Scotland, at various periods of her history, has been placed in situations of imminent peril, from the encroachments and invasions of her ambitious neighbour in the South. Misled by an insatiable thirst for conquest, the English monarchs were either prosecuting their views of aggrandizement on the continent of Europe, or disturbing the tranquillity of Britain by endeavouring to subvert the liberty and independence of her states. The Welsh, after being driven from the most fruitful of their domains, continued an arduous, but ineffectual struggle for their freedom, amid the few barren rocks and vallies that remained to them of their ancient and once flourishing kingdom. The Scots, though always numerically inferior to the English, and, from the comparative poverty of their country, deficient in those internal resources which their richer neighbours possessed; yet, from their warlike propensities, their parsimonious habits, and that love of independence which formed so striking a feature in the character of all the tribes of which the nation was composed, were either prepared to guard the frontier of their kingdom, or retaliate an aggression by invading the territories of the enemy. This last measure was the mode of defence they chiefly resorted to; aware that, with the exception of Berwick, the English, without advancing farther into the country than was consistent with their safety, would find no booty equivalent to what could be driven by the Scots from the fertile plains of their more wealthy opponents. These hostilities were frequently embittered by a claim of superiority which the English urged against the crown and kingdom of Scotland; and as the attempts which were made, from time to time, to enforce it, have produced more misery and bloodshed than any other national quarrel that ever existed between the two countries, an inquiry into the nature and foundation of the alleged plea of vassalage, may be of importance in elucidating the conduct of the conflicting parties in the following narrative. In this inquiry, we shall dispense with any reference, either to “Brute the Trojan” on the one side, or to that no less questionable personage, “Scota, daughter to the King of Egypt,” on the other; and proceed, at once, to the only well-authenticated evidence that exists on the subject.
In the year 1174, William, King of Scotland, dissatisfied with the conduct of Henry II. of England, invaded Northumberland, instigated thereto by a sense of his own wrongs, real or imaginary, and those discontented barons who wished to place the young King on the throne,—an ambitious youth, whom his father had imprudently allowed to be crowned during his own lifetime. While the numerous army of William was spread over the adjacent country, wasting, burning, and slaying with that indiscriminate recklessness peculiar to the age; he, with a chosen band of his followers, besieged the Castle of Alnwick. The devastations committed by the marauding army of the Scots inflamed the minds of the Barons of Yorkshire with a generous indignation; and they determined to exert themselves for the relief of their distressed countrymen. Having congregated at Newcastle to the number of four hundred horsemen, encased in heavy armour; they, though already fatigued with a long journey, pressed forward under the command of Sir Bernard de Baliol; and, by travelling all night, came in sight of the battlements of Alnwick Castle by daybreak. William, it would seem, had been abroad in the fields, with a slender escort of sixty horse; and, mistaking the English for a detachment of his own troops, he was too far advanced to retire, before he became sensible of his danger. “Now it will be seen who are true knights,” said the intrepid monarch, and instantly charged the enemy. His efforts, however, were unavailing; he was soon overpowered, and, along with his companions, made prisoner.
The chivalry of Yorkshire thus secured for their monarch a valuable prize. The magnanimity of Henry, however, was not equal to the gallantry of his subjects; for, on getting possession of the unfortunate prince, he inflicted on him every possible mortification. Not satisfied with exhibiting his rival, like a felon, with his feet tied under his horse’s belly, to the rude gaze of the vulgar; he summoned all his barons to Northampton, to witness “the humiliating spectacle of a sovereign prince exposed in public to a new-invented indignity.”[28]
It may appear difficult to account for this treatment of a Royal Captive, taken under such circumstances, in an age when the honours of chivalry were eagerly sought after by all the crowned heads of Europe. When we reflect, however, that on the Thursday preceding the capture of William, Henry himself had been ignominiously scourged at the tomb of his formidable enemy, Thomas à Becket, his lacerated feelings might, perhaps, have found some relief in this public exhibition of his power to inflict, on a brother monarch, something of a similar degradation.
William was at first committed prisoner to Richmond castle, in Yorkshire; but Henry, either from apprehension of his being insecure among the scarcely-extinguished embers of the late insurrection, or wishing to enhance his value in the eyes of the Scots, by removing him to a greater distance, had him conveyed beyond seas, to Falaise in Normandy. Meanwhile, the Scottish army, thunderstruck at so unusual a calamity, after some ineffectual and misdirected attempts at revenge, abandoned their spoil, and hastily retreated to their own country. Alarmed, however, at the irregularities which the absence of the Head of their Government was likely to produce among the discordant and inflammable materials of which the kingdom was composed, they too hastily agreed to the ignominious terms proposed by the enemy; and submitted to their King becoming the liegeman of Henry for Scotland, and all his other territories; and further,
“The King of Scotland, David, his brother, his Barons, and other liegemen, agreed that the Scottish church should yield to the English church such subjection, in time to come, as it ought of right, and was wont to pay in the days of the Kings of England, predecessors of Henry. Moreover, Richard Bishop of St Andrew’s, Richard Bishop of Dunkeld, Geoffrey Abbot of Dunfermline, and Herbert Prior of Coldingham, agreed that the English church should have that right over the Scottish which in justice it ought to have. They also became bound, that they themselves would not gainsay the right of the English Church.”
“A memorable clause!” says Lord Hailes, “drawn up with so much skill as to leave entire the question of the independence of the Scottish church. Henry and his ministers could never have overlooked such studied ambiguity of expression. The clause, therefore, does honour to the Scottish clergy, who, in that evil day, stood firm to their privileges, and left the question of the independence of the national church to be agitated, on a more fit occasion, and in better times.”
“In pledge for the performance of this miserable treaty, William agreed to deliver up to the English, the castles of Rokesburgh, Berwick, Jedburgh, Edinburgh and Stirling, and gave his brother David and many of his chief barons as hostages.”
Thus stood the right of England to feudal homage over Scotland in 1175. A superiority acquired in such an ungenerous manner, was not likely to be long submitted to with patience. The Scots had always plumed themselves on being an unconquered people, and able to preserve their independence against all who had attempted to invade them. Vassalage implies protection;—It was therefore presumption in England to pretend to defend Scotland against those enemies before whom she herself had been obliged to truckle.
It was not long before the conduct of William displayed that covered scorn of his liege-lord, which his late injuries were calculated to inspire. Countenanced by him, the Scottish bishops, at a council held at Northampton, boldly declared, in the presence of the Pope’s legate, “that they had never yielded subjection to the English church, nor ought they.”