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DOUGLAS, JAMES, EARL OF
DOUGLAS.—This distinguished warrior, the close of whose life was so
brilliant and romantic, was the second who bore the title of the earldom.
From his earliest years he had been trained to warfare, in which his deeds
were so remarkable that he was intrusted with high command, while the
utmost confidence was reposed in his valour and leadership. This was
especially the case in his final expedition, which was crowned by the
victory of Otterburn.
At this period, Robert II.,
High Steward of Scotland, and son-in-law of Robert Bruce, was seated upon
the throne of Scotland. His youth had been spent in war, in which he
showed great activity and courage; but after his accession to the crown,
he relapsed into a peaceful state, that was supposed by his impatient
nobles to be merely the result of indolence. With this character he had
already ruled eighteen years, while the war of independence against
England still continued to rage; but notwithstanding his inertness, the
valour of the Scottish nobility, and especially the Douglases, had
succeeded in repelling every English inroad. At length, in 1388, a
favourable opportunity seemed to have arrived of carrying an invasion into
England. The Black Prince, the great terror of France and prop of the
English crown, was dead. Richard II., the King of England, now only
twenty-one years old, was ruling with all the folly and arrogance of
boyhood; his council was rent with divisions and feuds, the nobility were
arrayed against him, while the commons, lately awakened into a sense of
their rights by the Wat Tyler insurrection, were equally hostile to the
king who misruled, and to the chiefs who impoverished and oppressed them.
This state of things presented an opportunity for retaliation and plunder
which the Scots could not resist, and they resolved to change their
defensive into an aggressive warfare. A council was held for this purpose
at Edinburgh; and although Robert II. was opposed to the dangerous
measure, his wishes were disregarded. A military muster of the kingdom was
ordered to meet at Yetholm, and on the day appointed an army was
assembled, composed of the chief force of Scotland. Forty thousand
spearmen, including a band of Scottish archers, and twelve hundred
men-at-arms, were mustered upon the field of meeting—a greater force than
that which had sufficed to achieve the victory of Bannockburn. The Earl of
Fife, the king’s second son, to whom the leading of this expedition had
been committed, was neither a brave soldier nor a skilful general, but he
had craft and policy enough to pass for both, while his chief captains
were men inured to war, and well acquainted with the northern borders of
England. The great question now at issue was the manner in which the
invasion should be conducted, and the part of the English border that
could be best assailed; and this was soon settled by a fortunate incident.
The English wardens, alarmed at this formidable muster, had sent a squire,
disguised as a Scottish man-at-arms, to ascertain its nature and purposes,
in which he was fully successful; but, on returning, he found that his
horse, which he had tied to a tree in a neighbouring forest, had been
stolen by some border freebooter. Encumbered by his armour, and suspected
to be other than he seemed, from thus travelling on foot in such an array,
he was soon pounced upon by the light-heeled outposts, and brought before
the Scottish lords, to whom he made a full confession of all the plans and
preparations of his masters. Judging it unsafe to hazard a pitched battle
against so large an army, they had resolved to remain quiet until the
Scots had crossed the marches, after which they would break in upon
Scotland at some undefended point, and work their will in a
counterinvasion. This intelligence decided the Scottish lords upon a plan
that should at once have the invasion of England and the defence of their
own country for its object. Their army was to be divided, and England
invaded both by the eastern and western marches, so that the enemy should
find sufficient occupation in their own country. In pursuance of this
plan, the Earl of Fife, with the bulk of the army, marched through
Liddesdale and Galloway, intending to advance upon Carlisle, while the
other inroad was to break into Northumberland. As this last was designed
for the lightest part of the campaign, not more than three hundred knights
and men-at-arms, and about two thousand foot, were allotted to the
service; but they were placed under the command of James, Earl of Douglas,
who, though young, was already accounted one of the most practised and
skilful leaders of the country. He was accompanied by George and John
Dunbar, Earls of March and Moray, and several of the most distinguished
Scottish knights, who were proud to serve under such a commander.
All being in readiness, the
Earl of Douglas commenced the campaign by entering Northumberland. He
crossed the Tyne, and by swift and secret marches approached Durham,
having given orders to his army not to commence plundering until they had
passed that city. It was then only that the English were aware of an enemy
in the midst of them, by conflagration and havoc among their richest
districts, while the course of the Scots, as they shifted hither and
thither by rapid marches, could only be traced by burning villages and a
dun atmosphere of smoke. The English, in the meantime, kept within their
walls, imagining that this small body was the advanced guard of the main
army, instead of an unsupported band of daring assailants. This was
especially the case in Newcastle, where Henry Percy, son of the Earl of
Northumberland, famed in English history under the name of Hotspur; Sir
Ralph, his brother, whose valour was scarcely inferior to his own, with
many gallant knights and border barons, and a numerous host of military
retainers, instead of sallying out, held themselves in readiness for a
siege. At length, having wasted the country for miles, and enriched
themselves with plunder, the Scots prepared to retreat as rapidly as they
had advanced, and had marched as far as Newcastle on their return, when
Douglas and his brave companions in arms resolved to halt two days before
its ramparts, and dare the defenders to come forth and do their worst.
This defiance, which breathed the full spirit of chivalry, was not likely
to reach the Hotspur’s ears in vain; the gates and sally-ports of
Newcastle were thrown open, and numerous bands of the English rushed out,
headed by their far famed leader, while the skirmishes that extended over
the two days were both frequent and desperate. At length, in one of these
encounters, Douglas and Hotspur met front to front, and between these two,
each reckoned the bravest of his country, a hand-to-hand combat ensued,
such as the wars of Scotland and England had seldom witnessed. In the
furious close of the joust, Hotspur was unhorsed, and but for the rescue
that interposed, would have been taken prisoner; while Douglas, seizing
the lance of his fallen antagonist, with its silken embroidered pennon
attached to it, waved it aloft in triumph, and exclaimed in the hearing of
both armies, "I will bear this token of your prowess into Scotland, and
set it on high on my castle of Dalkeith!" "That shalt thou never do,"
cried Percy in return; "you may be sure you shall not pass the bounds of
this country till you be met with in such wise, that you shall make no
vaunting thereof." "Well, sir," replied the Douglas, "come then this night
to my encampment, and there seek for your pennon." Thus ended their
ominous conference.
After a challenge so given
and received, a conflict was inevitable, and Douglas, in continuing his
retreat, marched in order of battle, and ready for any sudden onslaught of
the enemy. At length the Scots reached the castle and village of Otterburn,
about twenty-eight miles from Newcastle, on the second day of their march,
and would have continued their progress into Scotland unmolested, but for
the earnest entreaties of Earl Douglas, who besought them to stay a few
days there, to give Hotspur an opportunity of redeeming his pennon. To
this they consented, and chose their ground with considerable military
skill, having their encampment defended in front and on one side by a
marsh, and on the other by a hill. They had not long to wait. Burning with
eagerness to recover his lost pennon and retrieve his tarnished honour,
and learning at length that the small force under the Earl of Douglas was
unsupported by the army, Hotspur left Newcastle after dinner, and
commenced a rapid march in pursuit of the Scots. By waiting a little
longer for the Bishop of Durham, who was hastening to his assistance, his
army might have been doubled, and his success insured; but as it was, he
greatly outnumbered his opponents, as he was followed by eight thousand
foot and six hundred lances. In the evening he reached the encampment of
the Scots, who, after a day of weary seige against the castle of Otterburn,
had betaken themselves to rest, but were roused by the cry of "A Percy! a
Percy!" that announced the coming foe. They instantly sprung to their
feet, and betook themselves to their weapons. But without giving further
time, the English commenced with an impetuous onset upon the front of the
Scottish army, drawn up behind the marsh; through which, wearied with a
hasty pursuit, they were obliged to flounder as they best could. And now
it was that the admirable generalship of Douglas, in selecting and
fortifying his encampment, was fully apparent. The front ranks thus
assailed, and who bore the first brunt of the battle, were not regular
soldiers, but suttlers and camp followers, placed in charge of the
plundered horses and cattle, and whose position was strongly fortified
with the carriages and waggons that were laden with English spoil.
Although only armed with knives and clubs, these men, sheltered by their
strong defences, made such a stubborn resistance as kept the enemy for a
time at bay, and still farther confirmed them in the delusion that the
whole Scottish force was now in action.
Not a moment of the
precious interval thus afforded was lost by the Earl of Douglas. At the
first alarm he started from supper, where he and his knights sat in their
gowns and doublets, and armed in such haste that his armour was unclasped
in many places. The regular troops were encamped upon firm ground behind
the marsh; and these he suddenly drew up, and silently marched round the
small wooded hill that flanked their position, so that when the English
had forced the barrier of waggons, and believed that all was now their
own, they were astounded at the apparition of the whole Scottish army
advancing upon them from an unexpected quarter, with the honoured Douglas
banner of the crowned heart floating over its head. They had thus been
wasting their valour upon the scum of the invaders, and the real battle
was still to be fought and won! Furious with disappointment, Hotspur drew
up his men in new order for the coming onset. Even yet he might be the
victor, for his soldiers not only outnumbered the enemy by three to one,
but were equal in discipline, and superior in military equipments. It
seemed inevitable that the banner of the crowned heart must be thrown down
and trodden in the dust, unless the skilful head and mighty arm of its
lord could maintain its honours against such a fearful disparity. The
combatants closed by the light of an autumnal moon, that shone with an
uncertain glimmer upon their mail, and half revealed their movements, as
they shifted to and fro in the struggle of life and death. Thus they
continued hour after hour, while neither party thought of yielding,
although the ground was slippery with blood, and covered with the dead and
dying—each closed in deadly grapple with his antagonist, that he might
make his stroke more sure in the dim changeful moonlight. At length there
appeared a wavering among the Scots; they reeled, and began to give back
before the weight of superior numbers, when Douglas, finding that he must
set his life upon a cast, prepared himself for a final personal effort. He
ordered his banner to be advanced, and brandishing in both hands a heavy
battle-axe, such as few men could wield, he shouted his war-cry of "A
Douglas!" and rushed into the thickest of the press. At every stroke an
enemy went down, and a lane was cleared before his onset; but his ardour
carried him so far in advance, that he soon found himself unsupported, and
three spears bore him to the earth, each inflicting a mortal wound. Some
time elapsed before his gallant companions could overtake his onward
career. At length the Earl of March, with his brother of Moray, who had
entered battle with such haste that he had fought all night without his
helmet, and Sir James Lindsay, one of the most stalwart of Scottish
knights, cleared their way to the spot, where they found their brave
commander dying, while none was beside him but William Lundie, his
chaplain, a soldier priest, who had followed his steps through the whole
conflict, and now stood ready, lance in hand, beside his master, to defend
him in his last moments. Lindsay was the first who recognized the dying
Douglas, and stooping down, he asked him how he fared. "But
indifferently," replied the earl; "but blessed be God; most of my
ancestors have died on fields of battle, and not on beds of down. There is
a prophecy in our house, that a dead Douglas shall win a field, and I
think that this night it will be accomplished. Conceal my death, raise my
banner, shout my war-cry, and revenge my fall." With these words he
expired.
In obedience to the dying
injunctions of Douglas, his companions concealed the body among the tall
fern that grew beside it, raised aloft his standard that was reeling
amidst the conflict, and shouted the Douglas war-cry, as if he was still
at their head; while the English, who knew that some mighty champion had
lately fallen, but were ignorant that it was the Scottish leader, gave
back in turn at the sound of his dreaded name. The Scots, who also
believed that he was still alive, seconded the fresh onset of their
leaders, and advanced with such renewed courage, that the English were at
last routed, driven from the field, and dispersed, after their bravest had
fallen, or been taken prisoners.
Among the last was Hotspur
himself, who had fought through the whole affray with his wonted prowess;
Sir Ralph, his brother, who was grievously wounded; the seneschal of York,
the captain of Berwick, and several English knights and gentlemen, who
were esteemed the choice of their border chivalry.
Such was the battle of
Otterburn, fought in the month of August, and in the year 1388. The loss
of the English attests the pertinacity of the engagement, for they had
eighteen hundred killed, about a thousand wounded, and as many taken
prisoners. Such a victory also evinces, more than the most laboured
eulogium, the high military skill of the Earl of Douglas, so that, had he
lived, his renown might have worthily taken a place by the side of the
hero of Bannockburn. But he died while still young, and achieved the
victory even when dead by the terror of his name—a different fate from
that of his gallant rival, Henry Percy, who was first a traitor to Richard
II., his natural sovereign, and afterwards to Henry IV., a usurper, whom
he had mainly contributed to elevate to the throne, and who finally died a
proclaimed rebel on the field of Shrewsbury, amidst disaster and defeat.
On the day after the engagement, the bishop of Durham, whose movements had
been anticipated by the impetuosity of Hotspur, arrived upon the field, at
the head of ten thousand horse, and a large array of foot—an army
sufficient, as it seemed, to trample down the victors at a single charge.
But the spirit of Douglas was still among his followers, so that under the
command of Moray, they drew up in their former position, and showed
themselves as ready for a second combat as they had been for the first;
and the bishop, daunted by their bold appearance, drew off his forces, and
retired without a blow. The Scots then resumed their route homeward
unmolested; but instead of a joyful triumphal march, as it might well have
been after such a victory, it was rather a sad and slow funeral
procession, in the centre of which was a car that conveyed the body of
their hero to the burial-place of his illustrious ancestors. It is not
often thus that a soldier’s love and sympathy so overwhelm a soldier’s
pride, in the full flush of his success. The funeral was performed with
pompous military honours in the Abbey of Melrose, while the epitaph of the
departed was indelibly engraven in the hearts of his countrymen and the
page of Scottish history. |
