wished to refresh his troops with food, but was reminded that nothing but a little brook separated the two armies. He saw the point of the remark, and instantly ordered the attack.

Wallace formed his men into four circular bodies, facing outwards, with their lances held obliquely, and with archers in their intervals. A peat morass was in his front, and he caused a row of stakes, tied by ropes, to be driven into the ground, as a defence against the English cavalry. Behind these he posted his infantry, with this short address: "I have brought you to the ring, dance well, if you know how."

The

Edward formed his troops in three divisions. first advanced directly towards the enemy, ignorant of the morass, but on reaching it were obliged to deviate to the west. The second line, under the Bishop of Durham, skirted the morass on the east. This division, eager to strike the first blow, marched faster than the Bishop desired, as he thought it better to wait for the support of the other line. "It is not for you to teach us war," cried an ardent knight, who shared the command; "to your mass, Bishop!" and led his willing troops into the conflict with the first circle of the Scots, while the van was also hastening into action. The Scottish cavalry gave way before the impetuosity of the charge, and fled. The northern bowmen, from the forest of Selkirk, fought manfully, but were soon destroyed. The condensed array of the Scottish lancers, with their obliquely protruded weapons, was then full before the English knights, and steadily kept them at bay. In vain they attempted to break the firm array; the foremost of the assailants, with unavailing

bravery, perished on the lances, as Wallace had fore

seen, and the repulse of the English chivalry did credit to his military judgment. The circles of infantry were impenetrable. But the English commanders were persevering and expert; they observed that the Scottish array, though so effective for defence, was incompetent to attack; these rings of men, were, in fact, but so many immovable fortresses. The place abounded with large stones, and the English brought up their crossbow-men and machines. Stones and arrows were poured without intermission upon the Scots, till so many were killed, that the rest, overwhelmed, began to fall back and close their circles. At this critical moment, the English cavalry burst in, followed by their foot, before the Scottish officers could re-arrange their broken rings, which this movement threw into irretrievable confusion. The day was now lost, and all that remained for the Scots was to save themselves by flight. Many thousands of them were slain. Such was the disastrous result of "the fight of Falkirk,” which took place in the summer of 1298.

Had Wallace been allowed the authority due to the superiority of his genius, the result would have been different. But it seems pretty clear that there were dissensions in his army before the action. The proud lairds and chieftains cavilled at the inferiority of the hero's birth, and his right of command was disputed. He had formed a safer plan of operations; but the decision and promptness of the English king having suddenly brought his army before the Scottish lines, the momentous battle became inevitable. This defeat, the natural result of superior discipline and equipment,

and therefore not to be ascribed to any fault in Wallace, destroyed his influence among the selfish chieftains. They foolishly deserted him, and, appointing Robert Bruce and others the guardians of Scotland, they protracted a defensive struggle till 1303, when Edward, having made peace with France, was enabled to pour the whole military force of his kingdom into Scotland. After a siege of ninety days, he made himself master of Stirling, a success which enabled him shortly after to carry his victorious army through the country. Bruce, Comyn, and their followers, surrendered to the English. The Scottish chieftains all abandoned the contest except Wallace, who had been indefatigable in animating the previous warfare. He was invited to imitate them, and put himself under the royal grace; but his unbroken spirit resolutely refused, and he withdrew to a place of concealment.

Edward's resentment was inflamed to the highest degree by this scornful rejection of his offer of pardon. He felt his conquest to be insecure while Wallace lived, and he despatched many parties of men to hunt him out in his retreat. From his enemies the persecuted patriot might seclude himself, but his asylum was accessible to deceitful friends. One of these, directed by a faithless domestic, betrayed him into the hands of Edward. Age had now chilled in King Edward all the generous feelings that ever mitigated his resentments. He saw in Wallace only an irreconcilable adversary, and his vindictive spirit had not the magnanimity to pardon. Wallace was arraigned at Westminster as a traitor. His defence was complete; he had never sworn allegiance to Edward, and owed him none by birth;

he had never acquiesced in his authority; he could not be a traitor to him. But the English judges adopted the feelings of their sovereign. Wallace was found guilty of treason; and was hanged, drawn, and quartered on the 23d of August, 1305. His head was exposed on London bridge, and his divided limbs were sent to intimidate Scotland. Edward obtained the wretched gratification of destroying his noble enemy; but his cruelty has only increased the celebrity of Wallace, and indelibly blotted his own fame.

The Scottish writers, as might be expected, have depicted Wallace as a character amiable and great. The English, too indignant at imputed treason to feel the justice of his motives, and too prejudiced by the representations of the authority they revered not to misconceive his actions, have transmitted to us his portrait distorted with every moral deformity. They assert that he was a rebel, a public robber, a murderer, an incendiary, and an apostate; more cruel than Herod, more wicked than Nero; tormenting his prisoners to make them dance in agony; embowelling infants, and consuming schoolboys in flames. All these imputations and tales may be construed to imply that he was as cordially hated and misrepresented in one country as he was loved and panegyrized in the other. We may believe that he plundered, burnt, and slaughtered, often without mercy, for such was the barbarous character of war in that ferocious age. We find Edward described by his own chroniclers as putting the inhabitants of Berwick to the sword on his first invasion; and Wallace, the native of a less civilized country, would hardly be more mild. But we may, perhaps, fairly

say, that his cruelties belonged to his age, and that his noble spirit was his own. The world has been too deeply indebted to similar characters and exertions, for us not to feel that Wallace is entitled to all the praise which his countrymen have lavished upon him.

The popular affection for Wallace is still strikingly shown by the many local traditionary remembrances of him which are still preserved in Scotland. The hills, the houses, the castles, and the glens which he frequented; the stones on which he sat; the tree in which he was secreted; the rock from which he plunged into the sea; the bridge which he crossed; the forest to which he withdrew; the foaming cascade behind which he was once screened; the barn in which he was taken; and the lake into which, after he was overpowered, he hurled his sword, are still fondly pointed out. "The story of Wallace," says Robert Burns, in his account of his youthful studies, "poured a Scottish prejudice into my veins which will boil along them till the flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest."