Bruce Almighty
GERALD WARNER

AT THE time of writing, the line-up of runners and riders in the Greatest Scot poll shows William Wallace out in front, with more than a third of all votes; Robert Burns in second place, with a quarter of the votes; and Robert the Bruce in third place, with a little over 10%. In a recent poll, a group of academics and historians opted for Burns as the Greatest Scot ever.

Few people would dispute the choice of those three men as our greatest compatriots; but there is a case to be made for altering the order and recognising Robert the Bruce as the greatest man in Scottish history. That is not in any way to disparage his two competitors. It is a matter of defining more strictly the concept of greatness.

Burns, beyond dispute, was a great writer. His appeal is global, which, for a poet born into a very localised environment in a small country, is a measure of his talent. He was undoubtedly, in a literary and human sense, great; but was he the greatest? What we should be looking for in this contest is a superlative contribution to Scotland. Does Burns measure up to all the criteria that implies?

Wallace, on first appraisal, seems to do so. His greatness of heart is the stuff of legend, compounded by the cruelty of his fate. If we are talking about patriotism, courage and selfless dedication, then Wallace has it by a mile. Yet there is one component missing: success.

It might appear callous and even cynical to downgrade Wallace because, having fought so gallantly against superhuman odds, he was defeated after two years. Yet all the other historical characters who have been awarded the attribute "the Great" - Alexander, Peter, Catherine, Frederick - had careers crowned with success. Wallace was a loser - a noble, brave, heroic loser, but still ultimately unsuccessful.

That is probably why, like Bonnie Prince Charlie, he occupies such a special place in Scottish hearts. A sentimental identification with the underdog is one of our national characteristics. In the unimaginable event of Scotland winning the World Cup, it is a fair bet the Tartan Army would become disoriented to the point of disaffection.

Robert the Bruce was a man in a different mould. In him Edward Longshanks met his match. Unlike Wallace, Bruce is open to the charge of political opportunism; but that is because he had family interests to defend. From the time that Edward I rejected his grandfather's claim to the Scottish throne in favour of John Balliol (quite justifiably) in 1292, Bruce played a waiting game. Although he swore fealty to Edward in 1296, he joined the rebellion against him the following year.

Between then and 1304, Bruce alternately rebelled and submitted with bewildering frequency, as did many of the Scots lords. There was little coherent patriotism and Bruce had no stomach for securing the crown for John Balliol. Only Sir William Wallace demonstrated a single-minded resistance to English rule, for which he paid the supreme penalty in 1305. That coincided with Edward's now overt determination to absorb Scotland totally. From that year the atmosphere changed.

So did Bruce. He slew Balliol's nephew, the Red Comyn, a rival for the throne, inside a church and was excommunicated. Undeterred, he had himself crowned as Robert I in 1306 and, thenceforth, fought a relentless war against England. He was defeated at Methven and in the following year his three youngest brothers were executed. The war then became a blood feud and the death of Longshanks in 1307 gave Bruce the initiative. By 1309, besides waging brilliant guerrilla warfare, he had defeated his enemies in four pitched battles.

In 1310 the excommunicate Bruce secured the support of the Scottish clergy. English fortresses fell one by one before his implacable determination. In 1312-13 Bruce's forces were regularly raiding into England. His epic victory at Bannockburn, on June 24 1314 finally confirmed his reputation as a military commander. That was not the end of the English threat: peace was not signed until 1323.

What of Bruce's diplomatic skills? His opening of a second front against the English in Ulster was politically effective, but eventually militarily expensive. His great achievement was his securing of the Declaration of Arbroath in 1320, the famous letter to the Pope which demonstrated to the whole of Europe that Bruce's rule enjoyed the assent of the Community of the Realm.

The climax of his career came in 1328, when Edward III, grandson of his old opponent Longshanks, signed the Treaty of Edinburgh or Northampton, recognising the full sovereignty of the Scottish kingdom and Robert I as its legitimate ruler. He died a year later and was buried at Dunfermline Abbey. His heart, after being carried by James Douglas into battle against the Moors in Spain, now lies in Melrose Abbey.

By any criteria, this was a career of extraordinary significance. Clearly, Bruce was not, in a moral sense, as admirable a character as Wallace. His patriotism, although genuine, was negotiable in tandem with his dynastic interests. Yet Scotland needed precisely such a man - worldly, cynical, adept in political manoeuvres, familiar with the ways of the English and Scottish nobility - to turn the tables on her ruthless enemy.

Scottish national consciousness is a very ancient sentiment, older than in many European countries. Yet there is no doubt it was forged to a new intensity by the Wars of Independence, in which all classes suffered grievously at the hands of English aggression. If Wallace rekindled the spark, it was Bruce who fanned it into the flame that finally consumed Edward II and his army.

It is almost surprising Bruce did not go down in Scottish history as Robert the Great. He would have merited such a title. For greatness, in the sense used by historians, is not a measure of virtue but of effectiveness, of the extent to which a famous individual's career has reshaped the destiny of nations.

Of course mythology has grown around Bruce like ivy on an oak: his being inspired to perseverance by watching the efforts of a spider is the best-known anecdote. Yet the image that has most accurately captured his essence stands on the site of his greatest triumph. At Bannockburn, the awesome Pilkington Jackson statue of Bruce, crowned, in armour, his horse caparisoned with the rampant lion of the King of Scots, epitomises the Scottish royal motto Nemo Me Impune Lacessit: no one assails me with impunity. It depicts a great European monarch, a hero, a victor - the greatest Scot in history.

THE SONS OF SCOTLAND WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE FOR THIS HISTORY LESSON