No eye closed that night,
in the monastery of Falkirk. The Earl of Mar awaked about the twelfth
hour, and sent to call Lord Ruthven, Sir William Wallace, and his nephews,
to attend him. As they approached, the priests, who had just anointed his
dying head with the sacred unction, drew back. The Countess, and Lady
Ruthven, supported his pillow. He smiled, as he heard the advancing steps
of those so dear to him. "I send for you;" said he, "to
give you the blessing of a true Scot and a Christian! May all who are here
in thy blessed presence, Redeemer of mankind!" cried he, looking up
with a supernatural brightness in his eye, "die as I do, rather than
survive, to see Scotland enslaved! But O! may they rather, long live under
that liberty, perpetuated, which Wallace has again given to his country:
peaceful will then be their last moments on earth, and full of joy their
entrance into heaven !" His eyes closed as the concluding word died
upon his tongue. Lady Ruthven looked intently on him: she bent her face to
his, but he breathed no more; and with a feeble cry, she fell back in a
swoon.
The soul of the veteran
Earl, was indeed fled. The Countess was taken, shrieking, out of the
apartment; but Wallace, Edwin, and Murray, remained, kneeling around the
corse. Anthems for the departed, were raised over the body; and when they
concluded, the priests throwing over it a cloud of incense, the mourners
withdrew, and separated to their chambers.
By day-break, Wallace met
Murray by appointment in the cloisters. The remains of his beloved father,
had been brought from Dunipacis to the convent; and Murray now prepared to
take them to Bothwell castle, there to be interred in the cemetery of his
ancestors. Wallace, who had approved his design, entered with him into the
solitary court-yard, where the war-carriage stood which was to convey the
deceased Earl to Clydesdale. The soldiers of his clan, brought the corse
of their lord from a cell, and laid him on his martial bier. His bed was
the sweet heather of Falkirk, spread by the hands of his son. As Wallace
laid the venerable chief’s sword and helmet on his bier, he covered the
whole with the flag he had torn from the standard of England in the last
victory. "None other shroud, is worthy of thy virtues!" cried
he: "dying for Scotland, thus let the memorial of her glory, be the
witness of thine !"
"Oh! my friend,"
answered Murray, looking on his chief with a smile, which beamed the
fairer, shining through sorrow, "thy gracious spirit, can divest even
death of its gloom! My father yet lives in his fame!"
"And in a better
existence too!" gently replied Wallace; "else the earth’s
fame, were an empty sound: it could not comfort."
The solemn procession, with
Murray at its head, departed towards the valleys of Clydesdale; and
Wallace returned to his chamber. Two hours before noon, he was summoned by
the tolling of the chapel bell. The Earl of Bute, and his dearer friend,
were to be laid in their last bed. With a spirit that did not murmur, he
saw the earth closed over both graves: but at Graham’s he lingered and
when the funeral stone shut even the sod that covered him from his eyes,—with
his sword’s point, he drew on the surface these memorable words
"Mente manuque potens,
et Wall fidus Aehates,
Conditus Mc Gramus, bello interfectus ab Anglis."
[These lines may be translated
thus:—
Here lies
The powerful in mind and body, the friend of Wallace;
Graham, faithful unto death! slain in battle by the English.
The lamentations
which Sir William Wallace made over the body of Sir John Graham, his
faithful friend and Scotland’s, are recorded by several historians; and
this epitaph is still extant on that warrior’s grave in the church of
Falkirk. Not far from Graham’s tomb, is buried John Stewart, Lord of
Bute; brother to the Steward of Scotland, from whom the royal family of
that name descended. His grave is marked by a plain stones without any inscription..—(l809)]
While he yet leaned on the
stone, which gently gave way to the registering pen of friendship, to be more
deeply engraved afterwards, a monk approached him, attended by a shepherd boy.
At the sound of steps, Wallace looked up: "This young man," said the
father, "brings despatches to the Lord Regent." Wallace rose, and
the youth presented his packet.—Withdrawing to a little distance, he broke
the seal, and read to this effect:-
"My father, and myself,
are in the castle of Durham, and both under an arrest. We are to remain so,
till our arrival in London renders its sovereign, in his own opinion, more
secure: when there, you shall hear from me again. Meanwhile, be on your guard:
the gold of Edward has found its way into your councils. Beware of them, who,
with patriotism in their mouths, are purchased to betray you and their
country, into the bands of your enemy! Truest, noblest, best of Scots,
farewell !—I must not write more explicitly.
"P. S.—The messenger who
takes this, is a simple border shepherd: he knows not whence comes the packet;
hence, he cannot bring an answer."
Wallace closed the letter; and
putting gold into the shepherd’s hand, left the chapel. In passing through
the cloisters, he met Ruthven just returned from Stirling; whither he had gone
to inform the chiefs of the council, of the Regent’s arrival. "When I
summoned them to the council-hall;" continued Lord Ruthven, "and
told them you had not only defeated Edward on the Carron, but in so doing, had
gained a double victory,—over a foreign usurper, and domestic traitors !—instead
of the usual openhearted gratulations on such a communication, a low whisper
murmured through the hall; and the young Badenoch, unworthy of his patriotic
father, rising from his seat, gave utterance to so many invectives against
you, our country’s soul, and arm! I should deem it treason, even to repeat
them. Suffice it to say, that out of five hundred chiefs and chieftains who
were present, not one of those parasites, who used to fawn on you a week ago,
and make the love of honest men seem doubtful, now breathes one word for Sir
William Wallace. But this ingratitude, vile as it is, I bore with patience,
till Badenoch, growing in insolency, declared, that late last night despatches
had arrived from the King of France to the Regent; and that he (in right of
his birth, assuming to himself that dignity,) had put their bearer, Sir
Alexander Ramsay, under confinement for having persisted to dispute his
authority, to withhold them from you."
Wallace, who had listened in
silence, drew a deep sigh as Ruthven concluded; and, in that profound breath
exclaimed—"God must be our fortress still; must save Scotland, from
this gangrene in her heart! Ramsay shall be released: but I must first meet
these violent men. And it must be alone, my Lord;" continued he;
"you, and our coadjutors, may wait my return at the city gates; but the
sword of Edward, if need be, shall defend me against his gold."—As he
spoke, he laid his hand on the jewelled weapon which hung at his side, and
which he had wrested from that monarch in the last conflict.
Aware that this treason, aimed
at him, would strike his country, unless timely warded off, he took his
resolution; and requesting Ruthven not to communicate to any one what had
passed, he mounted his horse, and struck into the road to Stirling. He took
the plume from his crest, and closing his visor, enveloped himself in his
plaid, that the people might not know him as he went along. But casting away
his cloak; and unclasping his helmet at the door of the keep, he entered the
council-hall, openly and abruptly. By an instantaneous impulse of respect,
which even the base pay to virtue, almost every man arose at his appearance.
He bowed to the assembly; and walked with a composed, but severe air, up to
his station at the head of the room. Young Badenoch stood there; and as
Wallace approached, he fiercely grasped his sword: "Proud upstart!"
cried he; "betrayer of my father! set a foot further towards this
chair, and the chastisement of every arm in this council, shall fall on you
for your presumption."
"It is not in the arms of
thousands, to put me from my right," replied Wallace, calmly putting
forth his hand, and drawing the Regent’s chair towards him.
"Will ye bear this?"
cried Badenoch, stamping with his foot, and plucking forth his sword; "is
the man to exist, who thus braves the assembled lords of Scotland?" While
speaking, he made a desperate lunge at the Regent’s breast: Wallace caught
the blade in his hand, and wrenching it from his intemperate adversary, broke
it into shivers, and cast the pieces at his feet; then turning resolutely
towards the chiefs, who stood appalled, and looking on each other, he said,
"I, your duly elected Regent, left you only a few days ago, to repel the
enemy whom the treason of Lord March would have introduced into these very
walls. Many brave chiefs followed me to that field! and more, whom I see now,
loaded men I passed, with benedictions. Portentous, was the day of Falkirk, to
Scotland. Then did the mighty fall, and the heads of counsel perish.—But
treason was the parricide! The late Lord Badenoch, stood his ground like a
true Scot; but Athol and Buchan deserted to Edward."—While speaking, he
turned towards the furious son of Badenoch; who, gnashing his teeth in
impotent rage, stood listening to the inflaming whispers of Macdougal of Lorn:
"Young chief:"’ cried he, "from their treachery, date the
fate of your brave father; and the whole of our grievous loss of that day. But
the wide destruction, has been avenged! more than chief, for chief, have
perished in the Southron ranks; and thousands of the lowlier sort, now swell
the banks of Carron. Edward himself, fell, wounded by my arm; and was borne by
his flying squadrons, over the wastes of Northumberland. Thus have I returned
to you, with my duties achieved in a manner worthy of your Regent! What, then,
means the arrest of my ambassador? what this silence, when the representative
of your power, is insulted to your face?"
"They mean;" cried
Badenoch, "that my words, are the utterance of their sentiments."—"They
mean," cried Lore, "that the prowess of the haughty boaster, whom
their intoxicated gratitude raised from the dust; shall not avail him, against
the indignation of a nation, over which he dares to arrogate a right."
"Mean they what they
will," returned Wallace, "they cannot dispossess me of the rights
with which assembled Scotland invested me on the plains of Stirling. And again
I demand, by what authority do you, and they, presume to imprison my officer;
and withhold from me, the papers sent by the King of France to the Regent of
Scotland?"
"By an authority that we
will maintain," replied Badenoch; "by the right of my royal blood,
and by the sword of every brave Scot, who spurns at the name of Wallace
!"—"And as a proof that we speak not more than we act," cried
Lore, making a sign to the chiefs, "you are our prisoner!" Many
weapons were instantly unsheathed; and their bearers, hurrying to the side of
Badenoch and Lorn, attempted to lay hands on Wallace; but he drawing the sword
of Edward, with a sweep of his valiant arm that made the glittering blade seem
a brand of fire, set his back against the wall, and exclaimed—"He that
first makes a stroke at me, shall find his death on this Southron steel! This
sword, I made the puissant arm of the usurper yield to me; and this sword
shall defend the Regent of Scotland, against his ungrateful countrymen!"
The chieftains who pressed on
him, recoiled at these words; but their leaders, Badenoch and Lorn, waved them
forward, with vehement exhortations :—"Desist, young men!"
continued he; "provoke me not beyond my bearing. With a single blast of
my bugle, I could surround this building with a band of warriors, who at sight
of their chief being thus assaulted, would lay this tumult in blood.—Let me
pass, or abide the consequence!"
"Through my breast,
then;" exclaimed Badenoch; "for, with my consent, you pass not here
but on your bier.—What is in the arm of a single man;" cried he to the
lords, "that ye cannot fall on him at once, and cut him down?"
"I would not hurt a son of
the virtuous Badenoch ;" returned Wallace; "but his life be on your
heads," said he, turning to the chiefs, "if one of you point a sword
to impede my passage."—"And wilt thou dare it? usurper of my power
and honours !" cried Badenoch: "Lorn, stand by your friend :—all
here, who are true to the Cummin and Macdougal, hem in the tyrant."
Many a traitor hand now drew
forth its dagger; and the intemperate Badenoch, drunk with choler and mad
ambition, snatching a sword from one of his accomplices, made another violent
plunge at Wallace; but its metal flew in splinters on the guard-stroke of the
Regent, and left Badenoch at his mercy. "Defend me, chieftains, or I am
slain!" cried he. But Wallace did not let his hand follow its advantage:
with the dignity of conscious desert, he turned from the vanquished; and
casting the enraged Lorn from him, who had thrown himself in his way; he
exclaimed—"Scots! that arm will wither, which dares to point its steel
at me."—The pressing crowd, struck in astonishment, parted before him
as they would have done in the path of a thunderbolt; and, unimpeded, he
passed to the door.
That their Regent had entered
the keep, was soon rumoured through the city; and when he appeared from the
gate, he was hailed by the acclamations of the people. He found his empire
again, in the hearts of the lowly: they whom he had restored to their
cottages, knelt to him in the streets, and called for blessings on his name;
while they—oh! blasting touch of envy !—whom he had restored to castles,
and elevated from a state of vassalage, to the power of princes, they raised
against him that very power, to lay him in the dust.
Now it was, that when surrounded by the
grateful citizens of Stirling, (whom it would have been as easy for him to
have inflamed to the massacre of Badenoch, and his council, as to have lifted
his bugle to his lips;) that he blew the summons for his captains. Every man
in the keep, now flew to arms; expecting that Wallace was returning upon them
with the host he had threatened. In a few minutes, the Lord Ruthven with his
brave followers, entered the inner ballium gate. Wallace smiled proudly as
they drew near.—"My Lords," said he, "you come to witness the
last act of my delegated power! Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, enter into that
hall, which was once the seat of council, and tell the violent men who fill
it, that for the peace of Scotland, which I value more than my life, I allow
them to stand unpunished of their offence against me. But the outrage they
have committed on the freedom of one of her bravest sons, I will not pardon,
unless he be immediately set at liberty: let them deliver to you Sir Alexander
Ramsay, and then I permit them to hear my final decision. If they refuse
obedience, they are all my prisoners; and, but for my pity on their blindness,
should perish by the laws."
Eager to open the prison door for his
friend Ramsay, and little suspecting to what he was calling the insurgents,
Scrymgeour hastened to obey. Lorn and Badenoch gave him a very rough
reception; uttering such rebellious defiance of the Regent, that the brave
standard-bearer lost all patience, and denounced the immediate deaths of the
whole refractory assembly. "The court-yard," cried he, "is
armed with thousands of the Regent’s followers; his foot is on your necks;
obey, or this will be a more grievous day for Scotland, than even that of
Falkirk; for the castle of Stirling, will run with Scottish blood! At this
menace, Badenoch became more enraged; and Scrymgeour, seeing no chance of
prevailing by argument, sent a messenger, to privately tell Wallace the
result. The Regent immediately placed himself at the head of twenty men, and
re-entering the keep, went directly to the warder; whom he ordered, on his
allegiance to the laws, to deliver Sir Alexander Ramsay into his hands. He was
obeyed; and returned with his recovered chieftain, to the platform. When
Scrymgeour was apprised of the knight’s release, he turned to Badenoch, with
whom he was still contending in furious debate, and demanded, "Will you,
or will you not, attend me to the Regent? He of you all," added he,
addressing the chieftains, "who in this simple duty disobeys, shall
receive from him the severer doom."
Badenoch and Lorn, affecting to
deride this menace, replied, they would not for an empire, do the usurper the
homage of a moment’s voluntary attention; but if any of their followers
those to view the mockery, they were at liberty. A very few, and those of the
least turbulent spirits, ventured forth. They began to fear having embarked in
a desperate cause; and, by their present acquiescence, were willing to
deprecate the wrath of Wallace, while thus assured of not exciting the
resentment of Badenoch.
When Wallace looked around him;
and saw the space before the keep, filled with armed men and citizens, he
ascended an elevated piece of ground, which rose a little to the left; and
waving his hand in token that he intended to speak, a profound silence took
place of the buzz of admiration, gratitude, and discontent. He then addressed
the people, "Brother soldiers! Friends! And, am I so to distinguish
Scots? Enemies!" At this word, a loud cry of "Perish all, who are
the enemies of our glorious Regent!" penetrated to the inmost chambers of
the citadel. Believing that the few of his partisans who had ventured out were
falling under the vengeance of Wallace, Badenoch, with a brandished weapon,
and followed by the rest, sallied towards the door: but there he stopped, for
he saw his friends standing unmolested.
Wallace proceeded; and, with
calm dignity, announced the hatred that was now poured upon him by a large
part of that nobility who had been so eager to invest him with the high office
he then held.—"Though they have broken their oaths;" cried he,
"I have fulfilled mine! They vowed to me, all lawful obedience: I swore
to free Scotland, or to die. Every castle in this realm, is restored to its
ancient lord: every fortress, is filled with a native garrison: the sea is
covered with our ships: and the kingdom, one in itself, sits secure behind her
well-defended bulwarks. Such have I, through the strength of the Almighty arm,
made Scotland !—Beloved by a grateful people, I could wield half her power
to the destruction of the rest; but I would not pluck one stone out of the
building I have raised. To-day I deliver up my commission, since its design is
accomplished. I resign the Regency." As he spoke, he took off his helmet,
and stood uncovered before the people.
"No, no !" seemed the
voice from every lip; "we will acknowledge no other power, we will obey
no other leader!"
Wallace expressed his sense of
their attachment; but repeating to them, that he had fulfilled the end of his
office, by setting them free; he explained, that his retaining it was no
longer necessary.—"Should I remain your Regent," continued he,
"the country would be involved in ruinous dissensions. The majority of
your nobles now find a vice in the virtue they once extolled; and seeing its
power no longer needful, seek to destroy my upholders with myself. I therefore
remove the cause of contention. I quit the regency; and I bequeath your
liberty, to the care of your chiefs. But, should it be again in danger,
remember, that while life breathes in this heart, the spirit of William
Wallace will be with you still!"
With these words he descended
the mound, and mounted his horse amidst the cries and tears of the populace.—They
clung to his garments, as he rode along; and the women, with their children,
throwing themselves on their knees in his path, implored him not to leave them
to the inroads of a ravager; not to abandon them to the tyranny of their own
lords; who, unrestrained by a king, or a regent like himself, would soon
subvert his good laws and reign despots over every district in the country.
Wallace answered their entreaties, with the language of encouragement; adding,
that he was not their prince, to lawfully maintain a disputed power over the
legitimate chiefs of the land; "But," he said, "a rightful
sovereign, may yet be yielded to your prayers :—and to procure that
blessing, daughters of Scotland, night and day invoke the Giver of every good
gift."
When Wallace, and his weeping
train, separated at the foot of Falkirk hill, he was met by his veterans of
Lanark; who, having heard of what had passed in the citadel, advanced to him,
with one voice to declare, that they never would fight under any other
commander. "Wherever you are, my faithful friends," returned he,
"you shall still obey my word." When he entered the monastery, the
opposition that was made to his resignation of the regency, by the Bishop of
Dunkeld, Lord Loch-awe, and others, was so vehement, so persuasive, that had
not Wallace been steadily principled not to involve his country in domestic
war, he must have yielded to the affectionate eloquence of their pleading. But
showing to them the public danger, attendant on his provoking the wild
ambition of the Cummins, and their multitudinous adherents; his arguments,
which the sober judgments of his friends saw conclusive, at last ended the
debate. He then rose, saying, "I have yet to perform my vow to our
lamented Mar. I shall seek his daughter; and then, my brave companions, you
shall hear of me, and, I trust, see me again!"
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