Chapter IV: Appendix: , 374 (3)

In the month of May, the queen sent for Knox to Lochleven. The popish priests, presuming upon her avowed partiality to them, and her secret promises of protection, had of late become more bold; and, during the late Easter, masses had been openly celebrated in different parts of the kingdom. Repeated proclamations had been issued against this practice by the queen in council, but none of them were carried into execution. The gentlemen of the west country, who were the most zealous protestants, perceiving that the laws were eluded, came to the resolution {78} of executing them, without making any application to the court, and apprehended some of the offenders by way of example. These decided proceedings, which were calculated to defeat the scheme of policy which she had formed, gave great offence to her majesty; but finding that the signification of her displeasure had not the effect of stopping them, she wished to avail herself of the Reformer’s influence for accomplishing her purpose.

She dealt with him very earnestly, for two hours before supper, to persuade the western gentlemen to desist from all interruption of the catholic worship. He told her majesty, that if she would exert her authority in executing the laws of the land, he could promise for the peaceable behaviour of the protestants; but if she thought to elude them, he feared there were some who would let the papists understand that they should not offend with impunity. “Will ye allow, that they shall take _my_ sword in their hands?” said the queen. “The sword of justice is _God’s_,” replied the Reformer with equal firmness, “and is given to princes and rulers for one end, which, if they transgress, sparing the wicked and oppressing the innocent, they who, in the fear of God, execute judgment where God has commanded, offend not God, although kings do it not.” Having produced some examples from scripture to show that criminals might be punished by persons who did not occupy the place of supreme rulers, he added, that the gentlemen of the West were acting strictly according to law; for the act of parliament gave {79} power to all judges within their bounds, to search for and punish those who should transgress its enactments. He concluded with inculcating a doctrine which has seldom been very pleasing to princes. “It shall be profitable to your majesty to consider what is the thing your grace’s subjects look to receive of your majesty, and what it is that ye ought to do unto them by mutual contract. They are bound to obey you, and that not but in God: ye are bound to keep laws to them. Ye crave of them service: they crave of you protection and defence against wicked doers. Now, madam, if you shall deny your duty unto them, (which especially craves that ye punish malefactors,) think ye to receive full obedience of them? I fear, madam, ye shall not.” The queen broke off the conversation with evident marks of displeasure.

Having imparted the substance of what had passed between them to the earl of Murray, Knox meant to return to Edinburgh next day without waiting for any further communications with the queen. But a message was delivered to him at an early hour in the morning, desiring him not to depart until he had again spoken with her majesty. He accordingly met her at a place in the neighbourhood of Kinross, where she took the amusement of hawking. This interview was very different from that of the preceding evening. Waiving entirely the subject on which they had differed, she conversed with him upon a variety of topics, with the greatest familiarity and apparent confidence. Lord Ruthven (she said) had offered her {80} a ring; but she could not love that nobleman. She knew that he used enchantment;[101] yet he had been made a member of her privy council; and she blamed secretary Lethington for procuring his admission into that body. Knox excused himself from saying any thing of the secretary in his absence. “I understand,” said she, introducing another subject of discourse, “that ye are appointed to go to Dumfries, for the election of a superintendent to be established in these countries.” He answered in the affirmative. “But I understand the bishop of Athens[102] would be superintendent.”――“He is one, madam, that is put in election.”――“If you knew him as well as I do, you would not promote him to that office, nor yet to any other within your kirk.” Knox said that the bishop deceived many, if he did not fear God. “Well, do as you will; but that man is a dangerous man.”

Knox wished to take his leave of her majesty, but she pressed him to stay. “I have one of the greatest matters that have touched me, since I came into this {81} realm, to open to you, and I must have your help in it,” said she, with an air of condescension and confidence as enchanting as if she had put a ring on his finger. She then entered into a long discourse with him concerning a domestic difference between the earl and countess of Argyle. Her ladyship had not, she said, been so circumspect in every thing as could have been wished, but still she was of opinion that his lordship had not treated her in an honest and godly manner. Knox said that he was not unacquainted with the disagreeable variance which had subsisted between that honourable couple, and, before her majesty’s arrival in this country, had effected a reconciliation between them. On that occasion, the countess had promised not to complain to any creature before acquainting him; and having never heard from her on that subject, he had concluded that there was nothing but concord between her and his lordship. “Well,” said the queen, “it is worse than ye believe. But do this much _for my sake_, as once again to put them at unity, and if she behave not herself as she ought to do, she shall find no favour of me; but in any wise let not my lord know that I have requested you in this matter.” Then introducing the subject of their reasoning on the preceding evening, she said, “I promise to do as ye required: I shall cause summon all offenders; and ye shall know that I shall minister justice.”――“I am assured then,” said he, “that ye shall please God, and enjoy rest and tranquillity within your realm, which to your majesty is {82} more profitable than all the pope’s power can be.” Upon this he took his leave of the queen.[103]

This interview exhibits one part of Mary’s character in a very striking light. It shows how far she was capable of dissembling, what artifice she could employ, and what condescensions she could make, when she was bent on accomplishing a favourite object. She had formerly attacked the Reformer on another quarter without success, and was convinced that it was vain to think of working on his fears; she now resolved to try if she could soothe his stern temper by flattering his vanity, and disarm his jealousy by strong marks of confidence. There is reason to think that she partly succeeded in her design. For, though he was not very susceptible of flattery, and must have been struck with the sudden change in the queen’s views and behaviour, there are few minds that can altogether resist the impression made by the condescending familiarity of persons of superior rank; and our feelings, on such occasions, chide as uncharitable the cold suspicions suggested by our judgment. In obedience to her majesty’s request, he wrote a letter to the earl of Argyle, which was not very pleasing to that nobleman. From deference to the opinion which she had expressed, he enquired more narrowly into the conduct of the bishop of Galloway, and finding some grounds of suspicion, postponed the election. And the report {83} which he gave of the queen’s gracious answer operated in her favour on the public mind.[104]

But if his zeal suffered a temporary intermission, it soon kindled with fresh ardour. On the 19th of May, the archbishop of St Andrews and a number of the principal papists were arraigned by the queen’s orders, before the Lord Justice General, for transgressing the laws; and, having come in her majesty’s will, were committed to ward. But this was merely a stroke of policy, to enable her the more easily to carry her measures in the parliament which met on the following day; and accordingly the prisoners were set at liberty as soon as it was dissolved.[105]

This was the first parliament which had been held since the queen’s arrival in Scotland; and it was natural to expect that their first business would be to ratify the treaty of peace made in July 1560, and the establishment of the protestant religion. If the acts of the former parliament were invalid, as the queen had repeatedly declared, the protestants had no law on their side; they held their religion at the mercy of their sovereign, and might be required, at her pleasure, to submit to popery, as the religion which still possessed the legal establishment. But so well had she laid her plans, such was the effect of her insinuating address, and, above all, so powerful was the temptation of self‑interest on the minds of the protestant leaders, that, by general consent, they passed from this demand, and lost the only favourable {84} opportunity which presented itself, during the reign of Mary, for giving a legal security to the reformed religion, and thereby removing one principal source of national fears and jealousies. An act of oblivion, securing indemnity to those who had been engaged in the late civil war, was indeed passed; but the mode of its enactment virtually implied the invalidity of the treaty in which it had been originally embodied; and the protestants, on their bended knees,[106] supplicated, as a boon from their sovereign, what they had formerly won with their swords, and repeatedly demanded as their right. The other acts made to please the more zealous reformers were expressed with such studied and glaring ambiguity, as to offer an insult to their understandings.[107]

Our Reformer was thunderstruck when first informed of the measures which were in agitation, and could scarcely believe that it was seriously intended to carry them into execution. He immediately procured an interview with some of the leading members of parliament, to whom he represented the danger of allowing that meeting to dissolve without obtaining the ratification of the acts of the preceding parliament, or at least those acts which established the Reformation. They alleged that the queen would never have agreed to call them together, if they had persisted in these demands; but that there was a {85} prospect of her being soon married, and on that occasion they would obtain all their wishes. In vain he reminded them that poets and painters had represented _Occasion_ with a bald hind‑head; in vain he urged, that the event to which they looked forward would be accompanied with difficulties of its own, which would require all their skill and circumspection. Their determination was fixed. He now perceived the full extent of the queen’s dissimulation; and the selfishness and servility of the protestant leaders affected him deeply.

So hot was the altercation between him and the earl of Murray on this subject, that an open rupture ensued. Knox had long looked upon that nobleman as one of the most sincere and steady adherents of the reformed cause; and therefore felt the greater disappointment at his conduct. Under his first irritation he wrote a letter to Murray, in which, after reminding him of his condition when they first became acquainted in London,[108] and the honours to {86} which he had been raised by providence, he solemnly renounced friendship with him, as one who preferred his own interest and the pleasure of his sister to the advancement of religion, left him to the guidance of the new counsellors whom he had chosen, and exonerated him from all future concern in his affairs. This variance, which continued nearly two years, was very gratifying to the queen, and to others who disliked their former familiarity, and who failed not (as Knox informs us) to “cast oil into the flame, until God did quench it by the water of affliction.”[109]

Before the dissolution of the parliament, the Reformer embraced an opportunity of disburdening his mind in the presence of the greater part of the members assembled in his church. After discoursing of the great mercy of God shown to Scotland, in marvellously delivering them from bondage of soul and body, and of the deep ingratitude which he perceived in all ranks of persons, he addressed himself particularly to the nobility. He praised God that he had an opportunity of pouring out the sorrows of his heart in the presence of those who could attest the truth of all that he said. He appealed to their consciences, {87} if he had not, in their greatest extremities, exhorted them to depend upon God, and assured them of preservation and victory, provided they preferred the divine glory to their own lives and secular interests. “I have been with you in your most desperate temptations (continued he, in a strain of impassioned eloquence): in your most extreme dangers I have been with you. St Johnston, Cupar‑moor, and the Craggs of Edinburgh,[110] are yet recent in my heart; yea, that dark and dolorous night wherein all ye, my lords, with shame and fear, left this town, is yet in my mind;[111] and God forbid that ever I forget it! What was, I say, my exhortation to you, and what has fallen in vain of all that ever God promised unto you by my mouth, ye yourselves yet live to testify. There is not one of you, against whom was death and destruction threatened, perished: and how many of your enemies has God plagued before your eyes! Shall this be the thankfulness that ye shall render unto your God? To betray his cause when you have it in your hands to establish it as you please?” He saw nothing (he said) but a cowardly desertion of Christ’s standard. Some had even the effrontery to say that they had neither law nor parliament for their religion. They had the authority of God for their religion, and its truth was independent of human {88} laws; but it was also accepted within this realm in public parliament, and that parliament he would maintain to have been as lawful and as free as any parliament that had ever been held within the kingdom of Scotland.

In the conclusion of his discourse, he adverted to the reports of her majesty’s marriage, and of the princes who courted her hand; and (desiring the audience to mark his words) he predicted the consequences which would ensue, if ever the nobility consented that their sovereign should marry a papist.

Protestants, as well as papists, were offended with the freedom of this sermon, and some who had been most familiar with the preacher now shunned his company. Flatterers were not wanting to run to the queen, and inform her that John Knox had preached against her marriage. After surmounting all opposition to her measures, and managing so successfully the haughty and independent barons of her kingdom, Mary was incensed to think that there should yet be one man of obscure condition, who ventured to condemn her proceedings; and as she could not tame his stubbornness, she determined to punish his temerity. He was ordered instantly to appear before her. Lord Ochiltree, with several gentlemen, accompanied him to the palace; but the superintendent of Angus, Erskine of Dun, was the only person allowed to go with him into the royal presence.

Her majesty received him in a very different manner from what she had done at Lochleven. Never had prince been handled (she passionately exclaimed) {89} as she was; she had borne with him in all his rigorous speeches against herself and her uncles――she had sought his favour by all means――she had offered unto him audience whenever he pleased to admonish her; “and yet,” said she, “I cannot be quit of you. I vow to God I shall be once revenged!” On pronouncing these words with great violence, she burst into a flood of tears, which interrupted her speech. When the queen had composed herself, Knox proceeded calmly to make his defence. Her grace and he had (he said) at different times been engaged in controversy, and he never before had perceived her offended with him. When it should please God to deliver her from the bondage of error in which she had been trained up, through want of instruction in the truth, he trusted that her majesty would not find the liberty of his tongue offensive. Out of the pulpit, he believed, few had occasion to complain of him; but there he was not his own master, but was bound to obey Him who commanded him to speak plainly, and to flatter no flesh on the face of the earth.

“But what have you to do with my marriage?” demanded the queen. He was proceeding to state the extent of his commission as a preacher, and the reasons which led him to touch on that delicate subject; but she interrupted him by repeating her question, “What have ye to do with my marriage? Or what are you in this commonwealth?”――“A subject born within the same, madam,” replied the Reformer, piqued by the last question, and by the contemptuous tone in which it was proposed. “And albeit I be {90} neither earl, lord, nor baron in it, yet has God made me (how abject that ever I be in your eyes) a profitable member within the same. Yea, madam, to me it appertains no less to forewarn of such things as may hurt it, if I foresee them, than it doth to any of the nobility; for both my vocation and conscience require plainness of me. And, therefore, madam, to yourself I say that which I spake in public place: Whensoever the nobility of this realm shall consent that ye be subject to an unfaithful husband, they do as much as in them lieth to renounce Christ, to banish his truth from them, to betray the freedom of this realm, and perchance shall in the end do small comfort to yourself.” At these words, Mary began again to sob and weep with great bitterness. The superintendent, who was a man of mild and gentle spirit, tried to mitigate her grief and resentment; he praised her beauty and her accomplishments; and told her, that there was not a prince in Europe who would not reckon himself happy in gaining her hand. During this scene, the severe and inflexible mind of the Reformer displayed itself. He continued silent, and with unaltered countenance, until the queen had given vent to her feelings. He then protested, that he never took delight in the distress of any creature; it was with great difficulty that he could see his own boys weep when he corrected them for their faults, and far less could he rejoice in her majesty’s tears; but seeing he had given her no just reason of offence, and had only discharged his duty, he was constrained, though unwillingly, to sustain her tears, rather than {91} hurt his conscience, and betray the commonwealth by his silence.

This apology inflamed the queen still more: she ordered him instantly to leave her presence, and to wait the signification of her pleasure in the adjoining room. There he stood as “one whom men had never seen;” all his friends, lord Ochiltree excepted, being afraid to show him the smallest countenance. In this situation he addressed himself to the court‑ladies, who sat in their richest dress in the chamber: “O fair ladies, how plesing war this lyfe of yours, if it sould ever abyde, and then, in the end, that we might pas to hevin with all this gay gear! But fye upon that knave Death, that will come whidder we will or not!” Having engaged them in conversation, by a mixture of seriousness and raillery, he passed the time, till the superintendent came, and informed him that he was allowed to go home until her majesty had taken further advice. The queen insisted to have the judgment of the lords of Articles, whether the words he had used in the pulpit were not actionable; but she was persuaded by her counsellors to abandon the idea of a prosecution. “And so that storme quietit in appearance, bot nevir in the hart.”[112]

No expressions are sufficiently strong to describe the horror which many feel at the monstrous inhumanity of Knox, in remaining unmoved, while “youth, beauty, and royal dignity,”[113] were dissolved in tears {92} before him. Enchanting, surely, must the charms of the queen of Scots have been, and ironhearted the Reformer who could resist the impression of them, when they continue to this day to exercise such a sway over the hearts of men, that even grave and serious authors, not addicted to the language of gallantry and romance, protest, that they cannot read of the tears which she shed on this occasion, without feeling an irresistible inclination to weep along with her. There may be some, however, who, knowing how much real misery there is in the world, are not disposed to waste their feelings unnecessarily, and who are of opinion, that there was not much to commiserate in the condition of the queen, nor to reprobate in the conduct of the Reformer. Considering that she had been so fortunate in her measures, and had found the nobility so ready to gratify all her wishes, the passion by which she suffered herself to be transported was extravagant, and her tears must have been those of anger more than of grief. On the other hand, when we consider that Knox was at this time deserted by his friends, and stood almost alone in resisting the will of a princess, who accomplished her measures chiefly by caresses and tears, we may be disposed to form a more favourable idea of his conduct and motives. We behold not, indeed, the enthusiastic lover, mingling his tears with those of his mistress, and vowing to revenge her wrongs; nor {93} the man of nice sensibility, who loses every other consideration in the gratification of his feelings; but we behold, what is more rare, the stern patriot――the rigid reformer, who, in the discharge of his duty, and in a public cause, can withstand the tide of tenderness as well as the storm of passion. There have been times when such conduct was regarded as the proof of a superior mind; and the man who, from such motives, “hearkened not to the wife of his bosom, nor knew his own children,” has been the object not of censure, but of admiration, in pagan as well as sacred story.

Fertur pudicæ conjugis osculum,
Parvosque natos, ut capitis minor,
Ab se removisse, et virilem
Torvus humi posuisse vultum.

While Knox lay under the displeasure of the court, and had lost the confidence of his principal friends, his enemies judged it a favourable opportunity for attacking him in (what had been universally allowed to be irreproachable) his moral conduct. At the very time that he was engaged in scrutinizing the scandal against Methven, and inflicting upon him the highest censure of the church, it was alleged that he was himself guilty of the same crime. Euphemia Dundas, an inhabitant of Edinburgh, inveighing one day, in the presence of a circle of her acquaintance, against the protestant doctrine and ministers, said, among other things, that John Knox had been a common whoremonger all his life, and that, within a few {94} days past, he “was apprehendit and tane furth of ane killogie with ane common hure.” This might have been passed over by Knox and the church, as an effusion of popish spleen or female scandal; but the recent occurrence at Jedburgh, the situation in which the Reformer at present stood with the court, the public manner in which the charge bad been brought, and the specification of a particular instance, seemed to them to justify and call for a legal investigation. Accordingly, the clerk of the General Assembly, on the 18th of June, gave in a formal representation and petition to the town council, praying, that the woman might be brought before them, and the matter examined; that, if the accusation was found true, the accused might be punished with every degree of merited rigour; and that, if false, the accuser might be dealt with according to the demerit of her offence. She was called, and, appearing before the council, flatly denied that she had ever used any such words; although Knox’s procurator afterwards produced respectable witnesses to prove that she had spoken them.[114]

This convicted calumny, which never gained the smallest credit at the time, would not have deserved notice, had it not been revived, after the Reformer’s death, by the popish writers, who, having caught hold of the report, and dressed it out in all the horrid colours which malice or credulity could suggest, circulated it industriously, by their publications, through {95} the continent. Though I had not been able to trace their slanders to this source, the atrocity of the imputed crimes, the unspotted reputation which Knox uniformly maintained among all his contemporaries, the glaring self‑contradictions of the accusers, and, above all, the notorious spirit of slander and defamation of which they have long stood convicted in the learned world, would have been grounds sufficient for rejecting such charges with detestation. Those who are acquainted with the writings of that period will not think that I speak too strongly; such as are ignorant of them may be satisfied by looking into the notes.[115]

The queen flattered herself that she had at last caught the Reformer in an offence, which would infallibly subject him to punishment. During her residence at Stirling, in the month of August, the domestics whom she left behind her in Holyroodhouse, celebrated the popish worship with greater publicity than had been usual when she was present; and, at the time when the sacrament of the supper was dispensed in Edinburgh, they revived certain superstitious practices which had been laid aside by the Roman catholics, since the establishment of the Reformation. This boldness offended the protestants, and some of them went down to the palace to mark the inhabitants who repaired to the service. Perceiving numbers entering, they burst into the chapel, and presenting themselves at the altar, which was prepared for mass, asked the priest how he “durst be {96} so malapert” as to proceed in that manner, when the queen was absent. Alarmed at this intrusion, the mistress of the household dispatched a messenger to the comptroller, who was attending sermon in St Giles’s church, desiring him to come instantly to save her life and the palace. Having hurried down, accompanied with the magistrates and a guard, the comptroller found every thing quiet, and no appearance of tumult, except what was occasioned by the retinue which he brought along with him.[116] When the report of this affair was conveyed to the queen, she declared her determination not to return to Edinburgh until this riot was punished, and indicted two of the protestants, who had entered the chapel, to stand trial “for forethought felony, hamesucken, and invasion of the palace.” Fearing an intention to proceed to extremities against these men, and that their condemnation would be a preparative to some hostile attempt against their religion, the protestants in Edinburgh {97} resolved that Knox, agreeably to a commission which he had received from the church, should write a circular letter to the principal gentlemen of their persuasion, informing them of the circumstances, and requesting their presence on the day of trial. He wrote the letter according to their request[117] A copy of it having come into the hands of Sinclair, bishop of Ross, and president of the Court of Session, who was a great personal enemy to Knox, he conveyed it immediately to the queen at Stirling. She communicated it to the privy council, who, to her great satisfaction, pronounced it treasonable; but, to give the greater solemnity to the proceedings, it was resolved that an extraordinary meeting of the counsellors, assisted by other noblemen, should be held at Edinburgh, in the end of December, to try the cause; and the Reformer was summoned to appear before this convention.[118]

Previously to the day of trial, great influence was {98} used in private to persuade him to acknowledge a fault, and to throw himself on the queen’s mercy. This he peremptorily refused to do. The master of Maxwell, (afterwards lord Herries,) with whom he had long been intimate, threatened him with the loss of his friendship, and told him that he would repent, if he did not submit to the queen, for men would not bear with him as they had hitherto done. He replied, that he did not understand such language: he had never opposed her majesty except in the article of religion, and surely it was not meant that he should bow to her in that matter; if God stood by him, (which he would do as long as he confided in him, and preferred his glory to his own life,) he regarded little how men should behave towards him; nor did he know wherein they had borne with him, unless in hearing the word of God from his mouth, which, if they should reject, he would lament it, but the injury would be their own.

The earl of Murray, and secretary Maitland, sent for him to the clerk register’s house, and had a long conversation with him to the same purpose. They represented the pains which they had taken to mitigate the queen’s resentment, and intimated that nothing could save him but a timely submission. His reply was similar to that which he had given to Maxwell, that he never would confess a fault when he was conscious of none, and had not learned to “cry treason at every thing which the multitude called treason, nor to fear what they feared.” The wily secretary, finding him determined to abide the consequences {99} of a trial, endeavoured to bring on a dispute on the subject, with the view of ascertaining the grounds on which he meant to defend himself; but Knox, aware of his craft, declined the conversation, and told him it would be foolish to intrust with his defence one who had already prejudged his cause, and pronounced him guilty.

On the day appointed for the trial, the public anxiety was raised to a high pitch, and the palace‑yard and avenues were crowded with people, who waited to learn the result. The Reformer was conducted to the chamber in which the lords were already assembled, and engaged in consultation. When the queen had taken her seat, and perceived Knox standing uncovered at the foot of the table, she burst into a loud fit of laughter. “That man,” said she, “made me weep, and shed never a tear himself: I will now see if I can make him weep.” The secretary opened the proceedings with greater gravity, by stating, in a speech addressed to the Reformer, the reasons why the queen had convened him before her nobility. “Let him acknowledge his own handwriting,” said the queen, “and then we shall judge of the contents of the letter.” A copy of the circular letter being handed to him, he looked at the subscription, and owned that it was his; adding, that though he had subscribed a number of blanks, he had such confidence in the fidelity of the scribe, that he was ready to acknowledge the contents as well as the subscription. “You have done more than I would have done,” said Maitland. “Charity is not suspicious,” {100} replied the Reformer. “Well, well,” said the queen, “read your own letter, and then answer to such things as shall be demanded of you.”――“I will do the best I can,” said he; and having read the letter with an audible voice, returned it to the queen’s advocate, who was commanded to accuse him.

“Heard you ever, my lords, a more despiteful and treasonable letter?” said the queen, looking round the table. “Mr Knox, are you not sorry from your heart, and do you not repent that such a letter has passed your pen, and from you has come to the knowledge of others?” said Maitland. “My lord secretary, before I repent, I must be taught my offence.”――“Offence! if there were no more but the convocation of the queen’s lieges, the offence cannot be denied.”――“Remember yourself, my lord; there is a difference between a lawful convocation and an unlawful. If I have been guilty in this, I offended oft since I came last into Scotland; for what convocation of the brethren has ever been to this hour, unto which my pen served not?”――“Then was then, and now is now,” said the secretary; “we have no need of such convocations as sometimes we have had.”――“The time that has been is even now before my eyes,” rejoined the Reformer; “for I see the poor flock in no less danger than it has been at any time before, except that the devil has got a vizor upon his face. Before, he came in with his own face, discovered by open tyranny, seeking the destruction of all that refused idolatry; and then, I think, you will confess the brethren lawfully assembled themselves for defence of their lives; {101} and now the devil comes under the cloak of justice, to do that which God would not suffer him to do by strength”――――

“What is this?” interrupted her majesty, who was offended that he should be allowed such liberty of speech, and thought that she could bring him more closely to the question than any of her counsellors. “What is this? Methinks you trifle with him. Who gave him authority to make convocation of my lieges? Is not that treason?”――“No, madam,” replied lord Ruthven, displeased at the keenness which the queen showed in the cause; “for he makes convocation of the people to hear prayers and sermon almost daily; and whatever your grace or others will think thereof, we think it no treason.”――“Hold your peace,” said the queen; “and let him make answer for himself.”――“I began, madam,” resumed Knox, “to reason with the secretary (whom I take to be a better dialectician than your grace) that all convocations are not unlawful; and now my lord Ruthven has given the instance.”――“I will say nothing against your religion, nor against your convening to your sermons; but what authority have you to convocate my subjects when you will, without my commandment?” He answered, that at his own will he had never convened four persons in Scotland, but at the orders of his brethren he had given many advertisements, and great multitudes had assembled in consequence of them; and if her grace complained that this had been done without her command, he begged leave to answer, that the same objection might be made to {102} all that had been done respecting the reformation of religion in this kingdom. He had never, he said, loved to stir up tumults――never been a preacher of rebellion; on the contrary, he had always taught the people to obey princes and magistrates in all their lawful commands. If he had been more active than the rest of his brethren in calling extraordinary assemblies of the protestants, it was owing to a charge which he had received from the church to do so, as often as he saw a necessity for such meetings, and especially when religion was exposed to danger; and he had repeatedly requested to be exonerated from this irksome and invidious charge, but could not obtain his wish. He must, therefore, be convicted by a just law, before he would profess sorrow for what he had done: he thought he had done no wrong.

“You shall not escape so,” said the queen. “Is it not treason, my lords, to accuse a prince of cruelty? I think there be acts of parliament against such whisperers.” Several of their lordships said that there were such laws. “But wherein can I be accused of this?” asked Knox. “Read this part of your own bill,” said the queen, who showed herself an acute prosecutor. She then ordered the following sentence to be read from his letter:――“This fearful summons is directed against them, [the two persons who were indicted,] to make no doubt a preparative on a few, that a door may be opened to execute cruelty upon a greater multitude.”――“Lo!” exclaimed the queen, exultingly; “what say you to that?” The eyes of the assembly were fixed on the Reformer, and {103} all were anxious to know what answer he would make to this charge.

“Is it lawful for me, madam, to answer for myself? or, shall I be condemned unheard?”――“Say what you can; for I think you have enough to do,” said the queen. “I will first then desire of your grace, madam, and of this most honourable audience, whether your grace knows not, that the obstinate papists are deadly enemies to all such as profess the gospel of Jesus Christ, and that they most earnestly desire the extermination of them, and of the true doctrine that is taught within this realm?” Mary was silent; but the lords, with one voice, exclaimed, “God forbid, that ever the lives of the faithful, or yet the staying of the doctrine, stood in the power of the papists! for just experience has taught us what cruelty lies in their hearts.”――“I must proceed, then,” said the Reformer. “Seeing that I perceive that all will grant, that it was a barbarous thing to destroy such a multitude as profess the gospel of Christ within this realm, which oftener than once or twice they have attempted to do by force,――they, by God and by his providence being disappointed, have invented more crafty and dangerous practices, to wit, to make the prince a party under colour of law; and so what they could not do by open force, they shall perform by crafty deceit. For who thinks, my lords, that the insatiable cruelty of the papists (within this realm I mean) shall end in the murdering of these two brethren, now unjustly summoned, and more unjustly to {104} be accused?――And therefore, madam, cast up, when you list, the acts of your parliament, I have offended nothing against them; for I accuse not, in my letter, your grace, nor yet your nature, of cruelty. But I affirm yet again, that the pestilent papists, who have inflamed your grace against those poor men at this present, are the sons of the devil, and therefore must obey the desires of their father, who has been a liar and manslayer from the beginning.”――“You forget yourself! you are not now in the pulpit,” said the chancellor. “I am in the place where I am demanded of conscience to speak the truth; and therefore the truth I speak, impugn it whoso list.” He added, again addressing the queen, that persons who appeared to be of honest, gentle, and meek natures, had often been corrupted by wicked counsel; and that the papists, who had her ear, were dangerous counsellors, and such her mother had found them to be.

Mary, perceiving that nothing was to be gained by reasoning, began now to upbraid him with his harsh behaviour to her, at their last interview. He spake “fair enough” at present before the lords, she said; but on that occasion he caused her to shed many salt tears, and said, “he set not by her weeping.” This drew from him a vindication of his conduct, in the course of which he gave a narrative of that conference. After this, the secretary, having spoken with the queen, told Knox that he was at liberty to return home for that night. “I thank God and the queen’s majesty,” said he, and retired.

{105} When Knox had withdrawn, the judgment of the nobility was taken respecting his conduct. All of them, with the exception of the immediate dependents of the court, gave it as their opinion, that he had not been guilty of any breach of the laws. The secretary, who had assured the queen of his condemnation, was enraged at this decision. He brought her majesty, who had retired, again into the room, and proceeded to call the votes a second time. This attempt to overawe them incensed the nobility. “What!” said they, “shall the laird of Lethington have power to control us? or, shall the presence of a woman cause us to offend God, and to condemn an innocent man, against our consciences?” They then repeated the vote which they had already given, absolving him from all offence, and, at the same time, praising his modest appearance, and the judicious manner in which he had conducted his defence.

Mary was unable to conceal the mortification and displeasure which she felt at this unexpected acquittal. When the bishop of Ross, who had been the informer, gave his vote on the same side with the rest, she taunted him openly in the presence of the court. “Trouble not the child!” said she; “I pray you trouble him not! for he is newly wakened out of his sleep. Why should not the old fool follow the footsteps of those that have passed before him?” The bishop replied coldly, that her majesty might easily know, that his vote was not influenced by partiality to the person accused.――“That nicht was nyther {106} dancing nor fiddeling in the court; for madam was disappoynted of hir purpose, whilk was to have had Johne Knox in hir will, by vote of her nobility.”[119]

{107}
PERIOD VIII.

FROM DECEMBER 1563, WHEN HE WAS ACQUITTED FROM A CHARGE OF
TREASON, TO THE YEAR 1570, WHEN HE WAS STRUCK WITH APOPLEXY.

The indignation of the queen at the Reformer’s escape from punishment did not soon abate;[120] and the effects of it fell upon the courtiers who had voted for his exculpation, and upon those who had been unsuccessful in opposing it. The Earl of Murray was among the former,[121] Maitland among the latter. In order to appease her wrath, they again attempted to persuade Knox to soothe her by some voluntary submission; and they engaged that, if he would only agree to go within the walls of the castle, he should be allowed to return immediately to his own house. To this he refused to yield, being convinced that by such a compliance he would throw discredit on the judgment of the nobility who had acquitted him, and confess himself to have been a mover of sedition. Disappointed in their object, they endeavoured to injure him by whispers and detraction; circulating that he had no authority from his brethren for what {108} he had done, and that he arrogated a papal power over the Scottish church, by issuing his letters at pleasure, and exacting an implicit obedience to them. These charges were very groundless and unjust; for there never was, perhaps, an individual who possessed as much influence, and at the same time was so careful to avoid all appearance of assuming superiority over his brethren, or of acting by his own private authority, in matters of public and common concern.

At the meeting of the General Assembly, held in the close of this year, he declined taking any share in the deliberations; but after the public business had been disposed of, he requested liberty to speak on an affair which concerned himself. He stated what he had done in writing the late circular letter, the proceedings to which it had given rise, and the surmises which were still circulating to his prejudice; and he insisted that the church should now examine his conduct in that matter, and particularly that they should declare whether or not they had given him a commission to advertise the brethren, when he foresaw any danger threatening their religion, or any difficult case which required their advice. The courtiers strenuously opposed the discussion of this question; but it was taken up, and the assembly, by a great majority, found that he had been charged with such a commission, and that, in the advertisement which he had lately given, he had not exceeded his powers.[122]

{109} Knox had remained a widower upwards of three years. But in March 1564, he contracted a second marriage with Margaret Stewart, daughter of lord Ochiltree, a nobleman of amiable dispositions, who had been long familiar with our Reformer, and had steadily adhered to him when he was deserted by his other friends.[123] She continued to discharge the duties of a wife to him, with the most pious and affectionate assiduity, until the time of his death. The popish writers, who envied the honours of the Scottish Reformer, have represented this marriage as a proof of his great ambition, and, in the excess of their spleen, have ridiculously imputed to him the project of aiming to raise his progeny to the throne of Scotland; because the family of Ochiltree was of the blood royal! They are quite clear, too, that he gained the heart of the young lady by means of {110} sorcery, and the assistance of the devil. But it seems, that, powerfully as he was seconded, he could not succeed in another attempt which he had previously made; for the same writers inform us, that he paid his addresses to lady Barbara Hamilton, eldest daughter of the duke of Chastelherault, and widow of Lord Fleming, by whom he was repulsed. The account of the appearance that he made at the time of his marriage, which shall be inserted in the notes, the reader will receive according to the degree of its probability, and the credit he may think due to the authorities upon which it rests.[124]

The country continued in a state of quietness during the year 1564; but the same jealousies still subsisted between the court and the church.[125] Her majesty’s prejudices against the reformed religion were unabated, and she maintained a correspondence with its sworn enemies on the continent, which could not altogether escape the vigilance of her protestant subjects.[126] The preachers, on their side, did {111} not relax in their zealous warnings against popery, and as to the dangers which they apprehended; while they complained of the beggary to which the greater part of their own number was reduced, and of the growing lukewarmness of the protestant courtiers. The latter felt uneasy under these reproaches, and, in concert with the queen, were anxious to restrain the license of the pulpit. They began by addressing themselves privately to the more moderate and complying of the ministers, whom they gained over, by their persuasions, to a partial approbation of their measures; and having so far succeeded, they ventured to propose the matter in public, and to request the sanction of the leading members of the General Assembly.

Without intending to vindicate the latitude which was taken by particular preachers at that time, it may be said, in general, that a systematic attempt to restrain the liberty of speech in the pulpit, farther than the correction of occasional excesses might require, would have been a measure fraught with danger to the protestant interest. The reformed preachers were the most vigilant and incorrupt guardians of national liberty; an honourable distinction which their successors maintained during the remainder of that century. It is better to be awaked with rudeness, or even by a false alarm, than to be allowed to sleep on in the midst of dangers. Who would muzzle {112} the mouth of the wakeful animal which guards the house against thieves, because the inmates are sometimes disturbed by his nocturnal vociferation? or substitute in his place a “dumb dog, that cannot bark, sleeping, lying down, loving to slumber?”

Knox, the freedom and sharpness of whose censures the courtiers felt most deeply, was the person whom they chiefly wished to restrain; but it was no easy matter either to overawe him by authority, or by reasoning to procure his acquiescence in their proposals. In the month of June, a conference was held between the principal statesmen and ministers of the church, when this subject was discussed; and in an elaborate debate with Maitland, Knox defended the leading points of his doctrine which had given offence to the court. This debate “admirably displays the talents and character of both the disputants; the acuteness of the former, embellished with learning, but prone to subtlety; the vigorous understanding of the latter, delighting in bold sentiments, and superior to all fear.”[127]

Maitland opened the conference with a plausible speech. He set forth the benefits which they had enjoyed under her Majesty’s government, and dwelt on the liberty which she had granted them in religious matters; he urged the great importance of the ministers of the church cultivating her friendship by every good office in their power, and endeavouring to inspire the people with a favourable opinion of {113} her person and administration; and pointed out the hurtful effects of their being observed to disagree in their form of prayer for her, and in their doctrine concerning the duty of subjects. Addressing himself particularly to Knox, he told him, with much politeness and address, that it was the earnest wish of the council that he should study greater caution, when he had occasion to speak of her majesty from the pulpit: not that they were afraid of his saying any thing very improper, but because the liberty which he used would be taken by persons less modest and prudent. Knox replied to the secretary’s speech. He drew a very different picture of the state of affairs since the queen came to the country; stated the grievances under which the church laboured, and which were daily increasing, instead of being redressed; and added, that, in these circumstances, the courtiers ought not to be surprised at the complaints of the ministers, and the liberties which they took in rebuking sins, which were openly committed, and persisted in notwithstanding all due admonition. At the same time, he professed his readiness to account for any part of his own conduct which had given offence, and to listen to the objections which might be urged against it.

Maitland specified the mode in which the Reformer usually prayed for her majesty, as one thing which gave offence to him and his colleagues. Prayers and tears, it has often been alleged, are the only arms which Christians ought to employ against injuries. But those who have deprived them of other {114} weapons, have usually envied them the use of these also; and if their prayers have not been smoothed down to the temper of their adversaries, so as to become mere compliments to princes under colour of an address to the Almighty, they have often been pronounced to be seditious and treasonable.[128] Knox repeated his common form of prayer for the queen, and requested to be informed in what respects it was deserving of reprehension. “Ye pray for the queen’s majesty with a condition,” replied Maitland, “saying, ‘Illuminate her heart, if thy good pleasure be.’ Where have ye example of such prayer?”――“Wherever the examples are,” rejoined Knox, “I am assured of the rule, ‘If we shall ask any thing according to his will, he will hear us;’ and Christ commanded us to pray, ‘Thy will be done.’”――“But in so doing ye put a doubt in the people’s head of her conversion,” said Maitland.――“Not I, my lord; but her own obstinate rebellion causes more than me to doubt of her conversion.”――“Wherein rebels she against God?”――“In all the actions of her life, but in these two heads especially: that she will not hear the preaching of the blessed evangel of Jesus Christ, and that she maintains that idol the mass.”――“She thinks not that rebellion, but good religion.”――“So {115} thought they who offered their children to Moloch, and yet the spirit of God affirms, that they offered them unto devils, and not unto God.”――“But yet ye can produce the example of none that has so prayed before you,” said the secretary, pressing his former objection. “Well then,” said Knox; “Peter said these words to Simon Magus, ‘Repent of this thy wickedness, and pray to God, that, if it be possible, the thought of thine heart may be forgiven thee.’ And think ye not, my lord secretary, that the same doubt may touch my heart as touching the queen’s conversion, that then touched the heart of the apostle?”――“I would never hear you or any other call that in doubt,” replied Maitland.――“But your will is no assurance to my conscience.”――“Why say ye that she refuses admonitions?” said Maitland; “she will gladly hear any man.”――“But what obedience ensues? Or, when shall she be seen to give her presence to the public preaching?”――“I think never, so long as she is thus entreated,” replied the secretary. “And so long,” rejoined the Reformer, “ye and all others must be content that I pray so as I may be assured to be heard of my God, either in making her comfortable to his church, or, if he has appointed her to be a scourge to the same, that we may have patience, and she may be bridled.”