of his battle-axe he beat the Duke of York to the ground; and when Henry stood forth to defend his relative, he hit the king over the head, and knocked off part of the gold crown which he wore on his helmet. But this was the last blow that Alençon ever struck; the English closed upon him, and see ing his danger, he cried out to the king, 'I surrender to youI am the Duke of Alençon.' Henry held out his hand. It was too late-the duke was slain. His fall finished the battle, for his followers fled in dismay; and the third division of the French army, which had never drawn sword, and which was in itself more than double the number of the whole English force, fell back and galloped from the field.

the hope of obtaining plunder and driving off some of the English horses; and what appeared a rallying in front was only a momentary halt, for the third division was presently galloping off the field harder than ever.

As soon as Henry discovered the mistake, he gave orders to stop the carnage and look after the wounded. Then, attended by his principal barons, he rode over the field, and sent out heralds as usual, to examine the coats of arms of the knights and princes who had fallen.

So much for monarchs. With all their brilliant display in the world, we may leave them with the old reflection, that the head that wears a crown lies with little ease.

In the closet of the Caliph

An immense number were thus secured, when Henry heard a terrible noise in his rear, where the priests of his army were sitting on horseback among the baggage, and he soon saw a hostile force drawn up in that direction. At the same time, the retreating third division of the French seemed to rally and raise their banners afresh. But it was a false alarm. The body in the rear were only some five or six hundred peasants who had entered Maisoncelles and had fallen upon the baggage in

fession was found after his decease :-'I have now reigned fifty years in victory or peace, beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honour, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation, I have numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot; they amount to fourteen. Oh, man! place not thy confidence in this present world.'

WILLIAM WALLACE.

THE quotation at the head of this chapter would not hold good were all warriors like the first to be spoken about.

Never perhaps was the fame of any man more cherished, and more deservedly so, by a people, than that of William Wallace is by the Scottish nation. His exploits have been for ages the darling theme of all ranks of the people; and in those parts of the country where his adventures chiefly lay, there is scarcely a lofty rock, high fall of water, lonely cave, or other remarkable object in nature, which is not connected with a name dear to every romantic, youthful, and patriotic mind. The recorded

feats in the life of Wallace rank him not only among the first patriots of his nation, but among the first of all who have deserved that honourable appellation. He made his appearance in the theatre of active life at a most interesting period. A disputed succession to the Scottish crown had been submitted to the decision of Edward the First of England. The office of umpire gave the English king a fatal ascendancy over the Scottish nobles, and especially over the competitors for the the crown. Baliol was preferred on condition that he would acknowledge the dependence of Scotland upon the English crown; but at last, under the mortification of repeated insults, he resigned

the crown altogether into the hands of Edward on the 3d of July 1296.

All Scotland was now overrun by an English army, and the government placed in the hand of English deputies, who made it odious to the people by their exactions and oppressions. At this critical moment was the standard of freedom first unfurled by William Wallace, the youngest son of a private gentleman, Wallace of Elderslie. To great bodily strength and activity, and a courage which delighted in danger, he united an inventiveness in enterprise, a fertility of resources, and a generous gallantry of manners, well calculated to gain him an authority over the rude and undisciplined multitude who answered his patriotic call.

In May 1292, Wallace began to invest the English quarters, and soon made his numbers formidable. The first person of note who joined him was Sir William Douglas. With their united forces, these two allies attempted to surprise Ormesby, the English Justiciary, while | holding a court at Scone; but a precipitate flight disappointed them of their expected prey. After this, the patriotic band roved over the whole country, assaulted castles, and slew the English wherever they met with them.

Several men of the highest rank now joined the standard of freedom, among others, Robert the Steward of Scot

land, and his brother Sir Alexander de Lindsay, Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell, Sir Richard Lauder, and Wishart, Bishop of of Glasgow. But, unfortunately, they brought more splendour than real spirit to the cause. Wallace, though the masterspirit of the whole enterprise, was of too humble a rank among the gentlemen of Scotland to be readily acknowledged by them as their chief; and where merit like his was not recognised as the best title to supreme command, it is easy to conceive that the conflict of pretensions must have been endless. the leaders claimed to be independent of each other; and to nothing, even of the most obvious advantage; could their common consent be obtained.

All

While the Scottish army, thus enfeebled by dissension, lay posted near Irvine, a chosen and numerous body of forces, which had been sent from England by Edward, approached to give them battle. All the nobles and barons who had joined the party of Wallace, Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell alone excepted, consented to treat with the English, and for themselves and their adherents made submission to Edward.

Wallace and Moray refused to have any concern with the ignoble capitulation, and collecting together a few faithful companions of their fortunes, retired indignantly towards the north. Under the conduct of these two able leaders, the patriotic band

soon recruited its numbers, and when the English advanced to Stirling, was prepared to dispute with them the passage of the Forth.

The English general approached the banks of the river on the southern side. He sent two clergymen to offer a pardon to Wallace and his followers, on condition that they should lay down their arms. But such was not the purpose of the highminded champion of Scotland.

'Go back to Warrenne,' said Wallace, and tell him we value not the pardon of the king of England. We are not here for the purpose of treating of peace, but of abiding battle, and restoring freedom to our country. Let the English come on: we defy them to their very beards.'

The English, upon hearing this haughty answer, called loudly to be led to the attack. Their leader, Sir Richard Lundin, a Scottish knight, who had gone over to the enemy at Irvine, hesitated, for he was a skilful soldier, and he saw that, to approach the Scottish army, his troops must pass over the long, narrow wooden bridge, so that those who should get over first might be attacked by Wallace with all his forces, before those who remained behind could possibly come to their assistance. He therefore inclined to delay the battle. But Cressingham the treasurer, who was ignorant and presumptuous, insisted that it was their duty to fight and put an end to the war at once, and Lundin

gave way to his opinion, although Cressingham, being a churchman, could not be so good a judge of what was fitting as he himself, an experienced officer.

The English army began to cross the bridge, Cressingham leading the van or foremost division of the army; for in those military days even clergymen wore armour and fought in battle. That took place which Sir Richard Lundin had foreseen. Wallace suffered a considerable part of the English army to pass the bridge without offering any opposition; but when about one-half were over, and the bridge was crowded with those who were following, he charged those who had crossed with his whole strength, slew a great number, and drove the rest into the river Forth, where the greater part were drowned. The remainder of the English army who were left on the southern bank of the river fled in great confusion, having first set fire to the wooden bridge, that the Scots might not pursue them.

Cressingham was killed in the very beginning of the battle; and the Scots detested him so much, that they flayed the skin from his dead body, and kept pieces of it in memory of the vengeance they had taken upon the English treasurer.

The remains of Surrey's great army fled out of Scotland after this defeat; and the Scots taking arms on all sides, attacked the castles in which the English sol| diers continued to shelter them

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