Loch Awe.
It was on the eve of St. Nicholas that the boat which contained Wallace
drew near to the coast of Fife. A little of the right towered the
tremendous precipice of Kinghorn.
"Behold, Edwin," said he, "the cause of all our woe! From those
horrible cliffs fell the best of kings, the good Alexander. My father
accompanied him in that fatal ride, and was one of the unhappy group
who had the evil hap to find his mangled body among the rocks below."
"I have heard," observed Graham, "that the sage of Ercildown prophesied
this dreadful calamity to Scotland."
"He did prognosticate," replied Wallace, "that on the eighteenth of
April, a storm should burst over this land which would lay the country
in ruins. Fear seized the farmers; but his prophecy regarded a nobler
object than their harvests. The day came, rose unclouded, and
continued perfectly serene. Lord March, to whom the seer had presaged
the event, at noon reproached him with the unlikeliness of its
completion. But even at the moment he was ridiculing the sage, a man
on a foaming steed arrived at the gate, with tidings that the king had
accidentally fallen from the precipice of Kinghorn, and was killed.
'This,' said the Lord of Ercildown, 'is the scathing wind and dreadful
tempest which shall long blow calamity and trouble on the realm of
Scotland!' And surely his words have been verified, for still the
storm rages around our borders--and will not cease, I fear, till the
present dragon of England be laid as low as our noble lion was by that
mysterious blast."**
**Alexander III. was killed in this manner on the 18th of April, 1290,
just seven years before the consequent calamities of his country made
it necessary for Wallace to rise in its defense.
The like discourse held the friends till they landed at Roseyth Castle,
where they lodged for the night; and next morning recommencing their
journey at daybreak, they crossed the Lomonds under a wintery sun, and
entered Perth in the midst of a snow-storm.
The regent's arrival soon spread throughout the province, and the hall
of the castle was speedily crowded with chieftains, come to pay their
respects to their benefactor; while an army of grateful peasantry from
the hills filled the suburbs of the town, begging for one glance only
of their beloved lord. To oblige them, Wallace mounted his horse, and
between the Lords Ruthven and Athol, with his bonnet off, rode from the
castle to the populace-covered plain, which lay to the west of the
city. He gratified their affectionate eagerness by this condescension,
and received in return the sincere homage of a thousand grateful
hearts. The snow-topped Grampians echoed with the proud acclamations
of "Our deliverer," "Our prince," "The champion of Scotland," "The
glorious William Wallace!" and the shores of the Tay resounded with
similar rejoicings at sight of him who made the Scottish seamen lords
of the Northern Ocean.
Ruthven beheld this eloquence of nature with sympathetic feelings. His
just sense of the unequaled merits of the regent had long internally
acknowledged him as his sovereign; and he smiled with approbation at
every breathing amongst the people which intimated what would at last
be their general shout. Wallace had proved himself not only a warrior
but a legislator. In the midst of war he had planted the fruits of
peace, and now the olive and the vine waved abundant on every hill.
Different were the thoughts of the gloomy Athol as he rode by the side
of the regent. Could he by a look have blasted those valiant arms--have
palsied that youthful head, whose judgment shamed the hoariest
temples--gladly would he have made Scotland the sacrifice so that he
might never again find himself in the triumphant train of one whom he
deemed a boy and an upstart! Thus did he muse, and thus did envy open
a way into his soul for those demons to enter which were so soon to
possess it with the fellest designs.
The issue of Ruthven's claims did not lessen Lord Athol's hatred of the
regent. Wallace simply stated the case to him, only changing the
situations of the opponents; he supposed Athol to be in the place of
Ruthven and then asked the frowning earl if Ruthven had demanded a
government which Athol had bravely won and nobly secured, whether he
should deem it just to be sentenced to relinquish it into the hands of
his rival? By this question he was forced to decide against himself.
But while Wallace generously hoped that, by having made him his own
judge, he had found an expedient both to soften the pain of
disappointment and to lessen the humiliation of defeat, he had only
redoubled the hatred of Athol, who thought he had thus been cajoled out
of even the privilege of complaint. He, however, affected to be
reconciled to the issue of the affair, and, taking a friendly leave of
the regent, retired to Blair; and there, amongst the numerous
fortresses which owned his power--amongst the stupendous strongholds of
nature, the cloud invested mountains and the labyrinthine winding of
his lochs and streams--he determined to pass his days and nights in
devising the sure fall of this proud usurper; for so the bitterness of
an envy he durst not yet breathe to any impelled him internally to
designate the unpretending Wallace.
Meanwhile, the unconscious object of this hatred, oppressed by the
overwhelming crowds constantly assembling at Perth to do him homage,
retired to Huntingtower--a castle of Lord Ruthven's, at some distance
from the town. Secluded from the throng, he there arranged, with the
chiefs of several clans, matters of consequence to the internal repose
of the country; but receiving applications for similar regulations from
the counties further north, he decided on going thither himself.
Severe as the weather was at that season, he bade adieu to the warm
hospitalities of Huntingtower, and, accompanied by Graham and his young
friend Edwin, with a small but faithful train he commenced a journey
which he intended should comprehend the circuit of the Highlands.
With the chieftain of almost every castle in his progress he passed a
day, and according to the interest which the situation of the
surrounding peasantry created in his mind he lengthened his sojourn.
Everywhere he was welcomed with enthusiasm, and his glad eye beheld the
festivities of Christmas with a delight which recalled past emotions,
till they wrung his heart.
The last day of the old year he spent with Lord Loch-awe, in Kichurn
Castle; and after a bounteous feast, in which lord and vassal joined,
sat up the night to hail the coming in of the new season. Wallace had
passed that hour, twelve months ago, alone with his Marion. They sat
together in the window of the eastern tower of Ellerslie: and while he
listened to the cheerful lilts to which their servants were dancing,
the hand of his lovely bride was clasped in his. Marion smiled and
talked of the happiness which should await them in the year to come.
"Ay, my beloved," answered he, "more than thy beauteous self will then
fill these happy arms! Thy babe, my wife, will then hand at thy bosom,
to bless with a parent's joys thy grateful husband!"
That time was now come round, and where was Marion?-cold in the grave.
Where that smiling babe?-a murderer's steel had reached it ere it saw
the light.
Wallace groaned at these recollections; he struck his hand forcibly on
his bursting heart, and fled from the room. The noise of the harps,
the laughing of the dancers, prevented his emotions from being
observed; and rushing far from the joyous tumult, till its sounds died
in the breeze, or were only brought to his ear by fitful gusts, he
speeded along the margin of the lake, as if he would have flown even
from himself. But memory, racking memory, followed him. Throwing
himself on a bank, over which the ice hung in pointed masses, he felt
not the roughness of the ground, for all within him was disturbed and
at war.
"Why," cried he, "O! why was I selected for this cruel sacrifice? Why
was this heart, to whom the acclaim of multitudes could bring no
selfish joy--why was it to be bereft of all that ever made it beat with
transport? Companion of my days, partner of my soul! my lost, lost
Marion! And are thine eyes forever closed on me? Shall I never more
clasp that hand which ever thrilled my frame with every sense of
rapture? Gone, gone forever--and I am alone!"
Long and agonizing was the pause which succeeded to this fearful
tempest of feeling. In that hour of grief, renewed in all its former
violence, he forgot country, friends and all on earth. The
recollection of his fame was mockery to him; for where was she to whom
the sound of his praises would have given so much joy?
"Ah!" said he, "it was indeed happiness to be brightened in those eyes!
When the gratitude of our poor retainers met thine ear, how didst thou
lay thy soft cheek to mine, and shoot its gentle warmth into my heart!"
At that moment he turned his face on the gelid bank; starting with
wild horror, he exclaimed, "Is it now so cold? My Marion, my murdered
wife!" and, rushing from the spot, he again hastened along the margin
of the loch. But there he still heard the distant sound of the pipes
from the castle; he could not bear their gay notes; and, darting up the
hill which overhung Loch-awe's domain, he ascended, with swift and
reckless steps, the rocky sides of Ben Cruachan. Full of distracting
thoughts, and impelled by a wild despair, he hurried from steep to
steep, and was rapidly descending the western side of the mountain,
regardless of the piercing sleet, when his course was suddenly checked
by coming with a violent shock against another human being, who,
running as hastily through the storm, had driven impetuously against
Wallace; but, being the weaker of the two, was struck to the ground.
The accident rallied the scattered senses of the chief. He now felt
that he was out in the midst of a furious winter tempest, had wandered
he knew not whither, and probably had materially injured some poor
traveler by his intemperate motion.
He raised the fallen man, and asked whether he were hurt. The
traveler, perceiving by the kind tone of the inquirer that no harm had
been intended, answered, "Not much, only a little lamed, and all the
recompense I ask for this unlucky upset is to give me a helping hand to
my father's cot--it is just by. I have been out at a neighbor's to
dance in the new year with a bonny lass, who, however, may not thank
you for my broken shins!"
As the honest lad went on telling his tale, with a great many
particulars dear to his simple wishes, Wallace helped him along; and
carefully conducting him through the gathering snow, descended the
declivity which led to the shepherd's cottage. When within a few yards
of it, Wallace heard the sound of singing, but it was not the gay
caroling of mirth; the solemn chant of more serious music mingled with
the roaring blast.
"I am not too late yet!" cried the communicative lad; "I should not
have run so fast had I not wanted to get home in time enough to make
one in the New-year's hymn."
They had now arrived at the little door, and the youth, without the
ceremony of knocking, opened the latch; as he did so, he turned and
said to his companion, "We have no occasion for bolts, since the brave
Lord Wallace has cleared the country of our Southron robbers." He
pushed the door as he spoke, and displayed to the eyes of the chief a
venerable old man on his knees before a crucifix; around him knelt a
family of young people and an aged dame, all joining in the sacred
thanksgiving. The youth, without a word, dropped on his knees near the
door, and making a sign to his companion to do the same, Wallace
obeyed; and as the anthems rose in succession on the ear, to which the
low breathings of the lightly touched harp echoed its heavenly strains,
he felt the tumult of his bosom gradually subside; and when the
venerable sire laid down the instrument and clasped his hands in
prayer, the natural pathos of his invocations, and the grateful
devotions with which the young people gave their response, all tended
to tranquilize his mind into a holy calm.
At the termination of the concluding prayer, how sweet were the
emotions of Wallace when he heard these words, uttered with augmented
fervor by the aged petitioner!
"While we thus thank thee, O gracious God! for the mercies bestowed
upon us, we humbly implore thee to hold in thine Almighty protection
him by whose arm thou has wrought the deliverance of Scotland. Let our
preserver be saved from his sins by the blood of Christ! Let our
benefactor be blessed in mind, body, and estate, and all prosper with
him that he takes in hand! May the good he has dispensed to his
country be returned four-fold into his bosom; and may he live to see a
race of his own reaping the harvest of his virtues, and adding fresh
honors to the stalwart name of Wallace!"
Every mouth echoed a fervent amen to this prayer, and Wallace himself
inwardly breathed, "And have I not, even now, sinned, all-gracious God!
in the distraction of this night's remembrance? I mourned--I would not
be comforted. But in thy mercy thou hast led me hither to see the
happy fruits of my labors; and I am resigned and thankful!"
The sacred rites over, two girls ran to the other side of the room, and
between them brought forward a rough table covered with dishes and
bread; while the mother, taking off a large pot, emptied its smoking
contents into the different vessels. Meanwhile the young man,
introducing the stranger to his father, related the accident of the
meeting, and the good old shepherd, bidding him a hearty welcome,
desired him to draw near the fire and partake of their New-year's
breakfast.
"We need the fire, I assure you," cried the lad, "for we are dripping."
Wallace now advanced from the shadowed part of the room, where he had
knelt, and drawing toward the light, certainly displayed to his host
the truth of his son's observation. He had left the castle without his
bonnet, and hurrying on regardless of the whelming storm, his hair
became saturated with wet, and now streamed in water over his
shoulders. The good old wife, seeing the stranger's situation was
worse than her son's snatched away the bottle out of which he was
swallowing a heavy cordial, and poured it over the exposed head of her
guest; then ordering one of her daughters to rub it dry, she took off
his plaid, and wringing it, hung it to the fire.
During these various operations--for the whole family seemed eager to
show their hospitality--the old man discovered, not so much by the
costliness of his garments as by the noble mien and gentle manners of
the stranger, that he was some chieftain from the castle. "Your
honor," said he, "must pardon the uncourtliness of our ways; but we
give you the best we have: and the worthy Lord Loch-awe cannot do more."
Wallace gave smiling answers to all their remarks, and offers of
service. He partook of their broth, praised the good wife's cakes, and
sat discoursing with the family with all the gayety and frankness of
one of themselves. His unreserved manners opened every heart around
him, and with confidential freedom the venerable shepherd related his
domestic history, dwelling particularly on the projected marriages of
his children, which he said, "should now take place, since the good Sir
William Wallace had brought peace to the land."
Wallace gratified the worthy father, he appearing to take an interest
in all his narratives, and then allowing the happy spirits of the young
people to break in upon these graver discussions, he smiled with them,
or looked serious with the garrulous matron, who turned the discourse
to tales of other times. He listened with complacency to every legend
of witch, fairy, and ghost; and his enlightened remarks sometimes
pointed out natural causes for the extraordinary appearances she
described; or, at better--attested and less equivocal accounts of
supernatural apparitions, he acknowledged that there are "more things
in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in philosophy."
Morning dawned before the tranquilized, nay, happy Wallace, happy in
the cheerful innocence of the scene, discovered that the night was
past. As the gray light gleamed through the wooden shutters he arose.
"My friends, I must leave you," said he; "there are those not far off
who may be alarmed at my disappearance, for none knew when I walked
abroad, and unwittingly I have been charmed all these hours to remain,
enjoying the happiness of your circle, forgetful of the anxiety I have
perhaps occasioned in my own."
The old man declared his intention of seeing him over the hill.
Wallace declined giving him that trouble, saying that as it was
daylight, and the snow had ceased, he could easily retrace his steps to
the castle.
"No, no," returned the shepherd; "and besides," said he, "as I hear the
good lord regent is keeping the New Year with our noble earl, who knows
but I may get a glimpse of his noble countenance, and that will be a
sight to tell of till I die!"
"God's blessing on his sweet face!" cried the old woman; "but I would
give all the yarn in my muckle chest to catch one look of his lucky
eye! I warrant you, witch nor fairy could never harm me more."
"Ah, father," cried the eldest of the girls, blushing, "if you go near
enough to him! Do you know, Madgie Grant told me, if I could but get
even the least bit of Sir William Wallace's hair, and give it to Donal
Cameron to wear in a true lover's know on his breast, no Southron will
be able to do him harm as long as he lives!"
"And do you believe it would protect your lover, my pretty Jeannie?"
inquired Wallace, with a sweet smile.
"Surely," she replied; "for Madgie is a wise woman, and has the second
sight."
"Well, then," returned he, "you shall be gratified. For, though I must
for once contradict the testimony of a wise woman, and tell you that
nothing can render a man absolutely safe but the protection of Heaven,
yet, if a hair from the head of Sir William Wallace would please you,
and a glance from his eye gratify your mother, both shall be
satisfied," and lifting up the old woman's shears, which lay on a
working-stool before him, he cut off a golden lock from the middle of
his head and put it into the hand of Jeannie. At this action--which was
performed with such noble grace that not one of the family now doubted
who had been their guest--the good dame fell on her knees, and Jeannie,
with a cry of joy, putting the beautiful lock into her bosom, followed
the example, and in a woman all were clinging around him. The old man
grasped his hand. "Bravest of men!" cried he, "the Lord has indeed
blessed this house, since he has honored it with the presence of the
deliverer of Scotland! My prayers, and the benedictions of all good
men, friend or foe, must ever follow your footsteps!"
Tears of pleasure started into the eyes of Wallace. He raised the
family one by one from the ground, and putting his purse into the hand
of the dame, "There, my kind hostess," said he, "let that fill the
chests of your daughters on their bridal day; they must receive it as a
brother's portion to his sisters, for it is with fraternal affection
that William Wallace regards the sons and daughters of Scotland."
The happy sobs of the old woman stopped the expressions of her
gratitude, but her son, fearing his freedom of the night before might
have offended, stood abashed at a distance. Wallace stretched out his
hand to him. "My good Archibald," cried he, "do not hold back from one
who will always be your friend. I shall send from the castle this day
sufficient to fill your bridal coffers also."
Archibald now petitioned to be allowed to follow him in his army. "No,
my brave youth," replied the chief; "Lord Lochawe will lead you forth,
whenever there is occasion; and, meanwhile, your duty is to imitate the
domestic duties of your worthy father. Make the neighboring valley
smile with the fruits of your industry; and raise a family to bless
you, as you now bless him."
Wallace, having wrapped himself in his plaid, now withdrew amidst the
benedictions of the whole group; and swiftly recrossing the mountain
heights, was soon on the western brow of Ben Cruachan. In ten minutes
afterward he entered the hall of Kilchurn Castle. A few servants only
were astir; the rest of the family were still asleep. About an hour
after their friend's departure, the earl and Graham had missed him; but
supposing that, whithersoever he was gone, he would soon return, they
made no inquiries; and when the tempest began, on Edwin expressing his
anxiety to know where he was, one of the servants said he was gone to
his chamber. This answer satisfied every one, and they continued to
enjoy the festal scene until the Countess of Loch-awe made the signal
for repose.
Next morning, when the family met at the breakfast-board, they were not
a little surprised to hear Wallace recount the adventure of the night;
and while Loch-awe promised every kindness to the shepherd, and a
messenger was dispatched with a purse to Archibald Edwin learned from
the earl's servant, that his reason for supposing the regent was gone
to his room arose from the sight of his bonnet in the outer hall.
Wallace was glad that such an evidence had prevented his friends being
alarmed; and retiring with Lord Loch-awe, with his usual equanimity of
mind resumed the graver errand of his tour.
The hospitable rites of the season being over, in the course of a few
days the earl accompanied his illustrious guest to make the circuit of
Argyleshire. At Castle Urguhart they parted; and Wallace, proceeding
with his two friends, performed his legislative visits from sea to sea.
Having traversed with perfect satisfaction the whole of the northern
part of the kingdom, he returned to Huntingtower on the very morning
that a messenger had reached it from Murray. That vigilant chieftain
informed the regent of King Edward's arrival from Flanders, and that he
was preparing a large army to march into Scotland.
"We must meet him," cried Wallace, "on his own shores; and so let the
horrors attending the seat of war full on the country whose king would
bring desolation to ours."