's Gesta Pontificum. Differing from his predecessors who referred to a small village as the scene of the incident, Wace lays it in Dorchester itself, although the conduct which he attributes to its inhabitants seems in keeping with rural coarseness rather than with the more refined civilization of a county town:

"Saint Austine came and to the heathen folk He preached God's law. Full earnestly he spoke; But they, as men by nature vile and naught, Were careless of the holy truths he taught; And even as he stood before them, there, —One sent by God, God's precepts to declare— They fastened to his garments tails of ray, And with those tails they drove the Saint away. Then Austine prayed that, for His servant's sake, The judgment of the Lord might overtake The impious scoffers and His wrath proclaim Against the men who did the deed of shame. And so it was and shall be through all time, In punishment of their detested crime: For, sooth to say, to every man among The rabble rout by whom the tails were hung There grew a tail; and thus, for evermore This token of disgrace the tailards bore; And all their progeny, from sire to son, Have suffered for the deed which then was done; And so 'tis now, for all the kith and kin Are tailards, too, in memory of the sin Incurred by those who, lewd and reprobate, Defiled the friend of God with tails of skate."[344]

Some fifty years after Robert Wace wrote his Brut, Layamon translated, or rather, paraphrased and expanded the poem. In this Old English version of it, St. Augustine's adventure is enriched by the addition of further details. Layamon's most interesting contribution to the history of the development of the legend consists of the information that an exaggerated notion as to the extent of the Saint's vengeance had, by this time, got abroad, and that foreigners now credited all Englishmen indiscriminately with the tails which the transgressors themselves and their posterity had alone been condemned to bear. That those tails were called "muggles", and that the men whom they disgraced were nicknamed "mugglings", are further circumstances for the knowledge of which we are indebted to Layamon. And the fact that, whilst one manuscript of his poem follows Wace with regard to the locality of the incident, another transfers it from Dorchester to Rochester, suggests a desire on the part of the scribe to exonerate the West Country, with which he may possibly have been connected.[345] In Sir F. Madden's prose rendering of the old English Brut, the whole episode is thus given:

"And so St. Austin drew southward, so that he came to Dorchester; there he found the worst men that dwelt in the land. He told them God's lore, and they had him in derision; he taught them Christendom, and they grinned at him. Where the Saint stood, and his clerks with him, and spake of Christ, as was ever their custom, there they approached to their injury, and took tails of rays and hanged them on his cope, on each side. And they ran beside, and threw at him with the bones, and afterwards attacked him with grievous stones. And so they did him shame and drove him out of the place. To St. Austin they were odious, and he became exceeding wroth; and he proceeded five miles from Dorchester, and came to a mount that was mickle and fair; there he lay on his knees in prayer and called ever toward God, that he should avenge him of the cursed folk, who had dishonoured him with their evil deeds. Our Lord heard him, in heaven, and sent his vengeance on the wretched folk that hanged the rays' tails on the clerks. The tails came on them—therefore they be tailed! Disgraced was all the race, for muggles they had; and in each company men call them mugglings, and every freeman speaketh foul of them, and English freemen in foreign lands have a red face for the same deed, and many a good man's son, in strange lands, who never came there nigh, is called base."[346]

The same occurrence is related in the English prose version of the Brut, with the addition of aggravating circumstances of violence and contumely. But what imparts special interest to the passage is the mention of the ingenious means adopted for the purpose of evading the hereditary curse:

"And in the menewhile that the peple turnede ham to God, seynt Austyn came to Rochestre and there prechede Goddis worde. The paynnemys therefor him scornede and caste uppon hym reyghe tayles, so that al his mantel was hongede ful of reyghe tailes; and for more despite thai keste uppon hym the guttis of reyghes and of other fysshe, wherefore the good man seynt Austyn was sore anoyede and grevede, and prayede to God that alle the childerne that shulde be borne afterward in that citee of Rochestre muste have tayles. And wherre the kyng herde and wiste of this vengaunce that was falle thurghe seynt Austynus praier, he lette make one howse in the honoure of God, wherein wymmen shulde have hire childerne, at the brugges ende: in whiche howse wymmen yette of the citee be delyveride of child."[347]

The Story of Inglande, written by Robert Manning of Brunne, in 1338, contains a section which has the marginal summary, "Qua de causa Anglici vocantur Caudati". In his explanation of the reason why Englishmen are called "tailards", Manning closely follows Wace, some of whose lines, indeed, he translates with literal accuracy. He closes his narrative of the incident, however, in the same manner as does Layamon, with a protest against the unfairness of attributing to all Englishmen indiscriminately the degrading stigma inflicted on a few only of his countrymen:

"But there he stod them to preche And ther savacion for to teche; Byhynd hym on his clothes they henge Righe taillis on a strenge. When they had don that vyleny They drof hym thenne wyth maistri; Fer weys they gan hym chace; Tailles they casten in hys face. Thys holy man God bisought, For they hym that vileny wrought, That on them and on al their kynde Tailled alle men schulde hem fynde; And God graunted al that he bad, For alle that kynde tailles had— Taillis hadde and tailles have; Fro that vengaunce non may them save; For they wyth tailles the goodeman schamed, For tailles al Englische kynde ys blamed; In manie sere londes seyd Of tho tailles we have umbreyde."[348]

The Bibliothéque Nationale possesses a manuscript,[349] which is ascribed by experts to the fourteenth century, and in which the legend of St. Augustine and the tails—no longer those of ray-fish, however—supplies materials for a quaint satire against the inhabitants of Rochester. It begins with a mock-serious discussion as to the species of animals to which they belong. That they are not men is quite clear, for they have tails, and Aristotle has conclusively established that men have no tails. And yet those strange animals have something human about them, too—they reason and have laws. For all that, however, there remains the stern fact that they bear tails, and this quite precludes the possibility of classing them as perfect human beings. In the course of the satire reference is naturally made to the outrage of which St. Augustine was the victim. After giving an account of the saint's mission to England, the anonymous author continues: "As he went about from city to city, preaching, it happened that he preached in the city which is called Rochester. But, whilst he was preaching, the inhabitants of the city flocked together about him, and, deeming his words to be lies, subjected him to many insults. After reviling him with opprobrious words, they fastened tails of swine and of cows to the skirt of his garments, spat into his face, and drove him out of the city."[350] The saint prayed that they who had insulted him might be punished, to the end that the divinity of his mission should be brought home to them. At the conclusion of his prayer, he wept bitterly, but was comforted by receiving the assurance that his petition would be granted. And so, God, wishing to avenge the insult done to Him and to his servant, ordained that all who, from that time, might be born in the city of Rochester, should have tails, after the fashion of swine. And nothing could be done to prevent their having tails. From that day to this, the natives of Rochester have been tailed, and they shall remain tailed for ever. It is consequently evident that they are not human beings. Amongst the inconveniences resulting from this peculiarity of theirs, is that of not being able to sit down when they are angry; for, at such a time, their tails stand erect, as is the case with other animals.[351]

During the fourteenth century, too, the myth, in its restricted and local form, makes its appearance in Continental literature, other than that of France. It is referred to by Fazio degli Uberti, an Italian poet who lived between 1326 and 1360, and whom D. G. Rossetti deals with and translates in his work Italian Poets chiefly before Dante. In a description of England which Fazio gives in the Ditta Mondo, he says:

"Now this I saw not; but so strange a thing It was to hear, and by all men confirmed, That it is fit to note it as I heard, To wit, there is a certain islet here Among the rest where folk are born with tails,— Short as are found in stags and suchlike beasts".[352]

Fazio is probably Boccaccio's authority for the statement, unaccompanied with any further details, however, that "certain Englishmen were born with tails".[353]

The chronicle which is commonly known as Alexander of Essebye's, and which exists in manuscript only, has been quoted as briefly stating that "when fish tails were despitefully thrown at him by certaine men of Dorsetshire", St. Augustine "was so furiously vexed therewith that he called upon God for revenge and He forthwith heard him and strake them with tails for their punishment". Greater interest attaches to the story as told in the English version of the Golden Legende. Though not less credulous than were his predecessors as to the punishment inflicted on the impious people who insulted the saint, the writer who interpolated the narrative—for it does not appear in the Latin original—prepares the way of the sceptic by limiting the duration of the penalty, and by testifying with an earnestness suggestive of personal knowledge to the immunity of some, at least, of those who were believed to be stricken for the transgression of their forefathers:

"After this Saynt Austyn entryd into Dorsetshyre and came into a towne whereas were wycked peple and refused his doctryne and prechyng utterly, and droof him out of the towne, castyng on him the tayles of thornback or like fisshes, wherefor he besought Almyghty God to shewe his jugement on them, and God sente to them a shameful token, for the children that were borne after in that place had tayles, as it is said, tyl they had repented them. It is sayd comynly that thys fyl at Strode in Kente; but, blessyd be God, at this day is no such deformyte."[354]

By the middle of the fifteenth century, the legend of the tails had undergone important modifications. The original account of the outrage and of its punishment was still current; but, by the side of it, there existed several versions which affected not merely the circumstances of time and place, but also the individuality of the persons concerned in the incident. We are indebted to Walter Bower, who expanded and continued Fordun's Scotichronicon, for an interesting passage in which the old story and its subsequent variants are presented together. The Scottish chronicler, taking Wace's narrative as his starting-point, relates that when St. Augustine was preaching the word of life to the heathen, amongst the West Saxons, in the county of Dorset, he came to a certain town where no one would receive him or listen to his preaching. They opposed him rebelliously in everything, contradicted all he said, did their utmost to distort his actions, on which they put sinister interpretations, and, impious to relate, carried their audacity so far as to sew and hang fish tails to his garments. But what they intended as an insult to the holy father brought eternal disgrace on themselves and on their posterity, and opprobrium on their unoffending country. He smote them in the hinder parts and cast lasting shame upon them by causing similar tails to grow both on their own persons and on those of their offspring. And here the Abbot of Inchcolm becomes particularly interesting by reason of the wholly new information which he imparts. He states that there was a special name for the punitive tail. "Such a tail," he says, "is called Mughel by the natives, in the language of their country; and because of this, the place where St. Augustine was thus insulted received the name of Muglington, that is, the town of the Muglings, and still bears it at the present day." It is to be regretted that the topographical indication is not more definite. The modern map of England knows no Muglington. Wherever it may have been, it would seem that it did not stand alone as a monument of St. Augustine's power and spite. According to Bower, it is also related that a similar indignity was done to him in the province of Mercia, by the inhabitants of a town called Thamewyth. But they were not allowed to go unpunished either; for, "as is known to all", they were put to shame by the infliction of the like opprobrious punishment.

It is from its concluding part, however, that Bower's account derives its chief importance and its value as a contribution to the history of the development of the myth. "Something similar," he says, "happened at a later period, during the exile of St. Thomas, Primate of England, when the people of Rochester, intending it as an insult to him, docked his horse's tail. But their iniquitous action was foiled of its purpose and recoiled on themselves; for it was found that thenceforth all the children born in that place were tailed."[355] From this we first learn that a new character had by this time assumed a part in the story. Hitherto, the responsibility for having endowed Englishmen with tails had rested with St. Augustine alone. And his monopoly of the doubtful honour had endured through four centuries. Henceforth, though he was not to disappear altogether, he was to have a rival.

In the case of Becket, as in that of his predecessor, there was a basis of historical fact on which to build up a legend.

The chroniclers Ralph de Diceto, Roger de Hoveden, and both William and Gervase of Canterbury,[356] who record the murder of Becket, and whose proximity, in point of time, to the events that took place on those memorable December days of the year 1170, gives them indisputable authority, all agree in narrating, with such slight variations in matters of detail as serve to show that they did not merely repeat each other, an incident which happened to the Archbishop shortly before his death. They state that Robert Broc, a groom of the royal bedchamber, who, together with Nigel de Sacheville, incumbent of Harrow, was solemnly excommunicated by the Primate, on Christmas day, had cut off the tail of Becket's horse, as an insult to its owner. According to the two brother-monks, the Archbishop made direct reference to this indignity in his interview with the four conspirators, Reginald Fitzurse, Hugh de Moreville, William de Tracy, and Richard le Breton. "The tail of a mare in my service," he said, "has been shamefully cut off, as if I could be disgraced by the docking of a brute beast."[357] It was not, however, for this cowardly and contemptible act of spite that Broc was excommunicated, but because, being a layman, he had appropriated ecclesiastical revenues. And, though William of Canterbury records that the very dogs refused to be fed by the hand of the man whom the Prelate had banned, neither he nor any of the other chroniclers refers to the infliction of tails on him or his posterity. It was only at a later date, and when Broc had been lost sight of, as the perpetrator of the outrage, that the miraculous punishment was thought of.

Although there is the evidence of Bower to show that, in his day, Becket's name had already begun to be connected with the legend of the tails, Augustine still continues to hold his own through the whole of the first half of the sixteenth century. It is he who figures as the hero, or the victim, in the account given by John Major, an account which is noteworthy by reason of the very cautious spirit in which it is written. It may be said to mark the beginning of a transition from unquestioning credulity to uncompromising scepticism. It also seems to imply that, so far as the author's reading of the chroniclers extended, he found the English, if not yet ready to deny the supernatural punishment of the insult offered to the saint, at least convinced that it had not been perpetuated through the ages. The chapter in which Major recapitulates the old story, is mainly devoted to the outward form and appearance of the English, and contains a great deal about "skiey influence". Thus, it comes of "skiey influence" that close by the Arctic pole people are of foul aspect. And, if in some parts of Africa men are born with the head of a dog, "this, too, is a matter of skiey influence and carries with it no other influence". After this preamble the author proceeds to relate the conversion of Kent—how Augustine laboured so strenuously that, in a short space of time, he brought to the faith the king himself and almost the whole people; how, passing on to Rochester, he began there, too, to preach the word of God; and how the common people derided him, and threw fish tails at the holy man. "Wherefore Augustine made his prayer to God that, for punishment of this sin, their infants should be born with tails, to the end they might be warned not to contemn the teachers of divine things. And, for this reason, as the English chroniclers relate, the infants were born with tails; but for a time only, and to the end that an unbelieving race might give credence to their teacher, was this punishment inflicted." The Scots and the Gauls, it is true, "assert the opposite". But, Major "cannot agree with them". And, further, the phenomenon having been only temporary, he gives it as his opinion that it had "very little to do with the skiey influence".[358]

Nicole Gilles whose "very elegant and copious annals of Gaul" were published in 1531, being a French chronicler, is one of those who believe that the divine anger has not ceased to manifest itself, and that the descendants of the men of Dorchester, who mocked and derided St. Augustine, still have "tails behind, like brute beasts, and are therefore called tailed Englishmen". It is worthy of notice that, owing, doubtless, to the misreading of some Latin text and to the intelligible confusion of raia or raria, both of which are used to translate "rayfish", with the more familiar rana, Gilles makes the impious Dorchestrians hang frogs—"des raynes ou grenouilles"—to St. Augustine's garments.[359]

Bellenden, who belonged to the next generation, took the liberty of introducing the Augustinian myth into his Scottish prose rendering of Hector Boece, although there was nothing in the Latin original to justify him in doing so.

"Quhen this haly man, Sanct Austine, wes precheand to the Saxonis in Miglintoun," he says, "thay wer nocht onlie rebelland to his precheing, but in his contemptioun thay sewit fische talis on his abilyements. Otheris alliegis thay dang him with skait rumpillis. Nochtheless, this derisioun succedit to thair gret displesoure: for God tuke on thaim sic vengeance, that thay and thair posteritie had lang talis mony yeris eftir. In memorie heirof, the barnis that are yit borne in Miglintoun hes the samin deformite, but the wemen havand experience thairof fleis out of this toun in the time of thair birth and eschapis this malediction be that way."[360]

Bower and the prose Brut are obviously the authorities for Bellenden's statements, and it is not without interest to note that whilst drawing from the latter his knowledge of the subterfuge by means of which cunning mothers might secure for their children immunity from the consequences of the saint's vindictiveness, it is from his Scottish predecessor that he takes the name of the town which witnessed the affront, and in which the punishment was perpetuated. And the question arises whether the chronicler's apparently deliberate choice of Miglinton is to be taken as evidence that a place bearing that name, or rather nickname, really existed.

Though Dunbar's brief reference to the insult offered to St. Augustine proves nothing beyond his acquaintance with the legend, it may be quoted, for the sake of completeness. It occurs in the Flyting with Kennedy, at whom his adversary flings the jeer,

"he that dang Sanct Augustine with an rumple Thy fowll front had".[361]

The Frenchman Génébrard is the last of those who, as long as the story continued to be accepted or, at least, not openly scouted, connected it with Augustine. He confines himself to recording the outrage, and to stating, with due caution, that, because of it, the people of Dorchester "are said to have had tails like beasts". His own belief in the prodigy does not appear to have been very firm.[362]

Of those who, after Bower, present St. Thomas as the central figure in the incident, the first in date is a foreigner, Wilwolt of Schaumburg. This German gentleman errant visited England about the end of the fifteenth century, and an account of his travels was published in 1507. He appears to have been greatly impressed by the story of St. Thomas of Candlwerg, as he calls him, and relates how "he left behind him a wonderful token which will perhaps endure to the day of judgment". On one occasion, he says, riding like a pious and upright man, on his little ass, the holy man came to a certain village where he stopped to take some food. Here the country folk made fun of his lowly mount, and cut off the poor ass's tail. Thereupon, the dear saint complained to Almighty God, and prayed to such purpose that, even to this very day, all the boys that are born in that village bring with them into the world little tails rooted to their hinder parts. From this circumstance has arisen the byword which so greatly annoys the English: "Englishman, show your tail!" And continues Wilwolt, "I should like to see the foolhardy man who dared to call out, 'English tailard' in that same village. He would have to take himself off very quickly if he did not wish to be beaten to death." The German traveller also learnt how, at the right moment, women could avert from the expected child the grievous consequences of its forefathers' fault. They only had to cross the water and go into the next village.[363]

Another and better known foreigner, no less a personage, indeed, than Polydore Vergil, continues, at the same time that he considerably restricts, the legend of the tails. As narrated by him in the Anglica Historia, published in 1534, Becket's misadventure appears to have been one of the minor incidents in the quarrel between him and the king. It had become known that Henry had been moved to exclaim, "Wretched me! Can I not have peace in my own kingdom because of one priest? Is there none of all my subjects who will rid me of that annoyance?" And there were not wanting evil men who understood this to mean that, in his heart, he desired the death of the Archbishop who, in consequence, began to be generally neglected, despised, and hated. Such was the position of affairs when Thomas one day came to Stroud, on the Medway, near Rochester. There, the inhabitants, anxious to inflict some insult on the good father, now that he was in disgrace, did not hesitate to cut off the tail of the horse on which he was riding. By this act, however, it was on themselves that they brought lasting shame. For, by the judgment of God, it happened that the descendants of the men who had perpetrated this outrage were born with tails, like brute beasts. But if the learned Italian was superstitious enough to believe in the miraculous punishment of an offence which, at its worst, involved far less moral guilt than was incurred by the murderers of Becket, against whom no divine retribution was recorded, he was too intelligent not to see the absurdity of making it perpetual, and of inflicting it on the community at large, as earlier chroniclers had done. He admitted that the mark of infamy had not survived the family of the immediate offenders.[364]

The next and last writer of what may be called the period of credulity, though that credulity had begun to wane long before it reached its vanishing phase in him, was Guillaume Paradin, of Cuiseaux. He confesses to a suspicion that what tradition has handed down concerning the tails of Englishmen is mere nonsense, and apologizes for reproducing it, on the score that English chroniclers themselves report it quite seriously. The Becket legend which he thus introduces affords him an opportunity of adapting to the English the words of the Royal prophet, "He smote them in the hinder parts and put them to a perpetual shame"; and of perpetrating, at their expense, some doggerel lines of which he has the good sense not to acknowledge the authorship:—

Of old, some Britons docked the tail Of Becket's nag, they say, And that is why all Englishmen Have short tails to this day.[365]

By the middle of the sixteenth century, saints had ceased to command the same popular reverence as before, and their alleged miracles were put by many on the same level as the myths of antiquity. There is, consequently, from that date onwards an absolute change in the tone and temper of those who allude to the legend of the tails. Most of them, indeed, do so for the sole purpose of denying the miracle and of sneering at those who superstitiously gave it credence. The first and not least indignant of the denunciators is John Bale, Bishop of Ossory. After indicating the discrepancy between John Capgrave and Alexander of Esseby—that is, Ashby—who record that, "for castynge of fyshe tayles at thys Augustine, Dorsett shyre men had tayles ever after", and Polydore Vergil, who "applyeth it unto Kentysh men at Stroude, by Rochester, for cuttynge of Thomas Beckett's horse's tayle", the author of the Actes of Englysh Votaryes says: "Thus hath England, in all other landes, a perpetual dyffamy of tayles by their wrytten legendes of lyes, yet can they not wele tell where to bestowe them trulye".[366] In another passage he inveighs still more bitterly against "the Spiritual Sodomytes" who "in the legends of their sanctyfied sorcerers", have "dyffamed the Englyshe posteryte with tayles", and to whom it is due "that an Englishman now cannot travayle in any other lande by way of merchandyce or anye other honest occupyenge, but yt ys most contumelyousslye throwne in his teeth, that all Englishmen have tayles". And concludes the Bishop in his wrath, "that uncomlye note and report have the nacyon gotten without recover, by these laysye and idell lubbers, the munkes and the prestes, whiche coulde fynde no matters to advance their canonysed Cayns by, or their Sayntes (as they call them) but manyfest lyes and knaveryes".[367]

Bale's Actes appeared in 1546. Seventy years later, William Lambarde published a Perambulation of Kent. Coming to Stroud, in this topographical and historical account of his native county, he eagerly avails himself of the opportunity offered him to record his protest against the attribution of tails, not only to the natives of that locality, but to the Kentish men generally, and that—unkindest cut of all—by their own fellow countrymen. He is evidently acquainted with several versions of the story; but whilst denouncing the authors of all of them, he is particularly incensed against Polydore, whom he quite unjustly accuses of "lashing out further" than his authorities, and of endeavouring "to outly the lowdest Legendaries". It is bad enough that "the whole English nation should be earnestly flowted" with the "dishonourable note" of having tails; but what Lambarde obviously finds it more difficult to bear, and makes Polydore responsible for, is that "Kentish men be heere at home merily mocked". In his most entertaining contribution to the history of the legend, the Kentish apologist says:

"A name, or family of men, sometime inhabiting Stroude (saith Polydore) had tailes clapped to their breeches by Thomas Becket, for revenge and punishment of a dispite done to him, in cutting of the taile of his horse. The author of the new Legend saith, that after St. Thomas had excommunicated two Brothers (called Brockes) for the same cause, that the Dogges under the table would not once take bread at their hands. Such (belike) was the vertue of his curse, that it gave to brute beasts, a discretion and knowledge of the persons, that were in danger of it. Boetius (the Scotishe chronicler) writeth, that the lyke plague lighted upon the men of Midleton in Dorsetshire: who because they threwe Fish tailes in great contempt at Saint Augustine, were bothe themselves and their posteritie, stricken with tailis, to their perpetual infamy and punishment. All whiche their reportes (no doubt) be as true, as Ovides Historie of Diana, that in great angre bestowed on Actæon a Deares head with mighty anthlers.

"Much are the Western men bound (as you see) to Polydore, who taking the miracle from Augustine, applieth it to S. Thomas, and removing the infamous revenge from Dorsetshire, laieth it upon our men of Kent. But little is Kent, or the whole English nation beholding, either to him, or his fellowes, who (amongst them) have brought upon us this ignominie and note with other nations abrode, that many of them believe as verity, that we have long tailes and be monsters by nature, as other men have their due partes and members in usual number. Polydore (the wisest of the companye) fearing that issue might be taken upon the matter, ascribeth it to one speciall stocke and family, which he nameth not, and yet (to leave it the more uncertain) he saith, that, that family is worne out long since, and sheweth not when; he goeth about in great earnest (as in sundrie other things) to make the world beleave he cannot tell what: he had forgotten the Lawe whereunto an Hystorian is bound, 'Ne quid falsi audeat, ne quid veri non audeat'. That he should be bold as to tell the trueth, and yet not so bolde as to tell a lye."

To his credit, however, Lambarde does Polydore the justice of admitting that his history, "without all doubt", is "a worthy work", in places not blemished with such follies. But, seeing that he does insert them often and without discretion, he must be read with great suspicion and wariness. "For, as he was by office Collector of the Peter pence to the Popes gaine and lucre, so sheweth he himselfe throughout by profession, a coveteous gatherer of lying fables, fained to advance the Popish religion, kingdome and myter."[368]

In the seventeenth century, the story of the tails, which, by that time, however, had ceased to be attributed to Englishmen at large and were humorously regarded as distinctive of Kentish men alone, was incidentally referred to by several poets. It supplied Sir John Mennis, the author of Musarum Deliceæ, with a coarse joke. Andrew Marvel, in his Loyal Scot, cites it in illustration of the danger incurred by provoking the anger of a prelate:—

"There's no 'Deliver us' from a Bishop's wrath: Never shall Calvin pardoned be for sales, Never, for Burnet's sake, the Lauderdales; For Becket's sake, Kent always shall have tails."[369]

In Drayton's Polyolbion, the "Blazons of the Shires", as set forth by Helidon, open with the lines:

"Kent first in our account, doth to itself apply (Quoth he) this Blazon first, 'Long tails and Liberty!'"[370]

Butler, in his Hudibras, has a couplet which declares that:

tails by nature sure were meant As well as beards, for ornament.

According to an annotator, "Mr. Butler here alludes to Dr. Bulwer's Artificial Changeling", where, besides the story of the Kentish men, near Rochester, who had tails clapped to their breeches by Thomas à Becket, he gives an account, on the authority of "an honest young man of Captain Morris's company in Lieutenant-General Ireton's company", of how "at Cashell in the County of Tipperary, in the province of Munster, in Carrick Patrick church, seated on a hill or rock, stormed by the Lord Inchequine, and where were neare 700 put to the sword and none saved but the Mayor's wife and his son, there were found among the slain of the Irish, when they were stript, divers with tailes near a quarter of a yard long. The relator being very diffident of the truth of this story, after enquiry was ensured of the certainty thereof by forty souldiers, that testified upon their oaths that they were eyewitnesses, being present at the action." With such testimony in support of his assertion that "the rump bone among brutish and strong-docht nations doth often spread out with such an excrescence or beastly emanation", Dr. Bulwer is not disinclined to believe in the possession of tails by the inhabitants of Stroud.

In the Church History of Britain by Dr. Bulwer's contemporary, Thomas Fuller, modern scepticism again asserts itself. Quoting from Hierome Porter, in the Flowers of the Lives of the Saints, to the effect that when the villagers in Dorsetshire beat Augustine and his fellows, and in mockery fastened fish tails at their backs, in punishment hereof, "all that generation had that given them by nature, which so contemptibly they fastened on the backs of these holy men", Fuller adduces this to show that "most of the miracles assigned unto Augustine, intended with their strangeness to raise and heighten, with their levity and absurdity do depress and offend, true devotion". In equal contempt of those who relate such a story as that of the Dorsetshire folk and of those who accept it, the author exclaims, "Fie for shame! He needs an hard plate on his face that reports it, and a soft place in his head that believes it".[371]

In his Worthies of England, the same writer discusses at some length the origin of the nickname applied to the Kentish men. "Let me premise," he says, "that those are much mistaken, who first found the proverb on a miracle of Austin the Monk, for the scene of this lying wonder was not laied in any part of Kent, but pretended many miles off, nigh Cerne in Dorsetshire." His own opinion is that the saying is "first of outlandish extraction and cast by Forrainers as a note of disgrace on all the English, though it chanceth to stick only on the Kentish men at this day". In support of this view, Fuller relates the incident of the quarrel "betwixt Robert, Brother of Saint Louis, King of France and our William Longspee, Earle of Salisbury". Continuing his disquisition he says:—

"Some will have the English so-called from wearing a pouch or poake (a bag to carry their baggage in) behind their backs, whilst probably the proud Monsieurs had their lacquies for that purpose; in proof whereof, they produce ancient Pictures of the English Drapery and Armory, wherein such conveyances doe appear. If so, it was neither sin nor shame for the common sorte of people to carry their own necessaries; and it matters not much whether the pocket be made on either side, or wholly behind. If any demand how this nickname (cut off from the rest of England) continues still entailed on Kent. The best conjecture is, because that County lieth nearest to France, and the French are beheld as the first founders of this aspersion. But if any will have the Kentish men so-called from drawing and dragging boughs of trees behind them, which afterwards they advanced above their heads, and so partly cozened, partly threatened, King William the Conqueror to continue their ancient customes; I say, if any will impute it to this original, I will not oppose."[372]

The incident upon which Fuller bases the explanation which he considers most plausible, without, however, expressing himself dogmatically with regard to it, is related by the chronicler Willam Thorne, and also forms the subject of an old ballad quoted by Thierry. So modern an historian as Lappenberg thinks that "perhaps the tradition is not unfounded, that the Kentish army, advancing under the covering of branches from the trees, might have appeared to the enemy as a wood, until, standing in face of them and casting down their leafy screen, they at once appeared threatening with sword and spear". Freeman rejects the story altogether. But even its truth, which Fuller may be excused for accepting, would hardly support his theory. The only credit which it deserves is perhaps the negative one of being a little less fanciful than that put forward by Fynes Moryson, who states that "the Kentish men of old were said to have tayles, because trafficking in the Low Countries, they never paid full payments of what they did owe, but still left some part unpaid".[373]

The author of the early sixteenth-century Mad Pranks and Merry Jests of Robin Goodfellow, contributes no less than three other explanations, of which one bears considerable resemblance to that favoured by Fuller. After relating how he dropped into an alehouse, whilst travelling in "that noble county of Kent", he continues:—

"The ale being good, and I in good company, I lapt in so much of this nappy liquor, that it begot in mee a boldnesse to talk and desire of them to know what was the reason that the people of that country were called Long-tayles. The hoast said, all the reason that ever he could heare was, because the people of that country did use to goe in side-skirted coates. There is (sayd an old man that sat by) another reason that I have heard: that is this. In the time of the Saxons' conquest of England there were divers of our countrymen slaine by treachery, which made those that survived more carefull in dealing with their enemies, as you shall heare. After many overthrowes that our countrymen had received by the Saxons, they dispersed themselves into divers companies into the woods, and so did much damage by their suddaine assaults to the Saxons, that Hengist, their king, hearing the damage that they did (and not knowing how to subdue them by force) used this policy. Hee sent to a company of them and gave them his word for their liberty and safe returne, if they would come unarmed and speake with him. This they seemed to grant unto, but for their more security (knowing how little hee esteemed oaths or promises) they went every one of them armed with a shorte sword, hanging just behind under their garments, so that the Saxons thought not of any weapons they had: but it proved otherwise, for when Hengist his men (that were placed to cut them off) fell all upon them, they found such unlooked a resistance that most of the Saxons were slain, and they that escaped, wond'ring how they could do that hurt, having no weapons (as they saw), reported that they strucke downe men like lyons with their tayles; and so they, ever after, were called Kentish Long-tayles. I told them this was strange, if true, and that their countries honor bound them more to believe in this, than it did me. Truly, Sir, said my hoastesse, I thinke we are called Long-tayles, by reason our tales are long, that we use to passe the time withall, and make ourselves merry."

Du Cange considered the problem more seriously, without, however, being able to find a satisfactory solution. He suggests that the epithet "tailed" may have been applied to Englishmen because of the excess to which they carried the fashion of wearing toes of extravagant length to their shoes, but admits that the explanation does not greatly appeal to him. With still more diffidence he hints at the possibility of considering the Latin "caudatus" as equivalent to either "foppish" or "cowardly". But whilst none of the cited instances of its use justifies the former of these interpretations, there are only a very few of them that can be strained into imparting even slight plausibility to the latter. Neither does there appear to be anything to support Professor Wattenbach's suggestion that Englishmen may have been called "tailed" because of the way in which they wore their hair. Finally, a work entitled England under the Normans has a chapter on the measurement of land, in which the author states that "there was a mile peculiar to Kent, as well as a customary field admeasurement", and that "these 'long tales' are possibly the 'long tails' of which the county used to be so proud". The history of the medieval myth does not lead to the belief that either Englishmen generally, or, as here stated, Kentishmen in particular, ever looked upon the nickname otherwise than as an insult.

The attempts that have been made to fix upon some actual fact as originating the attribution of tails to Englishmen seem as uncalled for as most of them are fanciful and absurd.[374] They are all based on the hypothesis that the epithet "caudatus", "coué", and "tailard" was first applied for some reason other than the belief in the existence of a tail, and that only subsequently, if, indeed, ever, was it taken literally. But our investigation has proved that there is nothing to warrant this assumption. It has been shown that, on the contrary, the actual monstrosity was accepted as a fact from the outset. Nor does it seem impossible to explain how this came about. Given the insult offered to St. Augustine, about which there is no room for scepticism, it only requires a knowledge of the medieval spirit to account for the sequel. Impressed by the sanctity of the apostle of England and by the greatness, or, indeed, the divinity of his mission, the early biographer looked upon it as inevitable that the sacrilege of those who dishonoured him should draw down upon them the wrath of Heaven. Was not the disrespect of the children who called the Prophet "bald head" visited upon them? The conviction that this should be the case easily led to the assumption that it was. And a very slight effort of imagination sufficed to devise a punishment suited to the offence. It was suggested by the very nature of the impious deed. And what, to the chronicler, seemed the application of an obvious principle—that the transgression should fall back upon the transgressor—was accepted by the credulity of the age. Then there was the animosity of other nations, of France in particular, and of Scotland, her ally. If, at home, the manifestation of divine anger and of saintly power was thought to be limited to the kith and kin of the offenders, such nicety of distinction was ignored abroad. It suited the enemies of England that all Englishmen should be "tailards", and "tailards" they were universally and indiscriminately called.

---