His head was set up at London, his quarters were sent to Newcastle, Berwick, Perth, and Aberdeen. But Edward reaped no advantage from this act of cruelty and injustice, except the gratification of his implacable temper. If intimidation was his object, it failed, as was to be expected in the case of a high–spirited people: and the only effect of raising these ghastly trophies was to inspire a deeper hatred of the tyrant who commanded them, and of the treacherous minister of his revenge. The latter long continued to be an object of especial hatred to the Scottish nation; and is condemned to shame in its traditional literature under the fitting title of the “false Menteith.” Here, it might be supposed, history must end, and the ultimate destiny of the oppressor and oppressed, the tyrant and his victim, remain a mystery until the time when all things shall be brought to light. But the patriotic chronicler before quoted, who probably could not bear that the last scene of his hero should be one of suffering and degradation, undertakes to enlighten our curiosity on this subject. We read in the continuation of Fordun by Bower, that, according to the testimony of many credible Englishmen, “an holy hermit, being rapt in the spirit, saw innumerable souls delivered from purgatory marshalling the way, while the spirit of Wallace was conducted to heaven by angels, in reward of his inflexible patriotism. To whom the proverb may be applied, ‘The memory of the just with praise, and the name of the wicked stinketh.’” Soon after, he proceeds to illustrate the latter clause of the proverb. When Edward died upon his march to Scotland, an English knight, Bannister by name, upon the night of his decease, saw in a trance his lord the king, surrounded by a multitude of devils, who were mocking him with much laughter, and saying, En rex Edwardus, debacchans ut leopardus! Olim dum vixit populum Dei maleflixit. Nobis viæ talis comes ibis, care sodalis, Quo condemneris, ut dæmonibus socieris. Te sequimur voto prorsus torpore remoto.[91] Meanwhile they drove him on with whips and scorpions. “Let us sing,” they said, “the canticle of death, beseeming this wicked soul; because she is the daughter of death, and food of fire unquenchable; the friend of darkness, and enemy of light.” And then they repeated _En rex_, &c. While thus tormented by the evil spirits, he turned, said the knight, his trembling and bloodless visage towards me, as if to implore the aid which I was used to minister to him. But when voice and sense both deserted me, he cast upon me such a dreadful look, that while I live and remember it I can never more be cheerful. With that, he was in a moment swallowed up into the infernal pit, exclaiming in a doleful voice, Heu cur peccavi? fallor quia non bene cavi. Heu cur peccavi? perit et nihil est quod amavi. Heu cur peccavi? video, quia littus aravi, Cum sudore gravi mihimet tormenta paravi.[92]