John Knox Part 5

Bartholomew, she was not likely to be over scrupulous as to the means which she would employ to gain her end. So far as she had shaped a policy to herself, when she came to Scotland, it would seem to have been to temporize with the Protestants, until she had time either to fascinate them by the spell of her personal magnetism or to crush them by her power; then to make the throne of Scotland a stepping-stone to that of England, to which she claimed to be the lawful heir, and so to bring that realm also back {158} to its allegiance to the Pope. This made her and Elizabeth implacable enemies. They were neighbours; they were cousins; they were queens, these two, and the struggle between them was to the death. One or other must go down. Each played a deep and deceitful game, but Elizabeth was moved by ambition for herself, while Mary was devoted to a cause, and so it is that as she lays her head upon the block at Fotheringay it is encircled with the halo of a kind of martyrdom, and the eye of the sternest judge is for the moment blinded to the guilt of her life by the tear of pity which dims it as he looks upon the manner of its close.

Knox and she from the very first seem to have singled each other out for a conflict hand to hand. He saw that everything which he counted dear depended on the manner in which she was dealt with; and she perceived that he was the moving spirit in that religious revolt which it was her mission to put down. He feared the effect of her blandishments upon others, and she recognised the magnitude of his influence upon the people. He saw that if she could be baffled in her efforts to re-establish popery in the land, the victory would be finally won; and she felt that so long as he had the opportunity of swaying the mult.i.tude by the fervour of his eloquence, there was no hope of gaining the end on which her heart was fixed. He was afraid of the effect of what his friend Campbell of Kingzeancleugh called "the sprinkling of the holy water of the court" upon the less reliable of his adherents; and she feared the fervour of {159} his prayers to G.o.d, and the power of his appeals to his fellow-men. So there came to be for some time a kind of duel between them, and the issue was at last a victory for Knox. We need not approve unqualifiedly of everything which he did or said in the course of the struggle, yet we must rejoice in the result, for Knox "builded better than he knew," and secured, not immediately but ultimately, the triumph of a larger liberty than that which he at the time believed in; while she was the representative of absolute power, and of a feudalism which looked upon the common people as existing for her convenience and aggrandis.e.m.e.nt rather than upon herself as the servant of the state. "What are you in this commonwealth?" was her haughty question to him on one occasion. "A subject born within the same," was his ever-memorable answer, and the outcome of it has been that now in the land he loved the sovereign is for the subjects, and not the subjects for the sovereign; it is a little difference verbally, but in reality the gulf between the two is that which divides freedom from slavery.

The first collision between them occurred a few days after her landing.

Naturally enough, as some may think, she gave orders for the celebration of a solemn ma.s.s in the chapel of Holyrood on the first Sabbath after her arrival. She knew of the law pa.s.sed by the Parliament in 1560; she had probably heard from Lord James Stuart the warning which had been given to him when he went to France, and therefore this act on her {160} part was a virtual throwing down of the gauge of battle at the feet of the Protestants. And thus they themselves interpreted it. Some may imagine that they attached undue importance to it; yet as Protestantism is still insisted on as a _sine qua non_ to succession to the British throne, those who approve the continuance of the Revolution settlement cannot consistently condemn them. Moreover, it is not to be forgotten that to the Reformers the ma.s.s was more than even an idolatrous service. It was a sign of many other things: thumbscrews, racks, galley chains, gibbets and the like, which were inseparably connected with papal supremacy, and in truth, as one has said, "A man sent to row in French galleys and such like for teaching the truth in his own land, cannot always be in the mildest humour." When therefore her purpose became known, great excitement was created among the Protestants, and some spoke of preventing her by force from carrying it out; but Knox used his influence in private, against such a proposal. On the following Sunday, however, from his pulpit he showed his sense of the gravity of the crisis, when, after exposing the idolatry that was in the ma.s.s, he alleged that "one ma.s.s was more fearful unto him than if ten thousand armed enemies were landed in any part of our realm of purpose to suppress the whole religion." Hearing of this outburst Mary sent for him to the palace, whether of her own motive or at the suggestion of others is not known, and he had then, in the presence of Lord James Stuart, the first of {161} those interviews which have been so harped upon by his vituperators. We must refer our readers for the details to Knox's own account in his "History," which has been little more than simply modernised by McCrie, and must content ourselves with a mere summary of what occurred. She began by attacking him for the writing of the "First Blast," and after he had vindicated himself as best he could for that, she charged him with having taught the people to receive a religion different from that which was allowed by their princes. This brought out his views as to the limits of obedience to civil rulers, and on her interpreting his words to mean that her subjects should obey him and not her, he vehemently repudiated that misapprehension, and alleged that both rulers and subjects should obey G.o.d, and that kings should be foster-fathers, and queens nursing-mothers to His Church.

That elicited the question from her which is the Church of G.o.d? and for answer thereto he referred her to the Scriptures. This in its turn raised the inquiry whose interpretation of Scripture was to be accepted? which he answered by laying down the duty of private judgment and of the comparing of one part of Scripture with another. At length she very humbly remarked that she was not able to contend with him, but that if she had those present with her whom she had heard they could answer him, and he expressed his readiness to meet before her in argument "the learnedest papist in Europe." To this she somewhat tartly retorted, "You may perchance get that sooner {162} than you believe," and he replied a little sarcastically to the effect that if he ever got it, then indeed it would be sooner than he believed. He took his leave in this courtly yet scriptural fashion, "Madame, I pray G.o.d that you may be as blessed within the commonwealth of Scotland as ever Deborah was in the commonwealth of Israel."

Thus for the first time they measured their strength, and the result was, in common speech, a draw. Mary found that Knox was made of more unyielding stuff than those whom heretofore she had been in the habit of meeting; and John formed an estimate of Mary's ability which his subsequent experience only served to confirm. It was to be no child's play between them. He could not afford to give so subtle and ready an adversary the least advantage. Writing to Cecil after this interview he says, "The Queen neither is, neither shall be of our opinion, and in very deed her whole proceedings do declare that the cardinal's lessons are so deeply printed in her heart that the substance and the quality are like to perish together. I would be glad to be deceived, but I fear I shall not. In communication with her I espied such craft as I have not found in such age."

Matters went on after this with tolerable quietness for months, and Knox kept up his stated labours as the minister of Edinburgh. What these were seem now to be surprising. He preached twice every Sunday, and thrice besides during the week on other days. He met regularly once a week with his elders for the oversight of {163} the flock; and attended weekly the a.s.sembly of the ministers, for what was called "the exercise on the Scriptures." These stated and constant labours, with the addition of frequent journeyings by appointment of the General a.s.sembly to perform in distant parts of the country very much the duty of a superintendent for the time, were exceedingly exhausting; and the city council, wishing to relieve him of some of his duties, came (in April, 1562) to a resolution to call the minister of the Canongate to undertake the half of his charge; but their object was not accomplished till June of the following year, when John Craig became his colleague.

Meanwhile the Reformer came again into collision with the court. In the beginning of March, 1562, the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal Lorraine made that a.s.sault on a peaceable and defenceless congregation of Huguenots, which is known in French history as the Ma.s.sacre of Va.s.sy; and when the report of that was received by Mary, she was so delighted that she gave in honour of the occasion a splendid ball in the palace to her foreign servants, by whom dancing was kept up to a very late hour. This act of hers was exceedingly painful to Knox, for he had many warm friends among the Protestants of France, and his heart was saddened by the tidings of the treatment to which they had been subjected. Accordingly he gave vent to his feelings in his pulpit on the following Sunday, when he preached from the text, "Be wise now, ye kings; be instructed, ye judges of the earth." After discoursing on the dignity {164} of magistrates and the obedience which was due to them, he lamented and condemned the vices to which they were too commonly addicted, and made some severe strictures on their conduct, affirming, among other things, "that they were more exercised in fiddling and flinging, than in reading or hearing G.o.d's word," and that "fiddlers and flatterers" (John was evidently fond of alliteration) "were more precious in their eyes than men of wisdom and gravity." The report of his discourse was carried by some one to Mary; and though he had made no direct a.s.sault upon her, he was summoned on the next day to the palace. Introduced to a chamber in which she sat, surrounded by her maids of honour and princ.i.p.al courtiers, he was treated to a long "harangue," as he calls it (but it was no doubt a proper scolding), on the enormity of his conduct. Very wisely he heard that out without interruption; then, when his "innings" came, he complained that he had evidently been misreported to her, and craved leave to repeat to her precisely what he had said, thus adroitly contriving that for that time at least she should listen to a sermon. Beginning with the text, he went over the main points of his discourse, which, among other things, had in it this piece of sound sense: "And of dancing, madame, I said that albeit in Scripture I find no praise of it, and in profane writers that it is termed the gesture rather of those that are mad and in frenzy than of sober men; yet do I not utterly condemn it, providing that two vices be avoided: the former, that the princ.i.p.al {165} vocation of those that use that exercise be not neglected for the pleasure of dancing; and the second, that they dance not as the Philistines their fathers, for the pleasure they take in the displeasure of G.o.d's people." The accuracy of his rehearsal of his sermon having been confirmed by those who had heard it when it was originally given, the Queen said it was bad enough, but admitted that it had not been so reported to her; and then very naively asked, that if he heard anything of her that "misliked" him, he would come to herself and speak of it to her privately. But Knox believed that publicity was one great means of securing the vigilance, and through that the safety, of the people, and therefore he declined to accede to her request, on the ostensible ground that with the multiplicity of his labours he had not the time for running about the court and his congregation individually to deal with them for what he saw amiss. On this occasion Knox was the champion of "free speech," and "scored" a victory, so that he departed "with a reasonable merry countenance;" and when some of the bystanders said, "He is not afraid," he made reply, "Why should the pleasing face of a gentle woman affray me? I have looked on the faces of many angry men, and yet have not been afraid above measure," and so he left the Queen and the court for that time.

The Romanists, encouraged by the hope of success, began now to put forth strenuous exertions, both military and controversial, to recover their lost ground; but the {166} rising of the Earl of Huntly in the north was put down by the vigour of Lord James Stuart, who was now known as the Earl of Murray; and the success of the abbot of Crossraguel, in debate with Knox, was not such as to encourage others to follow in his footsteps. That dignitary, in his chapel in Kirkoswald, had, on August 30th, 1562, read a series of articles on the ma.s.s and kindred subjects, which he offered to defend against all comers; and on the following Sunday Knox, who happened to be in the neighbourhood and heard of the challenge, came to the church to meet him. But though he had courteously intimated to the abbot that he would be present, that dignitary did not put in an appearance, and Knox himself preached in the chapel. At the close of the service a letter from the abbot was put into his hand; and, after negotiations, they met on the 28th of September in the house of the provost of Maybole, where forty persons on each side were admitted as witnesses. The debate lasted for three days, and strangely enough was made by the abbot to turn mainly on the significance of the act of Melchizedek in bringing forth bread and wine when he went out to meet Abraham returning from his victories over the five kings, which Knox averred "appertained nothing to the purpose." At the end of the third day Knox, on the ground of the scanty accommodation at Maybole, proposed that they should adjourn to Ayr to finish the discussion; but this was declined by the abbot, who promised to come to Edinburgh and resume it there if the Queen would permit. {167} But he never came to the metropolis, though Knox alleges that he himself had applied to the Privy Council for the necessary permission. As usual in such cases, the victory was claimed for each by his own partisans; but to counteract the false reports that were circulated, Knox prepared and published the curious tract, purporting to be an accurate account of the debate, which Dr.

Laing has reprinted in the sixth volume of the Reformer's works; and though the discussion itself was on an entirely irrelevant issue, Knox dealt with the very heart of the question in the prologue of his pamphlet, which is written in his most vigorous and trenchant style.

One extract will show how sarcastic he could sometimes be, and with what grim humour he could occasionally treat even the most sacred subjects. He has been comparing the making of the "wafer-G.o.d" to that of the idols so witheringly described by Isaiah in the 40th and 41st chapters of his prophecies, and then proceeds as follows: "These are the artificers and workmen that travail in making of this G.o.d, I think as many in number as the prophet reciteth to have travailed in making of the idols; and if the power of both shall be compared, I think they shall be found in all things equal, except that the G.o.d of bread is subject unto more dangers than were the idols of the Gentiles. Men made them: men make it. They were deaf and dumb: it cannot speak, hear, or see. Briefly, in infirmity they wholly agree, except that (as I have said) the poor G.o.d of bread is most miserable of all other idols; for according to their {168} matter whereof they are made, they will remain without corruption for many years; but within one year that G.o.d will putrefy, and then he must be burned. They can abide the vehemency of the wind, frost, rain, or snow; but the wind will blow that G.o.d to sea, the rain or the snow will make it dough again; yea, which is most of all to be feared, that G.o.d is a prey (if he be not well kept) to rats and mice; for they will desire no better dinner than white round G.o.ds enow. But, oh then, what becometh of Christ's natural body? By miracle it flies to heaven again, if the papists teach truly; for how soon soever the mouse takes hold, so soon flieth Christ away, and letteth her gnaw the bread. A bold and puissant mouse! but a feeble and miserable G.o.d! Yet would I ask a question: 'Whether hath the priest or the mouse greater power?' By his words it is made a G.o.d; by her teeth it ceaseth to be a G.o.d: let them advise and answer."

Truly there is a ring of honest old Hugh Latimer in all this; and if there were many such pa.s.sages in Knox's sermons, it is not difficult to explain how it was that "the common people heard him gladly."

In the May of the following year (1563), Knox was sent for by Mary to Loch Leven, where she was at the time residing, and treated to another "interview," in which she endeavoured to induce him to use his influence to put a stop to the prosecution of certain parties for their celebration or countenancing of the ma.s.s. But nothing of importance resulted, though from his own showing it is apparent that on this occasion he was very {169} nearly thrown off his guard by the skill of her acting and the "glamour" of her presence.

In this same month Parliament met for the first time since Mary's arrival in Scotland, and Knox confidently expected that the Treaty of Leith would be ratified, and the establishment of religion by the Parliament of 1560 would be put beyond all question by its action. But he was doomed to disappointment. The "holy water of the court" had not been without effect; the Protestant leaders had slackened in their enthusiasm, and what he regarded as a great opportunity was lost. He expostulated with many of the princ.i.p.al men of the party on the subject, but his efforts were in vain; and the "contention" between him and Murray over it was "so sharp" that there was a breach of friendship between them which lasted for more than a year. The effect of all this upon him was exceeding depressing; and on a Sunday before the dissolution of Parliament he took occasion to unburden his soul to his congregation. He expressed his sadness at the thought that those who had in their hands the opportunity to establish G.o.d's cause had actually betrayed it; he affirmed that the Parliament by which the Protestant Confession was adopted and the Church reformed was as free and lawful as any ever held in Scotland; and as reports of the Queen's marriage were now in circulation, he warned them of the consequences that would ensue if she should marry a papist. His words gave great offence to many Protestants as well as Romanists; and when the Queen heard of them {170} he was again summoned into her presence. This was the occasion on which the much talked of "tears" were so plentifully shed, and therefore we may reproduce the account of it given by McCrie, which is itself only a condensation into the language of to-day of the narrative given by Knox in his History.

"Her Majesty received him in a very different manner from what she had done at Loch Leven. Never had prince been handled (she pa.s.sionately exclaimed) as she was: she had borne with him in all his rigorous speeches against herself and her uncles; 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 G.o.d I shall be once revenged.' On p.r.o.nouncing these words with great violence she burst into a flood of tears which interrupted her speech. When the Queen had composed herself, he proceeded calmly to make his defence. Her grace and he had (he said) at different times been engaged in controversy, and he never before perceived her offended with him. When it should please G.o.d to deliver her from the bondage of error in which she had been trained, 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 thought, few had occasion to be offended with him; but there he was not master of himself, but 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 do with my marriage?' said the {171} 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, madame,' replied the Reformer, piqued by the last question, and the contemptuous tone in which it was proposed. 'And albeit I be neither earl, lord, nor baron in it, yet has G.o.d made me (how abject that ever I be in your eyes) a profitable member within the same. Yea, madame, 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 n.o.bility; for both my vocation and conscience requires plainness of me.

And therefore, madame, to yourself I say that which I spake in public place: whensoever the n.o.bility 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 the Queen began again to weep and sob with great bitterness. The superintendent (Erskine of Dun, who was present), 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 {172} 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, 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 hurt his conscience and betray the commonwealth through his silence.

"This apology inflamed the Queen still more: she ordered him immediately to leave her presence, and 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 pleasing were this life of yours, if it should ever abide, and then, in the end, that we might pa.s.s to heaven with all this gay gear! But fie upon that knave Death, that will come whether we will or not!' Having engaged them in a conversation, he pa.s.sed the time till Erskine 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 to desist from a {173} prosecution. 'And so that storm quieted in appearance, but never in the heart.'"[1]

At this time, when many of his friends were cold toward him, an effort was made by some of his enemies to blacken his moral character by accusing him of a vile offence, but the lie had nothing in it to make it formidable. It was "a lie that was all a lie," and so it could be "met and fought with outright." The vindication was so complete that now very few remember that the allegation was ever made, and we refer to it here only to show that he too was made an ill.u.s.tration of the poet's words: "Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny."

Much more serious was the attempt made about this same time to convict him of high treason. During the absence of Mary in Stirling, and on the day of the observance of the communion in the Protestant churches, her servants at Holyrood had taken measures for having the ma.s.s celebrated with more than usual publicity and splendour. The result was a scene of confusion and "brawling," almost indeed of riot, which was caused by the interference of some Protestants who were present.

Two of these were afterwards indicted for their offence, which was called in the technical language of the country and the time, "forethought felony, hame-sucken, and invasion of the palace." Knox had been empowered by a general commission from the Church to ask the presence of the Protestant leaders in Edinburgh for {174} consultation and a.s.sistance in any emergency which in his judgment might require the same; and believing that the prosecution of these men might issue in very serious consequences, he drew up under the advice of the friends with whom he usually acted a circular letter, which he sent to the princ.i.p.al gentlemen of the "congregation," stating the circ.u.mstances, and asking them without fail to come to Edinburgh for the trial. A copy of this letter found its way into the hands of Mary, who laid it before the Privy Council, by whom it was p.r.o.nounced to be treasonable.

The Queen was exultant. Now was her opportunity, and she resolved to turn it to the best advantage. An extraordinary meeting of the councillors and other n.o.blemen was convened to be held at Edinburgh about the middle of December, 1563, to try the cause. Some urged Knox to acknowledge that he had done wrong, and cast himself on the Queen's mercy, but that he absolutely refused to do, because he did not believe that he had committed an offence; and when Secretary Maitland and Murray called upon him, and somewhat ungenerously sought to get out of him the nature of the defence which he meant to set up, he very wisely put an end to the conversation with them, and resolved to keep his own counsel until he was actually called to vindicate his conduct.

When the day came, he stood forth as the champion of the liberty of a.s.sembly, as before he had appeared in vindication of free speech; and so admirably did he plead his cause that he was acquitted, if not unanimously {175} at least _nem. con._, of the charge which had been brought against him.

Much has been said of the bearing of Knox towards Queen Mary, and said, as we believe, most unjustly, for though he felt himself constrained to oppose her course, and would not yield to her wishes, yet he was never rude, or irreverent, or ungentlemanly. As Carlyle says, "he was never in the least ill-tempered with her Majesty;" and most of those who accuse him in this matter, we shrewdly suspect, have never read the accounts of his interviews with her, but have simply accepted the common babblement which has been so long current regarding them. No candid student of the rehearsal of these interviews in Knox's History, we are sure, could refuse to endorse the accuracy of Carlyle's statement of the case when he says "Mary often enough bursts into tears, oftener than once into pa.s.sionate long continued fits of weeping, Knox standing with mild and pitying visage, but without the least hair's-breadth of recanting or recoiling, waiting till the fit pa.s.s, and then with all softness but with all inexorability taking up his theme again."

But while Knox's manner toward her Majesty has been most microscopically examined, very little attention has been given to Mary's manner toward Knox; and on this particular occasion, in the presence of the council and the n.o.bles, sitting too as a kind of court before which he was on trial for high treason, it was flippant and unmannerly in the extreme, and was besides entirely {176} incompatible with the presence in her of a judicial spirit. When she entered the chamber and took her seat, she first smiled, and then burst into a loud guffaw, saying, "This is a good beginning, but wot you whereat I laugh?

That man made me weep, and shed never a tear himself. I will see now if I can make him weep." Then after his letter had been read, and he was defending himself, she cried, "What is this? Methinks you trifle with him. Who gave him authority to make convocation of my lieges? Is not that treason?" There spake the despot, for beneath the velvet of her glove there was always a hand of iron; but she touched a chord that vibrated to a note which she had not thought to sound when she used these words, for Ruthven said boldly and categorically, "No, madame!"

The gruff n.o.bleman was immediately commanded by her Majesty to "hold his peace," and Knox went on with his defence in such a way that he successfully vindicated his right to call and hold a meeting of his friends for any lawful purpose when and where he chose. He was next questioned about the statement in his letter to the effect that he feared the prosecution of these men would open a door for the infliction of cruelty upon a greater number; and as he was proceeding to enlarge upon the deeds of the papists in France, and denouncing those who had done them, he was interrupted by the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of one of the n.o.bles, "You forget yourself; you are not in the pulpit." This called forth the often quoted words, "I am in the place where I am demanded of my {177} conscience to speak the truth; and, therefore, the truth I speak; impugn it who so list." The Queen now felt that a defeat was imminent, and as a last resort, she tried to work on the sympathy of her lords by referring once more, but this time in another fashion, to the fact that Knox had made her weep. That, however, only gave him an opportunity of rehearsing all that had occurred on the occasion to which she had referred, and thereby made his victory the more sure. But what is to be said of her conduct throughout on this trial? "Heard you ever, my lords, a more despiteful and treasonable letter?" "You shall not escape so." "Is it not treason to accuse a prince of cruelty?" "Lo! what say you to all that?" These are a few of her expressions when she was sitting as a judge, and with these, and others already quoted, before us, is it not idle to speak of justice, far less of mannerliness or gentlewomanliness in the case?

Ungentlemanliness is bad enough,--though even of that we maintain that there was nothing in Knox's treatment of his queen,--but to seek to overbear a court as Mary did at this time, by the manifestation of her eagerness to have the accused condemned, either by fair means or foul, is infinitely worse. The spirit of Mary here was that of Jeffreys long after. It was indeed far from being so coa.r.s.ely and brutally expressed, but it is worthy of all reprobation, and in view of the facts which we have here presented, it is little wonder that Hume, in writing to the historian Robertson, should have said, "I am afraid that you, as well as myself, have drawn Mary's character {178} with too great softenings. She was undoubtedly _a violent woman at all times_."

But he never altered his representation in his work, and to him, perhaps, more than to all others, the prevalent misconception of our Reformer's character, manner, and motives is to be traced.

The result of this trial was announced by Secretary Maitland, when he said to Knox that he was at liberty to return home for that night. But though his voice was smooth, his soul was full of wrath, and Mary's mortification vented itself in taunting the very man who had given her the letter, for voting for the acquittal of him who wrote it. Thus again the Reformer triumphed, and it is with a glow of satisfaction akin to that with which Nehemiah recounts his escape from Sanballat, that he finishes the record thus: "That night was neither dancing nor fiddling in the court, for madame was disappointed of her purpose, which was to have had John Knox in her will, by vote of her n.o.bility."

[1] McCrie's "Works," vol. i. pp. 206-8.

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CHAPTER XII.

MINISTRY AT EDINBURGH, 1564-1570.

In the month of March, 1564, Knox, who had been a widower for now rather more than three years, was united in marriage to Margaret Stewart, daughter of Lord Ochiltree, and the room in the old baronial residence where the ceremony was performed is still pointed out to visitors. Despite their dissimilarity in age, the union seems to have been a very happy one, and such as brightened the last days of the Reformer's home life. This year pa.s.sed with little to make it memorable save a long discussion between Knox and Secretary Maitland, which originated in an attempt to restrain the freedom of the Reformer's utterances on public questions in the pulpit, and wandered over a great variety of topics, touching, among others, the duties of magistrates and their subjects, but led to no immediate practical result. The calm, however, was not of long continuance, for we come now to those troublous times and dark doings which have made the reign of Mary Queen of Scots the great debating ground of modern history.

She determined to marry Lord {180} Henry Darnley, the son of the Earl of Lennox, a Catholic and an empty-headed fool. The knowledge of her purpose provoked the project of an insurrection among some of her n.o.bles, who were headed by the Earl of Murray; but though they had the promise of a.s.sistance from Elizabeth, she failed them when it came to the point, and the result was that all who had been concerned in it were proclaimed as outlaws and banished from the kingdom. In this affair Knox took no part whatever, though Lord Ochiltree, his father-in-law, was implicated in it, and was one of the exiles. But though he did not compromise himself by proposing to join in the meditated appeal to arms, he was as strongly opposed to Mary's marriage as any of them, and as was his wont he liberated his conscience in the pulpit, but it was not until after the nuptials had been consummated that his words were especially regarded. The marriage was celebrated on the 29th of July, 1565, and on the 19th of August, Darnley, for some reason, chose to attend the public services in St. Giles' Cathedral, where a great throne had been prepared for his reception. Whether Knox had received any intimation of his intention to be present we are unable to say, but in his sermon there were two things which gave great offence to this prominent hearer. The first was his quotation of the pa.s.sage, "I will give children to be their princes, and babes shall rule over them; children are their oppressors, and women rule over them"; and the second, his declaration that "G.o.d had punished Ahab because {181} he did not correct his idolatrous wife Jezebel." Darnley believed that these words were meant for him, and went home in the sulks, making his likeness to Ahab only the more striking by refusing to eat his dinner. The preacher was immediately summoned before the Privy Council, by whom he was told that he must desist from preaching as long as their majesties were in the city. For his own exoneration Knox printed the sermon for the preaching of which he was thus condemned, and it remains the only specimen of his pulpit work proper which has come down to us. It is founded on Isaiah xxvi. 13-21, and is of the nature of an expository discourse, bringing out the primary signification and reference of the words, and making application of the principles evolved by that process to the characters and circ.u.mstances of his hearers. It gives evidence of considerable scholarship, of immense familiarity with Scripture, of good acquaintance with ancient history, and of great fervour of spirit. It is neither a hasty nor ill digested production, and it impresses us a good deal more by its solidity than by its invective. Indeed, there are in it no pa.s.sages that one could put into comparison for that with others which have been already mentioned by us; and it is a little difficult for the modern reader to wed in his imagination a style so calm and weighty as that which he finds here, with a manner so vehement as the Reformer's is usually described to have been. But no printer can reproduce the man, or the surroundings; here are the wood and the lamb indeed; but in these {182} others were the fire--from heaven too in a sense--which flamed forth with its energizing and consuming power, and made his discourse a thing of might. Such difference as there is between a bugle, and a bugle blown by a living martial musician, there is between a printed sermon and the same discourse preached by its author with the glow of spiritual enthusiasm in his heart and on his face. The one is a thing of curious study to the professional man, the other is a trumpet call which puts heart and heroism into hundreds in a moment.

Knox showed his law-abiding spirit by obeying the injunction of the authorities. His biographer, indeed, says that "it does not appear that he continued any time suspended from preaching," but Dr. Laing believes that he did not resume his usual ministrations at Edinburgh, unless at occasional intervals, until after Queen Mary had been deprived of her authority. He was not idle, however, in those months, for he was employed not only in the preparation of his "History of the Reformation in Scotland," but also in the visitation of churches in the south of Scotland, and in a journey into England, specially undertaken to look after his two boys whom he had sent thither for education.

In this interval occurred the murder of David Rizzio, on the 9th March, 1566, in the palace of Holyrood. That wretched man was an Italian adventurer, whose knowledge of foreign languages made him useful to Mary in her correspondence with the other members of the Anti-Protestant League to which she belonged. {183} His acquaintance with her political designs thence derived opened the way for his becoming one of the most confidential of her advisers. That roused against him the enmity of the Scottish n.o.bles, and Darnley became jealous of his intimacy with the Queen; so with his a.s.sistance and approval David was foully slain almost before the eyes of his mistress.

Attempts have been made to implicate Knox with this affair, but though he does not conceal his satisfaction at David's "removal," he was in no wise accessory to his death. The very next day after this tragedy the exiled lords returned to Edinburgh, and then followed thick and fast upon each other events of great and lasting importance to the land.

These were the birth of James VI. on the 19th of June, 1566; the murder of Darnley, on the night between the 9th and 10th of February, 1567, a deed which was planned and carried out by Bothwell and his agents, not without dark grounds for the suspicion, to say the very least, that he and they were acting with the knowledge and consent of Mary herself; the marriage on the 15th May, 1567, of Mary to Bothwell, that black-hearted villain who was the evil genius of her life; the surrender of Mary to the opposing Lords at Carberry Hill on the 15th of June; the imprisonment of Mary in Loch Leven Castle, where, on the 24th of July, she signed a deed abdicating the crown in favour of her infant son, and appointing Murray regent during his minority; the escape of Mary from her place of confinement on the 2nd of May, 1568; and the defeat on May 13th of her {184} forces at Langside, whence she fled to seek from Elizabeth refuge in England, with the Fotheringay block as the ultimate result. For full details regarding all of these we must refer our readers to the Scottish histories, and we content ourselves with mentioning them thus in a group in order that we may carry in our hands the clue for the intelligent following out of our Reformer's career.

When the infant James was crowned in the parish church of Stirling, on the 29th of July, 1567, the sermon on the occasion was preached by Knox, though he objected to perform the ceremony of anointing, which accordingly was done by another. In the month of December following he preached at the opening of Parliament, and had the satisfaction of seeing an Act pa.s.sed which ratified all that had been done in the way of Reformation by the Parliament of 1560; while an additional statute was now made providing that no prince should afterwards be admitted to exercise authority in the kingdom without taking an oath to maintain the Protestant religion.

During the regency of Murray everything went well, but his a.s.sa.s.sination (what terrible times these were!) at Linlithgow, by Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh, on the 23rd of January, 1569, was a terrible blow to Knox. Indeed, it may be said that he was never quite the same man afterwards. Knox and Murray loved and trusted each other thoroughly--perhaps all the more from the additional insight into each other's hearts {185} which their temporary estrangement gave them, and when the Regent was stricken down the Reformer felt as if his chief human helper had been taken from him. Murray was a genuine patriot, and in the main a sincere and n.o.ble man. He had his faults, and on exceptional occasions like that described by Froude,[1] when he was made the tool of Elizabeth, he was constrained to be, at least by his silence, a party to deceit which in his heart he abhorred; but that historian has not hesitated to call him "a n.o.ble gentleman of stainless honour,"[2] and to affirm that "his n.o.ble nature had no taint of self in it";[3] and though Robertson has done his best to belittle him, the verdict of history we think will settle in the acceptance of Spottiswood's eulogy: "a man truly good, and worthy to be ranked among the best governors that this kingdom hath enjoyed, and therefore to this day honoured with the t.i.tle of 'the good Regent.'" On the Sunday after this irreparable loss, Knox poured out his heart to G.o.d before the congregation in a prayer which showed how deeply the bereavement had depressed his spirit, and on the day of the funeral he preached a sermon from the text, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord," in which he sketched the character and career of his friend with such effect that three thousand persons were moved to tears by his words.

The blow fell sorely on the country; and it nearly crushed the {186} Reformer. The loss preyed upon his spirit and enfeebled his strength, so that in the month of October following he was stricken with paralysis or apoplexy, which laid him aside altogether for a season from his work, and gave warning of the approaching end. His enemies exulted over his illness, and could not refrain from congratulating themselves on the prospect that he would never preach again; but after some weeks he so far regained his vigour as to resume, in part at least, those labours in which he had found so much of his joy.

Throughout the winter and the spring he continued to bear testimony from his pulpit to the principles which he had so long proclaimed, and to expose and rebuke the evil-doers who were once more at work in the land. For though the murder of Murray brought no permanent advantage to the party of reaction, it brought back again, for a while at least, the chaos and contentions out of which he had begun to bring order and peace. Lennox, as the grandfather of the infant king, was put into the place of Murray, but within a comparatively brief period he was mortally wounded in an a.s.sault made upon the adherents of the king at Stirling, by a force led by Huntly in the interests of Mary, and Erskine of Mar was chosen as his successor. This was in September, 1571. Meanwhile Kirkaldy, of Grange, who had been appointed governor of the Castle of Edinburgh by Murray, had turned his back upon the professions and promise of his life, by avowing himself a partisan of the Queen. He held that fortress for her {187} behoof, and gave its protection to Secretary Maitland, who was working earnestly in her cause. By Maitland's influence Kirkaldy was encouraged in a course which was exceedingly painful to Knox. The Laird of Grange and he had been fellow-sufferers in the French galleys, and to the last the heart of the Reformer yearned after him. Yet he could not permit his conduct as governor of the Castle to go unreproved. On two occasions, in particular, he was constrained to take public notice of his doings.

The first was briefly this. There had been a scuffle in Dunfermline between a cousin of Kirkaldy and his relatives, and some of the Duries, a family with whom the Kirkaldys had a feud; and one of the latter having been seen shortly afterwards in the streets of Edinburgh, was by Kirkaldy's orders followed to Leith by some of his tools, that they might chastise him with a cudgel. But they took the sword instead and left him dead. In the attempt to escape, one of the a.s.sailants was arrested and committed to the Tolbooth, but Grange and his men attacked the building, violently forced it open, and marched off with their liberated comrade to the Castle, the guns of which they fired, either in token of triumph or for the purpose of striking terror into the citizens. In his sermon on the following Sunday Knox protested against this interference with the course of justice, using language which seems to us both temperate and kindly: "Had it been done," he said, "by the authority of a bloodthirsty man, or one who had no fear of G.o.d, he would not have been so much {188} moved; but he was affected to think that one, of whom all good men had formed so great expectations, should have fallen so low as to act such a part, one too who, when formerly in prison, had refused to purchase his own liberty by the shedding of blood." An utter misrepresentation of this statement was carried to Kirkaldy, who complained to John Craig, the Reformer's colleague, by whom he was referred to the elders of the Church of which Kirkaldy still professed to be a member. Knox himself, as soon as he had the matter brought before him, denied that he had used the words imputed to him, and took the first opportunity of correcting the false report, by repeating and vindicating what he had really said.

The other occasion was that of the appearance shortly after, in the church, of Kirkaldy, accompanied by a strong armed escort, composed of those who had been most conspicuous in the recent outrages. He had not attended the public services for nearly a year, and Knox looked upon his presence so surrounded as an attempt to overawe him. But he was not the man to be thus intimidated, and so, as his good servant Ballantyne tells us, he took occasion then and there to inveigh "against all such as forget G.o.d's benefits received, and in treating of G.o.d's great mercies bestowed upon penitents, according to his common manner, he forewarned proud contemners that G.o.d's mercy appertained not to such as with knowledge proudly transgressed, and after, more proudly maintained the same." Kirkaldy was greatly {189} enraged at these words, and even in the church he gave vent to his anger so loudly as to be heard by a great part of the congregation. The report went out in consequence that he meant to kill the preacher; but Knox held on his way, dealing defiantly with the anonymous libels that were sent him, and publicly declaring in words that have become proverbial, that "from Isaiah, Jeremiah, and other inspired writers, he had learned to call a fig a fig, and a spade a spade."

But when, in 1571, Kirkaldy received the Hamiltons and their forces into the Castle, the friends of Knox became seriously alarmed for his safety. They proposed to form a guard who should constantly accompany him for his protection; but he would not accept the offer, and even if he had accepted it Kirkaldy would not have permitted it to be carried out. It was according to military etiquette that he should suppress or prevent all such outrages, and he expressed his willingness to provide a guard for Knox from the soldiers of his garrison. He even tried to get the Hamiltons to guarantee the safety of the Reformer, but they declared that they could not enter into any such engagement, "because there were many rascals and others among them who loved him not, who might do him harm without their knowledge." One evening a musket was fired into his window, and had he not been sitting in a place different from that which he usually occupied, the ball must have struck him, and would in all probability have mortally wounded him. After that he {190} was importuned by his friends to seek a place of safety elsewhere, but he refused to leave his post until they told him that they had made up their minds to defend him, if need be, with their lives, and that if blood was shed they would leave it on his head.

This argument prevailed, and he consented to remove to St. Andrews, whither he went by easy stages, and where he arrived in the month of May, 1571. In his absence his pulpit in St. Giles was filled for a while by Alexander Gordon, Bishop of Galloway, who pleased the Queen's party but displeased the vast majority of the Protestants, so that the Church of Edinburgh was for a time dissolved, while disorder reigned in the city, and what was virtually a civil war was raging in the country.

[1] "History," vol. vii. pp. 345-7.

[2] Vol. vii. p. 340.

[3] Vol. iii. p. 355.

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CHAPTER XIII.

LAST DAYS, 1570-1572.