RANDOLPH, THOMAS, EARL OF
MORAY.—This ancient Scottish paladin, who occupies so prominent a part in
the wars of Robert Bruce, was sister’s son of that great sovereign. He first
appears among the adherents of good King Robert, when the latter commenced
his desperate attempt to win the crown of Scotland, and make it worth
wearing. In this way his name, as Thomas Randolph, knight of Strahdon,
occurs in the list of that intrepid band who crowned his uncle at Scone; and
in the disastrous skirmish soon after, near Methven, he was one of the
prisoners who fell into the hands of the English. As the insurgent Scots
were regarded as rebels against their liege lord, Edward I., the usual laws
of war were dispensed with; and thus, either with or without trial, the
noblest and best of Scotland were consigned to the dungeon or the gallows.
The worst of these alternatives would probably have been the fate of
Randolph, in consequence of his near relationship to Bruce, had not the
brave Adam De Gordon, who was a favourite with the English king, interceded
in his behalf. Randolph’s life in consequence was spared, but it was only on
condition that he should swear fealty to Edward; and to this he submitted
with that facility so characteristic of the knightly fidelity of the middle
ages. He swore that he would be Edward’s man, and the deadly enemy of all
his enemies (including, of course, his own uncle and kindred), and thus was
transformed in a trice from a Scottish patriot into a friend and servant of
the oppressor. If anything can apologize for such tergiversation, it might
be the difficulty of deciding at times with which party the right remained;
and many may have thought, with Sir Roger de Coverly, that much might be
said on both sides—especially when they had a gallows in view.
Randolph having thus changed
his party, appears to have fought for it with a courage that did not belie
his future renown. He was even among that band, headed by Aymer de Valence
and John of Lorn, that chased Robert Bruce among the wilds of Galloway with
blood-hounds, and nearly succeeded in capturing or slaying him. On this
occasion, Sir Thomas pursued the chase so eagerly, that he took his uncle’s
standard-bearer prisoner, along with the royal banner. But this unworthy
alienation was not to continue much longer, and an event occurred by which
Randolph was to be recovered to his country and his true fame. At this time
Sir James Douglas, renowned far and wide by his terrible vengeance upon the
English, who had garrisoned the castle of his fathers, was intrenched among
the depths of Ettrick Forest, and making it good by prowess and stratagem
against every assailant. This was a tempting adventure for Randolph, and
accordingly, accompanied by Sir Alexander Stewart of Bonkill, and Sir Adam
Gordon—Anglicized Scots, like himself—he set off upon the enterprise, and
encamped for the night at a solitary house on the Lyne-water, a tributary
stream that falls into the Tweed a little above Peebles. Douglas, however,
whom no enemy ever caught asleep, happened to be in the neighbourhood; and
on approaching the house, he overheard some one within exclaiming "the
devil!" with true military emphasis. Guessing from this token that the
building was tenanted by stout soldiers, he made a sudden assault, scattered
the surprised inmates, and captured Stewart and Randolph, whom he conducted
to his master next morning. The meeting between the king and his renegade
nephew was characteristic of such a party-changing period. "Nephew," said
Bruce, "you have for a while renounced your faith, but now you must be
reconciled to me." "You reproach me," answered the nephew sharply, "and yet
better deserve to be reproached yourself; for since you made war against the
king of England, you should have vindicated your right in the open field,
and not by cowardly sleights and skirmishes." "That may hereafter fall out,
and soon," replied the king—who had commenced in this very fashion, until
misfortune taught him a wiser course of action—"meantime, since you have
spoken so rudely, it is fitting that your proud words should receive due
chastisement, until you learn to know the right, and how to it as you
ought." After this sage rebuke, Randolph was sent into close and solitary
confinement, to digest the lesson at leisure. How wisely such a punishment
was inflicted, and how well it wrought, was attested not only in the future
life of Randolph, but in the history of his country.
On being set at liberty,
Randolph was not only restored to the king’s favour, but invested with the
earldom of Moray, which had large territories attached to it; and having set
these in order, he repaired to that warfare in which he was to be surpassed
by none except Bruce himself. It was now also, perhaps, that the generous
rivalry commenced between him and his gallant captor, Sir James Douglas,
which continued to the end of their lives. This noble contention was now
signalized by the "good Lord James" undertaking the siege of Roxburgh
Castle, and Randolph that of Edinburgh, the two strongest fortresses in the
kingdom, and still in possession of the English. The garrison in Edinburgh
Castle was commanded by Sir Piers Leland, a knight of Gascony, but the
soldiers having suspected him of holding communication with the Scottish
king, deposed and imprisoned him, and set one of their own countrymen in his
place, who was both wight and wise. While Randolph beleaguered the
well-defended castle, tidings reached him that Douglas had succeeded at
Roxburgh; and perceiving that force was useless, he resolved, like his rival
in arms, to have recourse to stratagem. A favourable opportunity soon
occurred. One of his soldiers, William Frank, had in his youth been wont to
descend from the apparently inaccessible ramparts by a secret way in the
rock, aided by a ladder of ropes, to visit a woman in the town with whom he
intrigued; and he now offered to be the foremost man in conducting a party
up the same path, which he still distinctly remembered. The proposal was
accepted, and Randolph, with thirty followers, and Frank for his guide,
commenced at midnight this dangerous escalade. With the aid of a rope-ladder
they ascended in file, one man, following another in silence, and by ways
where a single false step might have precipitated the whole party to the
bottom, or roused the sentinels above. They could even hear the footsteps of
the guards going their rounds upon the ramparts. At this instant a stone
came whizzing over their heads, with a cry from above, "Aha! I see you!" and
they thought that all was over. "Now, help them, God," exclaims Barbour, at
this point of the narrative, "for in great peril are they!" But the sentry
who had thrown the stone and uttered the cry, saw and suspected nothing, and
was merely diverting his companions. After waiting till all was quiet, they
resumed their desperate attempt, but had scarcely reached the top of the
wall, Randolph being the third man who ascended, than the alarmed garrison
rushed out upon them, and a desperate fight commenced. It fared, however,
with the English as is the wont of such strange surprisals; they were
confounded, driven together in heaps, and unfitted either for safe flight or
effectual resistance. The result was, that the governor and several of his
soldiers were slain, others threw themselves from the ramparts, and the rest
surrendered.
While the report of this
gallant deed was still circulating throughout the country, those events
occurred that led to the battle of Bannockburn. At this great assize of
arms, which seemed to be the last appeal of Scottish liberty previous to the
final and decisive sentence, the arrangements which Bruce made for the trial
were such a master-piece of strategy as has seldom been equalled, even by
the science of modern warfare. Among these dispositions, the command of the
left wing was intrusted to Randolph, with strict charge to prevent the
English from throwing reinforcements into the castle of Stirling. Here,
however, the cunning captor of Edinburgh Castle was about to be out-witted
in turn, for 800 horsemen detached from the English army, under the command
of Sir Robert Clifford, made a circuit by the low grounds to the east, and,
unperceived by Randolph, whose post they had thus turned, were in full
progress to the castle. The quick military eye of Bruce detected the
movement, and riding up to the earl, he pointed to the detachment, and
sharply exclaimed, "A rose has fallen from your chaplet!" Impatient to
retrieve his lost honour, and recover the important pass, which was the key
of the Scottish position, Randolph, at the head of 500 spearmen, hurried off
with such speed, that he soon interposed his force between the enemy and the
castle. The English thus interrupted, resolved to reach the castle by
trampling down the little band with a single charge, and for this purpose
came on with loosened rein. This contempt of foot soldiers, which was common
to the chivalry of the period, cost them dear, for Randolph causing his men
to place themselves in a ring, back to back, with their spears pointing
outward, presented an impenetrable hedge to the enemy, through which they
were unable to ride. Still, the appearance of that charge, as seen from the
Scottish army, was so terrible, and the little phalanx was so eclipsed by
the throng of cavaliers that surrounded and seemed to tread it under foot,
that Sir James Douglas could endure the sight no longer, and cried to the
king, "Ah, sir! the Earl of Moray is in danger unless he is aided: with your
leave, therefore, I will speed to his rescue." "No," replied the king, "you
shall not stir a foot for him: whether he may win or lose, I cannot alter my
plan of battle." But Douglas was not to be thus silenced. "I may not stand
by," he impetuously exclaimed, "when I can bring him aid, and therefore,
with your leave, I will assuredly help him or die with him!" Having extorted
from the king a reluctant assent, he hastened to the aid of his rival; but
before he could reach the spot, he saw that the Scottish phalanx was still
unbroken, while the English cavalry were reeling in disorder, and had
already lost some of their bravest. On seeing this, Douglas cried to his
party, "Halt! our friends will soon be victorious without our help; let us
not therefore lessen their glory by sharing it!" His prediction was
accomplished, for Randolph and his band so bestirred themselves, that the
English were broken and chased off the field, while the earl, with the loss
of only one yeoman, returned to his companions.
In the great battle that
followed, by which the independence of Scotland was secured, the master-mind
and towering form of the Bruce are so pre-eminent over every part of the
field, that no room is left for meaner men. On this account we cannot
discover the gallant Randolph amidst the dust and confusion of the strife,
where he no doubt performed the office of a gallant man-at-arms, as well as
a wise and prompt captain. He figures, indeed, in Barbour, where, as leader
of the left wing, he resisted the shock of the English cavalry, in which the
enemy chiefly rested their hopes, and kept his ground so gallantly, although
his troops looked "as thai war plungyt in the se," that
"Quha sa had sene thaim that day,
I trow forsuth that thai suld say
That thai suld do thair deiver wele,
Swa that thair fayis suld it felle."
His name next appears in the
parliament held at Ayr on the 26th of April, 1315, when an act was passed
for the succession to the crown of Scotland. On this occasion it was
ordained, that should the king or his brother, Edward Bruce, die during the
minority of the heirs male of their bodies, "Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray,
should be guardian of the heir, and of the kingdom, until the major part of
the states should hold the heir fit to administer the government in his own
person." In an important event that occurred only one month afterwards—the
invasion of the Scots into Ireland, for the purpose of driving the English
out of that island, and placing Edward Bruce upon its throne—Randolph was
one of the principal leaders of the expedition, and, as such, was repeatedly
employed in bringing over reinforcements from Scotland. Three years
afterwards (1318), while Bruce was laying siege to Berwick, Spalding, one of
the citizens, who had been harshly treated by the governor of Berwick,
offered, by letter written to a Scottish nobleman, to betray upon a certain
night the post upon which he was appointed to mount guard. This lord,
unwilling to act in so important a matter upon his own responsibility,
brought the letter to the king. "You did well," said Bruce, "that you
revealed this to me, instead of to Randolph or to Douglas, for you would
thus have offended the one whom you did not trust. Both of them, however,
shall aid you in this adventure." The rival pair were accordingly enlisted
for the purpose, and under their joint efforts the important town of Berwick
was taken in a few hours.
The loss of Berwick was so
disastrous to the English, as it furnished an open door to Scottish
invasion, that they made every effort to recover it; and for this purpose
they laid siege to it in such force, and with a camp so well fortified, that
to assail them would have been a perilous adventure. Bruce, therefore,
resolved to withdraw them by an invasion of England, and for this purpose
sent Randolph and Douglas, at the head of 15,000 soldiers, who penetrated
through the West Marches, wasted Yorkshire, and attempted to carry off the
queen of. Edward II., at that time residing near York, whom they meant to
keep as a hostage for their retention of Berwick. But, unluckily for these
heroes— and more unluckily by far for her husband, to whom her bondage would
have been a blessing—the queen escaped when she was almost within their
toils. A battle followed soon after, in which the English, under the command
of the Archbishop of York, were routed at Mitton, near Borough-Bridge, in
the North Riding of Yorkshire, with great slaughter; and such was the number
of priests who accompanied the standard of the archbishop, and fell on this
occasion, that the Scots derisively termed it the "Chapter of Mitten." This
event raised the siege of Berwick, and although the English army on its way
homeward endeavoured to intercept the Scots, Randolph and Douglas eluded
them, and returned in safety to Scotland. Another expedition into England,
in which the pair were engaged under the leading of Bruce himself, occurred
in 1322, or three years after the victory at Mitton. On this occasion the
Scots almost succeeded, by a forced march, in capturing Edward II. himself,
at the monastery of Bilaud, in Yorkshire; and although he escaped with
difficulty to York, it was after leaving all his baggage and treasure in the
hands of the pursuers. During this campaign Bruce resolved to attack the
English camp, which was so completely fortified that it could only be
reached, as was supposed, by a narrow pass. This pass Douglas undertook to
force, and Randolph generously left his own command to serve as volunteer
under him. The English gallantly defended this entrance to the camp; but
while their attention was thus wholly occupied, Bruce, who was skilled in
mountain warfare, turned their position in the rear by a body of Highlanders
and Islesmen, who scaled the precipices, and unexpectedly came down upon the
English while they were fully occupied with Randolph and Douglas in front.
The Earl of Moray was now to
combat the enemy upon a new field of battle, and with very different
weapons, in the capacity of envoy to the court of Rome, by which his
sovereign had been excommunicated for the murder of Comyn, and where envoys
from England were busily employed in stirring up the pontiff against the
Scots. It was a strange match, where an illiterate soldier had to confront a
conclave—a blunt straightforward Scot to wage a controversy with Italian
cunning and finesse—and it was a still stranger result that the ultramontane,
the barbarian, the man of Thule, should have had the best of it. Perhaps the
College of Cardinals thought it impossible that such a person could know
anything of the "trick of fence" in a political conflict, and therefore did
not think it worth while to "lie at their old ward." Be that as it may,
Randolph managed the negotiation so wisely and dexterously, that in spite of
the evil odour under which his master’s reputation suffered at the papal
court, and in spite of the intervention of wealthy powerful England—compared
with which the interests of Scotland were of little price at Rome—the pope
accorded to Bruce a temporary absolution, by refusing the request of his
enemies to ratify and publish, in due form, the sentence of
excommunication—accorded to the Scots the right of electing their own
bishops, although they had been accused of despising the authority of the
church, slaughtering ecclesiastics, and subjecting them to capital trial and
punishment, and showing, on not a few occasions, a strong leaning towards
heresy—and gave Bruce himself the title of KING, thus recognizing his
right to rule as a legitimate sovereign, notwithstanding his ecclesiastical
offences, the claims of the house of Comyn to the Scottish throne, and the
still more formidable pretensions of Edward II. himself, as lord
paramount of Scotland. After having suffered these concessions to be
extracted from him, the pope seems to have been astonished at his own
facility; and he wrote accordingly to the king of England an apologetic
letter, in which he fully stated the inducements presented to him by the
Scottish envoy. This missive is a most incontestable proof of the sagacity
of Randolph, and shows that he was as fitted to excel in diplomacy as in
war.
After having accomplished the
emancipation of Scotland, the great work for which he had lived, and toiled,
and suffered, Robert Bruce, prematurely worn out by his heroic exertions,
and languishing under an incurable disease, retired to a castle on the banks
of the Clyde, to spend in peace the few days that might be allotted him, and
prepare for his departure. Still it was necessary, for the purpose of
securing the advantages he had already won, to continue the war against
England, until the independence of his country was fully recognized by the
latter. This was the more necessary, as Edward III. had now succeeded to the
English throne, and, although only sixteen years old, was already impatient
to win his spurs, and giving promise that he might become as formidable a
foe to Scotland as his grandfather, Edward I., had been. Bruce, therefore,
from his sick-bed, dictated the plan of a formidable invasion into England,
and intrusted the management of it to Randolph and Douglas, upon whose
fitness for the under taking he could now confidently rely, for hitherto
they had been his right and left arms during the course of the eventful war.
Seldom, indeed, have two military rivals been so completely at one in their
joint undertakings, so that what the wisdom of the one could plan, the
daring courage of the other was fully ready to execute. In this respect
Randolph, who was the chief leader of the enterprise, appears to have
wonderfully changed from that fiery young knight of Strahdon, who joined in
the hot chase against his uncle in the wilds of Galloway, and afterwards,
when taken prisoner, had reproached him to his beard for having recourse to
delays and stratagems, instead of hazarding all upon an open field. His
wisdom was as conspicuous through the whole of this singular campaign, as
the daring valour and chivalrous deeds of the Douglas. Into the particulars
of the campaign itself we do not enter, as these have been fully detailed in
another part of this work. [See Sir James Douglas.] After the pair had
wrought fearful havoc, defied the whole chivalry of England, and shifted
their ground so rapidly that they could not be overtaken, or intrenched
themselves so skilfully that they could not be attacked, they returned to
Scotland unmolested, and laden with plunder. The blow they had dealt on this
occasion was so heavy, that England, wearied with so disastrous a strife,
succumbed to a treaty of peace, which was ratified in a parliament held at
Northampton in April, 1328. The conditions were glorious to Scotland, for by
these the independence of the kingdom was recognized, and all the advantages
that Edward I. had won with so much toil and expense, were renounced and
relinquished; and, if not honourable, they were absolutely necessary for
England, whose treasures were exhausted, and her people dispirited by
defeat, while her councils, controlled by a profligate queen and her minion,
promised to end in nothing but ruin and shame.
Only a year after this event,
by which Bruce’s utmost hopes were realized, he breathed his last, at
Cardross, surrounded by the faithful warriors who had partaken of his
victories, as well as his trials and cares. His dying testament, which he
gave on this occasion, for the future protection of the kingdom, as well as
the commission which he intrusted to the "good Lord James," to carry his
heart to the holy sepulchre, are matters familiar to every reader of
Scottish history. By the act of settlement, passed in 1315, Thomas Randolph,
Earl of Moray, became regent of the kingdom during the minority of his young
cousin, David II.
On entering upon the duties
of the regency, the Earl of Moray showed himself not only an able but strict
and stern justiciary. In such a situation, indeed, severity to the criminal
was true clemency to society at large, in consequence of the wild insecurity
which so protracted a warfare had occasioned. The strictness with which he
enforced the laws, gives us not only a strange picture of the state of
society in general, but the nature of Scottish legislation since the days of
Malcolm Canmore. Minstrels and players, who often made their profession a
cover for every kind of license, he prohibited from wandering about the
country, under severe penalties. If any one assaulted a traveller, or any
public officer while in the discharge of his duty, he made it lawful for any
man to kill the offender. To prevent robberies, and promote a feeling of
security among the industrious, he made a law that the countrymen should
leave their iron tools and plough-gear in the field, and that they should
not shut their houses nor stalls at night. If anything was stolen, the loss
was to be repaired by the sheriff of the county, and the sheriff was to be
reimbursed by the king; and the king was to be indemnified out of the goods
of the robbers when they were taken. To insure the due execution of the
laws, he also held justice-aires, travelling for this purpose over the whole
country; and while his sentences were severe, and often measured by the mere
purpose of the criminal, whether it had succeeded or not, prompt execution
was certain to follow. Thus, at a justice-court which he held at Wigton, a
man complained at his tribunal that an ambush was placed in a neighbouring
wood for the purpose of murdering him, but that happily he escaped it, and
now claimed protection. Randolph immediately sent to the place, where the
men in ambush were arrested, and had them forthwith executed, as if they had
committed the murder. On another occasion, he showed an instance of boldness
in vindicating the claims of natural justice, in defiance of ecclesiastical
immunities, upon which few in England, or even in Europe, whether magistrate
or king, would have dared to venture. A man having slain a priest, had
subsequently passed over to Rome, where, after confession of his offence,
and full performance of penance, he received clerical absolution. Being
thus, as he thought, rectus in curia, he ventured back to Scotland,
as if every penalty had been liquidated, and, in an evil hour for himself,
ventured into the presence of Randolph. while the latter was holding a
justice-court at Inverness. The quick eye of the earl detected the culprit,
who was immediately arrested, and placed on trial for the murder. The man
pleaded that the person he had slain was a priest, not a layman; and that
for this he had received the absolution of the church, whose subject the
priest was. But this was not enough for Randolph; the priest, he said, was a
Scottish subject and king’s liege-man, irrespective of his clerical office;
and, therefore, as the murderer of a Scottish subject, the culprit was
adjudged to suffer the full penalty of the law.
Although a perpetual peace
had been ratified between Scotland and England, the injuries each country
had received were too recent, and the claims for compensation were too
numerous and unreasonable, to give hope that it would be lasting. Scarcely,
therefore, had Randolph held the regency for three years, when certain
English nobles, who were disappointed in the recovery of their Scottish
estates, adopted the cause of Baliol as their pretext for breaking the
treaty of Northampton, and made formidable preparations to invade Scotland
by sea. In consequence of this intelligence, Randolph assembled an army, and
marched to Colbrandspath, expecting the invasion would be made by land; but
as soon as he learned that the enemy had embarked at Ravenshire in
Holderness, he turned his course northwards, to be ready for the assailants
at whatever point they might land in the Forth. But on reaching Musselburgh,
his last march was ended. For some time past he had been afflicted with that
excruciating disease, the stone, and he suddenly died on the 20th of July,
1332, in the midst of his political anxieties and warlike preparations.
Never, indeed, has Scotland—so often harassed with minority and
interregnum—possessed, either before or afterwards, such a deputy-sovereign,
with the single exception of his noble namesake of after centuries, that
Earl of Moray who was called "the good regent." Randolph’s death was the
commencement of heavy woes for Scotland. From the suddenness of his
departure, and its disastrous consequences, it was suspected that the
invaders, who had no hope of success as long as he lived, had caused him to
be removed by poison; but the incurable nature of the malady under which he
died sufficiently accounts for his decease. |