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EDWARD I. (1239-1307)

The new reign began with the adjustment of an outstanding quarrel. Flanders was the principal cloth-making country, and, as such, she was always the chief customer of England for wool, in the trade of which so many of the London merchants were interested. In the year 1270, when the Countess of Flanders thought fit to lay hands upon the wool and other merchandise belonging to English merchants in her dominions, Henry issued a writ to the Mayor and Sheriffs forbidding the export of wool anywhere out of the kingdom. This measure failed to produce the desired effect. The King therefore, in 1270, seized all the goods of the Flemings, Hainaulters, and other subjects of the Countess; he ordered the London merchants to draw up an estimate of their wares, to be replaced out of the Flemings’ goods, and banished every Fleming out of the country. The property seized more than covered the amount of the loss. When the old King died during the absence of Edward in the Holy Land, the Chancellor, Walter de Merton, continued to banish the Flemings.

On his journey home, Edward received an embassy from the Countess, and sent for four discreet citizens to confer with him. The four chosen were Henry Waleys, afterwards Mayor of Bordeaux, as well as of London; Gregory de Rokesley, goldsmith and wool merchant; John Horn, evidently of Flemish descent; and Luke de Battencourt, Sheriff. Peace was concluded and signed in the same year—1274.

On the return of Edward from the Holy Land, he was received by the City with every appearance of joy, all the houses being hung with silk and tapestry, while the conduits ran with wine.

He was crowned at Westminster Abbey with his Queen Eleanor on August 19, 1274. The ceremony took place in the Abbey Church very much as we see it, though without later additions of chapel and western towers. The Abbey had been rebuilt by Henry III. though as yet it was not finished. The Queen-mother, Eleanor of Provence, was present. The day after the coronation Alexander III. of Scotland did homage. In honour of the occasion five hundred horses were let loose among the crowd for any to take who could. One would like a picture of the scramble which followed, and an enumeration of the dead and wounded when all the horses had been ridden away.

QUEEN ELEANOR OF CASTILE

From the effigy in Westminster Abbey.

In the City the contest between the two parties was continued. The old party tried to obtain the election of their man Philip le Taillour, but were beaten by the common sort who elected Walter Hervey. An appeal was made to the King: a committee of ten, five on each side, were to agree upon a Mayor. The names of the members of this committee on both sides show pretty plainly the real nature of the quarrel. For one side are Walter Merton, William le Polter, John Adrian, Henry de Coventry, and Thomas Basyng, all members of old City families; on the other side are Robert Grapefige, Alan the Capmaker, and Bartholomew the Grocer. It was while the dispute was still unsettled that the old King had died, and Walter Merton told the people at Paul’s Cross that they should have their Mayor. The new Mayor and Sheriffs set themselves to regulate the trade of the City, especially the sale of bread, meal, and provisions generally, and to pass laws for the punishment of those who gave short weight or adulterated food. The laws being passed, the City Fathers, as was customary in those times, sat down with the consciousness of having done their duty. The appointment of an executive force to insist upon the observance of the laws was an expedient not yet invented by the wit of man.

It is, however, another illustration of the upheaval and discontent of the people that in the third year of this reign, the juries of the wards made a presentment to the King complaining that although the City ought not to be tallaged except by order of the King, yet it had been on several occasions tallaged by the Mayor; and that although all the citizens were equal as regards their freedom and privileges, yet some of the Aldermen and others had obtained charters from Henry III. exempting them from tallage: in so much that all the tallage fell upon the middle sort and the poor, to their great loss and oppression.

The King further considered the complaints against the Jews for usury. They were forbidden to practise their trade; and it was ordained, as a mark of infamy, that every usurer should wear upon his breast a badge, the “breadth of a paveline,” in sign of his trade. This law was levelled at the Italian merchants, the men of the Pope, who traded in money and refused to obey any laws against the practice except those of the Pope. As for the unfortunate Jews, being deprived of the only trade open to them—if they were really deprived, but I think the edict was never enforced,—they took to clipping and diminishing the King’s coin—if they really did do so, but one doubts—and were all seized and imprisoned in one day: out of those so arrested in the City, two hundred and eighty were executed. Alas! poor Jews!

It is an illustration of the melancholy condition to which London was reduced by the late disastrous reign that in the year 1281 it was reported to the King that London Bridge had become so ruinous that it might any moment fall down. This was in consequence of the Queen of Henry III. having spent the revenues and rents upon herself, and left the fabric to fall into ruin, in so much that in 1282 a great frost happening, five of the piers were carried away by the ice. Edward ordered a toll of one penny for every horseman and one halfpenny for every saleable pack of goods that crossed the bridge, the toll to continue for three years. Grants of land, made to the City by Edward I. and following kings for the repair of the Bridge, prove that the citizens had recovered their ancient rights as to its custody.

Nor were the City Gates in much better case than the Bridge. Thus, the Hanseatic merchants enjoyed the privilege of trading in the City on the condition of keeping one of the Gates—Bishopsgate—in repair, and of defending it in case of siege. The condition was imposed by Henry III., but the merchants neglected the Gate so that it had by this time fallen into ruin. On being called upon to fulfil their contract they at first refused, but when the case was decided against them by the Court of Exchequer, they performed their duty with zeal, and a hundred and fifty years later, when the gate again fell into decay, they pulled it down and rebuilt it.

The brutality of the time is illustrated by the reception given to the head of Llewelyn, Prince of Wales. He had fled to the castle of Builth after losing his last battle. Here he was betrayed into the hands of Roger le Strange, who cut off his head with his sword and sent it to the King. Edward ordered that it should be carried to London. Consequently the head of the dead warrior was borne on a lance, crowned with a silver chaplet, through the streets with a cavalcade of men-at-arms, with trumpets and drums, and with the shouting of the people. Then it was stuck up on the Tower, crowned with a mock diadem. One remembers also the unspeakable indignities perpetrated on the dead body of Simon de Montfort.

All the histories of London notice the remarkable case of Lawrence Ducket mentioned by Fabyan. It occurred in the year 1284, and presents many points of mystery. Lawrence Ducket was a goldsmith who, in some kind of affray, wounded one Ralph Crepin in Westchepe. Immediately after the deed, it would seem, probably running away from the crowd, he took sanctuary in Bow Church tower. But certain friends of Crepin getting into the tower at night hanged Lawrence from one of the windows in such a manner that it seemed as if he had committed suicide. And a Coroner’s jury holding inquest on the body brought in a verdict of self-murder, whereupon the body was thrown into a cart, carried out of the City, and buried in a ditch. Then, however, a boy came forward and deposed that he was sleeping in the tower with Lawrence Ducket, and that he witnessed from a corner where he hid himself—the murder by certain persons whom he named. Arrests were made and more information obtained, in consequence of which it was discovered that a woman had contrived and designed this murder and sacrilege. She was burned alive. Sixteen were hanged; and many others, persons of consideration, were fined. A notable murder.

One remembers the quarrel between the Goldsmiths and the Tailors fifteen years before this. Was it a renewal of that, or some other old feud? That would seem the only way of accounting for so determined and so daring a revenge.

Two things are remarkable in the year 1285. First, the great conduit of Cheapside was set up in this year. It was a cistern of lead built round with stone and castellated. The water had been brought from Paddington fifty years before, but this was the first attempt to form a reservoir; the leaden pipes originally used were changed for wooden pipes formed by hollowing out trunks of trees. There were three sections: one of 510 rods from Paddington to “James’ Head”; one of 102 rods from “James’ Head on the hill” to the Mewsgate; from the Mewsgate to the Cross in Cheape, 484 rods. For a long time this conduit formed the sole supply of water brought in from without for the whole City excepting the foul waters of the Fleet and the Walbrook. There were, however, many private wells and springs in the City, and of water without the City there was a plentiful supply.

The second noticeable act of the year was the order of the Archbishop of Canterbury that all the Jews’ synagogues in the City should be destroyed. The hatred of the Jews was, it will be seen, rapidly becoming irresistible.

In 1285, also, thirteen years after the death of King Henry, there comes to light what is either an act of revenge or a curious survival of the spirit of discontent which placed the Londoners on the side of the barons. A citizen named Thomas Piwilesdon (? By Willesden) who in the time of the barons had been a great “doer, to stir the people against King Henry,” was arrested on the charge of compassing new disturbances. No doubt this was in connection with the efforts of the craftsmen. The Custos arrested him and banished him, with fifty others, out of the City for life.

What followed was, apparently, a concession to the merchants. The foreign traders had formerly been compelled to lodge in the houses of citizens and to sell their goods by procuration, through the London merchants. Afterwards being allowed to take houses and use them for storage and for sale, they were now charged with abusing the privilege in various ways; they caused their goods to be weighed by their private beams instead of the King’s beam; and they used false weights. Twenty of them were arrested and taken to the Tower; their false weights were publicly destroyed in West Chepe, and they themselves, after a long imprisonment, were fined a thousand pounds.

The City had sunk into a dreadful condition by the bad government of the mayors and sheriffs, the internal dissensions, and the general anarchy. The streets were nightly infested with companies of robbers and murderers; the crafts, especially those whose work overlapped each other, were perpetually quarrelling; there was dissension everywhere; the old order was breaking up. For a time it was well that London should cease to elect her Mayor. Moreover, there were examples of this despotic remedy under Henry III. The Sheriff of the year 1285 was Gregory Rockesley, who was a goldsmith. With his friend Henry Waleys he had taken turns in holding the chief office of the City. Waleys was a vintner. Both were wealthy men and of good repute with the King. In 1275 Henry Waleys stepped from the Mayoralty of London into that of Bordeaux. In 1274 Rockesley held no office in London, because he was sent to Flanders on an embassy. The following table will illustrate the position in the City of these two merchants.

 1264. Gregory Rockesley is one of the Sheriffs.

 1271. Sheriffs, Gregory Rockesley and Henry Waleys.

 1274. Mayor, Henry Waleys.

 1275. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1276. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1277. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1278. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1279. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1280. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1281. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1282. Mayor, Henry Waleys.

 1283. Mayor, Henry Waleys.

 1284. Mayor, Henry Waleys.

 1285. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.

 1286-1297. No Mayor.

 1298. Mayor, Henry Waleys.

So that in thirteen years no other citizen was put forward as Mayor except these two, and when the City after twelve years returned to its old constitution, one of these two—probably the survivor—became once more Mayor.

In the year 1285 Edward took over the City into his own hands in the manner following. On the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul (June 29) the Lord Treasurer summoned the Mayor to the Tower there to give an account of his keeping of the peace. The summons was an infraction upon the liberties of the City (see also vol. ii. part i. ch. iv.). Gregory Rockesley, however, without formally refusing to obey, marched in procession with the City Fathers as far as Barking Church. Here he cast aside his gown, his collar, his rings, and dismissed his officers, and entered the Tower as a private person there appearing before the Justices. They asked him what he meant. He replied that as mayor he was not bound to appear before any Court beyond the liberties of the City. I think that we may assume that this question and this answer had been arranged beforehand, because it was most unlikely that the Treasurer was ignorant of the City’s Charters. Rockesley was allowed to retire. Next day, he and the principal citizens were arrested and put in prison. The King, “finding the City without a Mayor,” took it into his own hands and appointed as Custos Sir Ralph Sandwich. After this everybody was released and the Custos remained in charge.

The whole story shows previous arrangement. The only two men who seemed possible for the post of Mayor were growing old; the office was more onerous than they could well bear; the City grew daily more lawless; deeds of violence were more rife; the quarrels of the craftsmen more frequent; street fights more common; the arm of the law weaker. But the King was strong, there was no doubt on that point. Long before his accession Edward had proved to the citizens that he was strong and just and inflexible. Let the King take over the City and keep possession till the restoration of good order. Not by trampling on the Charters. Let it be done by a legal quibble.

So it was all arranged, and Gregory Rockesley, being released from prison, retired from office to the quiet management of his own affairs. As we hear no more about him we may assume that he was probably dead when the citizens returned to the election of their Mayor. And the King finding the City without a mayor appointed a Custos in his own name. One of the citizens, Aswy, Alderman of Chepe, was kept in prison a little longer, for some other reason, which we are not able to learn. The new Custos, it is evident, was a strong man. He not only knew how to make laws but he enforced them. He would allow no foreigner to wear any weapon, nor to be abroad after curfew; and since the late disturbances took place chiefly by night, all people wandering about the streets after dark were liable to be arrested and clapped into the Tun of Cornhill. No vintners or victuallers were to keep their shops open after curfew: and, since many lewd persons learned the art of fencing as a help to their disorderly conduct, all schools of fencing were closed: the Aldermen were enjoined to make a visitation of their wards and to arrest rogues and bring them to punishment. As a practical example, the Custos arrested fifty-eight persons and banished them from the City. Then the hearts of honest men were gladdened. They had got a just and strong King who had appointed a just and strong Custos. The laws would be obeyed. As for the City liberties, they would doubtless be restored when the City had purged herself and was ready to live a cleanly and reputable life. Another important step was taken. It was ordered, with the view of securing for the King an army of defence in case of need, every man was to have arms and armour according to his rank, and that the armour should be inspected twice a year; and, further, for the better security of the City that every gate should be guarded by six men and should be closed from sunset to sunrise.

Grove and Boulton.

CHARING CROSS

Designed by Pietro Cavalini.

This strong king, by another act of justice accomplished at the same time, filled the souls of wrongdoers in high places with terror. This was the punishment of the King’s Justiciars for the delays and corruptions with which they had conducted their Courts. Twelve Judges were found guilty and condemned in various penalties and fines. The Chief Justice was stripped of all his property and banished. Another was fined 32,000 marks, an enormous sum of money; the rest were fined from one thousand to seven thousand marks.

Respect for the law, after a long period of lawlessness, was the lesson which the nation had to learn. In London it was sternly taught the citizens by the King’s Custos, Sir Ralph Sandwich. And first by the example of the foreign merchants: for finding them justly charged with short measure and false weight, he imprisoned them all in the Tower, and fined them a thousand pounds. This punishment struck a salutary terror into the heart of many an honest trader: quart pots, for instance, were everywhere restored to their original dimensions by the removal of the pitch which had raised up the bottom. Another useful lesson was given when a rescue was attempted. The Sheriff was haling a criminal to prison when three misguided citizens assaulted him and forcibly released the man. They were promptly arrested, tried, and sentenced to have their right hands struck off. It is a punishment which one would not willingly see revived; at the same time, it may be acknowledged that the spectacle of these unhappy stumps must have reminded the citizens every day of the respect due to a magistrate. It was an object lesson which continued till the death of the last survivor of the three. And another lesson was taught them when some of the principal citizens broke open the Tun prison and set the prisoners free. They were themselves imprisoned and the City was fined 20,000 marks.

In the year 1295 there happened a thing happily most unusual in the annals of the country—the deliberate venal treachery of a knight esteemed honourable and loyal as he was already proved to be courageous. There is an account of the case in Holinshed; Stow and others briefly notice it; the fullest account, however, is that of Bartholomew Cotton, quoted in the Appendix to the Chronicles of Old London (FitzThedmar):—

“In the same year (A.D. 1295) a certain knight, Thomas Turbevile by name, who had been taken by the French at the siege of Rheims, and detained in prison by the said King of France, came over to England with traitorous designs, and said that he had escaped from prison of the said King of France: whereupon, he was kindly received by our Lord the King of England, and much honoured. But after he had remained some little time in the Court of our Lord the King of England aforesaid, he attempted to send a certain letter to the King of France: whereupon, his messenger carried the same to our Lord the King of England and gave him a full and open account of the treachery of his employer. The traitor, suspecting this, took to flight, but was taken shortly after. The tenor of his treasonable letter was as follows:—

The whole of the letter need not be quoted here. It proved the treason of the man up to the hilt.

“‘And know that the King is sending into Gascoigne twenty ships laden with wheat and oats, and with other provisions and a large amount of money: and Sir Edmund the King’s brother will go thither, and the Earle of Nichole, Sir Hugh le Despenser, the Earl of Warwyk, and many other good folks: and this you may tell to the high Lord. And know that we think we have enough to do against those of Scotland! and if those of Scotland rise against the King of England, the Welsh will rise also. And this I have well contrived, and Morgan has covenanted with me to that effect. Wherefore I counsel you forthwith to send great persons into Scotland: for if you can enter therein, you will have gained it for ever.’”

The said Thomas was seized on the Saturday next before the Feast of Saint Michael, and taken to the Tower of London: and on the Saturday next after the Feast of Saint Faith (October 6) he had his trial, and departed in manner underwritten:—He came from the Tower, mounted on a poor hack, in a coat of ray, and shod with white shoes, his head being covered with a hood, and his feet tied beneath the horse’s belly, and his hands tied before him: and around him were riding six torturers attired in the form of the devil, one of whom held his rein, and the hangman his halter, for the horse which bore him had them both upon it: and in such a manner was he led from the Tower through London to Westminster, and was condemned on the dais in the Great Hall there: and Sir Roger Brabazun pronounced judgment on him, that he should be drawn and hanged, and that he should hang so long as anything should be left whole of him: and he was drawn on a fresh ox-hide from Westminster to the Conduit of London, and then back to the gallows: and there is he hung by a chain of iron, and will hang so long as anything of him may remain.

In the year 1290 Edward lost his Queen, Eleanor of Castile, and to show his grief for her death he erected crosses of a beautiful design at all the stopping-places of the funeral procession on its way from Nottingham to London. It may be remembered that one of the suggested derivations of Charing Cross is “Chère reine,” in allusion to the cross there. The present cross in the station courtyard is on the model of the ancient one, though not exactly like it.

In the same year those remaining of the Jews were banished, their lands and houses were seized; though they were suffered to carry with them their portable property. The hardships endured by these unfortunate people are spoken of elsewhere (see p. 9). The following simple story of brutal murder is related by Holinshed (vol. ii.):—

“A sort of the richest of them, being shipped with their treasure in a mightie tall ship which they had hired, when the same was under saile, and got downe the Thames towards the mouth of the river beyond Quinborowe, the maister mariner bethought him of a wile, and caused his men to cast anchor, and so rode at the same, till the ship by ebbing of the stream remained on the drie sands. The maister herewith entised the Jewes to walke out with him on land for recreation. And at length, when he understood the tide to be coming in, he got him backe to the ship, whither he was drawne up by a cord. The Jewes made not so much hast as he did, bicause they were not aware of the danger. But when they perceived how the matter stood, they cried to him for helpe; howbeit he told them, that they ought to crie rather unto Moses, by whose conduct their fathers had passed through the Red Sea, and therefore, if they would call to him for helpe, he was able inough to helpe them out of those raging floods, which now came in upon them; they cried indeed, but no succour appeared, and so they were swallowed up in the water. The maister returned with the ship, and told the King how he had used the matter, and had both thanks and reward, as some have written. But other affirme (and more trulie as should seem) that diverse of those mariners, which dealt so wickedlie against the Jewes, were hanged for their wicked practise, and so received a just reward of their fraudulent and mischeevous dealing.”

In the end the banishment of the Jews brought no alleviation to those who wanted to borrow money. The Lombards and the Caursini proved as flinty-hearted in the matter of interest as any Jew had been.

Edward granted but one Charter to the City. This was in 1298, when the Mayor was restored to the City. It is simply a Charter of Confirmation. The citizens are to have all their old liberties together with the right of electing their Mayor and Sheriffs. The election of Henry Waleys as the first of the new series showed that the preponderance of power was still with the aristocratic class. Edward’s financial embarrassments and his wars belong to the history of the country. As regards the City, Edward borrowed money of the Italian Companies (see p. 212); he created knights by the hundred; he searched the monasteries and churches for treasure; he seized the lay fees of the clergy; he got £2000 out of the City in recognition of his knighting the Mayor; and he persuaded, or ordered, the Londoners to furnish him with three ships, forty men mounted and equipped, and fifty arbalisters for the defence of the southern coast.

After the King’s victorious campaign in Scotland, he was welcomed on his return with a procession and pageant most magnificent. The houses were hung high with scarlet cloth; the trades and crafts appeared, each offering some device or “subtlety” showing its kind of work. Thus, the fishmongers marched with four gilt sturgeons and four silver salmon on horses; they also equipped forty-six knights in full armour, riding horses “made like luces of the sea”; the knights were followed by St. Magnus—his church is at the bottom of Fish Street—with a thousand horsemen.

PARLIAMENT OF EDWARD I.

From Pinkerton, Iconographia Scotica.

On August 10, 1305, Westminster witnessed a trial surpassed by few in interest and importance—that of the patriot Sir William Wallace, who had been captured in his Highland retreat by treachery, and had been brought to London. Wallace was at this time not more than thirty years of age: in the full vigour of manhood and of genius. He had filled his short life with fights and forays. As a hero of romance, the ideal patriot, all kinds of legends and stories have accumulated round his name. All we know for certain about him is that he was at the head of an army gathered from that part of the Lowlands lying north of the Tay; that without the help of the Scottish earls or barons he defeated the English at Stirling and drove them out of the country; and though he was defeated at Falkirk he awakened in the hearts of the Scots the spirit of independence: he made them a nation. On his arrival in London the illustrious prisoner was taken to the house of a private citizen, William De Leyre by name, who lived in the parish of Allhallows the Great. It does not appear why he was not taken to the Tower. Perhaps it was desired to attach as little importance as possible in the case. “Great numbers,” however, according to Stow, “both men and women came out to wonder upon him.... On the morrow, being the eve of St. Bartholomew, he was brought on horseback to Westminster, John Segrave and Geoffrey, knights, the Mayor, Sheriffs and Aldermen of London and many others, both on horseback and on foot, accompanying him: and in the Great Hall at Westminster he being placed on the south bench, crowned with lawrel—for that he had said in time past that he ought to bear a crown in that hall as it was commonly reported—and being appeached as a traitor by Sir Peter Mallorie the King’s Justice, he answered that he was never traitor to the King of England: but for other things whereof he was accused”—what were those other things?—“he confessed them.” What he pleaded was, in fact, that he could be no traitor because he owed no allegiance to the King of England. It is clear from this statement that the name and fame of William Wallace were spread over the whole of England; and that the man who had driven out the English and ravaged Northumberland and defied the conqueror, was sent up to London as a captive fore-doomed to death. The prentices ran and shouted; the women looked out of the upper chambers—pity that a man so gallant, who rode as if to his wedding instead of his death, should have to die the death of a traitor. As for the manner of his death, it followed the usual ceremony: first he was dragged at the heels of horses to the place of execution, the Elms at Smithfield; he was placed on a hurdle, otherwise he would have been dead long before reaching the place, for from Westminster Hall to the Elms, Smithfield, is two miles at least. There were multitudes waiting at Smithfield to see this gallant Scot done to death. First they hanged him on a high gallows, but only for the ignominy of it, not to kill him; then they took the rope from his neck, laid him down, took out his bowels and performed other mutilations which one hopes were done when the life was out of him. Then they cut up his body and distributed it in parts: some to rejoice the hearts of the English on London Bridge, at Newcastle, at Berwick: and of the Scots at Perth and Aberdeen. The business was as barbarous as possible, but it was the fashion of the time. Two hundred and fifty years later in the reign of Queen Elizabeth the same punishment in all its details was inflicted upon Babington and his friends. Three hundred and eighty years later almost the same punishment was inflicted upon Monmouth’s adherents. The execution itself, apart from the cruel manner of it, which belonged to the time, is generally condemned as a blot upon the life and reign of the great Edward. Perhaps, however, the history of the case may show some reason for an act quite contrary in spirit to the King’s usual treatment of the indomitable Scots. After the overtures of Balliol, the Scottish lords swore homage to Edward. Wallace alone—a simple knight—refused to recognise the surrender, called the people to arms, against the wish of nobles and priests, drove the English out of Scotland and led a foray into Northumberland. At the battle of Falkirk the Scots were defeated and cut to pieces, Wallace himself escaping with difficulty. That was in 1298. But the struggle was continued. For six years Edward was occupied with other troubles. When, in 1304, he again invaded the country, the Scottish lords laid down their arms and the conquest of Scotland was accomplished without further bloodshed. A general amnesty was extended to all. But the name of Wallace was excluded—“let him submit to the grace of the King, if so it seemeth him good.” Wallace would not submit: he retreated to the Highlands, where he was captured.

GREAT SEAL OF EDWARD I.

In every age civilised war is governed by certain rules: one must play the game according to these rules. One of them is that when the King has accepted peace, there shall be peace. Wallace might be supposed to have broken that rule. His country had submitted formally: he alone stood out. Patriot he was, no doubt. So was Andreas Hofer; but irregular warfare everywhere is treated as treason or rebellion. And therefore the King, who might well have shown a magnanimous clemency, was justified in his own eyes in putting Sir William Wallace to a shameful end.

The opinion of the English people upon Wallace may be understood from that of Matthew of Westminster, who pours a shower of abuse upon his head. William Wallace is “an outcast from pity, a robber, a sacrilegious man, an incendiary, a homicide, a man more cruel than the cruelty of Herod, more insane than the fury of Nero.” He made men and women in the North of England dance naked before him; he murdered infants; burnt boys in schools “in great numbers,” and at last ran away and deserted his people.

It remains to be added that Wallace’s head was the first of many which decorated London Bridge.

The remarkable robbery of the King’s Treasury by Podelicote took place in 1305.

In the same year the King offered an excellent example of obedience to the laws by sending his son, Prince Edward, to prison for riotously breaking into the park of Walter Langton, Bishop of Chester, and at the same time banished from the realm the Prince’s companion and unworthy friend, Piers Gaveston.

On July 7, 1307, King Edward died while on his way to carry out his vow of vengeance against Bruce.