TRIAL, EXECUTION, AND CHARACTER OF WALLACE.
As the capture of Wallace was an event wholly unexpected by the
English, the news of it, which spread with the rapidity of lightning,
produced, in every part of the kingdom, a deep and universal sensation.
Labour of every kind was abandoned, and people of all ranks flocked to
those points of the road where it was expected the illustrious captive
would pass. At Carlisle the escort halted for a night; and the tower
in which he was secured, long afterwards retained his name. As the
_cortège_ approached London, the crowds became more numerous; and, on
entering the capital, his conductors found their progress retarded
by the multitudes that were collected;--while every elevation or
projection, however perilous, from which he could be seen, was occupied
with, or clung to, by anxious spectators, eager to behold a man who
had filled England with terror, and the fame of whose achievements had
resounded through every country in Europe. After much exertion, the
cavalcade at length reached the house of William Delect, a citizen in
Fenchurch Street, where their prisoner was lodged for the night. From
the circumstance of his having been taken to a private house, rather
than to a place of greater security, it has been imagined by some,
that Edward intended to make a last effort to gain Wallace over to
his interest. This conjecture, however, is not sufficiently supported
by subsequent proceedings, to entitle it to any degree of credit; and
we are more inclined to believe, that the difficulty which the party
encountered in making their way through the dense multitudes who had
blocked up the streets and lanes leading to the Tower, may, with
greater probability, be assigned as the cause for taking him to the
house of Delect.
The thirst for revenge existed too keenly in the ruthless mind of
Edward, to admit of much delay in the sacrifice of his victim. Though a
consideration for the opinion of the more enlightened of his subjects,
and the manner in which his conduct might be viewed at foreign courts,
obliged him to have recourse at least to the formality of a trial--the
indecent haste with which it was brought on, made the mockery of
judicial procedure but too apparent. The day after his arrival, he
was conducted on horseback, from the house which his brief residence
had made the scene of universal attraction, to take his trial in
Westminster Hall. His progress from Fenchurch Street, according to
Stowe, appears to have been a sort of procession, Lord John de Segrave,
the fugitive of Roslin, acting as Grand Marshal of England, and armed
cap-à-pè, rode on one side, while Geoffrey de Hartlepool, Recorder of
London, equipped in a similar manner, rode on the other. The Mayor,
Sheriffs, and Aldermen followed, attended by a number of official
characters on horseback and on foot, arranged according to their
respective grades.[70]
On reaching the spot where the solemn farce was to be performed, he was
placed on the south bench of the great hall; and, in consequence of an
absurd report,[71] which had been circulated in England, of his having
said that he deserved to wear a crown in that place, a crown of laurel
was put upon his head. The noble appearance of the man, joined to his
calm and unruffled demeanour, entirely disarmed this silly attempt at
ridicule of its intended effect.[72]
Sir Peter Malory, the King’s Justice, then rose, and read the
indictment, wherein the prisoner was charged with treason against
the King of England, burning of towns, and slaying of the subjects
of his Majesty. To the first of these counts Wallace answered, that,
as he had never been the subject of the King of England, he owed him
no allegiance, and consequently could be no traitor. As to the other
offences, he frankly admitted, that, in the discharge of his duty to
his country, he had done all that was stated. On this admission, the
following atrocious sentence was pronounced:--
For treason, he was to be first dragged to the place of execution. For
murder and robbery, he was to be then hung a certain time by the neck;
and, because he had burned abbeys and religious houses, he was to be
taken down alive from the gibbet, his entrails torn out, and burnt
before him, his body to be quartered, and the parts afterwards to be
disposed of as the clemency of Majesty might suggest.[73]
When the necessary preparations were made for carrying this sentence
into execution, the late champion of Scottish independence was brought
forth from the place where he had been kept in confinement, heavily
ironed, and chained to a bench of oak. He was then placed on a hurdle,
and, surrounded by a strong guard of soldiers, ignominiously dragged to
the Elms, in Smithfield. That self-possession and undaunted demeanour
which he evinced during the trial, appeared equally conspicuous on the
scaffold. Looking round with undisturbed composure on the assembled
multitude, he addressed himself to a person near him, and asked for
a priest to whom he might make confession. This request, on being
made known to Edward, he is said to have sternly refused; and the
rancorous old man forbad _any clergyman to retard the execution_
for such a purpose. On hearing this undignified command of his
sovereign, Winchelsea, Archbishop of Canterbury, the same individual
who so faithfully discharged his duty at Carlaverock, stepped boldly
forward, and, after earnestly remonstrating with Edward, declared his
determination to officiate himself. When the ceremony usual on such
occasions was finished, Wallace rose from his knees, and the Archbishop
having taken leave of him, instantly departed for Westminster, thus
declining to witness the sequel of an act so revolting to humanity, and
which he no doubt considered as fixing a deep stain on the character of
his country.
The spectacle which was now exhibited to the gaze of the inhabitants
of the metropolis of England, was such as perhaps has never before
been presented to the populace of any land. The _LAST FREEMAN_ of an
ANCIENT PEOPLE, not less renowned for their bravery, than for their
love of independence, stood a calm and unshrinking victim, ready to be
immolated at the shrine of despotism. That powerful arm which had long
contended for liberty was now to be unstrung beneath the knife of the
executioner; and that heart, replete with every ennobling virtue, which
never quailed in the sternest hour of danger, was doomed to quiver in
the purifying flames of martyrdom.
During the pause which preceded the unhallowed operations, Wallace
turned to Lord Clifford, and requested that a Psalter,[74] which
had been taken from his person, might be returned. His desire being
complied with, he asked a priest to hold it open before him. This book
had been his constant companion from his early years, and was perhaps
the gift of his mother or his uncle, the parson of Dunipace.
After hanging for a certain time, the sufferer was taken down, while
yet in an evident state of sensibility. He was then disembowelled;
and the heart, wrung from its place, was committed to the flames in
his presence. During this dreadful process, his eyes still continued
to linger on the Psalter, till, overpowered by his sufferings, he
expired among their hands with all that passive heroism which may be
supposed to belong to so elevated a character. The body was afterwards
dismembered; the head fixed on London bridge, the right arm on the
bridge of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, the left at Berwick, the right leg at
Perth, and the left at Aberdeen.
Thus fell this great and exemplary patriot, a martyr to the rights
and independence of his country, than whom, if we consider his
extraordinary personal and mental endowments,--joined to his
inextinguishable and disinterested love of liberty, a greater hero
is not to be found in the annals of any people. Born to a slender
inheritance, and unconnected by birth with the opulent families of his
country, he derived no advantage from those circumstances which often
assisted other distinguished characters in attaining that place in the
temple of fame to which their ambition was directed. To his own genius
he was indebted for a system of tactics eminently calculated for the
contest he had in view; and with his own arm he gave the first impulse
to the cause of freedom, which afterwards, on the field of Bannockburn,
was crowned with such glorious and decisive success under a kindred
spirit--on whom the inspiring mantle of our patriot descended, as he
winged his flight to the regions of immortality.
In person, Wallace was admirably fitted to grace that elevated station
among mankind, for which his genius and talents so eminently qualified
him. His visage was long, well proportioned, and exquisitely beautiful;
his eyes were bright and piercing; the hair of his head and beard
auburn, and inclined to curl: that on his brows and eye-lashes was of
a lighter shade; his lips were round and full. Under the chin, on the
left side, was a scar,[75] the only one visible, although many were
to be found on his person;[76] his stature was lofty and majestic,
rising the head and shoulders above the tallest men in the country.
Yet his form, though gigantic, possessed the most perfect symmetry;
and with a degree of strength almost incredible, there was combined
such an agility of body and fleetness in running, that no one, except
when mounted on horseback, could outstrip, or escape from him, when
he happened to pursue. All-powerful as a swordsman, and unrivalled
as an archer, his blows were fatal, and his shafts unerring: as an
equestrian, he was a model of dexterity and grace; while the hardships
he experienced in his youth, made him view with indifference the
severest privations incident to a military life. In common intercourse,
his accents were mild, and his manners grave and urbane. In the field,
when addressing his soldiers, his discourse was brief and animating,
and the sound of his voice thrilled through their hearts like the
spirit-stirring notes of the clarion.[77] Great and varied, however, as
were the accomplishments nature had lavished on his person, the graces
with which she had enriched his mind threw a radiance over all the
rest of her gifts. Untaught himself in the military art, he became the
instructor of his countrymen, and his first efforts were worthy of the
greatest captain of the age.
If we may judge from his regard to the sanctity of an oath, his ideas
of morality appear to have been much at variance with the corrupt
practice of the age. Uncontaminated by the pernicious example of the
great men of the country, he rather chose to bear hunger and every
other privation the unsheltered outlaw might be exposed to, than
purchase the advantage so much prized by others, at the expense of
taking an oath he had no intention of holding sacred:--still, this
inflexible rectitude of soul could not shame the aristocracy from
their convenient perjuries; for the bands by which he strove to
unite them together, became like ropes of sand in the hour of trial.
Notwithstanding, however, all the difficulties that were thrown in his
way, the vigour of his own character, and the wisdom of his measures,
enabled him to achieve the deliverance of his native land. To the
charges of ambition and usurpation that were brought against him, he
gave the noblest refutation, by resigning the bauble of power into the
hands of those little spirits, who would otherwise have betrayed the
cause of national independence, or involved their country in all the
horrors of civil war. Thus, his virtuous self-denial preserved the
people whom his valour had set free.
In the biographical notices that have been submitted, the reader will
perceive the formidable array of talent and power with which Wallace
had to contend. To an aristocracy, at that time perhaps unrivalled
in Europe, and headed by a monarch as distinguished for ambition,
sternness of purpose, and warlike propensities, as he was notorious
for the absence of those virtues which constitute the redeeming traits
in the character of a soldier--the magnanimous patriot had at first
little to oppose, save the innate energies of his own invincible heart,
and the resources of a genius which Heaven seems peculiarly to have
fitted for the task. That Scotland, distracted by faction, and deprived
of all foreign aid, should, under the guidance of one who ranked
among the humblest of her nobles, have again advanced herself to the
dignity of an independent state, in defiance of the power of England,
backed by the resources of Ireland and Wales, was considered by her
adversaries as too humiliating to their national character to admit of
their relinquishing the contest.[78] The renewal of every invasion
was, however, met by an increasing stubbornness of opposition; and the
chivalrous conqueror in Palestine, the “high-souled” Plantagenet, at
last condescended to _steal_ away the enemy he could neither bribe
nor subdue, and thus purchase the brief and delusive semblance of a
victory, at the price of everlasting dishonour.
The mind of Wallace was imbued with the most exalted ideas of
independence; and the stern and inflexible spirit with which he
guarded his own and his country’s honour, could only be equalled by
the scrupulous delicacy he exercised towards the feelings of others.
Loving freedom for her own sake, he considered her sanctuary, wherever
placed, as too sacred to be violated. Among the many proofs of this
elevation of mind, the following may be mentioned:--On the surrender
of de Longueville, the high-spirited Frenchman was anxious to know the
name and the character of his conqueror. On the name of Wallace being
announced to him, he fell on his knees, and thanked God that so worthy
an enemy had been his victor; and, according to the custom of the age,
he tendered his service, along with his sword. “Service from you, Sir
Thomas,” said the gallant Scot, with an accent of kind familiarity, “I
cannot accept; your friendship is what I desire.” On another occasion,
in the heat of an engagement, having, as he conceived, given orders
to Sir John Graham in a manner too peremptory--after the victory had
been secured, he came up to his brave friend, and surprised him with a
humble apology for any thing like harshness he might have displayed
in his manner of expressing himself. Graham, however, was quite
unconscious of hearing any thing that he had reason to take amiss; and
expressed a hope that he would always act towards him and others in the
same manner, when the interest of their country was at stake.
In the division of spoil, the portion that fell to the share of
Wallace he set apart as a fund from which those were rewarded who
had distinguished themselves by their valour or good conduct, while
contending for the liberty of their country--thus stimulating their
efforts in their own cause, by the sacrifice of his personal advantage.
The delicacy, also, which he evinced, in excluding his relations from
any participation in those grants and emoluments with which he rewarded
the services of others, showed him exempt from any selfish or mercenary
feeling, and decidedly averse to the aggrandizement of his family[79]
at the national expense. In those times, when driven to the woods
and natural fastnesses of the country, where his little party were
exposed, from the scarcity of provisions, to the greatest distress, the
expedients he had recourse to for their relief, and the self-denial
he exercised in order to husband the slender supplies for their use,
impressed his followers with sentiments of admiration and gratitude.
The system which he introduced, during the short period of his
regency, of disciplining and subdividing the nation, evinced the clear
and comprehensive views he entertained of the true interests of the
country; and had his successors in power followed up the same measure,
it would doubtless have been productive of incalculable benefit to
the kingdom; as, independent of the great force the Legislature might
thus have been enabled to bring into the field in cases of emergency,
it would have undermined, and eventually overthrown, the feudal
superiority of the barons, and those petty confederations among clans,
which have been for so many ages the bane and curse of Scotland.
His views, however, for the immediate and permanent prosperity of
the country, took even a more extensive range than what is embraced
by the above wise and salutary measure. Aware of the benefit which
Scotland had formerly derived from her commercial intercourse with
the Continent, we find his attention, within a month after the battle
of Stirling, seriously turned towards the re-establishment of this
important object; and while the nation was mustering at Roslin for the
invasion of England, her leader was actively engaged in despatching
intimation to the different Hanse-towns, that the ports of Scotland
were again open to the trade of all friendly powers.[80] The plan which
he pursued in his invasions, was the most efficient for exhausting the
enemy’s country, enriching his own, and encouraging his countrymen to
flock to his standard. Though often severe in his retaliations, yet,
towards women and children, he always exercised the greatest humanity.
During his Guardianship, the country was beginning to feel the return
of her former prosperity. With the spoil of the enemy he had diffused
plenty over the land; the poor were protected; thieves were promptly
and severely punished; cheats and liars were discouraged; and good men
met the reward of their virtues. The vigilance with which he watched
over the public weal was unremitting, and never for a moment gave place
to any object of personal consideration. Even those duties which are
often considered paramount to every other, were with him secondary
to the interest of his country; for, on the death of his mother, his
presence being required elsewhere, he intrusted the performance of her
obsequies to his friend John Blair and a confidential servant;--which
duty they discharged with becoming solemnity in the cathedral of
Dunfermline. To this cemetery, it is conjectured, the fragments of his
own body were secretly collated by his companions, after the barbarous
and impolitic exposure had taken place. At his execution, that
self-command and nobleness of soul, which formed such luminous traits
in his character, never for a moment forsook him. Without deigning to
breathe a murmur, either at the injustice of the tyrant who condemned,
or the unhappy man who betrayed him,[81] he submitted to his fate with
that becoming dignity which extorted even from his enemies expressions
of unqualified admiration.
A revulsion, the natural consequence of the inhuman cruelty of Edward,
and the undaunted demeanour of his victim, took place in the minds of
the people of England immediately after his execution; and the story
of an English[82] monk who pretended to have seen a vision of angels
conducting Wallace out of purgatory with much honour, was quickly
circulated, and received with pleasure, all over Britain.
The following lines, translated from the original Latin by Hume of
Godscroft, are understood to have been composed some time after the
execution of our illustrious patriot, by his afflicted friend and
chaplain John Blair; and with this elegant and pathetic tribute of
genius at the shrine of departed greatness, we shall close the present
chapter:--
“Envious death, who ruins all,
Hath wrought the sad lamented fall
Of Wallace; and no more remains
Of him--than what an urn contains!
Ashes for our hero we have--
He, for his armour, a cold grave.
He left the earth--too low a state!
And by his acts o’ercame his fate.
His soul Death had not power to kill,
His noble deeds the world do fill
With lasting trophies of his name.
O! hadst thou virtue loved, or fame,
Thou could’st not have insulted so
Over a brave, betrayed, dead foe,
Edward, nor seen those limbs expos’d
To public shame--fit to be clos’d
As relics in an holy shrine.
But now the infamy is thine.
His end crowns him with glorious bays,
And stains the brightest of thy praise.”