1297. Early in October a proclamation was issued for every one capable of bearing arms to appear on the moor of Roslin. An immense multitude attended. The most vigorous and the best equipped were then selected; and having thus embodied an efficient, numerous, and gallant army, Wallace excited their ardour by a short and animating address, in which he told them, that, united as they were, with only one glorious object in view, they had nothing but victory to expect,—their country had been stript of its wealth by their late oppressors, and it was now their duty and interest to recover it, and punish the aggressors. The army[5] then proceeded in high spirits towards the English frontier,—their leader rightly judging, that, by withdrawing so many men, a larger quantity of provisions would remain for those left behind; and by adopting this measure, his soldiers also, while they escaped from the contagion which had appeared in Scotland, would be moreover rewarded for their past labours, by the riches they would find in the more flourishing regions of the South; which, having enjoyed a long interval of peace, might be conceived to be overflowing with that description of wealth most desirable in the estimation of the needy adventurers of the North;—and the latter, no doubt, as they drove home their lowing and bleating prey from the rich pastures of Durham and the neighbouring counties, considered that they were merely removing their own property, of which they had been unjustly deprived by the tyranny of the English.
In this expedition, Wallace divided the command of the army with Sir Andrew Murray of Bothwell, the promising son of the brave Sir Andrew, who fell in the late engagement. This honour he may have thought due to the patriotic conduct of the father, in adhering to the fortunes of his country, amidst the general defection of the Scottish barons. And—as it might tend to give the lie to those reports which began to be circulated of an intention to aggrandize himself at the expense of the aristocracy,—the appointment was evidently a measure of judicious and honourable policy.
On the approach of the Scottish army, the inhabitants of Northumberland deserted their dwellings, and fled to Newcastle, carrying with them their wives and children, their cattle and household stuff. The Guardian, however, for a short time delayed his advance; and having received notice that several of the burgesses of Aberdeen, and others in that quarter, had disobeyed his summons to appear at Roslin, he hurried back to the North, where, on apprehending the parties, those whose excuses were inadmissible, he ordered for immediate execution. Hastily rejoining his forces, he crossed the Border, and succeeded in surprising the English, who, thinking the storm had blown over, were returned to their homes.
The Scots now commenced their destructive reprisals, by wasting with fire and sword the counties of Cumberland and Northumberland. In this work of devastation they were assisted by Robert de Ros of Werk, a great northern baron, who, as we have already observed, had deserted the standard of Edward in 1295. It is presumed that the same influence which formerly seduced him from his loyalty, still existed; and it is a pity that the name of the lady who made so patriotic a use of her charms, has not been preserved by the historians of her country.
The former inroads of the Scots were trifling, compared with the wide-spreading desolation which now marked their career. The havoc they made, and the spoils they collected, are feelingly dwelt on by the English writers of the day. Langtoft thus expresses himself:—
“To werre than ros thei eft, tille God thei mad a vowe,
That no thing suld be left, that myght to Inglond prowe,
Mercy suld none haue, tille alle thei suld do wo,
Kirke suld no man saue, bot brenne ther in & slo.
In Northumberland ther first thei bigan,
& alle that com tille hande, they slouh and ouer ran
To Flandres tille Edward tithinges men him sent,
That Scottis com in hard, the North is nere alle brent,
& more salle zit be lorn, bot if we haf socoure.
Nouht standes tham biforn, toun, castelle ne toure.”
Vol. ii. p. 298, 299.
Hemingford says, “At this time the praise of God was not heard in any church or monastery through the whole country, from Newcastle-upon-Tyne to the gates of Carlisle; for the monks and canons regular, and other priests who were ministers of the Lord, fled with the whole people from the face of the enemy; nor was there any to oppose them, except now and then a few English who belonged to the Castle of Alnwick, who ventured from their strongholds, and slew some stragglers. But these were but slight successes; and the Scots roved over the country[6] from the Feast of St Luke to St Martin’s day, inflicting on it all the miseries of rapine and bloodshed.”[7]
The Guardian having summoned in all his plundering parties, and concentrated his army, directed his march towards Carlisle. The sack of this city would have been most desirable to the invaders, not only on account of its riches, but also as in some measure enabling them to avenge the injuries inflicted upon Berwick. The place, however, was strongly fortified; and the Scots not being provided with a battering train, they had to content themselves with sending a summons; which, being disregarded by the garrison, they passed on, and laid waste Cumberland and Allerdale, from Inglewood Forest to Derwentwater and Cockermouth. Winter now advanced:—the frost set in with uncommon severity,—and the Scots, who had created a desert around them, began also to dread the miseries of famine, as well as the inclemency of the season. Their encampments could now be traced by the frozen bodies of those who had perished during the night from the intensity of the cold. Under these circumstances, Wallace gave orders for their return to Scotland.
On their reaching Hexceldsham,[8] the monastery of which had been plundered during their advance, the following singular scene is said by Hemmingford to have occurred. Three monks, all who had the courage to remain, were observed in a small chapel. Thinking that the danger was over, they had forsaken their concealments, and were endeavouring to repair the damages of the late visitation, when, in the midst of their labours, they discovered the Scottish army returning, and fled in dismay to the oratory. The soldiers, however, with their long spears, were soon among them; and brandishing their weapons, commanded them, at their peril, to give up the treasures of the monastery. “Alas!” said one of the monks, “it is but a short time since you yourselves have seized our whole property, and you know best where it now is.” At this juncture Wallace entered, and commanding his soldiers to be silent, requested one of the monks to perform mass: he obeyed, and the Guardian and his attendants heard the service with becoming reverence. When the elevation of the host was about to take place, Wallace retired for a moment to lay aside his helmet and arms. Instantly the avarice and ferocity of the soldiers broke out. They pressed upon the priest, snatched the cup from the high altar, tore away the ornaments and sacred vestments, and even stole the book which contained the ceremony. When their leader returned, he found the priest in fear and horror at the sacrilege. Wallace, indignant at such conduct, gave orders that the villains should be searched for, and put to death. In the mean time, he took the monks under his own special protection.