Edward.- No? Wallace. Indeed, I neither do nor would. Edward.-Dull wretch! I should never forget such. I can make allowances; I am a king. I would flay him alive for half of them, and make him swallow back the other half without his skin. Wallace. Few have a right to punish; all to pardon. Edward.-I perceive thou hast at last some glimmering of shame; and adversity makes thee very Christian-like. men. Wallace. Adversity, then, in exercising her power, loses her name and features. King Edward! thou hast raised me among Without thy banners and bows in array against me, I had sunk into utter forgetfulness. Thanks to thee for placing me, eternally, where no strength of mine could otherwise have borne me! Thanks to thee for bathing my spirit in deep thoughts, in refreshing calm, in sacred stillness! This, O King! is the bath for knighthood: after this it may feast, and hear bold and sweet voices, and mount to its repose. I thought it hard to be seized and bound and betrayed by those in whom I trusted. I grieved that a valiant soldier (such is Menteith) should act so. Unhappily! he must now avoid all men's discourses. 'Twill pierce his heart to hear censures of the disloyal; and praises on the loyal will dry up its innermost drop. Two friends can never more embrace in his presence but he shall curse them in the bitterness of his soul, and his sword shall spring up to cleave them. "Alas!" will he say to himself, "is it thus? was it thus when I drew it for my country?" Edward.-Think now of other matters: think, what I suggested, of thy reproaches. Wallace. Edward. Wallace. I have none to make myself. Be it so: I did not talk about that any longer. Edward. Such as Bruce's. - Wallace. Reproaches they were not; for none were ever cast against me: but taunts they were, not unmingled with invitations. Edward. The same invitations, and much greater, I now repeat. Thou shalt govern Scotland for me. Wallace.Scotland, sir, shall be governed for none: she is old enough to stand by herself, and to stand upright; the blows she hath received have not broken her loins. Edward. Come, come, Wallace! thou hast sense and spirit: confess to me fairly that, if thou wert at liberty, thou wouldst gladly make Bruce regret his ill-treatment of thee. Wallace. Well, then, I do confess it. Edward. Something would I myself hazard,- not too much; but prudently and handsomely. Tell me now plainly - for I love plain speaking and everything free and open — in what manner thou wouldst set about it; and perhaps, God willing, I may provide the means. Wallace. Sir, you certainly would not; it little suits your temper and disposition. Edward.-Faith! not so little as thou supposest. Magnanimity and long-suffering have grown upon me, and well become me; but they have not produced all the good I might have expected from them. Joyfully as I would try them again, at any proper opportunity, there is nothing I am not bound to do, in dearness to my people, to rid myself of an enemy. In my mind no expressions could be more insulting than Bruce's, when he accused thee, a low and vulgar man (how canst thou help that?), of wishing to possess the crown. Edward. How! astonishment! Thou wouldst, then, have usurped the sovereignty! Wallace. I possessed a greater power by war than peace could ever give me; yet I invited and exhorted the legitimate heir of the throne to fight for it and receive it. If there is any satisfaction or gratification in being the envy of men, I had enough and greatly more than enough of it, when even those I love envied me: what would have been my portion of it, had I possessed that which never should have been mine? Edward. Why, then, sayest thou that Bruce was right? Wallace. He judged, as most men do, from his own feelings. Many have worn crowns; some have deserved them: I have done neither. Edward. Return to Scotland; bring me Bruce's head back; and rule the kingdom as viceroy. Wallace.I would rather make him rue his words against me, and hear him. Edward. Thou shalt. Wallace. Believe me, sir, you would repent of your permission. Wallace. You would indeed, sir. Edward. Go, and try me; do not hesitate: I see thou art half inclined; I may never make the same offer again. Wallace. I will not go. Edward. Weak, wavering man! hath imprisonment in one day or two wrought such a change in thee? Wallace. unchanged. Slavery soon does it; but I am, and will ever be, Edward. It was not well, nor by my order, that thou wert dragged along the road, barefooted and bareheaded, while it snowed throughout all the journey. Wallace. Certainly, sir, you did not order it to snow from the latter days of December till the middle of January; but whatever else was done, if my guard spake the truth Edward. He lied, he lied, he lied Wallace. or the warrant he showed me is authentic, was done according to your royal order. Edward. What! are my officers turned into constables? base varlets! It must have seemed hard, Wallace! Wallace. Not that, indeed.; for I went barefooted in my youth, and have mostly been bareheaded when I have not been in battle. But to be thrust and shoven into the court-yard; to shiver under the pent-house from which the wind had blown the thatch, while the blazing fire within made the snow upon the opposite roof redden like the dawn; to wax faint, ahungered, and athirst, when, within arm's length of me, men pushed the full cup away, and would drink no more, to that I have never been accustomed in my country. The dogs, honester and kinder folks than most, but rather dull in the love of hospitality, unless in the beginning some pains are taken with them by their mas ters, tore my scant gear; and then your soldiers felt their contempt more natural and easy. The poor curs had done for them what their betters could not do; and the bolder of the company looked hard in my face, to see if I were really the same man. Edward. O the rude rogues! that was too bad. Wallace. The worst was this. Children and women, fathers and sons, came running down the hills - some sinking knee-deep in the incrusted snow, others tripping lightly over it- to celebrate the nativity of our blessed Lord. They entreated, and the good priest likewise, that I might be led forth into the church, and might kneel down amid them. "Off," cried the guard; "would ye plead for Wallace the traitor?" I saw them tremble, for it was treason in them; and then came my grief upon me, and bore hard. They lifted up their eyes to heaven, and it gave me strength. Edward. Thou shalt not, I swear to thee, march back in such plight. Wallace. I will not, I swear to thee, march a traitor. Edward. Right! right! I can trust thee-more than half already. Bruce is the traitor, the worst of the two: he raises the country against me. Go; encompass him; entrap him, quell him. Sweetheart! thou hast a rare fancy, a youth's love at first sight, for thy chains: unwilling to barter them for liberty, for country, for revenge, for honor. Wallace. The two latter are very dear to me! For the two former I have often shed my blood, and, if more is wanting, take it. My heart is no better than a wooden cup, whereof the homely liquor a royal hand would cast away indifferently. There once were those who pledged it! where are they? Forgive my repining, O God! Enough, if they are not here. Edward. Nay, nay, Wallace! thou wrongest me. Thou art a brave man. I do not like to see those irons about thy wrists they are too broad and tight; they have bruised thee cruelly. Wallace. Methinks there was no necessity to have hammered the rivets on quite so hard; and the fellow who did it needed not to look over his shoulder so often while he was about it, telling the people, "This is Wallace." Wrist or iron, he and his hammer cared not. Edward. I am mightily taken with the fancy of seeing thee mortify Bruce. Thou shalt do it: let me have thy plan. IMAGINARY CORRESPONDENCE OF PERICLES AND ASPASIA. ASPASIA TO PERICLES. I APPREHEND, O Pericles, not only that I may become an object of jealousy and hatred to the Athenians by the notice you have taken of me, but that you yourself - which affects me greatly more may cease to retain the whole of their respect and veneration. Whether, to acquire a great authority over the people, some things are not necessary to be done on which Virtue and Wisdom are at variance, it becomes not me to argue or consider; but let me suggest the inquiry to you, whether he who is desirous of supremacy should devote the larger portion of his time to one person. Three affections of the soul predominate: Love, Religion, and Power. The first two are often united; the other stands widely apart from them, and neither is admitted nor seeks admittance to their society. I wonder then how you can love so truly and tenderly. Ought I not rather to say I did wonder? Was Pisistratus affectionate? Do not be angry. It is certainly the first time a friend has ever ventured to discover a resemblance, although you are habituated to it from your opponents. In these you forgive it: do you in me? PERICLES TO ASPASIA. Pisistratus was affectionate; the rest of his character you know as well as I do. You know that he was eloquent, that he was humane, that he was contemplative, that he was learned; that he not only was profuse to men of genius, but cordial, and that it was only with such men he was familiar and intimate. You know that he was the greatest, the wisest, the most virtuous, excepting Solon and Lycurgus, that ever ruled any portion of the human race. Is it not happy and glorious for mortals, when instead of being led by the ears under the clumsy and violent hand of vulgar and clamorous adventurers, a Pisistratus leaves the volumes of Homer and the conversation of Solon for them? We may be introduced to Power by Humanity, and at first may love her less for her own sake than for Humanity's; but by degrees we become so accustomed to her as to be quite uneasy without her. Religion and Power, like the Caryatides in sculpture, never face one another; they sometimes look the same way, but oftener stand back to back. We will argue about them one at a time, and about the other in the triad too: let me have the choice. ASPASIA TO PERICLES. We must talk over again the subject of your letter; no, not talk, but write about it. I think, Pericles, you who are so sincere with me are never |