Church of Falkirk.
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 oh! 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 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 daybreak, 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 prepare 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. Four soldiers of his clan brought the corpse 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 shroud--it could not comfort."
The solemn procession, with Murray at its head, departed toward 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 Walli fidus Achates.
Conditus hic 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.
While he yet leaned on the stone, which gently gave way to the
registering pen of friendship, to be more deeply engraved afterward, a
monk approached him, attended by a shepherd boy. At the sound of
steps, Wallace looked up.
"This young man," said the father, "brings dispatches 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
hands of the 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 open-hearted 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
dispatches 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 jeweled 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
yet 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 toward 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
toward 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 toward 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 me as 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 toward 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 born 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 embassador? 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 Lorn, "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 the 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 Lorn, making
assign 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 hands," 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 powers and honors?" 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
on me." The pressing crowd, struck in astonishment, parted before him
as they could have done in the path of a thunderbolt, and unimpeded, he
passed to the door.
That their regent had entered the keep was soon rumored 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 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 offense
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 courtyard," 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 chose to view the mockery,
they were at liberty. A very few, and those of the least turbulent
spirits went 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 toward 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 judgment 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!"