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WHEN Wallace approached his
tent, he found, not only the captains of his own army, but the followers
of Soulis, and the chieftains of Lothian. He looked on this range of his
enemies, with a fearless eye, and passing through the crowd, took his
station beside the ambassadors, on the platform of the tent. The venerable
Hilton turned away with tears on his veteran cheeks, as the chief
advanced; and Le de Spencer came forward, to speak. Wallace, with a
dignified action, requested his leave for a few minutes, and then
addressing the congregated warriors, unfolded to them the offer of Edward
to him, and his reply. "And now," added he," the ambassador
of England is at liberty to declare his master’s alternative."
Le de Spencer again
advanced, but the acclamations with which the followers of Wallace
acknowledged the nobleness of his answer, excited such an opposite clamour
on the side of the Soulis party, that Le de Spencer was obliged to mount a
war-carriage which stood near, and to vociferate long and loudly for
silence, before he could be heard. But the first words which caught the
ears of his audience, acted like a spell, and seemed to hold them in
breathless attention.
"Since Sir William Wallace
rejects the grace of his liege lord, Edward King of England, offered to
him this once, and never to be again repeated; thus saith the King, in his
clemency, to the earls, barons, knights, and commonalty of Scotland! To
every one of them, chief and vassal, excepting the aforesaid incorrigible
rebel he, the royal Edward, grants an amnesty of all their past treasons
against his sacred person and rule; provided, that within twenty-four
hours after they hear the words of this proclamation, they acknowledge
their disloyalty, with repentance: and
laying down their arms, swear eternal fealty to their only lawful ruler,
Edward, the lord of the whole island, from sea to sea."—Le de
Spencer then proclaimed the King of England to be now on the borders, with
an army of a hundred thousand men, ready to march with fire and sword into
the heart of the kingdom, and put to the rack all of every sex, age, and
condition, who should venture to dispute his rights.—"Yield;"
added he, "while you may yet not only grasp the mercy extended to
you, but the rewards, and the honours, he is ready to bestow. Adhere to
that unhappy man, and by to-morrow’s sunset, your offended King will be
on these hills, and then mercy shall be no morel Death is the doom of Sir
William Wallace; and a similar fate to every Scot, who, after this hour,
dares to give him food, shelter, or succour. He is the prisoner of King
Edward; and thus, I demand him at your hands !"
Wallace spoke not, but with
an unmoved countenance looked around upon the assembly. Edwin precipitated
himself into his arms. Bothwell's full soul then forced utterance from his
labouring breast; "Tell your Sovereign," cried
he, "that he mistakes.—We are the conquerors, who ought to dictate
terms of peace! Wallace is our invincible leader, our redeemer from
slavery, the earthly hope in whom we trust; and it is not in the power of
men, nor devils, to bribe us to betray our benefactor. Away to your king,
and tell him, that Andrew Murray, and every honest Scot, is ready to live
or to die by the side of Sir William Wallace."—"And by this
good sword, I swear the same!" cried Ruthven.—"And so do I
!" rejoined Scrymgeour, "or may the standard of Scotland be my
winding-sheet!—"Or,
may the Clyde swallow us up, quick!" exclaimed Lockhart of Lee,
shaking his mailed hand at the ambassadors.
But not another chief spoke
for Wallace. Even Sinclair was intimidated; and like others who wished him
well, feared to utter his sentiments. But most, oh! shame to Scotland, and
to man, cast up their bonnets, and cried aloud —"Long
live King Edward, the only legitimite lord of Scotland!"—At this
outcry, which was echoed, even by some in whom he had confided; while it
pealed around him like a burst of thunder, Wallace threw out his arms, as
if he would yet protect Scotland from herself:—"O desolate
people," exclaimed he in a voice of piercing woe, "too credulous
of fair speeches, and not aware of the calamities which are coming upon
you! Call to remembrance the miseries you have suffered, and start, before
it be too late, from this last snare of your oppressor!—Have I yet to
tell ye, that his embrace is death? O! look yet to Heaven and ye shall
find a rescue!" Bruce seemed to rise at that moment, in pale but
gallant apparition before his soul. [This
speech is almost verbatim from one of our old historians.—(1809.)]
"Seize that rebellious
man," cried Soulis to his marshals. "In the name of the King of
England, I command you."—"And in the name of the King of
kings, I denounce death on him who attempts it!" exclaimed Bothwell,
throwing himself between Wallace and the men; "put forth a hostile
hand towards him, and this bugle shall call a thousand resolute swords to
lay this platform in blood!"
Soulis, followed by his
knights, pressed forward to execute his treason himself. Scrymgeour,
Ruthven, Lockhart, and Ker rushed before their friend. Edwin, starting
forward, drew his sword, and the clash of steel was heard. Bothwell and
Soulis grappled together; the falchion of Ruthven gleamed amidst a hundred
swords; and blood flowed around. The voice, the arm of Wallace, in vain
sought to enforce peace; he was not heard, he was not felt, in the
dreadful warfare; Ker fell with a gasp at his feet, and breathed no more.
At such a sight, the soul-struck Wallace wrung his hands, and exclaimed in
bitter anguish, "Oh my country! was it for these horrors, that my
Marion died? that I became a homeless wretch, and passed my days and
nights in fields of carnage? Venerable Mar, dear and valiant Graham! is
this the consummation, for which you fell?"—At that moment,
Bothwell, having disabled Soulis, would have blown his bugle, to call up
his men to a general conflict, but Wallace snatched the horn from his
hand; and springing upon the very war-carriage, from which Le de Spencer
had proclaimed Edward’s embassy, he drew forth his sword, and stretching
the mighty arm that held it, over the throng—with more than mortal
energy he exclaimed, "Peace! men of Scotland; and for the last time,
hear the voice of William Wallace." A dead silence immediately
ensued, and he proceeded, "If you have aught of nobleness within ye;
if a delusion, more fell than witchcraft, have not blinded your senses;
look beyond this field of horror, and behold your country free. Edward, in
these apparent demands, sues for peace. Did we not drive his armies into
the sea?—And were we resolved, he never could
cross our borders more. What is it then you do, when you again put your
necks under his yoke? Did he not seek to bribe me, to betray you?—and
yet, when I refuse to purchase life, and the world’s rewards, by such
baseness; you—you forget that you are free-born Scots, that you are the
victors, and he the vanquished; and you give, not sell, your birthright to
the demands of a tyrant! —You yield yourselves to his extortions, his
oppressions, his revenge !—think not he will spare the people he would
have sold, to purchase his bitterest enemy; or allow them to live
unmanacled, who possess the power of resistance. On the day in which you
are in his hands, you will feel that you have exchanged honour for
disgrace, liberty for bondage, life for death !—Me, you abhor; and may
God, in your extremest hour, forget that injustice, and pardon the
faithful blood you have shed this day!—-I draw this sword for you no
more. But there yet lives a prince, a descendant of the royal heroes of
Scotland, whom Providence may conduct to be your preserver. Reject the
proposals of Edward; dare to defend the freedom you now possess; and that
prince will soon appear, to crown you. patriotism with glory and
happiness!"
"We acknowledge no
prince, but King Edward of England!" cried Buchan.—"His
countenance is our glory, his presence our happiness!" The
exclamation was reiterated by a most disgraceful majority on the ground.
Wallace was transfixed.—"Then," cried Le de Spencer, in the
first pause of the tumult, "to every man, woman, and child,
throughout the realm of Scotland, excepting Sir William Wallace, I
proclaim, in the name of King Edward, pardon and peace."
At these words, several
hundred Scottish chieftains dropped on their knees before Le de Spencer,
and murmured their vows of fealty. Indignant, grieved, Wallace took his
helmet from his head, and throwing his sword into
the hand of Bothwell, "That weapon," cried he, which I wrested
from this very King Edward, and with which
I twice drove him from our borders, I give to you. In your hands it may
again serve Scotland. I relinquish a soldier’s name, on the spot where I
humbled England three times in one day; where I now see my victorious
country deliver herself, bound, into the grasp of the vauquished! I go,
without sword? or buckler, from this dishonoured field; and what Scot, my
public or private enemy, will dare to strike the unguarded head of William
Wallace!"—As he spoke, he threw his shield and helmet to the
ground; and leaping from the war-carriage, took his course, with a
fearless and dignified step, through the parting ranks of his enemies;
who, awe-struck, or kept in check, by a suspicion that others might not
second the attack they would have made on him, durst not lift an arm, or
breathe a word as he passed.
Wallace had adopted this manner of
leaving the ground, in hopes, if it were possible to awaken the least
spark of honour in the breasts of his persecutors, to prevent the
bloodshed which must ensue between his friends and them, should they
attempt to seize him. Edwin and Bothwell immediately followed him; but
Lockhart and Scrymgeour remained, to take charge of the remains of the
faithful Ker, [It is said, that this
gallant young chief was the ancestor of the Kers of Kersland. His dying in
defence of Wallace, is no fiction. Indeed there is hardly a name here,
that is not authorised. He was therefore a progenitor of the Kers of
Roxburg.—(1809.] and to observe the tendency
of the tumult, which began to murmur amongst the lower orders of the
bystanders.
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