Chapter VII: Appendix: , 374 (6)

Morton having obtained from the court a gift of the archbishopric of St Andrews, vacant by the execution of Hamilton, entered into a private agreement respecting its revenues with John Douglas, rector of the university, whom he presented to that see. At the meeting of parliament in Stirling, August 1571, the commissioners of the General Assembly protested against this transaction; but through the interest of Morton, Douglas, though not yet elected, was admitted to a seat in parliament, and the new scheme for seizing on the ecclesiastical livings was confirmed, notwithstanding the warm remonstrances of the ministers of the church, and the strenuous opposition of the more zealous and disinterested barons.[250] Bishoprics and other great benefices were now openly conferred on noblemen, on persons totally unqualified for the ministry, and even on minors. Pluralities were multiplied; the ecclesiastical courts were hindered in the exercise of their jurisdiction;[251] and the collectors of the church were prohibited from gathering the thirds, until some new regulation was adopted for supplying the necessities of the court.[252]

These proceedings having created great dissatisfaction through the nation, the regent and council called an extraordinary assembly of superintendents and other ministers, to meet at Leith in January {199} 1572, to consult about an order which might prove more acceptable. Through the influence of the court, this convention consented that the titles of archbishop, and other ecclesiastical dignitaries, should be retained; that the bounds of the ancient dioceses should not be altered during the king’s minority; and that qualified parsons from among the ministers should be advanced to these dignities. They, however, allotted no greater power to archbishops and bishops than to superintendents, with whom they were to be equally subject to the assemblies of the church.[253] These regulations were submitted to the ensuing General Assembly at St Andrews, but as that meeting was thinly attended, it came to no determination respecting them. The Assembly held at Perth, in August 1572, resumed the subject, and came to the following resolution:――That the regulations contained certain titles, such as archbishop, dean, archdean, chancellor, and chapter, which savoured of popery, and were scandalous and offensive to their ears; and that the whole assembly, including the commissioners which had met at Leith, unanimously protested that they did not approve of these titles, that they submitted to the regulations merely as an interim arrangement, and that they would exert themselves to obtain a more perfect order from the regent and {200} council.[254] Such was the origin and nature of that species of episcopacy which was introduced into the reformed church of Scotland, during the minority of James VI. It was disapproved of by the ministers of the church; and on the part of the courtiers and nobility, it does not appear to have proceeded from predilection to hierarchical government, but from the desire which they felt to obtain possession of the revenues of the church. This was emphatically expressed by the name of tulchan bishops,[255] which was commonly applied to those who were at that time admitted to the office.

Knox did not fail from the beginning to oppose these encroachments on the rights and property of the church. Being unable to attend the General Assembly held at Stirling in August 1571, he addressed a letter to it, warning the members of the new contest which he foresaw they would have to maintain, and animating them to fidelity and courage. “And now, brethren,” says he, “because the daily decay of natural strength threateneth my certain and sudden departing from the misery of this life, of love and conscience I exhort you, yea, in the fear of God, I charge and command you, that ye take heed unto yourselves, and to the flock over which God hath placed you pastors. Unfaithful and traitorous to the flock shall ye be before the Lord Jesus Christ, {201} if, with your consent directly, ye suffer unworthy men to be thrust into the ministry of the church, under whatever pretence it shall be. Remember and judge before whom we must make our account, and resist that tyranny as ye would avoid hell‑fire. This battle will be hard, but in the second point it will be harder; that is, that with the like uprightness and strength in God, ye gainstand the merciless devourers of the patrimony of the church. If men will spoil, let them do it to their own peril and condemnation, but communicate ye not with their sins, of whatsoever estate they be, by consent nor by silence; but with public proclamation make this known unto the world, that ye are innocent of robbery, whereof ye will seek redress of God and man. God give you wisdom and stout courage in so just a cause, and me an happy end.”[256] In a letter which he afterwards wrote to Wishart of Pitarrow, he also expresses himself in a strain of honest but keen indignation at the avarice of the nobility.[257]

It has been insinuated that Knox gave his approbation to the resolutions of the convention at Leith to restore the episcopal office; and the articles sent by him to the General Assembly, in August, 1572, {202} have been appealed to as a proof of this. But all that can be fairly deduced from these articles is, that he desired the conditions and limitations agreed upon by that convention to be strictly observed in the election of bishops, in opposition to the granting of bishoprics to laymen,[258] and to the simoniacal pactions which the ministers made with the nobles on receiving presentations. Provided one of the propositions made by him to the Assembly had been enforced, and the bishops had been bound to give an account of the whole of their rents, and either to support ministers in the particular places from which they derived these, or else to pay into the funds of the church the sums requisite for this purpose, it is evident that the mercenary views both of patrons and presentees would have been defeated, and the church would have gained her object, the use of the episcopal revenues. The prospect of this induced some honest ministers to agree to the proposed regulations, at the convention held in Leith. But it required a greater portion of disinterested firmness than falls to most men, to act upon this principle;[259] and the nobles were able to find, even at that period, a sufficient {203} number of pliant, needy, or covetous ministers, to be the partners or the dupes of their avarice.

Though our Reformer was of opinion, that, in certain circumstances of the church, a power might be delegated to some ministers to inspect the congregations within a particular district, and accordingly recommended the appointment of superintendents at the first establishment of the Reformation in Scotland, yet he did not allow of any class of office‑bearers in the church, under whatever name, who were superior either in office or in order to ministers or presbyters. His sentiments were not more favourable to diocesan episcopacy in his latter than they had been in his earlier days. Writing to a correspondent in England, in the year 1568, he says, “I would most gladly pass through the course that God hath appointed to my labours, giving thanks to his holy name, for that it hath pleased his mercy to make me not a lord bishop, but a painful preacher of his blessed evangel.”[260] In his correspondence with Beza, he had informed him of the government established in the Scottish church; and at this very time he received a letter from that reformer, congratulating him that he had banished the order of bishops, and admonishing him and his colleagues to beware of suffering it to re‑enter under the deceitful pretext of preserving unity.[261] He had an opportunity of {204} publicly declaring his sentiments on this subject, at the installation of Douglas as archbishop of St Andrews. Having preached as usual on Sabbath, February 13, 1572, the earl of Morton, who was present, desired him to inaugurate Douglas; but he positively refused, and pronounced an anathema against both the donor and the receiver of the bishopric. The provost of St Salvator’s college having said that Knox’s conduct proceeded from disappointment, because the bishopric had not been conferred on himself, he, on the following Sabbath, repelled this invidious charge. He had refused, he said, a greater bishopric than that of St Andrews, which he might have had by the favour of greater men than Douglas had his:[262] what he had spoken was for the exoneration of his conscience, that the church of Scotland might not be subject to that order, especially after a very different one had been settled in the Book of Discipline, subscribed by the nobility, and ratified by parliament. He lamented also that a burden should have been laid upon an old man, which twenty men of the greatest ability could not sustain.[263] In the General Assembly held {205} at St Andrews in the following month, he not only entered a protest against the election of Douglas,[264] but also “opponed himself directly to the making of bishops.”[265]

While he was engaged in these contests, his bodily strength was every day sensibly decaying. Yet he continued to preach, although unable to walk to the pulpit without assistance; and, when warmed with his subject, he forgot his weakness, and electrified the audience with his eloquence. James Melville, afterwards minister of Anstruther, was then a student at the college, and one of his constant hearers. The account which he has given of his appearance is exceedingly striking; and, as any translation would enfeeble it, I shall give it in his own words. “Of all the benefits I had that year [1571], was the coming of that maist notable profet and apostle of our nation, Mr Johne Knox, to St Andrews, who, be the faction of the queen occupeing the castell and town of Edinburgh, was compellit to remove therefra, with a number of the best, and chusit to come to St Andrews. I heard him teache there the prophecies of Daniel, that simmer and the wintar following. I had my pen and my little buike, and tuke away sic things as I could comprehend. In the opening up of his text, he was moderat the space of an half houre; but when he entered to application, he made me so {206} to grew[266] and tremble, that I could not hald a pen to wryt.――He was very weik. I saw him, everie day of his doctrine, go hulie and fear,[267] with a furring of marticks about his neck, a staffe in the ane hand, and gude, godlie Richart Ballanden, his servand, halden up the uther oxter,[268] from the abbey to the parish kirk, and, by the said Richart, and another servand, lifted up to the pulpit, whar he behovit to lean at his first entrie; bot, er he haid done with his sermone, he was sa active and vigorous, that he was lyk to ding the pulpit in blads,[269] and flie out of it.”[270]

The persons with whom the Reformer was most familiar at St Andrews, were the professors of St Leonard’s college, who often visited him at his lodging {207} in the abbey. This college was distinguished by its warm attachment to the doctrines of the Reformation, which it had embraced at a very early period;[271] while the two other colleges were disaffected to the authority of the king, and several of their teachers suspected of leaning to popery. The Reformer was accustomed to amuse himself by walking in St Leonard’s Yard, and to look with peculiar complacency on the students, whom he regarded as the rising hope of the church. He would sometimes call them to him, and bless them, and exhort them to be diligent in their studies, to attend to the instructions of their teachers, and imitate the good example which they set before them, to acquaint themselves with God, and with the great work which he had lately performed in their native country, and to cleave to the good cause. These familiar advices, from a person so venerable, made a deep impression on the minds of the young men. He even condescended to be present at a college‑exercise performed by them at the marriage of one of their regents, in which the siege and taking of Edinburgh castle was dramatically represented.[272]

During his stay at St Andrews, he published a vindication of the reformed religion, in answer to a letter written by Tyrie, a Scottish Jesuit. The argumentative part of the work was finished by him in 1568; but he sent it abroad at this time, with additions, as a farewell address to the world, and a {208} dying testimony to the truth which he had long taught and defended.[273] Along with it he published one of the religious letters which he had formerly written to his mother‑in‑law, Mrs Bowes; and, in an advertisement prefixed to this, he informs us that she had lately departed this life, and that he could not allow the opportunity to slip of acquainting the public, by means of this letter, with the intimate Christian friendship which had so long subsisted between them.

The ardent desire which he felt to be released by death from the troubles of the present life, appears in all that he wrote about this time. “Weary of the world,” and “thirsting to depart,” are expressions frequently used by him. The dedication of the above‑mentioned work is thus inscribed:――“John Knox, the servant of Jesus Christ, now wearie of the world, and daylie luiking for the resolution of this my earthly tabernakle, to the faithful that God of his mercie shall appoint to fight after me.” In the conclusion of it, he says, “Call for me, deir brethren, that God, in his mercy, will pleis to put end to my long and panefull battell. For now being unable to {209} fight, as God sumtymes gave strength, I thirst an end befoir I be more troublesum to the faithfull. And yet, Lord, let my desyre be moderate be thy holy spirit.” In a prayer subjoined to the dedication, are these words:――“To thee, O Lord, I commend my spirit. For I thirst to be resolved from this body of sin, and am assured that I shall rise agane in glorie; howsoever it be that the wicked for a tyme sall trode me and others, thy servandes, under their feit. Be merciful, O Lord, unto the kirk within this realme; continew with it the light of thy evangell; augment the number of true preicheris. And let thy mercifull providence luke upon my desolate bedfellow, the fruit of hir bosome, and my two deir children, Nathanael and Eleazar.[274] Now, Lord, put end to my miserie.” The advertisement “to the faithful reader,” dated at St Andrews, 12th July 1571, concludes in the following manner:――“I hartly salute and take my good night of all the faithful of both realmes, earnestly desyring the assistance of their prayers, that, without any notable {210} slander to the evangel of Jesus Christ, I may end my battel; for, as the worlde is wearie of me, so am I of it.”

The General Assembly being appointed to meet at Perth on the 6th of August, he took his leave of them in a letter, along with which he transmitted certain articles and questions which he recommended to their consideration. The Assembly returned him an answer, declaring their approbation of his propositions, and their earnest desires for his preservation and comfort.[275] The last piece of public service which he performed at their request, was to examine and approve of a sermon which had been lately preached by David Ferguson, minister of Dunfermline. His subscription to this sermon, like every thing which proceeded from his mouth or pen about this time, is uncommonly striking. “John Knox, with my dead hand, but glaid heart, praising God, that of his mercy he levis such light to his kirk in this desolation.”[276]

From the rapid decline of his health, in the spring of 1572, there was every appearance of his ending his days at St Andrews; but it pleased God that he {211} should be restored once more to his flock, and allowed to die peaceably among them. In consequence of a cessation of arms agreed to, in the end of July, between the regent and the adherents of the queen, the city of Edinburgh was abandoned by the forces of the latter, and secured from the annoyance of the garrison in the castle. As soon as the banished citizens returned to their houses,[277] they sent a deputation to St Andrews, with a letter to Knox, expressive of their earnest desire “that once again his voice might be heard among them,” and entreating him immediately to come to Edinburgh, if his health would at all permit; for, said they, “loath we are to disease or hurt your person any ways, but far loather to want you.”[278] After reading the letter, and conversing with the commissioners, he expressed his willingness to return, but under the express condition, that he should not be urged to preserve silence respecting the conduct of those who held the castle; “whose treasonable and tyrannical deeds he would {212} cry out against, as long as he was able to speak.” He, therefore, desired them to acquaint their constituents with this, lest they should afterwards repent of his austerity, and be apprehensive of ill‑treatment on his account. The commissioners assured him, that they did not mean to put a bridle in his mouth, but wished him to discharge his duty as he had been accustomed to do. He repeated this intimation, after his arrival at Edinburgh, to the principal persons of his congregation, and received the same assurance from them, before he would resume preaching.[279]

On the 17th of August, to the great joy of the queen’s faction, whom he had overawed during his residence among them, the Reformer left St Andrews, along with his family. He was accompanied so far on his journey by the principal persons of his acquaintance in the town, who sorrowfully took their leave of him, in the prospect of seeing his face no more. Being obliged by his weakness to travel slowly, it was the 23d of the month before he reached Leith, from which, after resting a day or two, he came to Edinburgh. The inhabitants enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing him again in his own pulpit, on the first Sabbath after he arrived; but his voice was now so enfeebled that he could not be heard by the half of the congregation. Nobody was more sensible of this than himself. He therefore requested his session to provide a smaller house, in which he could be heard, if it were only by a hundred persons; for his voice, {213} he said, was not able, even in his best time, to extend over the multitude which assembled in that large church, much less now when he was so greatly debilitated. This request was readily complied with by the session.[280]

During his absence, a coolness had taken place between his colleague and the parish, who found fault with him for temporizing during the time that the queen’s party retained possession of the city. In consequence of this, they had mutually agreed to separate.[281] After preaching two years in Montrose, Craig removed to Aberdeen, where he acted as visitor of the churches in Buchan and Mar; and was afterwards chosen minister to the royal household, a situation which he held until his death in 1600, at the advanced age of eighty‑eight.[282] Being deprived of both their pastors, and having no prospect that Knox, although he should return, would be capable of performing the public service among them, the kirk‑session of Edinburgh had instructed their delegates to the General Assembly lately held at Perth, to petition that court for liberty to choose from the ministry a colleague to the Reformer. The Assembly granted their request, and ordained any minister (those of Perth and Dundee excepted) who might be {214} chosen by Knox, the superintendent of Lothian, and the church of Edinburgh, to comply with their invitation, and remove to the capital.[283] When the commissioners came to St Andrews, they found the superintendent along with Knox, and having consulted with them, it was agreed to nominate and recommend James Lawson, sub‑principal of the university of Aberdeen, a man eminent for his piety, learning, and eloquence.[284] Perceiving, on his return to Edinburgh, that he could not long be able to endure the fatigue of preaching, and that he was already incapacitated for all other ministerial duties, Knox was extremely solicitous to have this business speedily settled, lest the congregation should be left “as sheep without a shepherd,” when he was called away. The session and the superintendent having sent letters of invitation to Lawson, the Reformer wrote him at the same time, urging his speedy compliance with their requests. This letter is very descriptive of the state of his mind at this interesting period.

“All worldlie strenth, yea ewin in thingis spirituall, decayes; and yet sall never the work of God decay. Belovit brother, seeing that God of his mercie, far above my expectatione, has callit me ones againe to Edinburgh, and yet that I feill nature so {215} decayed, and daylie to decay, that I luke not for a long continewance of my battell, I wald gladlie anes discharge my conscience into your bosome, and into the bosome of utheris, in whome I think the feare of God remanes. Gif I hath had the habilitie of bodie, I suld not have put you to the pane to the whilk I now requyre you, that is, anes to visite me, that we may conferre together of heawinlie thingis; for into earth there is no stability, except the kirk of Jesus Christ, ever fightand vnder the crosse, to whose myghtie protectione I hartlie comitt you. Of Edinburgh the vii of September, 1572. Jhone Knox.

“Haist, leist ye come too lait.”[285]

In the beginning of September, intelligence reached Edinburgh, that the admiral of France, the brave, the generous, the pious Coligni, was murdered in the city of Paris, by the orders of Charles IX. Immediately on the back of this, tidings arrived of that most detestable and unparalleled scene of barbarity and treachery, the general massacre of the protestants throughout that kingdom. Post after post brought fresh accounts of the most shocking and unheard‑of cruelties. Hired cut‑throats and fanatical cannibals marched from city to city, paraded the streets, and entered into the houses of those that were marked out for destruction. No reverence was shown to the hoary head, no respect to rank or talents, no pity to tender age or sex. Infants, aged matrons, and women {216} upon the point of their delivery, were trodden under the feet of the assassins, or dragged with hooks into the rivers; others, after being thrown into prison, were instantly brought out and butchered in cold blood. Seventy thousand persons were murdered in one week. For several days, the streets of Paris literally ran with blood. The savage monarch, standing at the windows of the palace, with his courtiers, glutted his eyes with the inhuman spectacle, and amused himself with firing upon the miserable fugitives who sought shelter at his merciless gates.[286]

The intelligence of this massacre (for which a solemn thanksgiving was offered up at Rome by order of the pope[287]) produced the same horror and consternation in Scotland as in every other protestant country.[288] It inflicted a deep wound on the exhausted spirit of Knox. Besides the blow struck at the reformed body, he had to lament the loss of many {217} individuals, eminent for piety, learning, and rank, whom he numbered among his acquaintance. Being conveyed to the pulpit, and summoning up the remainder of his strength, he thundered the vengeance of Heaven against “that cruel murderer and false traitor, the king of France,” and desired Le Croc, the French ambassador, to tell his master, that sentence was pronounced against him in Scotland, that the divine vengeance would never depart from him, nor from his house, if repentance did not ensue; but his name would remain an execration to posterity, and none proceeding from his loins should enjoy his kingdom in peace. The ambassador complained of the indignity offered to his master, and required the regent to silence the preacher; but this was refused, upon which he left Scotland.[289]

Lawson, having received the letters of invitation, hastened to Edinburgh. He had the satisfaction to find that Knox was still able to receive him; and, having preached to the people, gave universal satisfaction. On the following Sabbath, the 21st of September, Knox began to preach in the Tolbooth church, which was now fitted up for him. He chose for the subject of his discourses, the account of our Saviour’s crucifixion, as recorded in the twenty‑seventh chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew, a theme with which he had often expressed a wish to close his ministry. On Sabbath, the 9th of November, he presided at the installation of Lawson as his colleague and successor. {218} The sermon was preached by him in the Tolbooth church; after which he removed, with the audience, to the large church, where he went through the accustomed form of admission, by proposing the questions to the minister and people, addressing an exhortation to both, and praying for the divine blessing upon their connexion. On no former occasion did he give more satisfaction to those who were able to hear him. After declaring the respective duties of pastor and people, he protested, in the presence of him to whom he expected soon to give an account, that he had walked among them with a good conscience, preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ in all sincerity, not studying to please men, nor to gratify his own affections; he praised God, that he had been pleased to give them a pastor in his room, when he was now unable to teach; he fervently prayed, that any gifts which had been conferred on himself might be augmented a thousand fold in his successor; and, in a most serious and impressive manner, he exhorted and charged the whole assembly to adhere steadfastly to the faith which they had professed. Having finished the service, and pronounced the blessing with a cheerful but exhausted voice, he descended from the pulpit, and leaning upon his staff and the arm of an attendant, crept down the street, which was lined with the audience, who, as if anxious to take the last sight of their beloved pastor, followed him until he entered his house, from which he never again came out alive.[290]

{219} On Tuesday following, the 11th of November, he was seized with a severe cough, which greatly affected his breathing.[291] When his friends, anxious to prolong his life, proposed to call in the assistance of physicians, he readily acquiesced, saying that he would not neglect the ordinary means of health, although he was persuaded that death would soon put an end to all his sorrows. It had been his ordinary practice to read every day some chapters of the Old and New Testament; to which he added a certain number of the Psalms of David, the whole of which he perused regularly once a‑month. On Thursday the 13th, he sickened, and was obliged to desist from his course of reading; but he gave directions {220} to his wife, and his secretary, Richard Bannatyne, that one of them should every day read to him, with a distinct voice, the seventeenth chapter of the Gospel according to John, the fifty‑third of Isaiah, and a chapter of the Epistle to the Ephesians. This was punctually complied with during the whole time of his sickness; and scarcely an hour passed in which some part of scripture was not read in his hearing. Besides the above passages, he, at different times, fixed on certain Psalms, and some of Calvin’s French sermons on the Ephesians. Thinking him at times to be asleep, when they were engaged in reading, they enquired if he heard them, to which he answered, “I hear, (I praise God,) and understand far better;” words which he uttered for the last time, within four hours of his death.

The same day on which he sickened, he desired his wife to discharge the servants’ wages; and wishing next day to pay one of his men‑servants himself, he gave him twenty shillings above his fee, saying, “Thou wilt never receive more from me in this life.” To all of them he addressed suitable exhortations to walk in the fear of God, and as became Christians who had lived in his family.

On Friday, the 14th, he rose from bed at an earlier hour than usual; and thinking that it was Sabbath, said, that he meant to go to church, and preach on the resurrection of Christ, upon which he had been meditating through the night. This was the subject on which he should have preached in his ordinary course. But he was so weak, that he needed to be {221} supported from his bedside by two men, and it was with great difficulty that he could sit on a chair.

Next day, at noon, John Durie, one of the ministers of Leith, and Archibald Steward, who were among his most intimate acquaintance, came into his room. Perceiving that he was very sick, they wished to take their leave, but he insisted that they should remain, and having prevailed with them to stay dinner, he rose from bed, and came to the table, which was the last time that he ever sat at it. He ordered a hogshead of wine which was in his cellar to be pierced for them; and, with a hilarity which he delighted to indulge among his friends, desired Steward to send for some of it as long as it lasted, for he would not tarry until it was all drunk.

On Sabbath, the 16th, he kept his bed, and mistaking it for the first day of the fast appointed on account of the French massacre, refused to take any dinner. Fairley of Braid, who was present, informed him that the fast did not commence until the following Sabbath, and sitting down, and dining before his bed, prevailed on him to take a little food.

He was very anxious to meet once more with the session of his church, to leave them his dying charge, and bid them a last farewell. In compliance with this wish, his colleague, the elders, and deacons, with David Lindsay, one of the ministers of Leith, assembled in his room on Monday the 17th, when he addressed them in the following words, which made a deep and lasting impression on the minds of all:――“The day approaches, and is now before the door, {222} for which I have frequently and vehemently thirsted, when I shall be released from my great labours and innumerable sorrows, and shall be with Christ. And now, God is my witness, whom I have served in the spirit in the gospel of his Son, that I have taught nothing but the true and solid doctrine of the gospel of the Son of God, and have had it for my only object to instruct the ignorant, to confirm the faithful, to comfort the weak, the fearful, and the distressed, by the promises of grace, and to fight against the proud and rebellious by the divine threatenings. I know that many have frequently complained, and do still loudly complain, of my too great severity; but God knows that my mind was always void of hatred to the persons of those against whom I thundered the severest judgments. I cannot deny that I felt the greatest abhorrence at the sins in which they indulged, but still I kept this one thing in view, that, if possible, I might gain them to the Lord. What influenced me to utter whatever the Lord put into my mouth, so boldly, and without respect of persons, was a reverential fear of my God, who called and of his grace appointed me to be a steward of divine mysteries, and a belief that he will demand an account of the manner in which I have discharged the trust committed to me, when I shall stand at last before his tribunal. I profess, therefore, before God, and before his holy angels, that I never made merchandise of the sacred word of God, never studied to please men, never indulged my own private passions or those of others, but faithfully {223} distributed the talents intrusted to me for the edification of the church over which I watched. Whatever obloquy wicked men may cast on me respecting this point, I rejoice in the testimony of a good conscience. In the meantime, my dear brethren, do you persevere in the eternal truth of the gospel: wait diligently on the flock over which the Lord hath set you, and which he redeemed with the blood of his only begotten Son. And thou, my dearest brother Lawson, fight the good fight, and do the work of the Lord joyfully and resolutely. The Lord from on high bless you, and the whole church of Edinburgh, against whom, as long as they persevere in the word of truth which they have heard of me, the gates of hell shall not prevail.”[292] Having warned them against countenancing those who disowned the king’s authority, and made some observations on a complaint which Maitland had lodged against him before the session, he became so exhausted as to be obliged to desist from speaking. Those who were present were filled both with joy and grief by this affecting address. After reminding him of the warfare which he had endured, and the triumph which awaited him, and joining in prayer, they took their leave of him, drowned in tears.

When they were going out, he desired his colleague and Lindsay to remain behind. “There is one thing that greatly grieves me,” said he to them. {224} “You have been witnesses of the former courage and constancy of Grange in the cause of God; but now, alas! into what a gulf has he precipitated himself! I entreat you not to refuse the request which I now make to you. Go to the castle, and tell him: ‘John Knox remains the same man now when he is about to die, that ever he knew him when able in body, and wills him to consider what he was, and the estate in which he now stands, which is a great part of his trouble. Neither the craggy rock in which he miserably confides, nor the carnal prudence of that man [Maitland] whom he esteems a demi‑god, nor the assistance of strangers, shall preserve him; but he shall be disgracefully dragged from his nest to punishment, and hung on a gallows before the face of the sun, unless he speedily amend his life, and flee to the mercy of God.’ That man’s soul is dear to me, and I would not have it perish, if I could save it.” The ministers undertook to execute this commission; and going up to the castle, they obtained an interview with the governor, and delivered their message. He at first exhibited symptoms of relenting, but having consulted apart with Maitland, he returned, and gave them a very unpleasant answer. This being reported to Knox, he was much grieved, and said, that he had been earnest in prayer for that man, and still trusted that his soul would be saved, although his body should come to a miserable end.[293]

{225} After his interview with the session he became much worse; his difficulty of breathing increased, and he could not speak without great and obvious pain. Yet he continued still to receive persons of every rank, who came in great numbers to visit him, and suffered none to go away without advices, which he uttered with such variety and suitableness as astonished those who waited upon him. Lord Boyd, coming into his chamber, said, “I know, sir, that I have offended you in many things, and am now come to crave your pardon.” The answer was not heard, as the attendants retired and left them alone; but his lordship returned next day in company with Drumlanrig and Morton. The Reformer’s private conversation with the latter was very particular, as afterwards related by the earl himself. He asked him, if he was previously acquainted with the design to murder the late king. Morton having answered in the negative,[294] he said, “Well, God has beautified you with many benefits which he has not given to every man; as he has given you riches, wisdom, and {226} friends, and now is to prefer you to the government of this realm.[295] And, therefore, in the name of God, I charge you to use all these benefits aright, and better in time to come than ye have done in times bypast; first to God’s glory, to the furtherance of the evangel, the maintenance of the church of God, and his ministry; next for the weal of the king, and his realm and true subjects. If so ye shall do, God shall bless you and honour you; but if ye do it not, God shall spoil you of these benefits, and your end shall be ignominy and shame.”[296]

On Thursday, the 20th, lord Lindsay, the bishop of Caithness, and several gentlemen, visited him. He exhorted them to continue in the truth which they had heard, for there was no other word of salvation, and besought them to have nothing to do with those in the castle. The earl of Glencairn (who had often visited him) came in, with lord Ruthven. The latter, who called only once, said to him, “If there be any thing, Sir, that I am able to do for you, I pray you {227} charge me.” His reply was, “I care not for all the pleasure and friendship of the world.”

A religious lady of his acquaintance desired him to praise God for what good he had done, and was beginning to speak in his commendation, when he interrupted her. “Tongue! tongue! lady; flesh of itself is over‑proud, and needs no means to esteem itself.” He put her in mind of what had been said to her long ago, “Lady, lady, the black one has never trampit on your fute;” and exhorted her to lay aside pride, and be clothed with humility. He then protested as to himself, as he had often done before, that he relied wholly on the free mercy of God, manifested to mankind through his dear Son Jesus Christ, whom alone he embraced for wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption. The rest of the company having taken their leave of him, he said to Fairley of Braid, “Every one bids me good‑night; but when will you do it? I have been greatly indebted unto you; for which I shall never be able to recompense you; but I commit you to one that is able to do it, to the eternal God.”

On Friday, the 21st, he desired Richard Bannatyne to order his coffin to be made. During that day he was much engaged in meditation and prayer. These words dropped from his lips at intervals: “Come, Lord Jesus.――Sweet Jesus, into thy hand I commend my spirit.――Be merciful, Lord, to thy church which thou hast redeemed.――Give peace to this afflicted commonwealth.――Raise up faithful pastors who will take the charge of thy church.――Grant {228} us, Lord, the perfect hatred of sin, both by the evidences of thy wrath and mercy.” In the midst of his meditations, he often addressed those who stood by, in such sentences as these:――“O serve the Lord in fear, and death shall not be terrible to you. Nay, blessed shall death be to those who have felt the power of the death of the only begotten Son of God.”

On Sabbath, the 23d, (which was the first day of the national fast,) during the afternoon sermon, after lying a considerable time quiet, he suddenly exclaimed, “If any be present, let them come and see the work of God.” Thinking that his death was at hand, Bannatyne sent to the church for Johnston of Elphingston. When he came to the bedside, Knox burst out in these rapturous expressions:――“I have been these two last nights in meditation on the troubled state of the church of God, the spouse of Jesus Christ, despised of the world, but precious in the sight of God. I have called to God for her, and have committed her to her head, Jesus Christ. I have fought against spiritual wickedness in heavenly things, and have prevailed. I have been in heaven, and have possession. I have tasted of the heavenly joys where presently I am.” He then repeated the Lord’s prayer and the creed, interjecting devout aspirations between the articles of the latter.

After sermon, many came to visit him. Perceiving that he breathed with great difficulty, some of them asked, if he felt much pain. He answered, that he was willing to lie there for years, if God so pleased, and if he continued to shine upon his soul through {229} Jesus Christ. He slept very little; but was employed almost incessantly either in meditation, in prayer, or in exhortation. “Live in Christ. Live in Christ, and then flesh need not fear death.――Lord, grant true pastors to thy church, that purity of doctrine may be retained.――Restore peace again to this commonwealth, with godly rulers and magistrates.――Once, Lord, make an end of my trouble.” Then, stretching his hands towards heaven, he said, “Lord, I commend my spirit, soul, and body, and all, into thy hands. Thou knowest, O Lord, my troubles: I do not murmur against thee.” His pious ejaculations were so numerous, that those who waited on him could recollect only a small portion of what he uttered; for seldom was he silent, when they were not employed in reading or in prayer.

Monday, the 24th of November, was the last day that he spent on earth. That morning he could not be persuaded to lie in bed, but, though unable to stand alone, rose between nine and ten o’clock, and put on his stockings and doublet. Being conducted to a chair, he sat about half an hour, and then was put to bed again. In the progress of the day, it appeared evident that his end drew near. Besides his wife and Bannatyne, Campbell of Kinyeancleugh, Johnston of Elphingston, and Dr Preston, three of his most intimate acquaintance, sat by turns at his bedside. Kinyeancleugh asked him if he had any pain. “It is no painful pain, but such a pain as shall soon, I trust, put end to the battle. I must leave the care of my wife and children to you,” {230} continued he, “to whom you must be a husband in my room.” About three o’clock in the afternoon, one of his eyes failed, and his speech was considerably affected. He desired his wife to read the fifteenth chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians. “Is not that a comfortable chapter?” said he, when it was finished. “O what sweet and salutary consolation the Lord hath afforded me from that chapter!” A little after, he said, “Now, for the last time, I commend my soul, spirit, and body, (touching three of his fingers,) into thy hand, O Lord.” About five o’clock, he said to his wife, “Go, read where I cast my first anchor;” upon which she read the seventeenth chapter of John’s Gospel, and afterwards a part of Calvin’s sermons on the Ephesians.

After this he appeared to fall into a slumber, interrupted by heavy moans, during which the attendants looked every moment for his dissolution. But at length he awaked, as if from sleep, and being asked the cause of his sighing so deeply, replied:――“I have formerly, during my frail life, sustained many contests, and many assaults of Satan; but at present he hath assailed me most fearfully, and put forth all his strength to devour, and make an end of me at once. Often before has he placed my sins before my eyes, often tempted me to despair, often endeavoured to ensnare me by the allurements of the world; but these weapons were broken by the sword of the Spirit, the word of God, and the enemy failed. Now he has attacked me in another way: the cunning serpent has laboured to persuade me {231} that I have merited heaven and eternal blessedness, by the faithful discharge of my ministry. But blessed be God, who has enabled me to beat down and quench this fiery dart, by suggesting to me such passages of Scripture as these:――‘What hast thou that thou hast not received?――By the grace of God I am what I am:――Not I, but the grace of God in me.’ Upon this, as one vanquished, he left me. Wherefore I give thanks to my God through Jesus Christ, who has been pleased to give me the victory; and I am persuaded that the tempter shall not again attack me, but, within a short time, I shall, without any great pain of body, or anguish of mind, exchange this mortal and miserable life for a blessed immortality through Jesus Christ.”

He then lay quiet for some hours, except that now and then he desired them to wet his mouth with a little weak ale. At ten o’clock, they read the evening prayer, which they had delayed beyond the usual hour, from an apprehension that he was asleep. After this exercise was concluded, Dr Preston asked him if he had heard the prayers. “Would to God,” said he, “that you and all men had heard them as I have heard them; I praise God for that heavenly sound.” The doctor rose up, and Kinyeancleugh sat down before his bed. About eleven o’clock, he gave a deep sigh, and said, “Now it is come.” Bannatyne immediately drew near, and desired him to think upon those comfortable promises of our Saviour Jesus Christ, which he had so often declared to others; and, perceiving that he was {232} speechless, requested him to give them a sign that he heard them, and died in peace. Upon this he lifted up one of his hands, and, sighing twice, expired without a struggle.[297]

He died in the sixty‑seventh year of his age, not so much oppressed with years, as worn out and exhausted by his extraordinary labours of body and anxieties of mind. Few men were ever exposed to more dangers, or underwent greater hardships. From the time that he embraced the reformed religion till he breathed his last, seldom did he enjoy a respite from trouble; and he emerged from one scene of difficulty and danger, only to be involved in another still more distressing. Obliged to flee from St Andrews to escape the fury of cardinal Beatoun, he found a retreat in East Lothian, from which he was hunted by archbishop Hamilton. He lived for several years as an outlaw, in daily apprehension of falling a prey to those who eagerly sought his life. The few months during which he enjoyed protection in the castle of St Andrews, were succeeded by a long and rigorous captivity. After enjoying some repose in England, he was again driven into banishment, and for five years wandered as an exile on the continent. When he returned to his native country, it was to engage in a struggle of the most perilous and arduous {233} kind. After the Reformation was established, and he was settled in the capital, he was involved in a continual contest with the court. When he was relieved from this warfare, and thought only of ending his days in peace, he was again called into the field; and, although scarcely able to walk, was obliged to remove from his flock, and to avoid the fury of his enemies by submitting to a new banishment. He was repeatedly condemned for heresy, and proclaimed an outlaw; thrice he was accused of high treason, and on two of these occasions he appeared and underwent a trial. A price was publicly set on his head; assassins were employed to kill him; and his life was attempted both with the pistol and the dagger. Yet he escaped all these perils, and finished his course in peace and in honour. No wonder that he was weary of the world, and anxious to depart; and with great propriety might it be said, at his decease, that “he rested from his labours.”

On Wednesday, the 26th of November, he was interred in the churchyard of St Giles.[298] His funeral {234} was attended by the newly elected regent, Morton, by all the nobility who were in the city, and a great concourse of people. When his body was laid in the grave, the regent emphatically pronounced his eulogium, in these words, “There lies he, who never feared the face of man.”[299]

The character of this extraordinary man has been drawn in opposite colours, by different writers, and at different times. And the changes which have taken place in the public opinion about him, with the causes which have produced them, form a subject neither uncurious, nor unworthy of attention.

The interest excited by the revolutions of Scotland, ecclesiastical and political, in which he acted so conspicuous a part, caused his name to be known throughout Europe, more extensively than those of most of the reformers. When we reflect, that the Roman catholics looked upon him as the principal instrument in overthrowing their religious establishment in this country, we are prepared to expect that writers of that persuasion would represent his character in an unfavourable light; and that, in addition to the common charges of heresy and apostasy, they would describe him as a man of a restless, turbulent spirit, and of rebellious principles. We will not even be greatly surprised though we find them charging him with whoredom, because, being a priest, he entered {235} into wedlock, once and a second time; and imputing his change of religion to a desire of releasing himself from the bonds by which the popish clergy were professionally bound to chastity. But all this is nothing to the portraits which they have drawn of him, in which, to the violation of all credibility, he is unblushingly represented as a man, or rather a monster, of the most profligate character, who gloried in depravity, who avowedly indulged in the most vicious practices, and upon whom providence fixed the most evident marks of reprobation at his death, which was accompanied with circumstances that excited the utmost horror in the beholders.[300] This might astonish us, did we not know, from undoubted documents, that there were at that time a class of writers, who, by inventing or retailing such malignant calumnies, attempted to blast the fairest and most unblemished characters among those who appeared in opposition to the church of Rome; and that, absurd and outrageous as the accusations were, they were greedily swallowed by the numerous slaves of prejudice and credulity. The memory of no one was loaded with a greater share of this obloquy than our Reformer’s. But these accounts have long ago lost every degree of credit; and they now remain only as a proof of the spirit of lies or of strong delusion, by which these writers were actuated, and of the deep and deadly hatred which they had conceived against the object of their calumny, on account of his strenuous and {236} successful exertions in overthrowing the fabric of papal superstition and despotism.

Knox was known and esteemed by the principal persons among the reformed in France, Switzerland, and Germany. We have had occasion repeatedly to mention his friendship with the reformer of Geneva. Beza, the successor of Calvin, was also personally acquainted with him; the letters which he wrote to him abound with expressions of the warmest regard, and highest esteem; and, in his Images of Illustrious Men, he afterwards raised an affectionate tribute to our Reformer’s memory. This was done, at a subsequent period, by the German biographer, Melchior Adam, the Dutch Van Heiden, and the French La Roque. The late historian of the literature of Geneva, (whose religious sentiments are very different from those of Calvin and Beza,) although he is displeased with the philippics which Knox sometimes pronounced from the pulpit, says, that “he immortalized himself by his courage against popery, and his firmness against the tyranny of Mary; and that though a violent, he was always an open and honourable, enemy to the catholics.”[301]