CHAPTER LXXIV.
Arthur's Seat.
For a day or two the paralyzed terrors of the people, and the tumultsin the citadel, seemed portentous of immediate ruin. A largedetachment from the royal army had entered Scotland by the marine gateof Berwick; and, headed by De Warenne, was advancing rapidly towardEdinburgh. Not a soldier belonging to the regent remained on thecarse; and the distant chiefs to whom he sent for aid refused it,alleging that the discovery of Wallace's patriotism having been adelusion, had made them suspect all men; and, now locking themselveswithin their own castles, each true Scot would there securely view astruggle in which they could feel no personal interest.
Seeing the danger of the realm, and hearing from the Lords Ruthven andBothwell that their troops would follow no other leader than SirWilliam Wallace, and hopeless of any prompt decision from amongst thecontusion of the council, Badenoch yielded a stern assent to the onlyapparent means of saving his sinking country. He turned ashy pale,while his silence granted to Lord Loch-awe the necessity of imploringSir William Wallace to again stretch out his arm in their behalf. Withthis embassy the venerable chief had returned exultingly toBallochgeich; and the so lately branded Wallace, branded as theintended betrayer of Scotland, was solicited by his very accusers toassume the trust of their sole defense!
"Such is the triumph of virtue!" whispered Edwin to his friend, as hevaulted on his horse.
A luminous smile from Wallace acknowledged that he felt the tributeand, looking up to Heaven ere he placed his helmet on his head, he said:
"Thence comes my power! and the satisfaction it brings, whetherattended by man's applause or his blame, he cannot take from me. Inow, perhaps for the last time, arm this head for Scotland. May theGod in whom I trust again crown it with victory, and forever after bindthe brows of our rightful sovereign with peace!"
While Wallace pursued his march, the regent was quite at a stand,confounded at the turn which events had taken, and hardly knowingwhether to make another essay to collect forces for the support oftheir former leader, or to follow the refractory counsels of his lords,and await in inactivity the issue of theexpected battle. He knew not bow to act, but a letter from LadyStrathearn decided him.
Though partly triumphant in her charges, yet the accusations ofBothwell had disconcerted her; and though the restoration of Wallace tohis undisputed authority in the state; seemed to her next toimpossible, still she resolved to take another step, to confirm herinfluence over the discontented of her country, and most likely toinsure the vengeance she panted to bring upon her victim's head. Tothis end, on the very evening that she retreated in terror from thecouncil hall, she set forward to the borders; and, easily passingthence to the English camp (then pitched at Alnwick), was soon admittedto the castle, where De Warenne lodged. She was too well taught in theschool of vanity not to have remarked the admiration with which thatearl had regarded her while he was a prisoner in Stirling; and, hopingthat he might not be able to withstand the persuasion of her charms,she opened her mission with no less art than effect. De Warren wasmade to believe, that on the strength of a passion Wallace hadconceived for her, and which she treated with disdain, he had repentedof his former refusal of the crown of Scotland; and, misled by a hopethat she would not repeat her rejection of his hand could it presenther a scepter, he was now attempting to compass that dignity by themost complicated intrigues. She then related how, at her instigation,the regent had deposed him from his military command, and she endedwith saying, that impelled by loyalty to Edward (whom her better reasonnow recognized as the lawful sovereign of her country), she had come toexhort that monarch to renew his invasion of the kingdom.
Intoxicated with her beauty, and enraptured, by a manner which seemedto tell him that a softer sentiment than usual had made her select himas the embassador to the king, De Warenne greedily drank in all herwords; and ere he allowed this, to him, romantic conference to breakup, he had thrown himself at her feet, and implored her, by everyimpassioned argument, to grant him the privilege of presenting her toEdward as his intended bride. De Warenne was in the meridian of life;and being fraught with a power at court beyond most of his peers, shedetermined to accept his hand and wield its high influence to thedestruction of Wallace, even should she be compelled in the act toprecipitate her country in his fall. De Warenne drew from her ahalf-reluctant consent; and, while he poured forth the transports of ahappy lover, he was not so much enamored of the fine person of LadyStrathearn as to be altogether insensible to the advantages which hisalliance with her would give to Edward in his Scottish pretensions.And as it would consequently increase his own importance with thatmonarch, he lost no time in communicating the circumstances to him.Edward suspected something in this sudden attachment of the countess,which, should it transpire, might cool the ardor of his officer foruniting so useful an agent to his cause; therefore, having highlyapproved De Warenne's conduct in affair, to hasten the nuptials, heproposed being present at their solemnization that very evening. Thesolemn vows which Lady Strathearn then pledged at the altar to bepronounced by her with no holy awe of the marriage contract; but ratheras those alone by which she swore to complete her revenge on Wallace,and, by depriving him of life, prevent the climax to her misery, ofseeing him (what she believed he intended to become) the husband ofHelen Mar.
The day after she became De Warenne's wife, she accompanied him by seato Berwick; and from that place she dispatched messengers to theregent, and to other nobles, her kinsmen, fraught with promises, whichEdward, in the event of success had solemnly pledged himself to ratify.Her embassador arrived at Stirling the day succeeding that in whichWallace and his troops had marched from Ballochgeich. The lettersbrought were eagerly opened by Badenoch and his chieftains, and theyfound their contents to this effect. She announced to them hermarriage with the lord warden, who was returned into Scotland withevery power for the final subjugation of the country; and therefore shebesought the regent and his council, not to raise a hostile arm againsthim if they would not merely escape the indignation of a great king,but insure his favor. She cast out hints to Badenoch, as if Edwardmeant to reward his acquiescence with the crown of Scotland; and withsimilar baits, proportioned to the views of all her other kinsmen, shesmoothed their anger against that monarch's former insults persuadingthem to at least remain inactive during the last struggle of theircountry.
Meanwhile Wallace, taking his course along the banks of the Forth, whenthe night drew near, encamped his little army at the base of thecraigs, east of Edinburgh Castle. His march having been long andrapid, the men were much fatigued, and hardly were laid upon theirheather beds before they fell asleep.Wallace had learned from his scouts that the main body of the Southronshad approached within a few miles of Dalkeith. Thither he hoped to gonext morning, and there, he trusted, strike the conclusive blow forScotland, by the destruction of a division which he understoodcomprised the flower of the English army. With these expectations hegladly saw his troops lying in that repose which would rebrace theirstrength for the combat, and, as the hours of night stole on while hispossessed mind waked for all around, he was pleased to see hisever-watchful Edwin sink down in a profound sleep.
It was Wallace's custom, once at least in the night, to go himself therounds of his posts, to see that all was safe. The air was serene andhe walked out on this duty. He passed from line to line, from stationto station, and all was in order. One post alone remained to bevisited, and that was a point of observation on the craigs nearArthur's Seat. As he proceeded along a lonely defile between the rockswhich overhang the ascent of the mountain, he was startled by theindistinct sight of a figure amongst the rolling vapors of the night,seated on a towering cliff directly in the way he was to go. The broadlight of the moon, breaking from behind the clouds, shone full upon thespot, and discovered a majestic form in gray robes, leaning on a harp;while his face, mournfully gazing upward, was rendered venerable by along white beard that mingled with the floating mist. Wallace paused,and stopping s
ome distance from this extraordinary apparition, lookedon it in silence. The strings of the harp seemed softly touched, butit was only the sighing of a transitory breeze passing over them. Thevibration ceased, but, in the next moment the hand of the master indeedstruck the chords, and with so full and melancholy a sound that Wallacefor a few minutes was riveted to the ground; then moving forward with abreathless caution, not to disturb the nocturnal bard, he gentlyapproached. He was, however, descried! The venerable figure claspedhis hands, and in a voice of mournful solemnity exclaimed:
"Art thou come, doomed of Heaven, to hear thy sad coronach?" Wallacestarted at this salutation. The bard, with the same emotion,continued; "No choral hymns hallow thy bleeding corpse--wolves howl thyrequiem--eagles scream over thy desolate grave! Fly, chieftain, fly!"
"What, venerable father of the harp," cried Wallace, interrupting theawful pause, "thus addresses one whom he must mistake for some otherwarrior?"
"Can the spirit of inspiration mistake its object?" demanded the bard."Can he whose eyes have been opened be blind to Sir William Wallace--tothe blood which clogs his mounting footsteps?"
"And what or who am I to understand art thou?" replied Wallace. "Whois the saint whose holy charity would anticipate the obsequies of a manwho yet may be destined to a long pilgrimage?"
"Who I am," resumed the bard, "will be sthown to thee when thou hastpassed yon starry firmament. But the galaxy streams with blood; thebugle of death is alone heard; and thy lacerated breast heaves in vainagainst the hoofs of opposing squadrons. They charge--Scotland falls!Look not on me, champion of thy country! Sold by thineenemies--betrayed by thy friends! It was not the seer of St. Anton whogave thee these wounds--that heart's blood was not drawn by me: awoman's hand in mail, ten thousand armed warriors strike the mortalsteel--he sinks, he falls! Red is the blood of Eske! Thy vital streamhath dyed it. Fly, bravest of the brave, and live! Stay, and perish!"With a shriek of horror, and throwing his aged arms extended towardthe heavens, while his gray beard mingled in the rising blast, the seerrushed from sight. Wallace saw the misty rocks alone, and was left inawful solitude.
For a few minutes he stood in profound silence. His very soul seemeddeprived of power to answer so terrible a denunciation, with even aquestioning thought. He had heard the destruction of Scotlanddeclared, and himself sentenced to perish if he did not escape thegeneral ruin by flying from her side! This terrible decree of fate, sodisastrously corroborated by the extremity of Bruce, and the divisionsin the kingdom, had been sounded in his ear, had been pronounced by oneof those sages of his country, on whom the spirit of prophecy, it wasbelieved, yet descended, with all the horrors of a woe-denouncingprophet. Could he then doubt its truth? He did not doubt; he believedthe midnight voice he had heard. But recovering from the first shockof such a doom, and remembering that it still left the choice tohimself, between dishonored life or glorious death, he resolved to showhis respect to the oracle by manifesting a persevering obedience to theeternal voice which gave those agents utterance: and while he bowed tothe warning, he vowed to be the last who should fall from the side ofhis devoted country. "If devoted," cried he, "then our fates shall bethe same. My fall from thee shall be into my grave. Scotland may havestruck the breast the breast that shielded her, yet, Father of Mercies,forgive her blindness, and grant me still permission a little longer tooppose my heart between her and this fearful doom!"
CHAPTER LXXV.
Dalkeith.
Awed, but not intimidated by the prophecy of the seer, Wallace next daydrew up his army in order for the new battle near a convent ofCistercian monks on the narrow plain of Dalkeith. The two rivers Eske,flowing on each side of the little phalanx, formed a temporary barrierbetween it and the pressing legions of De Warenne. The earl's troopsseemed countless, while the Southron lords who led them on, beingelated by the representations which the Countess of Strathearn hadgiven to them of the disunited state of the Scottish army, and theconsequent dismay which had seized their hitherto all-conqueringcommander, bore down upon the Scots with an impetuosity whichthreatened their universal destruction. Deceived by the blandishingfalsehoods of his bride, De Warenne had entirely changed his formeropinion of his brave opponent, and by her sophistries having broughthis mind to adopt stratagems of intimidation unworthy of his nobleness(so contagious is baseness, in too fond a contact with theunprincipled!), he placed himself on an adjoining height, intendingfrom that commanding post to dispense his orders and behold his victory.
"Soldiers!" cried he, "the rebel's hour is come. The sentence ofHeaven is gone forth against him. Charge resolutely, and he and hishost are yours!"
The sky was obscured; an awful stillness reigned through the air, andthe spirits of the mighty dead seemed leaning from the clouds, towitness this last struggle of their sons. Fate did indeed hover overthe opposing armies. She descended on the head of Wallace, anddictated from amidst his waving plumes. She pointed his spear, shewielded his flaming sword, she charged with him in the dreadful shockof battle. De Warenne saw his foremost thousands fall. He heard theshouts of the Scots, the cries of his men, and the plains of Stirlingrose to his remembrance. He hastily ordered the knights around him tobear his wife from the field; and descending the field to lead forwardhimself, was met and almost overwhelmed by his flying troops; horseswithout riders, men without shield or sword, but all in dismay, rushedpast him. He called to them, he waved the royal standard, he urged, hereproached, he rallied, and led them back again. The fightrecommenced. Long and bloody was the conflict. De Warenne fought forconquest and to recover a lost reputation. Wallace contended for hiscountry, and to show himself always worthy of her latest blessing"before he should go hence and be no more seen."
The issue declared for Scotland. But the ground was covered with theslain, and Wallace chased a wounded foe with troops which dropped asthey pursued. At sight of the melancholy state of his intrepidsoldiers, he tried to check their ardor, but in vain.
"It is for Wallace that we conquer!" cried they; "and we die, or provehim the only captain in this ungrateful country."
Night compelled them to halt, and while they rested on their arms,Wallace was satisfied that he had destroyed the power of De Warenne.As he leaned on his sword, and stood with Edwin near the watch-fire,over which that youthful hero kept a guard, he contemplated withgenerous forbearance the terrified Southrons as they fled precipitatelyby the foot of the hill toward the Tweed. Wallace now told his friendthe history of his adventure with the seer of the craigs, and findingwithin himself how much the brightness of true religion excludes theglooms of superstition, he added, "The proof of the Divine Spirit inprophecy is its completion. Hence let the false seer I met last nightwarn you, my Edwin, by my example, how you give credit to anyprediction that might slacken the sinews of duty. God can speak butone language. He is not a man, that he should repent; neither amortal, that he should change his purpose. This prophet of Baalbeguiled me into a credence of his denunciation; but not to adopt theconduct his offered alternative would have persuaded me to pursue. Inow see that he was a traitor in both, and henceforth shall read myfate in the oracles of God alone. Obeying them, my Edwin, we need notfear the curses of our enemy, nor the lying of suborned soothsayers."
The splendor of this victory struck to the souls of the council atStirling, but with no touch of remorse. Scotland being again rescuedfrom the vengeance of her implacable foe, the disaffected lords in thecitadel affected to spurn at her preservation, declaring to the regentthat they would rather bear the yoke of the veriest tyrant in the worldthan owe a moment of freedom to the man who (they pretended to believe)had conspired against their lives. And they had a weighty reason forthis decision: though De Warenne was beaten, his wife was a victor.She had made Edward triumphant in the venal hearts of her kinsmen; goldand her persuasions, with promises of future honors from the King ofEngland, had sealed them entirely his. All but the regent was ready tocommit everything into the hands of Edward. The rising favo
r of theseother lords with the court of England induced him to recollect that hemight rule as the unrivaled friend of Bruce, should that prince live;or, in case of his death, he might have it in his own power to assumethe Scottish throne untrammeled. These thoughts made him fluctuate,and his country found him as undetermined in treason as unstable infidelity.
Immediately on the victory at Dalkeith, Kirkpatrick (eager to be thefirst communicator of such welcome news to Lennox, who had plantedhimself as a watch at Stirling) withdrew secretly from Wallace's camp,and, hoping to move the gratitude of the refractory lords, entered fullof honest joy into the midst of their council.
He proclaimed the success of his commander. His answer was accusationsand insults. All that had been charged against the too-fortunateWallace, was re-urged with added acrimony. Treachery to the state,hypocrisy in morals, fanaticism in religion--no stigma was tooextravagant, too contradictory, to be affixed to his name. They whohad been hurt in the fray in the hall, pointed to their still smartingwounds, and called upon Lennox to say if they did not plead against sodangerous a man?
"Dangerous to your crimes, and ruinous to your ambition!" criedKirkpatrick; "for so help me God, I believe that an honester man thanWilliam Wallace lives not in Scotland! And that ye know, and hisvirtues overtopping your littleness, ye would uproot the greatnesswhich ye cannot equal."
This speech, which a burst of indignation had wrested from him, broughtdown the wrath of the whole party upon himself. Lord Athol, yet stungwith his old wound, furiously struck him; Kirkpatrick drew his sword,and the two chiefs commenced a furious combat, each determined on theextirpation of the other. Gasping with almost the last breathings oflife, neither could be torn from their desperate revenge, till manywere hurt in attempting to separate them; and then the two were carriedoff insensible, and covered with wounds.
When this sad news was transmitted to Sir William Wallace, it found himon the banks of the Eske, just returned from the citadel of Berwick,where, once more master of that fortress, he had dictated the terms ofa conqueror and a patriot.
In the scene of his former victories, the romantic shades ofHawthorndean, he now pitched his triumphant camp; and from its verdantbounds dispatched the requisite orders to the garrisoned castles on theborders. While employed in this duty, his heart was wrung by anaccount of the newly-aroused storm in the citadel of Stirling; but assome equivalent, the chieftains of Mid-Lothian poured in on him onevery side; and, acknowledging him their protector, he again foundhimself the idol of gratitude, and the almost deified object of trust.At such a moment, when the one voice they were disclaiming allparticipation in the insurgent proceedings at Stirling, anothermessenger arrived from Lord Lennox, to conjure him, if he would avoidopen violence or secret treachery, to march his victorious troopsimmediately to that city, and seize the assembled abthanes** at once astraitors to their country. "Resume the regency," added he; "which youonly know how to conduct; and crush a treason which, increasing hourly,now walks openly in the day, threatening all that is virtuous, orfaithful to you."
**Abthanes, which means the great lords, was a title of pre-eminencegiven to the higher order of chiefs.
He did not hesitate to decide against this counsel, for, in followingit, it could not be one adversary he must strike, but thousands. "I amonly a brother to my countrymen," said he to himself, "and have noright to force them to their duty. When their king appears, then theserebellious heads may be made to bow." While he mused upon the letterof Lennox, Ruthven entered the recess of the tent, whither he hadretired to read it.
"I bring you better news of our friends at Huntingtower," cried thegood lord. "Here is a packet from Douglas, and another from my wife."
Wallace gladly read them, and found that Bruce was relieved from hisdelirium; but so weak, that his friends dared not hazard a relapse byimparting to him any idea of the proceedings at Stirling. All he knewwas, that Wallace was victorious in arms, and panting for his recoveryto render such success really beneficial to his country! Helen andIsabella, with the sage of Ercildown, were the prince's unweariedattendants; and though his life was yet in extreme peril, it was to behoped that their attentions, and his own constitution, would finallycure the wound, and conquer its attendant fever. Comforted with thesetidings, Wallace declared his intentions of visiting his sufferingfriend as soon as he could establish any principle in the minds of hisfollowers to induce them to bear, even for a little time, with theinsolence of the abthanes. "I will then," said he, "watch by the sideof our beloved Bruce till his recovered health allows him to proclaimhimself king; and with that act I trust all these feuds will be foreverlaid to sleep!" Ruthven participated in these hopes, and the friendsreturned into the council-tent. But all there was changed. Most ofthe Lothian chieftains had also received messages from their friends inStirling. Allegations against Wallace; arguments to prove "the policyof submitting themselves and their properties to the protection of agreat and generous king, though a foreigner, rather than to risk all byattaching themselves to the fortunes of a private person, who madetheir services the ladder of his ambition," were the contents of theirpackets; and they had been sufficient to shake the easy faith to whichthey were addressed. On the reentrance of Wallace, the chieftains,stole suspicious glances at each other, and, without a word, glidedseverally out of the tent.
CHAPTER LXXVI.
Hawthorndean.
Next morning, instead of coming as usual directly to their acknowledgedprotector, the Lothian chieftains were seen at different parts of thecamp, closely conversing in groups; and when any of Wallace's officersapproached, they separated, or withdrew to a greater distance. Thisstrange conduct Wallace attributed to its right source, and thought ofBruce with a sigh, when he contemplated the variable substance of thesemen's minds. However, he was so convinced that nothing but theproclamation of Bruce, and that prince's personal exertions, couldpreserve his country from falling again into the snare from which hehad just snatched it, that he was preparing to set out for Perthshirewith such persuasions, when Ker hastily entered his tent. He wasfollowed by the Lord Soulis, Lord Buchan, and several other chiefs ofequally hostile intentions. Soulis did not hesitate to declare hiserrand.
"We come, Sir William Wallace, by the command of the regent, and theassembled abthanes of Scotland, to take these brave troops, which haveperformed such good service to their country, from the power of a manwho, we have every reason to believe, means to turn their arms againstthe liberties of the realm. Without a pardon from the state; withoutthe signature of the regent; in contempt of court, which, having foundyou guilty of high treason, had in mercy delayed to pronounce thesentence on your crime, you have presumed to place yourself at the headof the national troops, and to take to yourself the merit of a victorywon by their prowess alone! Your designs are known, and the authorityyou have despised is now roused to punish. You are to accompany usthis day to Stirling. We have brought a guard of four thousand men tocompel your obedience."
Before the indignant spirit of Wallace could utter the answer hiswrongs dictated, Bothwell, who at sight of the regent's troops hadhastened to his general's tent, entered, followed by his chieftains:"Were your guard forty thousand, instead of four," cried he, "theyshould not force our commander from us--they should not extinguish theglory of Scotland beneath the traitorous devices of hell-engenderedenvy 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, theslanderer of virtue, the betrayer of his country, knows in his heartthat he fears to draw aught but the assassin's steel. He dreads thescepter of honor: Wallace must fall, that vice and her votaries mayreign in Scotland. A thousand brave Scots lie under these sods, and athousand yet survive who may share their graves; but they never willrelinquish their invincible leader into the hands of traitors!"
The clamors of the citadel of Stirling now resounded through the tentof Wallace. Invectives, accusations
, threatenings, reproaches, andrevilings, joined in one turbulent uproar. Again swords were drawn;and Wallace, in attempting to beat down the weapons of Soulis andBuchan, aimed at Bothwell's heart, must have received the point ofSoulis' in his own body, had he not grasped the blade, and wrenching itout of the chief's hand, broke it into shivers: "Such be the fate ofevery sword which Scot draws against Scot!" cried he. "Put up yourweapons, my friends. The arm of Wallace is not shrunk, that he couldnot defend himself, did he think that violence were necessary. Hear mydetermination, once and forever!" added he. "I acknowledge noauthority in Scotland but the laws. The present regent and hisabthanes outrage them in every ordinance, and I should indeed be atraitor to my country did I submit to such men's behests. I shall notobey their summons to Stirling; neither will I permit a hostile arm tobe raised in this camp against their delegates, unless the violencebegins with them. This is my answer." Uttering these words hemotioned Bothwell to follow him, and left the tent.
Crossing a rude plank-bridge, which then lay over the Eske, he met LordRuthven, accompanied by Edwin and Lord Sinclair. The latter came toinform Wallace that embassadors from Edward awaited his presence atRoslyn.
"They came to offer peace to our distracted country," cried Sinclair.
"Then," answered Wallace, "I shall not delay going where I may hear theterms." Horses were brought; and, during their short ride, to preventthe impassioned representations of the still raging Bothwell, Wallacecommunicated, to his not less indignant friends, the particulars of thescene 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 theproposed negotiation. "If Edward's offers be at all reasonable, Iwould urge you to accept them; otherwise invasion from without, andcivil commotion within, will probably make a desert of poor Scotland."
Ruthven interrupted him: "Despair not, my lord! Whatever be the fateof this embassy, let us remember that it is our steadiest friend whodecides, and that his arm is still with us to repel invasion, tochastise treason!"
Edwin's eyes turned with a direful expression upon Wallace, while helowly 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 atpeace, or point its hostilities to the only aim against which a trueScot ought to direct his sword at this crisis!"
Being arrived at the gate of Roslyn, Wallace, regardless of thoseceremonials which often delay the business they pretend to dignify,entered at once into the hall where the embassadors sat. Baron Hiltonwas one, and Le de Spencer (father of the young and violent envoy ofthat 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 toseek." While speaking, he looked on Sinclair and the other lords.
"These chiefs are as myself," replied Wallace; "but I will not impedeyour embassy by crossing the wishes of your master in a trifle." Hethen turned to his friends: "Indulge the monarch of England in makingme the first acquainted with that which can only be a message to thewhole nation."
The chiefs withdrew; and Hilton, without further parley, opened themission. He said that King Edward, more than ever impressed with thewondrous military talents of Sir William Wallace, and solicitous tomake 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 theaterwhereon he might display his peerless endowments to the admiration ofthe world--the kingdom of Ireland, with its yet unreaped fields ofglory, and all the ample riches of its abundant provinces, should behis! Edward only required, in return for this royal gift, that heshould abandon the cause of Scotland, swear fealty to him for Ireland,and resign into his hands one whom he had proscribed as the mostungrateful of traitors. In double acknowledgment for the lattersacrifice Wallace need only send to England a list of those Scottishlords against whom he bore resentment, and their fates should beordered according to his dictates. Edward concluded his offers byinviting him immediately to London, to be invested with his newsovereignty; and Hilton ended his address by showing him the madness ofabiding in a country where almost every chief, secretly or openly,carried a dagger against his life; and therefore he exhorted him nolonger to contend for a nation so unworthy of freedom, that it borewith impatience the only man who had the courage to maintain itsindependence by virtue alone.
Wallace replied calmly, and without hesitation:
"To this message an honest man can make but one reply. As well mightyour sovereign exact of me to dethrone the angels of heaven, as torequire me to subscribe to his proposals. They do but mock me; andaware of my rejection, they are thus delivered, to throw the wholeblame of this cruelly-persecuting war upon me. Edward knows that as aknight, a true Scot, and a man, I should dishonor myself to accept evenlife, 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 entreatydictated by a mind that revered the very firmness he strove to shake,to relinquish his faithless country, and become the friend of a kingready to receive him with open arms. Wallace shook his head; and withan incredulous smile which spoke his thoughts of Edward, while his eyesbeamed kindness upon Hilton, he answered:
"Can the man who would bribe me to betray a friend, be faithful infriendship? But that is not the weight with me. I was not brought upin those schools, my good baron, which teach that sound policy or trueself-interest can be separated from virtue. When I was a boy, myfather 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. Itmeans, "Know of a certainty that virtue, the best of possessions, nevercan exist under the bond of servility."
"I learned it then; I have since made it the standard of my actions, andI answer your monarch in a word. Were all my countrymen to resigntheir claims to the liberty which is their right, I alone would declarethe independence of my country; and by God's assistance, while I live,acknowledge no other master than the laws of St. David, and thelegitimate heir of his blood!"
The glow of resolute patriotism which overspread his countenance whilehe spoke was reflected by a fluctuating color on that of Hilton.
"Noble chief!" cried he; "I admire while I regret; I revere the virtuewhich I am even now constrained to denounce. These principles, bravestof men, might have suited the simple ages of Greece and Rome; a Phocionor a Fabricius might have uttered the like, and compelled the homage oftheir enemies; but in these days, such magnanimity is consideredfrenzy, and ruin is its consequence."
"And shall a Christian," cried Wallace, reddening with the flush ofhonest shame, "deem the virtue which even heathens practiced withveneration, of too pure a nature to be exercised by men taught byChrist himself? There is blasphemy in the idea, and I can hear nomore."
Hilton, in confusion, excused his argument by declaring that itproceeded from his observations on the conduct of men.
"And shall we," replied Wallace, "follow a multitude to do evil? I actto one Being alone. Edward must acknowledge HIS supremacy, and by thatknow that my soul is above all price!"
"Am I answered?" said Hilton, and then hastily interrupting himself, headded, in a voice even of supplication; "your fate rests on your reply!Oh! noblest of warriors, consider only for the day!"
"Not for a moment," said Wallace; "I am sensible of your kindness; butmy 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 youin the assembly of
your chieftains."
"In the congregation of my camp?" returned he; and opening the door ofthe ante-room, in which his friends stood, he sent Edwin to summon hischiefs to the platform before the council tent.