So large a reinforcement,
was gratefully received by Wallace; and he welcomed Maxwell with a
cordiality, which inspired that young knight with an affection equal to
A council being held
respecting the disposal of the new troops, it was decided that the Lennox
men must remain with their earl in garrison; while those brought by
Maxwell, and under his command, should follow Wallace in the prosecution
of his conquests, along with his own especial people.
These preliminaries being
arranged, the remainder of the day was dedicated to more mature
deliberations; to the unfolding of the plan of warfare which Wallace had
conceived. As he first sketched the general outline of his design, and
then proceeded to the particulars of each military movement, he displayed
such comprehensiveness of mind; such depth of penetration; clearness of
apprehension; facility in expedients; promptitude in perceiving, and
fixing on the most favourable points of attack; explaining their bearings
upon the power of the enemy; and where the possession of such a castle,
would compel the neighbouring ones to surrender; and where occupying the
hills, with bands of resolute Scots, would be a more efficient bulwark
than a thousand towers—that Maxwell gazed on him with admiration, and
Lennox with wonder.
Mar had seen the power of
his arms; Murray had already drunk the experience of a veteran, from his
genius; hence, they were not surprised, on hearing that which filled
strangers with amazement.
Lennox gazed on his leader’s
youthful countenance, doubting whether he really were listening to
military plans, great as general ever formed; or were visited, in vison,
by some heroic shade, who offered to his sleeping fancy, designs far
vaster than his waking faculties could have conceived. He had thought,
that the young Wallace might have won Dumbarton by a bold stroke: and
that, when his invincible courage should be steered by graver heads, every
success might be expected from his arms: but now that he heard him
informing veterans on the art of war; and saw, that when turned to any
cause of policy, "the Gordian knot of it he did unloose, familiar as
his garter" he marvelled, and said within himself, "Surely this
man is born to be a sovereign!"
Maxwell, though equally
astonished, was not so rapt. "You have made arms the study of your
life?" inquired he.
"It was the study of
my earliest days," returned Wallace. "But when Scotland lost her
freedom; as the word was not drawn in her defence, I looked not where it
lay. I then studied the arts of peace: that is over; and now the passion
of my soul revives. When the mind is bent on one object only, all becomes
clear that leads to it :- zeal, in such cases, is almost genius."
Soon after these
observations, it was admitted, that Wallace might attend Lord Mar and his
family on the morrow to the Isle of Bute.
When the dawn broke, he
arose from his heather-bed in the great tower; and having called forth
twenty of the Bothwell men to escort their lord, he told Ireland, he
should expect to have a cheering account of the wounded, on his return:
"But to assure the
poor fellows:" rejoined the honest soldier, "that something of
yourself still keeps watch over them, I pray you leave me the sturdy sword
with which you won Dumbarton. It shall be hung up in their sight ; and a
good soldier’s wounds will heal by looking on it."
tower, within the fortress of Dumbarton, is still called Wallace’s
tower; and a sword is shown there, as the one that belonged to Wailace,
This sword was brought to the Tower of London, a few years ago, by the
desire of our late King, George IV., to be kept there along with other
esteemed British relics. But the Scottish nation, with a jealous pride in
their champion’s weapon of victory, worthy of them, became discontented
at its removal; the lower orders particularly, murmured at its being given
to a place, where his life had been taken from him; and our gracious
monarch commanded that it should be restored. The traveller may therefore
see it at Dumbarton still; and in the print of the old fortress which
illustrates this edition, may be traced the spot of its lasting sanctuary.—(1840.)]
Wallace smiled: "Were
it our holy King David’s we might expect such a miracle. But you are
welcome to it; and here let it remain till I take it hence. Meanwhile,
lend me yours, Stephen; for a truer never fought for Scotland."
A glow of conscious valour
flushed the cheek of the veteran. "There, my dear lord," said
he, presenting it; "it will not dishonour your hand, for it cut down
many a proud Norwegian on the field of Largs.
Wallace took the sword, and
turned to meet Murray with Edwin, in the portal. When they reached the
citadel, Lennox and all the officers in the garrison were assembled to bid
their chief a short adieu. Wallace spoke to each separately; and then
approaching the Countess, led her down the rock to the horses, which were
to convey them to the Frith of Clyde. Lord Mar, between Murray and Edwin,
followed; and the servants, and guard, completed the suite.
Being well mounted, they
pleasantly pursued their way; avoiding all inhabited places, and resting
in the deepest recesses of the hills. Lord Mar had proposed travelling all
night; but at the close of the evening, his Countess complained of
fatigue, declaring she could not advance further than the eastern bank of
the river Cart. No shelter appeared in sight, excepting a thick and
extensive wood of hazels; but the air being mild, and the lady declaring
her inability of moving on, Lord Mar at last became reconciled to his wife
and son passing the night with no other canopy than the trees. Wallace
ordered cloaks to be spread on the ground for the Countess and her women;
and seeing them laid to rest, planted his men to keep guard around the
moon had sunk in the west, before the whole of his little camp were
asleep. But when all seemed composed, he wandered forth by the dim light
of the stars, to view the surrounding country; a country he had so often
traversed in his boyish days. A little onwards, in green Renfrewshire, lay
the lands of his father; but that Ellerslie of his ancestors, like his own
Ellerslie of Clydesdale, his country’s enemies had levelled with the
ground! He turned in anguish of heart towards
the south, for there less racking remembrances hovered over the distant
Leaning on the shattered stump of an
old tree, he fixed his eyes on the far-stretching plain, which alone
seemed to divide him from the venerable Sir Ronald Crawford, and his
youthful haunts, at Ayr. Full of thoughts of her who used to share those
happy scenes—he heard a sigh behind him. He turned round, and beheld a
female figure disappear amongst the trees. He stood motionless: again it
met his view: it seemed to approach. A strange emotion stirred within him.
When he last passed these borders, he was bringing his bride from Ayr!
What then was this ethereal visitant? The silver light of the stars, was
not brighter than its airy robes, which floated in the wind. His heart
paused—it beat violently—still the figure advanced. Lost in the
wildness of his imagination, he exclaimed, "Marion!" and darted
forwards, as if to rush into her embrace. But it fled, and again vanished.
He dropped upon the ground in speechless disappointment.
"‘Tis false !" cried he,
recovering from his first expectation; "‘tis a phantom of my own
creating. The pure spirit of Marion would never fly me: I loved her too
well. She would not thus redouble my grief. But I shall go to thee, wife
of my soul !" cried he; "and that is comfort. Balm,
indeed, is the Christian’s hope !"
Such were his words, such were his
thoughts, fill the coldness of the hour, and the exhaustion of nature,
putting a friendly seal upon his senses, he sunk upon the bank, and fell
into a profound sleep.
When he awoke, the lark was
carolling above his head; and to his surprise he found that a plaid was
laid over him. He threw it off, and beheld Edwin seated at his feet.
"This has been your doing, my kind brother," said he; "but
how came you to discover me?"
"I missed you, when
the dawn broke; and at last found you here, sleeping under the dew."
"And has none else
been astir ?" inquired Wallace, thinking of the figure he had seen.
"None that I know of.
All were fast asleep, when I left the party."
Wallace began to fancy that
he had been labouring under the impressions of some powerful dream, and
saying no more, he returned to the wood. Finding every body ready, he took
his station; and setting forth, all proceeded cheerfully, though slowly,
through the delightful valleys of Barochan. By sunset they arrived at the
point of embarkation. The journey ought to have been performed in half the
time; but the Countess petitioned for long rests: a compliance with which
the younger part of the cavalcade conceded with reluctance.