|
NEXT morning, instead of
coming as usual directly to their acknowledged protector, the Lothian
chieftains were seen at different parts of the camp, closely conversing in
groups; and when any of Wallace’s officers approached, they separated,
or withdrew to a greater distance. This strange conduct, Wallace
attributed to its right source, and thought of Bruce with a sigh, when he
contemplated the variable substance of these men’s winds. However, he
was so convinced that nothing but the proclamation of Bruce, and that
prince’s personal exertions, could preserve his country from falling
again into the snare from which he had just snatched it, that he was
preparing to set out for Perthshire with such persuasions, when Ker
hastily entered his tent. He was followed by the Lord Soulis, Lord Buchan,
and several other chiefs of equally hostile intentions. Soulis did not
hesitate to declare his errand.
"We come, Sir William
Wallace, by the command of the Regent, and the assembled abthanes of
Scotland, to take these brave troops, which have performed such good
service to their country, from the power of a man, who, we have every
reason to believe, means to turn their arms against the liberties of the
realm. Without a pardon from the states; without the signature of the
Regent; in contempt of the court, which, having found you guilty of high
treason, had in mercy delayed to pronounce sentence on your crime; you
have presumed to place yourself at the head of the national troops, and to
take to yourself the merit of a victory won by their prowess alone! Your
designs are known; and the authority you have despised, is now roused to
punish. You are to accompany us this day to Stirling.
We have brought a guard of four thousand men, to compel your
obedience."
Before the indignant spirit
of Wallace could utter the answer his wrongs dictated; Bothwell, who, at
sight of the Regent’s troops, had hastened to his general’s tent,
entered, followed by his chieftains.—-"Were your guard forty
thousand, instead of four," cried he; "they should not force our
commander from us; they should not extinguish the glory of Scotland,
beneath the traitorous devices of hell-engendered envy, and murderous
cowardice !" Soulis turned on him with eyes of fire, and laid his
hand on his sword. "Ay, cowardice!" reiterated Bothwell;
"the midnight ravisher, the slanderer of virtue, the betrayer of his
country, knows in his heart, that he fears to draw aught but! the assassin’s
steel, He dreads the sceptre of honour: -"Wallace
must fall, that vice and her votaries may reign in Scotland. A thousand
brave Scots lie under these sods; and a thousand yet survive, who may
share their graves; but they never will relinquish their invincible
leader, into the hands of traitors!"
The clamours of the citadel
of Stirling now resounded through the tent of Wallace. Invectives,
accusations, threatenings, reproaches, and revilings, joined in one
turbulent uproar. Again swords were drawn; and Wallace, in attempting to
beat down the weapons of Soulis and Buchan aimed at Bothwell’s heart,
must have received the point of Soulis in his own body, had he not grasped
the blade, and wrenching it out of the thief’s hand, broke it into
shivers; "Such be the fate of every sword, which Scot draws against
Scot!" cried he. "Put up your weapons, my friends.—The arm of
Wallace is not shrank, that he could not defend himself, did he think that
violence were necessary. Hear my determination, once, and for ever!"
added he; "I acknowledge no authority in Scotland, but the laws. The
present Regent and his abthanes outrage
them in every ordinance; and I should indeed be a traitor to my country,
did I submit to such men’s behests. I shall not obey their summons to
Stirling—neither will I permit its hostile arm to be raised in this
camp, against their delegates, unless the violence begins with them—This
is my answer."—Uttering these words, he motioned Bothwell to follow
him, and left the tent.
Crossing a rude
plank-bridge, which then lay over the Eske, he met Lord Ruthven,
accompanied by Edwin, and Lord Sinclair. The latter came to inform
Wallace, that ambassadors from Edward awaited his presence at Roslyn.
"They come, to offer peace to our distracted country," cried
Sinclair. "Then;" answered Wallace, "I shall not delay
going where I may hear the terms." Horses were brought; and, during
their short ride, to prevent the impassioned representations of the still
raging Bothwell, Wallace communicated, to his not less indignant friends,
the particulars of the scene he had left. "These contentions must be
terminated," added he; "and, with God’s blessing, a few days,
and they shall be so!"—"Heaven grant it!" returned
Sinclair, thinking he referred to the proposed negotiation. "If
Edward’s offers be at all reasonable, I would urge you to accept them
otherwise, invasion from without, and civil commotion within, will
probably make a desert of poor Scotland." Ruthven interrupted him:
"Despair not, my Lord! Whatever be the fate of this embassy, let us
remember, that it is our steadiest friend who decides: and that his arm is
still with us, to repel invasion—to chastise treason!" Edwin’s
eyes turned with a direful expression upon Wallace, while he lowly
murmured, "Treason! hydra treason!" Wallace understood him, and
answered; "Grievous are the alternatives, my friends, which your love
for me would persuade you even to welcome. But that which I shall choose,
will, I trust, indeed lay the land at peace ;—or point its hostilities to
the only aim, against which a true Scot ought to direct his sword, at this
crisis!"
Being arrived at the gate
of Roslyn, Wallace, regardless of those ceremonials, which often delay the
business they pretend to dignify, entered at once into the hall where the
ambassadors sat. Baron Hilton was one, and Le de Spencer (father to the
young and violent envoy of that name) was the other. At sight of the
Scottish chief, they rose; and the good baron, believing he came on a
propitious errand, smiling, said, "Sir William Wallace, it is your
private ear, I am commanded to seek." While speaking, he looked on
Sinclair, and the other lords. "These chiefs, are as myself,"
replied Wallace; "but I will not impede your embassy, by crossing the
wishes of your master in a trifle." He then turned to his friends;
"Indulge the monarch of England, in making me the first acquainted
with that, which can only be a message to the whole nation."
The chiefs withdrew; and
Hilton, without further parley, opened his mission.—He said, that King
Edward, more than ever impressed with the wondrous military talents of Sir
William Wallace, and solicitous to make a friend of so heroic an enemy,
had sent him an offer of grace, which, if he contemned, must be the last.
He offered him a theatre, whereon he might display his peerless
endowments, to the admiration of the world—the kingdom of Ireland, with
its yet unreaped fields of glory, and all the ample riches of its abundant
provinces, should be his! Edward only required, in return for this royal
gift, that he should abandon the cause of Scotland; swear fealty to him
for Ireland; and resign into his hands, one whom he had proscribed as the
most ungrateful of traitors. In double acknowledgment for the latter
sacrifice, Wallace need only send to England a list of those Scottish
lords, against whom he bore resentment, and their fates should be ordered
according to his dictates. Edward concluded his
offers, by inviting him immediately to London, to be invested with his new
sovereignty; and Hilton ended his address, by showing him the madness of
abiding in a country, where almost every chief, secretly, or openly,
carried a dagger against his life; and therefore be exhorted him, no
longer to contend for a nation so unworthy of freedom, that it bore with
impatience the only man who had the courage to maintain its independence
by virtue alone.
Wallace replied calmly, and
without hesitation: "To this message, an honest man can make but one
reply. As well might your sovereign exact of me, to dethrone the angels of
heaven, as to require me to subscribe to his proposals! —They do but
mock me; and aware of my rejection, they are thus delivered, to throw the
whole blame of this cruelly persecuting war upon me. Edward knows, that as
a knight, a true Scot, and a man, I should dishonour myself, to accept
even life, ay, or the lives of all my kindred,
upon these terms."
Hilton interrupted him, by
declaring the sincerity of Edward; and, contrasting it with the
ingratitude of the people whom he had served, he conjured him, with every
persuasive of rhetoric, every entreaty dictated by a mind that revered the
very firmness he strove to shake, to relinquish his faithless country; and
become the friend of a king, ready to receive him with open arms. Wallace
shook his head; and with an incredulous smile, which spoke his thoughts of
Edward, while his eyes beamed kindness upon Hilton, he answered—"Can
the man, who would bribe me to betray a friend, be faithful in his
friendship? But that is not the weight with me:—I was not brought up in
those schools, my good baron, which teach, that sound policy, or true
self-interest, can be separated from virtue. When I was a boy, my father
often repeated to me this proverb:—
Dico tibi verum, honestas, optima
rerum,
Nunquam servili sub nexu vivitur fili.
[This saying
of the parental teacher of Wallace, is recorded. It means, "Know of a
certainty, that virtue, the best of possessions, never can exist under the
bond of servility."]
I
learnt it then; I have since made it the standard of my actions; and I answer
your monarch in a word. Were all my countrymen to resign their claims to the
liberty which is their right, I alone, would declare the independence of my
country; and by God’s assistance, while I live, acknowledge no other master
than the laws of St. David, and the legitimate heir of his blood!"—The
glow of resolute patriotism which overspread his countenance while he spoke,
was reflected by a fluctuating colour on that of Hilton: —"Noble
chief!" cried he; "I admire, while I regret; I revere the virtue,
which I am even now constrained to denounce.—These principles, bravest of
men, might have suited the simple ages of Greece and Rome; a Phocion or a
Fabricius, might have uttered the like, and compelled the homage of their
enemies; but in these days, such magnanimity is considered frenzy, and ruin is
its consequence." "And shall a Christian;" cried Wallace,
reddening with the flush of honest shame, "deem the virtue, which even
heathens practised with veneration, of too pure a nature to be exercised by
men taught by Christ himself?—There is blasphemy in the idea, and I can hear
no more."
Hilton, in some confusion, excused his
argument, by declaring that it proceeded from his observations on the conduct
of men. "And shall we;" replied Wallace, "follow a multitude to
do evil? I act to one Being alone. Edward must acknowledge His supremacy; and
by that, know, that my soul is above all price! "—"Am I
answered?" said Hilton, and then hastily interrupting himself, he added,
in a voice even of supplication, "Your fate rests on your reply! O!
noblest of warriors, consider, only for a day!"—-"Not
for a moment," said Wallace:—"I am sensible to your kindness, but
my answer to Edward has been pronounced."
Baron Hilton turned sorrowfully
away, and Le de Spencer rose: "Sir William Wallace, my part of the
embassy must be delivered to you in the assembly of your chieftains!"
"In the congregation of my camp," returned he; and opening the door
of the ante-room, in which his friends stood, he sent Edwin to summon his
chiefs to the platform before the council-tent.
|
