Robert the Bruce and the Spider

According to legend, it was a spider, even more than Braveheart, who inspired Robert the Bruce to succeed in his battle for Scottish independence. As Sir Walter Scott tells the story in Tales of a Grandfather, pp. 27-28:

The news of the taking of Kildrummie, the captivity of his wife, and the execution of his brother, reached Bruce while he was residing in a miserable dwelling at Rachrin, and reduced him to the point of despair.

It was about this time [c. 1306-1307] that an incident took place, which, although it rests only on tradition in families of the name of Bruce, is rendered probable by the manners of the times. After receiving the last unpleasing intelligence from Scotland, Bruce was lying one morning on his wretched bed, and deliberating with himself whether he had not better resign all thoughts of again attempting to make good his right to the Scottish crown, and, dismissing his followers, transport himself and his brothers to the Holy Land, and spend the rest of his life fighting against the Saracens; by which he thought, perhaps, he might deserve the forgiveness of Heaven for the great sin of stabbing Comyn in the church in Dumfries. But then, on the other hand, he thought it would be both criminal and cowardly to give up his attempts to restore freedom to Scotland, while there yet remained the least chance of his being successful in an undertaking, which, rightly considered, was much more his duty than to drive the infidels out of Palestine, though the superstition of his age might think otherwise.

While he was divided betwixt these two reflections, and doubtful of what he should do, Bruce was looking upward to the roof of the cabin in which he lay; and his eye was attracted by a spider, which, hanging at the end of a long thread of its own spinning, was endeavouring, as is the fashion of that creature, to swing itself from one beam in the roof to another, for the purpose of fixing the line on which it meant to stretch its web. The insect made the attempt again and again without success; and at length Bruce counted that it had tried to carry its point six times, and been as often unable to do so. It came into his head that he himself fought just six battles against the English and their allies, and that the poor persevering spider was exactly in the same situation with himself, having made as many trials, and been as often disappointed in what it aimed at. “Now,” thought Bruce, “ as I have no means of knowing what is best to be done, I will be guided by the luck which shall attend this spider. If the insect shall make another effort to fix its thread, and shall be successful, I will venture a seventh time to try my fortune in Scotland; but if the spider shall fail I will go to the wars in Palestine, and never return to my native country more.”

While Bruce was forming this resolution, the spider made another exertion with all the force it could muster, and fairly succeeded in fastening its thread to the beam which it had so often in vain attempted to reach. Bruce, seeing the success of the spider, resolved to try his own fortune; and as he had never before gained a victory, so he never afterwards sustained any considerable check or defeat. I have often met with people of the name Bruce, so completely persuaded of the truth of this story, that they would not on any account kill a spider; because it was that insect which had shown the example of perseverance, and given a signal of good luck, to their great namesake.

Having determined to renew his efforts to obtain possession of Scotland, notwithstanding the smallness of the means which he had for accomplishing so great a purpose, the Bruce removed himself and his followers from Rachrin to the island of Arran, which lies in the mouth of the Clyde.

Of course, Bruce was crowned king of Scotland and went on to defeat King Edward II at the battle of Bannockburn in 1314. It is this story which is credited with giving rise to the saying, "If at first you don't succeed, try, and try again." But there is more to be said about the story. Although it has been told and retold many times, before Sir Walter Scott's attribution of this account to Robert the Bruce in 1827, the spider story was not associated directly with him, but rather with his associate, Sir James “The Black” Douglas, based on a work written by David Hume of Godscroft (1558-1629) in his The History of the House of Douglas, which was published posthumously in 1643. Hume wrote of Douglas:

I spied a spider clymbing by his webb to the height of an trie and at 12 several times I perceived his web broke, and the spider fel to the ground. But the 13 tyme he attempted and clambe up the tree.

with Douglas then telling Bruce:

My advise is to follow the example of the spider, to poush forward your Majestie's fortune once more, and hazard yet our persones the 13 tyme.

This appears to be the earliest account of the spider story, and although it shows how a spider inspired Bruce to win independence for Scotland, it portrays Douglas rather than Bruce as the one who saw the spider.

Hume himself is an interesting character: a Scottish historian, poet, and theologian, he also served as a pastor to a Huguenot congregation in Duras, France, from 1604 to 1614. His writings remain an important window into the history and controversies of his age.

Little did he know that the spider story, altered by Sir Walter Scott, would become his most famous legacy.

Egbert Watson Smith, The Creed of Presbyterians, p. 160, provides the most important moral of the story:

The control of the greater must include the control of the less, for not only are great things made up of little things, but history shows how the veriest trifles are continually proving the pivots on which momentous events revolve. The persistence of a spider nerved a despairing man to fresh exertions which shaped a nation's future. The God Who predestinated the course of Scottish history must have planned and presided over the movements of the tiny insect that saved Robert Bruce from despair.

Wallace's Oak

Freedom is best, I tell thee true, of all things to be won; then never live within the bonds of slavery, my son. -- Attributed to William Wallace's uncle.

There once was an ancient oak tree in the Torwood, near Falkirk, Scotland. It was reputed to be a common resting place for none other than William Wallace, Scotland's most famous patriot. It lived for centuries evidently; the painting here is by A. Nasmyth (1771). Sir Walter Scott records how he would retire there before or after battle in Tales of A Grandfather (1st series, 1828), Chap. 7:

A large oak-tree in the adjoining forest was long shown as marking the spot where Wallace slept before the battle, or, as others said, in which he hid himself after the defeat. Nearly forty years ago Grandpapa [Scott himself] saw some of its roots; but the body of the tree was even then entirely decayed, and there is not now, and has not been for many years, the least vestige of it to be seen.

Magnus Magnusson, Scotland: The Story of a Nation (2000), pp. 146-147:

Oak wood has long been revered in Scotland as a potent symbol of strength, hardness and durability. Until two centuries ago there was a vast oak tree known as 'Wallace's Oak' in the Torwood, a couple of miles north of Falkirk. In 1723 it was described as having a girth of thirty-six feet, still bearing leaves and acorns, and 'ever excepted from cutting when the wood is sold'. Fifty years later its girth measured as twenty-two feet at four feet above the ground by a John Walker, who observed that 'whatever may be its age, it certainly has in its ruins the appearance of greater antiquity than what I have observed in any tree in Scotland...it has been immemorially held in veneration and is still viewed in that light.' But, as Sir Walter Scott and others reported, by the end of the eighteenth century no trace of it remained, and efforts to pinpoint the exact site of the tree have been somewhat conjectural.

Tangible relics of 'Wallace's Oak' remain, however. The great tree was ultimately, and literally, loved to death by souvenir hunters. In the 1790s a piece of it was made into a box by the goldsmiths of Edinburgh and presented to George Washington, first President of the United States, as 'the Wallace of America'; this relic does not survive, alas -- it was stolen in a stage-coach raid in the 1820s and never seen again. The last of the roots of the tree was excavated to make a snuff box which was presented to King George IV on the occasion of his celebrated Royal Visit to Edinburgh in 1822...

Today, Wallacebank Wood, owned by the Glenbervice Golf Club, and managed along with the Scottish Wildlife Trust as a Wildlife Reserve, is home to coppiced descendants of the Wallace Oak.

William Hetherington wrote a poetic tribute to the Wallace Oak in Twelve Dramatic Sketches, founded on the Pastoral Poetry of Scotland (1829), which is recorded in James Grant Wilson, The Poets and Poetry of Scotland: From the Earliest to the Present Time (1876), Half-Vol. 4, p. 263:

The Torwood Oak

The Torwood Oak! How like a spell
By potent wizard breathed, that name
Bids every Scottish bosom swell,
And burn with all a patriot's flame!

The past before the rapt eye brings --
Forth stalk the phantom shades of kings,
And loud the warrior's bugle rings
O'er gory fields of blood!

I see the Roman eagle whet
Its hungry beak, I see it soar;
It stoops, I see its pinions wet,
Ruffled and wet with its own gore:
I see the Danish raven sweep
O'er the dark bosom of the deep, --
Its scatter'd plumage strows the steep
Of rugged Albin's shore.

Lo! England's Edward comes! -- the plain
Groans where his marshall'd thousands wheel,
Grim Havoc stalks o'er heaps of slain,
Gaunt Famine, prowling, dogs his heel!
Ah! woe for Scotland! blood and woe!
Fierce and relentless is the foe,
And treason points the murderous blow,
Edges the ruthless steel!

But who is he with dauntless brow,
And dragon crest, and eagle eye,
Whose proud form never knew to bow
Its lofty port and bearing high?
Around him close a glorious band, --
Few -- but the chosen of the land;
Beneath the Torwood Tree they stand,
Freedom to gain, or die!

'Tis he, the bravest of the brave!
Champion of Scotland's liberty,
Whose mighty arm and dreadful glaive
His mother-land could thrice set free!
That hero-patriot, whose great name
Justly the foremost rank may claim
Of that grace the rolls of fame --
WALLACE OF ELDERSLIE!

Yes, oft the Torwood Oak has bent
Its broad boughs o'er his noble head;
Oft, in his hour of peril, lent
The shelter of its friendly shade;
And though rude Time and stern Decay
Its moulder'd stem have swept away,
The hero's name there dwells for aye --
A name that cannot fade!