Punch or The London charivari (3.1842)

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

one of them, except Wallace, who was the only man who refused to
come to terms with the conqueror.

During the king's absence Wallace had tolerable success ; he dis-
comfited the English leaders in many small skirmishes and surprises,
and defeated, at Cambuskenneth, a great body of the English troops.
He thought, too, to have as easy work with the king himself, when
Edward, hearing of his Lieutenant's defeat, came thundering down
to avenge him. But the Scot was no match for the stern English
warrior. At Falkirk the king gave Wallace's army such a beating
as almost annihilated it, and Wallace was obliged to fly to the woods,
where he was finally seized by one of his former friends and adhe-
rents ; and, being sent to London, there died the death of a traitor.

Be warned then, my little dears, when you come to read the His-
tory of the Scottish Chiefs, by my dear friend Miss Porter, that
William Wallace was by no means the character which that charming
historian has depicted, going into battle, as it were, with a tear in
his eye, a cambric handkerchief in his hand, and a flounce to his
petticoat; nor was he the heroic creature of Tytler and Scott ;
nor, most probably, the ruffian that Doctor Lingard would have him
to be.

He appears, it is true, to have been as violent and ferocious a soldier
as ever lived ; in his inroads into England murdering and ravaging
without pity. But such was the custom of his time ; and such being
the custom, as we excuse Wallace for murdering the English, we
must excuse Edward for hanging Wallace when he caught him.
Hanging and murdering, look you, were quite common in those days ;
nay, they were thought to be just and laudable, and I make no doubt
that people at that period who objected to such murders at all, were
accused of " sickly sentimentality," just as they are now, who pre-
sume to be hurt when the law orders a fellow-creature to be killed
before the Old Bailey. Well, at any rate, allow us to be thankful
that we do not live in those days, when each of us would have had a
thousand more chances of being hanged than now. There is no sickly
sentimentality about such a preference as that.

Let us allow, then, the claims of Wallace to be a hero and patriot.
Another hero arose in Scotland after Wallace's discomfiture, who
was more lucky than he ; but stern King Edward of the Longshanks
was dead when Bruce's triumphs were secured; and his son, Edward
of Carnarvon, was making-believe to reign.

This Bruce had been for a long time shilly-shallying as to the side

he should take ; whether he should join his countrymen over whom
he might possibly become king ; or whether he should remain faithful
to King Edward, and not risk his estates or his neck. The latter
counsel for some time prevailed ; for amongst other causes they had
to take sides against their country, a chief one was, hatred of the
Baliols. When John of Baliol died, his son being then a prisoner in
London, a nephew of John Baliol, called Comyn of Badenoch, became
the head man in Scotland. He had always been found gallantly in
arms against King Edward, doing his duty as a soldier in Falkirk
fight, and in many other actions, with better or similar fortune—not
sneaking in the English camp as Bruce was.

The king, hcrwever, who had pardoned the young man many times,
at last got wind of some new conspiracies in which he was engaged,
and vowed, it was said, to make away with him. Bruce got warning
in time, made for Scotland, called a meeting with the Regent, Comyn
of Badenoch, who granted the interview, and hereupon Bruce mur-
dered Comyn in God's church, and at once proclaimed himself King
of Scotland. The Scotch historians have tried to apologise as usual
for this foul and dastardly assassination, saying that it was done in a
heat—unpremeditated, and so forth. Nonsense, my loves ; Robert
Bruce had been shuffling and intriguing all his life. He murdered
the man who stood between him and the crown—and he took it, and
if you read Sir Walter Scott's " Lord of the Isles," you will see what
a hero he has made of him. 0 these Scotchmen ! these Scotchmen !
how they do stand by one another !

Old Edward came tearing down to the borders on the news, vowing,
he would kill and eat Robert Bruce ; but it was not so ordained ;
the old king was carried off by a much more powerful enemy than
any bare-legged Scot; and his son, Edward of Carnarvon (who reigned
1307-1327), had not the energy of his father; and though he made
several attempts to punish the Scots, was usually left in the lurch by
his nobility, and on one occasion, at Bannockburn, cruelly beaten by
them. They have made a pretty pother about that battle,I warrant you,
those Scots ; and you may hear sailors from Glasgow or Paisley still
crow and talk big about it. Give the fellows their battle, my dears ; we
can afford it—{Great sensation). As for the murderer, Robert Bruce,
he was, it must be confessed, a wary and gallant captain—wise in
good fortune, resolute in bad, and he robbed the English counties to
the satisfaction of his subjects. It is almost a pity to think he
deserved to be hanged.

During the dissensions in England, Robert Bruce, having pretty
well secured Scotland, took a fancy to Ireland too — invaded the
country himself, came rather suddenly back again, and sent his
brother Edward, who even had the impudence to be crowned King of
Ireland : but the English forces coming up with him, took his crown
from him with his head in it—and so ended the reigns of the Bruces
in Ireland.

As for Edward of Carnarvon, little good can be said of him or his
fimes. An extravagant, idle king, insolent favourites (though
Gaveston, it must be confessed, was a gallant and dashing fellow),
bullying greedy barons, jealous that any one should have power but
themselves, and, above all (alas ! that I should have to say it), an
infamous, disreputable wretch of a French wife, fill the whole pages
of this wretched king's reign, with their quarrels, their vices, and their
murders. In the midst of their quarrels, they allowed the country to
be bullied by the French, and even the Scots ; the people were racked
and torn by taxes and tyranny ; the king was finally deposed, and
murdered by the intrigues of his wicked vixen of a wife, who did not,
however, enjoy her ill-gotten honours long as regent of the kingdom.
Edward the Third came to the throne, and of him we will speak in the
next lecture.

In the year 1356, the Black Prince, who had commenced his career
ten years earlier as a gallant young soldier at Crecy,had an opportunity
of achieving for himself a triumph to the full as great as that former
famous one. Robbing and murdering for ten years, as he had been,
he had become naturally a skilful captain ; and now, in 1356, say the
historians, having left his chief city of Bordeaux with 12,000 men,
crossing the Garonne, overrunning Querci, the Limousin, Auvergne,
and Berri, slaughtering the peasantry, destroying the com, wine, and
provisions, and burning the farm-houses, villages, and towns, he was
surprised near Poictiers, in the province of Poitou, by a large army,
led by King John of France. The French army was very large—that
of the Black Prince very small. " Heaven help us," said his Royal
Highness ; " it only remains for us to fight bravely."

He was, however, so doubtful as to the result of the action, that he
sent rather modest proposals to the French king, offering to give up
his plunder and prisoners, and to promise not to serve against France
for seven years, if the French would but let him off this time. King
John, however, replied, that he must have the Black Prince and a