ABSTRACT
The tidings of the dreadful vengeance which Edward had taken against the Scottish nation, by pouring all his wrath upon the head of Wallace, whose only offence was known to be that of having served his country too faithfully, struck like the lightning of heaven through the souls of men. The English turned blushing from each other, and ventured not to breathe the name of a man whose virtue seemed to have found him a sanctuary in every honest heart. But when the news reached Scotland, the indignation was general. All envyings, all strife were forgotten in unqualified resentment of the deed. There had not been a man, even amongst the late refractory chieftains, excepting the Cummins and their coadjutors Soulis and Menteith, who believed that Edward seriously meant to sentence the patriot Wallace to a severer fate than that which he had pronounced against his rebellious vassal, the exiled Baliol. His execution (for none but those who were in the confidence of Gloucester knew that heaven had snatched him from the dishonour of so vile a death) was therefore so unexpected, that the first promulgation of it excited such an abhorrence of the perpetrator in every breast, that the whole country rose as one man, and threatened to march instantly to London and sacrifice the tyrant on his throne.
