was not as careful as he should have been, but encamped at Rosslyn,
near Edinburgh, with his army divided into three parts. The
Scottish forces saw their advantage; fell on each part separately;
defeated each; and killed all the prisoners. Then, came the King
himself once more, as soon as a great army could be raised; he
passed through the whole north of Scotland, laying waste whatsoever
came in his way; and he took up his winter quarters at Dunfermline.
The Scottish cause now looked so hopeless, that Comyn and the other
nobles made submission and received their pardons. Wallace alone
stood out. He was invited to surrender, though on no distinct
pledge that his life should be spared; but he still defied the
ireful King, and lived among the steep crags of the Highland glens,
where the eagles made their nests, and where the mountain torrents
roared, and the white snow was deep, and the bitter winds blew
round his unsheltered head, as he lay through many a pitch-dark
night wrapped up in his plaid. Nothing could break his spirit;
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nothing could lower his courage; nothing could induce him to forget
or to forgive his country’s wrongs. Even when the Castle of
Stirling, which had long held out, was besieged by the King with
every kind of military engine then in use; even when the lead upon
cathedral roofs was taken down to help to make them; even when the
King, though an old man, commanded in the siege as if he were a
youth, being so resolved to conquer; even when the brave garrison
(then found with amazement to be not two hundred people, including
several ladies) were starved and beaten out and were made to submit
on their knees, and with every form of disgrace that could
aggravate their sufferings; even then, when there was not a ray of
hope in Scotland, William Wallace was as proud and firm as if he
had beheld the powerful and relentless Edward lying dead at his
feet.
Who betrayed William Wallace in the end, is not quite certain.
That he was betrayed – probably by an attendant – is too true. He
was taken to the Castle of Dumbarton, under SIR JOHN MENTEITH, and
thence to London, where the great fame of his bravery and
resolution attracted immense concourses of people to behold him.
He was tried in Westminster Hall, with a crown of laurel on his
head – it is supposed because he was reported to have said that he
ought to wear, or that he would wear, a crown there and was found
guilty as a robber, a murderer, and a traitor. What they called a
robber (he said to those who tried him) he was, because he had
taken spoil from the King’s men. What they called a murderer, he
was, because he had slain an insolent Englishman. What they called
a traitor, he was not, for he had never sworn allegiance to the
King, and had ever scorned to do it. He was dragged at the tails
of horses to West Smithfield, and there hanged on a high gallows,
torn open before he was dead, beheaded, and quartered. His head
was set upon a pole on London Bridge, his right arm was sent to
Newcastle, his left arm to Berwick, his legs to Perth and Aberdeen.
But, if King Edward had had his body cut into inches, and had sent
every separate inch into a separate town, he could not have
dispersed it half so far and wide as his fame. Wallace will be
remembered in songs and stories, while there are songs and stories
in the English tongue, and Scotland will hold him dear while her
lakes and mountains last.
Released from this dreaded enemy, the King made a fairer plan of
Government for Scotland, divided the offices of honour among
Scottish gentlemen and English gentlemen, forgave past offences,
and thought, in his old age, that his work was done.
But he deceived himself. Comyn and Bruce conspired, and made an
appointment to meet at Dumfries, in the church of the Minorites.
There is a story that Comyn was false to Bruce, and had informed