Jane Porter was born at Durham in 1776, but at the age of four
she went to Edinburgh with her family, was brought up in
Scotland, and had the privilege of knowing Sir Walter Scott.
Her first romance, "Thaddeus of Warsaw," was published in
1803, soon after she had removed from Edinburgh to London. Her
next romance, "The Scottish Chiefs," did not appear until
1810. It won an immediate popularity, which survived even the
formidable rivalry of the "Waverley Novels," and the book
remained a favourite, especially in Scotland, during most of
the last century. The story abounds in historical
inaccuracies, and the characters are addicted to conversing in
the dialect of melodrama-but these blemishes did not abate the
vogue of this exciting and spirited work with the reading
public. Miss Porter remained a prominent figure in London
literary society until her death on May 24, 1850.
_I.--The Lady Marion_
Sir William Wallace made his way swiftly along the crags and across the
river to the cliffs which overlooked the garden of Ellerslie. As he
approached he saw his newly-wedded wife, the Lady Marion, leaning over
the couch of a wounded man. She looked up, and, with a cry of joy, threw
herself into his arms. Blood dropped from his forehead upon her bosom.
"O my Wallace, my Wallace!" cried she in agony.
"Fear not, my love, it is a mere scratch. How is the wounded stranger?"
It was Wallace who had saved the stranger's life. That day he had been
summoned to Douglas Castle, where he had received in secret from Sir
John Monteith an iron box entrusted to him by Lord Douglas, then
imprisoned in England; he had been charged to cherish the box in
strictness, and not to suffer it to be opened until Scotland was again
free. Returning with his treasure through Lanark, he had seen a fellow
countryman wounded, and in deadly peril at the hands of a party of
English. Telling two of his attendants to carry the injured man to
Ellerslie, he had beaten off the English and slain their leader--Arthur
Heselrigge, nephew of the Governor of Lanark.
"Gallant Wallace!" said the stranger, "it is Donald, Earl of Mar, who
owes you his life."
"Then blest be my arm," exclaimed Wallace, "that has preserved a life so
precious to my country!"
"Armed men are approaching!" cried Lady Marion. "Wallace, you must fly.
But oh! whither?"
"Not far, my love; I must seek the recesses of the Cartlane Crags. But
the Earl of Mar--we must conceal him."
They found a hiding-place for the wounded earl, and Wallace went away,
promising to be near at hand. Hardly had he gone when the door was burst
open by a band of soldiers, and Lady Wallace was confronted by the
governor of Lanark.
"Woman!" cried he, "on your allegiance to King Edward, answer me--where
is Sir William Wallace, the murderer of my nephew?"
She was silent.
"I can reward you richly," he went on, "if you speak the truth. Refuse,
and you die!"
She stretched her hands to heaven.
"Blessed Virgin, to thee I commit myself."
"Speak!" cried the governor, drawing his sword. She sank to the ground.
"Kneel not to me for mercy!"
"I kneel to heaven alone," she said firmly, "and may it ever preserve my
Wallace!"
"Blasphemous wretch!" cried the governor, and he plunged the sword
through her heart.
A shudder of horror ran through the English soldiers.
"My friends," said Heselrigge, "I reward your services with the plunder
of Ellerslie."
"Cursed be he who first carries a stick from its walls!" exclaimed a
veteran.
"Amen!" murmured all the soldiers.
But next day the governor, with a body of soldiers who had not witnessed
his infamous deed, plundered Ellerslie and burnt it to the ground.
During the day Lord Mar was brought from his hiding-place, and taken to
Bothwell Castle; but the English seized him and his wife, and they were
placed in strict confinement among the English garrison on the Rock of
Dumbarton.
An aged retainer carried the awful news of the murder to Wallace in his
concealment. For long he was overpowered with agony. Then a desperate
determination arose in his mind. "The sun must not again rise upon
Heselrigge!" was his thought. He called his followers, and told them of
the deed. "From this hour," he cried, "may Scotland date her liberty, or
Wallace return no more!"
"Vengeance! vengeance!" was the cry.
That night the English garrison of Lanark was surprised, and Wallace's
sword was buried in the body of his wife's murderer.
"So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace!" shouted his men
exultantly.
"Rather so fall the enemies of Scotland!" cried he. "Henceforth Wallace
has neither love nor resentment but for her. From now onwards I devote
myself to the winning of my country's freedom, or to death in her
cause."
_II.--Wallace the Liberator_
Band after band of Scottish patriots flocked to the banner of Wallace--
the banner that bore the legend "God armeth the patriot," and in which
was embroidered a tress of Lady Marion's hair. The making of it had been
the labour of Lady Helen Mar, daughter of the earl; admiration for
Wallace's prowess, and sympathy with his misfortune had aroused in
her--although she had never seen him--an eager devotion to him as the
man who had dared to strike at tyranny and fight for his country's
freedom.
When her parents had been seized, Helen had escaped to the Priory of St.
Fillans. But she was persuaded to leave the priory by a trick of the
traitor Scottish Lord Soulis, whom she hated, and whose quest of her
hand had the secret approval of Lady Mar. When the ruffian laid hold
upon her, he carried her away with threats and violence; but as Soulis
and his band were crossing the Leadhill moors, a small party of men fell
suddenly upon them. Soulis was forced to relinquish his prey, and was
carried away by his men covered with wounds; while Helen found herself
in the presence of a gentle and courteous Scottish warrior, who conveyed
her to a hermit's cell near at hand. Without revealing his name he
passed on his way, declaring that he went to arouse a few brave spirits
to arms. Brief as the interview had been, Helen knew when it was ended
that she had given her heart to the unknown knight.
As her father and mother lay one dark night in Dumbarton Castle, a
fearful uproar arose without their prison--the clashing of swords, the
thud of falling bodies, the groans of wounded.
"There is an attack," cried the earl.
"Nay, who would venture to attack such a fortress as this?" answered
Lady Mar.
"Hark! it is the slogan of Sir William Wallace. Oh, for a sword!"
exclaimed the earl.
A voice was heard begging for mercy--the voice of De Valence, the
governor.
"You shall die!" was the stern answer.
"Nay, Kirkpatrick, I give him life." The accents were Wallace's.
A battering-ram broke down the prison-door. There stood Wallace and his
men, their weapons and armour covered with blood. De Valence, evading
the clutch of Kirkpatrick, thrust his dagger into Wallace's side and
fled.
"It is nothing," said Wallace, as he staunched the wound with his scarf.
"So is your mercy rewarded," muttered the grim Kirkpatrick.
"So am I true to my duty," returned Wallace, "though De Valence is a
traitor to his."
The Countess of Mar looked for the first time upon Wallace's
countenance. He was the enemy of her kinsmen of the house of Cummin;
unknown to her husband, she had sought to betray him to one of these
kinsmen; and now, as this beautiful woman beheld the man she had tried
to injure, a sense of shame, accompanied by a strange fascination,
entered her bosom.
"How does my soul seem to pour itself out to this man!" she said to
herself. "Hardly have I seen this William Wallace, and yet my very being
is lost in his!"
Love mingled with ambition in her uneasy mind. Her husband was old and
wounded; his life would not be long. Wallace had the genius of a
conqueror. Might he not be proclaimed king of Scotland? She threw
herself assiduously into his company during the days that followed. At
last, with tears in eyes, she confessed her love, thinking, in her
folly, that she could move the heart of one who had consecrated himself
to the service of Scotland and the memory of Marion.
"Your husband, Lady Mar," he said with gentleness, "is my friend; had I
even a heart to give to women, not one sigh should arise in it to his
dishonour. But I am deaf to women, and the voice of love sounds like the
funeral knell of her who will never breathe it to me more."
He rose, and ere the countess could reply, a messenger entered with news
from Ayr. Eighteen Scottish chiefs had been treacherously put to death,
and others were imprisoned and awaiting execution. Wallace and his men
marched straight to the castle of Ayr, surprised it while the English
lords were feasting within, and set it afire. Those who escaped the
flames either fell by Scottish steel, or yielded themselves prisoners.
Castle and fortalice opened their gates before Wallace as he marched
from Ayr to Berwick; but at Berwick he encountered stout resistance from
a noble foeman, the Earl of Gloucester, who with his garrison yielded
only to starvation. Wallace, touched with their valour, permitted them
to march out with all the honours of war, and with the chivalrous earl
he formed a friendship that was never dimmed by the enmity of the
nations to which they belonged.
Soon there came a summons to Stirling. By a dishonourable stratagem of
De Valence's, Lord and Lady Mar and Helen had been seized and carried to
Stirling Castle, where Lord Mar was in danger of immediate death. Helen
was in the power of De Valence, who pressed his hateful suit upon her.
Wallace and his men marched hastily, and captured the town; once more De
Valence begged Wallace's mercy, and once more, unworthy as he was,
obtained it. But the ruthless Cressingham, commanding the castle, placed
Lord Mar on the battlements with a rope round his neck, and declared
that unless the attack ceased the earl and his whole family would
instantly die. Wallace's reply was to bring forward De Valence, pale and
trembling. "The moment Lord Mar dies, De Valence shall instantly
perish," he declared.
Cressingham agreed to an armistice, hoping to gain time until De
Warenne, with the mighty English host then advancing from the border,
had reached Stirling. Next morning this great army in its pride poured
across the bridge of the Forth; but the Scottish warriors, rushing down
from the hillsides, with Wallace at their head, swept all before them.
It was rather a carnage than a battle. Those who escaped the steel of
Wallace's men were thrust into the river, and land and water were
burdened with English dead.
That evening Stirling Castle surrendered, the Scottish prisoners were
released, and their places were taken by the commanders of the enemy's
host.
_III.--Wallace the Regent_
When the victorious chiefs were gathering in the hall of the castle,
Helen looked upon each one with anxious eyes. Would the gentle knight
who rescued her be in Wallace's train? Lady Mar turned a restless glance
upon her step-daughter. "Wallace will behold these charms," she cried to
herself, "and then, where am I?"
Amid a crowd of knights in armour the conqueror entered; and as Helen
raised her eyes she saw that the knight of her dream, the man who had
saved her from worse than death, was Wallace himself!
"Scots, behold the Lord's anointed!" cried the patriot Bishop of
Dunkeld, drawing from his breast a silver dove of sacred oil, and
pouring it upon Wallace's head.