Volume 2 — PERIOD IX. FROM OCTOBER 1570, WHEN HE WAS STRUCK WITH APOPLEXY, TO HIS DEATH, IN NOVEMBER 1572.

Those who flattered themselves that the Reformer’s disorder was mortal, were disappointed; for he was restored to the use of his speech, and was able, in the course of a few days, to resume preaching, at least on Sabbath days.226 He never recovered, however, from the debility which was produced by the apoplectic stroke.

The confusions which he had augured from the death of the good regent soon broke out, and again spread the flames of civil discord through the nation. The earl of Lennox, who was the natural guardian of his grandson, was advanced to the regency; but he was deficient in the talents which were requisite for so difficult a station, and the knowledge of his weakness emboldened and increased the party which was attached to the queen. The Hamiltons openly raised her standard, and were strengthened by the influence and abilities of Maitland. William Kircaldy of Grange, whom Murray had made governor of the castle of Edinburgh, after concealing his defection for some time under the flag of neutrality, declared himself on the same side, and became a principal agent in attempting to overturn that government which he had been so zealous in erecting. Maitland’s tergiversation surprised nobody; but the defection of Kircaldy was deeply felt by those with whom he had been so long associated. It proved a source of the keenest distress to Knox. The acquaintance which they had formed in the castle of St Andrews,227 grew into intimacy during their confinement in the French galleys; and Knox could never forget the services which Kircaldy performed during the subsequent struggle for reformation, and continued to the last to cherish the hope that he was at heart a friend to religion. Under the influence of these feelings, he spared no pains in endeavouring to prevent him from renouncing his fidelity to the king, and afterwards to reclaim him from his apostacy. But in both attempts he was unsuccessful.

In the end of the year 1570, he was personally involved in a disagreeable quarrel with Kircaldy. One of the soldiers belonging to the castle having been imprisoned by the magistrates on a charge of murder, the governor sent a party from the garrison, who broke open the tolbooth, and carried off the prisoner. In his sermon on the following Sabbath, Knox condemned this riot, and violation of the house of justice. Had it been done by the authority of a bloodthirsty man, or one who had no fear of God, he would not, he said, have been so much moved at it; but he was affected to think that one of whom all good men had formed so great expectations, should have fallen so far 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.228 An erroneous and exaggerated report of this censure being conveyed to the castle, the governor, in great rage, made his complaint, first to Knox’s colleague, and afterwards formally to the kirk‑session, that he had been calumniated as a murderer, and required that his character should be vindicated as publicly as it had been traduced. Knox, understanding that his words had been misrepresented, embraced the first opportunity of explaining and vindicating them from the pulpit. On a subsequent day, Kircaldy, who had absented himself from the church nearly a whole year, came down to St Giles’s, accompanied with a number of the persons who had been active in the murder and riot. Regarding this as an attempt to overawe the authorities, and set public opinion at defiance, the Reformer dwelt particularly, in his discourse, upon the sinfulness of forgetting benefits received from God, and warned his hearers against confiding in the divine mercy, while they were knowingly transgressing any of the commandments, or proudly defending their transgression.

Kircaldy was much incensed at this admonition, which he considered as levelled at him, and made use of very threatening language in speaking of the preacher. The report spread that the governor of the castle was become a sworn enemy to Knox, and intended to kill him. Upon this, several noblemen and gentlemen of Kyle and Cunningham sent a letter to Kircaldy, in which, after reminding him of his former appearances for religion, and mentioning the reports which had reached their ears, they warned him against doing any thing to the hurt of that man, whom “God had made the first planter and chief waterer of his church among them,” and protested that “his death and life were as dear to them as their own.”229

Knox was not to be deterred from doing what he considered to be his duty. He persisted in warning his hearers to avoid all participation with those who prevented the punishment of atrocious crimes, by supporting the pretensions of the queen, and who exposed the reformed religion to the utmost hazard, by opposing the king’s authority. When the General Assembly met in March, 1571, anonymous libels were thrown into the house where they were sitting, and placards affixed to the church‑doors, accusing him of seditious railing against their sovereign, the queen, refusing to pray for her welfare and conversion, representing her as a reprobate whose repentance was hopeless, and uttering imprecations against her. One of the placards concluded with a threat, that, if the assembly did not restrain him by their authority from using such language, the complainers would themselves apply a remedy to the evil “with greater unquietness.” The assembly having, by public intimation, required the complainers to come forward and substantiate their charges, another anonymous writing appeared, promising that accusers should not be wanting against next assembly, if the preacher continued his offensive speeches, and was “then law‑byding, and not fugitive, according to his accustomed manner.”

Several of his friends dealt with him to pass over these unauthenticated libels in silence, but he refused to comply with this advice, considering that the credit of his ministry was implicated. Accordingly, he produced them in the pulpit, and returned a particular answer to the accusations which they contained. That he had charged the late queen with the crimes of which she had been notoriously guilty, he granted,—that he had railed against her, he denied; nor would they be able to substantiate this charge against him, without at the same time proving Isaiah, Jeremiah, and other inspired writers, to have been railers. “From them he had learned plainly and boldly to call wickedness by its own terms, a fig, a fig, and a spade, a spade.” He had never called the queen reprobate, nor said that her repentance was impossible; but he had affirmed that pride and repentance could not remain long together in one heart. He had prayed, that God, for the comfort of his church, would oppose his power to her pride, and confound her and her assistants in their impiety: this prayer, let them call it imprecation or execration as they pleased, had stricken, and would yet strike, whoever supported her. To the charge of not praying for the queen, he answered, “I am not bound to pray for her in this place, for sovereign to me she is not; and I let them understand that I am not a man of law that has my tongue to sell for silver, or favour of the world.”230 What title she now had, or ever had to the government, he would not dispute; the estates had deprived her of it, and it belonged to them to answer for this: as for him, he had hitherto lived in obedience to all lawful authority within the kingdom. To the threatening against his life, and the insinuation that he might not be “law‑byding, but fugitive” against next assembly, he replied, that his life was in the custody of Him who had hitherto preserved him from many dangers, that he had reached an age at which he was not apt to flee far, nor could any yet accuse him of having left the people committed to his charge, except at their own command.

After these answers, his enemies fled, as their last resort, to an attack upon his Blast of the Trumpet, and accused him of inconsistency in writing against female government, and yet praying for queen Elizabeth, and seeking her support against his native country. This accusation he also met in the pulpit, and refuted with great spirit. After vindicating his consistency, he concluded in the following manner:—“One thing in the end, I may not pretermit, that is, to give him a lie in his throat that either dare, or will say, that ever I sought support against my native country. What I have been to my country, albeit this unthankful age will not know, yet the ages to come will be compelled to bear witness to the truth. And thus I cease, requiring of all men that has to oppose any thing against me, that he will do it so plainly as I make myself and all my doings manifest to the world; for to me it seems a thing most unreasonable, that, in my decrepit age, I shall be compelled to fight against shadows, and howlets that dare not abide the light.”231

The conduct of our Reformer at this period affords a striking display of the unextinguishable ardour of his mind. Previous to the breaking out of the late disturbances, he had given up attendance on church courts. He never went abroad except on Sabbath‑days, to preach in the forenoon. He was so debilitated as to be unable to go to the pulpit without assistance.232 He had weaned his heart from the world, and expressed his resolution to take no more part in public affairs. In answer to a letter of his esteemed friend, Sir William Douglas of Lochleven, who had informed him of an intended attempt on the castle of St Andrews by archbishop Hamilton, and requested his good offices for certain preachers, we find him, on the 31st of March, 1570, writing as follows:—“How such troublers may be stayed in their enterprises, I commit to God, to whose counsels I commit you in that and all other causes worldly, for I have taken my good‑night of it; and therefore bear with me, good sir, albeit I write not to the superintendent of Fife in the action that ye desire.”233 But whenever he saw the church and commonwealth seriously in danger, he forgot his infirmities and his resolutions, and entered into the cause with all the keenness of his more vigorous days. Whether the public proceedings of the nation, or his own conduct, were arraigned,—whether the attacks upon them were open or clandestine, he stood prepared to repel them, and convinced the adversaries, that they could not accomplish their designs without opposition, as long as he was able to move or speak.234

His situation became very critical in April 1571, when Kircaldy received the Hamiltons, with their forces, into the castle. Their inveteracy against him was so great, that his friends were obliged to watch his house during the night. They proposed forming a guard for the protection of his person when he went abroad; but the governor of the castle forbade this, as implying a suspicion of his own intentions, and offered to send Melvil, one of his officers, to conduct him to and from the church. “He wold gif the woulf the wedder to keip,” says Bannatyne. Induced by the importunity of the citizens, Kircaldy applied to the duke and his party for a protection to Knox; but they refused to pledge their word for his safety, because “there were many rascals and others among them who loved him not, that might do him harm without their knowledge.”235 Intimations were often given him of threatenings against his life; and one evening a musket‑ball was fired in at his window, and lodged in the roof of the apartment in which he was sitting. It happened that he sat at the time in a different part of the room from that which he had been accustomed to occupy, otherwise the ball, from the direction it took, must have struck him.236 Alarmed by this occurrence, a deputation of the citizens, accompanied by his colleague, waited upon him, and renewed a request which they had formerly made, that he would remove from Edinburgh, to a place where his life would be in greater safety, until the queen’s party should evacuate the town. But he refused to yield to them, apprehending that his enemies wished to intimidate him into flight, that they might carry on their designs more quietly, and then accuse him of cowardice. Being unable to persuade him by any other means, they had recourse at last to an argument which prevailed. They told him that if he was attacked, they were determined to risk their lives in his defence, and if blood was shed in the quarrel, which was highly probable, they would leave it on his head. Upon this he consented to remove from the city, “sore against his will.”237

He left Edinburgh on the 5th of May, 1571, and crossing the Frith at Leith, travelled by short stages to St Andrews, which he had chosen as the place of his retreat.238 His pulpit was filled by Alexander Gordon, bishop of Galloway, who preached and prayed in a manner more acceptable to the queen’s party than his predecessor, but little to the satisfaction of the people, who despised him on account of his weakness, and disliked him for supplanting their favourite pastor.239 A number of the most respectable inhabitants were driven from the capital by violence, while others were induced to quit it, and retire to Leith, that they might not be understood as even practically submitting to the queen’s authority. The church of Edinburgh was for a time dissolved. The celebration of the Lord’s supper was suspended. And, whereas formerly scarce a day passed without some public exercise of religion, there was now, during a whole week, “neither preaching nor prayer; neither was there any sound of bell heard in all the town, except the ringing of the cannon.”240

The kingdom was now subjected to all the miseries of civil war and intestine faction. In almost every part of the country there were adherents to the king and to the queen, who exasperated each other by reciprocal reproaches and injuries. The regent fortified Leith, while the queen’s party kept possession of the castle and town of Edinburgh. As the two armies lay at a small distance from one another, and neither of them was sufficiently strong for undertaking to dispossess the other, they were daily engaged in petty skirmishes; and several acts of disgraceful retaliation, which rarely happen in the open field, were committed on both sides. The evidence which the queen’s friends gave of their personal antipathy to the Reformer, clearly showed that his life would have been in imminent danger, if he had remained among them. An inhabitant of Leith was assaulted and his body mutilated, because he was of the same name with him. A servant of John Craig, being met one day by a reconnoitring party, and asked who was his master, answered, in his trepidation, Mr Knox; upon which he was seized, and, although he immediately corrected his mistake, they desired him to “hold at his first master,” and dragged him to prison. Having fortified St Giles’s steeple to overawe the inhabitants, the soldiers baptized one of the cannons by the name of Knox, which they were so fond of firing, that it burst, killed two of the party, and wounded others.241 They circulated the most ridiculous tales respecting his conduct at St Andrews. John Law, the letter‑carrier of that city, being in the castle of Edinburgh, “the ladie Home and utheris wald neidis thraip in his face, that” John Knox “was banist the said toune, becaus that in the yarde he had reasit sum sanctis, amongis whome thair came up the devill with hornis, which when his servant Richart sawe, [he] ran woode, and so died.”242

Although he was now free from personal danger, Knox did not find St Andrews that peaceful retreat which he had expected. The friends of Kircaldy, and of Sir James Balfour,243 resided in the neighbourhood, and the Hamiltons had their relations and partisans both in the university and among the ministry. These were thorns in the Reformer’s side, and made his situation very uneasy, as long as he resided among them. Having left Edinburgh, because he could not be permitted to disburden his conscience, by testifying against the designs of persons whom he regarded as conspirators against the legal government of the country, and favourers of a faction who intended nothing less than the overthrow of the reformed religion, it was not to be expected that he would preserve silence on this subject at St Andrews. Accordingly, in the discourses which he preached on the eleventh chapter of Daniel’s prophecy, he frequently took occasion to advert to recent transactions, and to inveigh against the murder of the late king, and of the regent. This was very grating to the ears of the opposite faction, particularly to Robert and Archibald Hamilton, the former one of the ministers of the city, and the latter a professor in one of the colleges. Irritated by the censures which Knox pronounced against his kinsmen, Robert Hamilton attempted to injure his reputation, by circulating in private that it did not become him to exclaim so loudly against murderers; for he had seen his subscription, along with that of the earl of Murray, to a bond for assassinating Darnley at Perth. When this came to the Reformer’s ears, he immediately wrote a letter to Hamilton, desiring him to say, whether he was the author of the slanderous report. Not receiving a satisfactory answer, he communicated the matter to Douglas, rector of the university, and Rutherford, provost of St Salvator’s college; requesting them to converse with their colleague on the subject, and to inform him, that if he did not give satisfaction for the slander which he had propagated, a complaint would be lodged against him before the church. Upon this he came to Knox’s room, and denied that he had ever given any ground for such a scandalous surmise.244

Archibald Hamilton being complained of for withdrawing from Knox’s sermons, and for accusing him of intolerable railing, endeavoured to bring the matter under the cognizance of the masters of the university, among whom he possessed considerable influence.245 Knox did not scruple to give an account of his conduct before the professors for their satisfaction; but he judged it necessary to enter a protest, that his appearance before them should not invalidate the liberty of the pulpit, nor the authority of the regular church‑courts, to which, and not to any university, the judgment of religious doctrine belonged.246 This incident accounts for the zeal with which he expresses himself on this subject, in one of his letters to the General Assembly; in which he exhorts them, above all things, to preserve the church from the bondage of the universities, and not to exempt them from ecclesiastical jurisdiction, or allow them to become judges of the doctrine taught from the pulpit.247

The military operations during the civil war were chiefly distinguished by two enterprises, which claim our notice from the influence which they had upon the affairs of the church. The one was the taking of Dunbarton castle, which was surprised, on the 2d of April, 1571, by a small party of the regent’s forces, led by captain Crawford of Jordanhill. Archbishop Hamilton having fallen into the hands of the captors, was soon after condemned, and ended his life on the gibbet. The execution of prisoners, although chargeable with crimes which merit death, is ordinarily avoided in civil contests, because it produces reprisals from the opposite party; but in every other respect the fate of Hamilton is not a subject of regret or of censure. Of all the queen’s adherents, his motives for supporting her cause appear to have been the most unworthy; and his talents and rank in the church ought not to be pleaded in extenuation of the vices by which his private character was stained, or the crimes of which he had been guilty.248 The death of Hamilton gave occasion to a change in the ecclesiastical government, of which I shall speak immediately.

An enterprise equally bold with Crawford’s, but less successful, was planned by Kircaldy. While the regent Lennox was holding a parliament at Stirling, which was numerously attended, a party of soldiers suddenly entered the town early on the morning of September 3, 1571, seized the regent and the nobility who were along with him, and carried them away prisoners. The alarm having been given, the earl of Mar sallied from the castle, and with the assistance of the townsmen, dispersed the assailants, and rescued the noblemen.249 But this was not accomplished without the loss of the regent, who was slain by the orders of lord Claud Hamilton, in revenge for the death of the archbishop of St Andrews. Lennox was succeeded in the regency by the earl of Mar, a nobleman of great moderation, who, during the short time that he held that office, exerted himself to restore peace to the kingdom, and brought the negotiations for this purpose very near to a successful termination.

During these transactions the courtiers were devising a scheme for securing to themselves the principal part of the ecclesiastical revenues, which led to an alteration of the polity of the church. We have repeatedly had occasion to notice the aversion of the nobility to the Book of Discipline, and the principal source from which this aversion sprung. While the earl of Murray administered the government, he prevented any new encroachments upon the rights of the church; but the succeeding regents were either less friendly to them, or less able to check the avarice of the more powerful nobles. Several of the richest benefices having become vacant by the death or by the forfeiture of the popish incumbents who had been permitted to retain them, it was necessary to determine in what manner they should be disposed of. The church had uniformly required that their revenues should be divided, and applied to the support of the religious and literary establishments; but with this demand the courtiers were as much indisposed to comply as ever. At the same time, the secularization of them was deemed too bold a step; nor could laymen, with any shadow of consistency, or by a valid title, hold benefices which the law declared to be ecclesiastical. The expedient resolved on was, that the bishoprics and other rich livings should be presented to certain ministers, who, previous to their admission, should make over the principal part of the revenues to such noblemen as had obtained the patronage of them from the court. This plan, which was concerted under the regency of Lennox, was carried into execution during that of Mar, chiefly by the influence of the earl of Morton.

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 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 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, 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, 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 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 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 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 to grew266 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 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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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 pope287) 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 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. 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

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 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 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, 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 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. “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

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 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 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 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 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,” 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 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 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 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 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 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 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

The affectionate veneration in which his memory continued to be held in Scotland after his death, evinces that the influence which he possessed among his countrymen during his life was not constrained, but founded on the high opinion which they entertained of his virtues and talents. Bannatyne has drawn his character in the most glowing colours; and, although allowances must be made for the enthusiasm with which a favourite servant302 wrote of a beloved and revered master, yet, as he lived long in the Reformer’s family, and was himself a man of respectability and learning, his testimony is by no means to be disregarded. In a speech which he delivered before the General Assembly in March 1571, when in his master’s name he craved justice against the calumnies circulated by the queen’s party, he said, “It has pleased God to make me a servant to that man John Knox, whom I serve, as God bears me witness, not so much in respect of my worldly commodity, as for that integrity and uprightness which I have ever known, and presently understand, to be in him, especially in the faithful administration of his office, in teaching of the word of God; and if I understood, or knew that he was a false teacher, a seducer, a raiser of schism, or one that makes division in the church of God, as he is reported to be by the former accusations, I would not serve him for all the substance in Edinburgh.”303 And, in his journal, after giving an account of Knox’s death, he adds:—“In this manner departed this man of God: the light of Scotland, the comfort of the church within the same, the mirror of godliness, and pattern and example to all true ministers, in purity of life, soundness of doctrine, and boldness in reproving of wickedness; one that cared not the favour of men, how great soever they were. What dexterity in teaching, boldness in reproving, and hatred of wickedness was in him, my ignorant dullness is not able to declare, which if I should preis304 to set out, it were as one who would light a candle to let men see the sun; seeing all his virtues are better known and notified to the world a thousand fold than I am able to express.”305

Principal Smeton’s character of him, while it is less liable to the suspicion of partiality, is equally honourable and flattering. “I know not,” says he, “if ever so much piety and genius were lodged in such a frail and weak body. Certain I am, that it will be difficult to find one in whom the gifts of the Holy Spirit shone so bright, to the comfort of the church of Scotland. None spared himself less in enduring fatigues bodily and mental; none was more intent on discharging the duties of the province assigned to him.” And again, addressing his calumniator Hamilton, he says, “This illustrious, I say illustrious servant of God, John Knox, I shall clear from your feigned accusations and slanders, by the testimony of a venerable assembly rather than by my own denial. This pious duty, this reward of a well‑spent life, all its members most cheerfully discharge to their excellent instructor in Christ Jesus. This testimony of gratitude they all owe to him, who, they know, ceased not to deserve well of all till he ceased to breathe. Released from a body exhausted in Christian warfare, and translated to a blessed rest, where he has obtained the sweet reward of his labours, he now triumphs with Christ. But beware, sycophant, of insulting him when dead; for he has left behind him as many defenders of his reputation as there are persons who were drawn, by his faithful preaching, from the gulf of ignorance to the knowledge of the gospel.”306

The divines of the church of England, who were contemporary with Knox, entertained a great respect for his character, and ranked him along with the most eminent of their own reformers.307 I have already produced the mark of esteem which bishop Bale conferred on him, and the terms of approbation in which he was mentioned by Dr Fulke, one of the most learned of the English divines in the sixteenth century.308 Aylmer, in a work written to confute one of his opinions, bears a voluntary testimony to his learning and integrity.309 And Ridley, who stickled more for the ceremonies of the church than any of his brethren in the reign of Edward VI., and who was displeased with the opposition which Knox made to the introduction of the English liturgy at Frankfort, expressed his high opinion of him, as “a man of wit, much good learning, and earnest zeal.”310 Whatever dissatisfaction they felt at his pointed reprehension of several parts of their ecclesiastical establishment, the English dignitaries, under Elizabeth, rejoiced at the success of his exertions, and without scruple expressed their approbation of many of his measures which were afterwards severely censured by their successors.311 I need scarcely add, that his memory was held in veneration by the English Puritans. Some of the chief men among them were personally acquainted with him during his residence in England and on the continent; and others of them corresponded with him by letter. They highly esteemed his writings, sought for his manuscripts with avidity, and published them with testimonies of the warmest approbation.312

Towards the close of the sixteenth century, there arose another race of prelates, of very different principles from the English reformers, who began to maintain the divine right of diocesan episcopacy, with the intrinsic excellency of a ceremonious worship, and to adopt a new language respecting other reformed churches. Dr Bancroft, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, was the first writer among them who spoke disrespectfully of Knox,313 after whom it became a fashionable practice among the hierarchical party. This was resented by the ministers of Scotland, who warmly vindicated the character of their Reformer,314 at the expense of incurring the frowns and resentment of their sovereign. Though educated under the greatest scholar of the age, and one who was a decided friend to popular liberty, James, in spite of the instructions of Buchanan, proved a pedant, and cowardice alone prevented him from becoming a tyrant. His early favourites flattered his vanity, fostered his love of arbitrary power, and inspired him with the strongest prejudice against the principles and conduct of those men who, during his early years, had been the instruments of preserving his life and supporting his authority. To secure his succession to the English crown, he entered into a private correspondence with Bancroft, and concerted with him the scheme of introducing episcopacy into the church of Scotland. The presbyterian ministers incurred his deep and lasting displeasure by their determined resistance to this design, and by the united and firm opposition which they made to the illegal and despotic measures of his government. He was particularly displeased at the testimony which they publicly bore to the characters of Knox, Buchanan, and the regent Murray, who “could not be defended,” he said, “but by traitors and seditious theologues.” Andrew Melville told him that they were the men who had set the crown on his head, and deserved better of him than to be so traduced. James complained that Knox had spoken disrespectfully of his mother; to which Patrick Galloway, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, replied, “If a king or a queen be a murderer, why should they not be called so?” Walter Balcanquhal, another minister of the city, having, in one of his sermons, rebuked those who disparaged the Reformer, the king sent for him, and in a passion protested that “either he should lose his crown, or Mr Walter should recant his words.” Balcanquhal “prayed God to preserve his crown; but said, that if he had his right wits, the king should have his head, before he recanted any thing he spake.”315

James carried his antipathies to the presbyterian church and reformers along with him to England, and he found it an easy matter to infuse them into the minds of his new subjects. Incensed at the freedom which Buchanan had used in his history of the transactions during the reign of Mary, he had, before leaving Scotland, procured the condemnation of that work by an act of parliament. And now he did not think it enough that he had got Camden’s history of that period manufactured to his mind, but employed agents to induce the French historian, De Thou, to adopt his representations; and because that great man scrupled to receive the royal testimony respecting events which happened before James was born, or when he was a child, in opposition to the most credible evidence, his majesty was pleased to complain that he had been treated disrespectfully.316 Charles I. carried these prejudices even farther than his father had done. During his reign, passive obedience, arminianism, and semi‑popery, formed the court religion; Calvinism and presbytery were held in the greatest detestation, and proscribed both as political and religious heresies. In the reign of the second Charles, the court, the bench, the pulpit, the press, and the stage, united in loading presbyterians with every species of abuse, and in holding them forth as a gloomy, unsocial, turbulent, and fanatical race. And a large share of these contumelies uniformly fell on the head of Knox, who, it was alleged, had brought the obnoxious principles of the sect from Geneva, and planted them in his native country, from which they had spread into England. The revolution was effected in England by a coalition of parties of very different principles, some of which were not of the most liberal kind. Though this event abated the force of the prejudices alluded to, it by no means removed them; and a considerable time after it took place, the great, the fashionable, and even the learned, among the English, regarded the Scots as only beginning to emerge from that inelegance and barbarism which had been produced by the peculiar sentiments of Knox and his followers.

The great body of his countrymen, however, continued long to entertain a just sense of the many obligations which they were under to Knox. After the government of the church of Scotland was conformed to the English model, the Scottish prelates still professed to look back to their national Reformer with sentiments of gratitude and veneration; and archbishop Spotswood describes him as “a man endued with rare gifts, and a chief instrument that God used for the work of those times.”317 For a considerable time after the revolution, the presbyterians of Scotland treated with deserved contempt the libels which English writers had published against him; and blushed not to avow their admiration of a man to whose labours they were indebted for an ecclesiastical establishment, more scriptural and more liberal than that of which their neighbours could boast. The Union first produced a change in our national feelings on this subject. The shortlived jealousy of English predominance, felt by many of our countrymen on that occasion, was succeeded by a passion for conformity to our southern neighbours; and so fond did we become of their good opinion, and so eager to secure it, that we were disposed to sacrifice to their taste and their prejudices, sentiments which truth as well as national honour required us to retain and cherish. Our most popular writers are not exempt from this charge; and even in works professing to be executed by the united talents of our literati, the misrepresentations and gross blunders of which English writers had been guilty in their accounts of our reformation, and the false and scandalous accusations which they had brought against our reformers, have been generally adopted and widely circulated, instead of meeting with the exposure and reprobation which they so justly merited.

The prejudices entertained against our Reformer by the friends of absolute monarchy, were taken up in all their force, subsequently to the revolution, by the adherents of the Stuart family, whose religious notions, approximating very nearly to the popish, joined with their slavish principle respecting non‑resistance to kings, led them to disapprove of almost every measure adopted at the time of the Reformation, and to condemn the whole as a series of disorder, sedition, and rebellion against lawful authority. The spirit by which the Jacobitish faction was actuated, did not become extinct with the family which had so long been the object of their devotion; and while they transferred their allegiance to the house of Hanover, they retained those principles which had incited them repeatedly to attempt its expulsion from the throne. The alarm produced by that revolution which of late has shaken the thrones of so many of the princes of Europe, has greatly increased this party; and with the view of preserving the present constitution of Britain, principles have been widely disseminated, which, if they had been generally received in the sixteenth century, would have perpetuated the reign of popery and arbitrary power in Scotland. From persons of such principles, nothing favourable to our Reformer can be expected. But the greatest torrent of abuse, poured upon his character, has proceeded from those literary champions who have come forward to avenge the wrongs, and vindicate the innocence, of the peerless and immaculate Mary, queen of Scots! Having conjured up in their imagination the image of an ideal goddess, they have sacrificed to the object of their adoration all the characters, which, in that age, were most estimable for learning, patriotism, integrity, and religion. As if the quarrel which they had espoused exempted them from the ordinary laws of controversial warfare, and conferred on them the absolute and undefeasible privilege of calumniating and defaming at pleasure, they have pronounced every person who spoke, wrote, or acted against that queen, to be a hypocrite or a villain. In the raving style of these writers, Knox was “a fanatical incendiary—a holy savage—the son of violence and barbarism—the religious Sachem of religious Mohawks.”318

I cannot do justice to the subject without adverting here to the influence of the popular histories of those transactions written by two distinguished individuals of our own country. The political prejudices and sceptical opinions of Mr Hume are well known, and appear prominently in every part of his History of England. Regarding the various systems of religious belief and worship as distinguished from one another merely by different shades of falsehood and superstition, he has been led, by a strange but not inexplicable bias, almost uniformly to show the most marked partiality to the grosser and more corrupt forms of religion; has spoken with greater contempt of the protestants than of the Roman catholics, and treated the Scottish with greater severity than the English reformers. Forgetting what was due to the character of a philosopher, which he was so ambitious to maintain in his other writings, he has acted as the partisan and advocate of a particular family; and, in vindicating some of the worst measures of the Stuarts, has done signal injustice to the memory of the most illustrious patriots of both kingdoms. Though convinced that the queen of Scotland was guilty of the crimes laid to her charge, he has laboured to screen her from the infamy to which a fair and unvarnished statement of facts must have exposed her character, by fixing the attention of his readers on an untrue and exaggerated representation of the rudeness of Knox and the other reformers by whom she was surrounded, and by absurdly imputing to their treatment of her the faults into which she was betrayed. No person who is acquainted with the writings of Dr Robertson will accuse him of being actuated by such improper motives. But the warmest admirers of his History of Scotland cannot deny, that he has been misled by the temptation of making Mary the heroine of his story, and of thus interesting his readers deeply in his narrative, by blending the tender and romantic with the more dry and uninteresting detail of public transactions. By a studious exhibition of the personal charms and accomplishments of the queen, by representing her faults as arising from the unfortunate circumstances in which she was placed, by touching gently on the errors of her conduct, while he dwells on the cruelty and the dissimulation of her rival, and by describing her sufferings as exceeding the tragical distresses which fancy has feigned to excite sorrow and commiseration, he throws a veil over those vices which he could not deny; while the sympathy which his pathetic account of her death naturally awakens in the minds of his readers, effaces the impressions of her guilt which his preceding narrative had produced. However amiable the feelings of the author might be, the tendency of such a representation is evident. The Dissertation on the murder of king Henry has, no doubt, convinced many of Mary’s accession to the perpetration of that deed; but the History of Scotland has done more to prepossess the public mind in favour of that princess, than all the defences of her most zealous and ingenious advocates, and consequently to excite prejudice against her opponents, who, on the supposition of her guilt, acted a most meritorious part, and are entitled, in other respects, to the gratitude and veneration of posterity.

The increase of infidelity and indifference to religion in modern times, especially among the learned, has contributed, in no small degree, to swell the tide of prejudice against our Reformer. Whatever satisfaction persons of this description may express or feel at the reformation from popery, as the means of emancipating the world from superstition and priestcraft, they naturally despise and dislike men who were inspired with the love of religion, and in whose plans of reform the acquisition of civil liberty, and the advancement of literature, held a subordinate place to the revival of primitive Christianity.

Nor can it escape observation, that prejudices against the characters and proceedings of our reformers are now far more general than they formerly were among those who still profess to adhere to their doctrine and system of church government. Impressed with a high idea of the illumination of the present age, and entertaining a low estimate of the attainments of those which preceded it; imperfectly acquainted with the enormity and extent of the corrupt system of religion which existed in this country at the era of the reformation; inattentive to the spirit and principles of the adversaries with whom our reformers were obliged to contend, and to the dangers and difficulties with which they had to struggle,—they have too easily lent an ear to the calumnies which have been circulated to their prejudice, and rashly condemned measures which will be found, on examination, to have been necessary to secure and to transmit the invaluable blessings which we now enjoy.

Having given this account of the opinions entertained respecting our Reformer, I shall endeavour to sketch, with as much truth as I can, the leading features of his character.

That he possessed strong natural talents is unquestionable. Inquisitive, ardent, acute; vigorous and bold in his conceptions, he entered into all the subtilties of the scholastic science then in vogue; yet, disgusted with its barren results, sought out a new course of study, which gradually led to a complete revolution in his sentiments. In his early years he had not access to that finished education which many of his contemporaries obtained in foreign universities, and he was afterwards prevented, by his unsettled and active mode of life, from prosecuting his studies with leisure; but his abilities and application enabled him in a great measure to surmount these disadvantages, and he remained a stranger to none of the branches of learning which in that age were cultivated by persons of his profession. He united in a high degree the love of study with a disposition to active employment. The truths which he discovered, he felt an irresistible impulse to impart to others, for which he was qualified by a bold, fervid, and impetuous eloquence, singularly adapted to arrest the attention, and govern the passions, of a fierce and unpolished people.

From the time that he embraced the reformed doctrine, the desire of propagating it, and of delivering his countrymen from the delusions and thraldom of popery, became his ruling passion, to which he was always ready to sacrifice his ease, his interest, his reputation, and his life. An ardent attachment to civil liberty held the next place in his breast to love of the reformed religion. That the zeal with which he laboured to advance these objects, was of the most disinterested kind, no candid person who has paid attention to his life can doubt for a moment, whatever opinion may be entertained of some of the means which he employed for that purpose. He thought only of advancing the glory of God, and promoting the welfare of his country. Intrepidity, independence and elevation of mind, indefatigable activity, and constancy which no disappointments could shake, eminently qualified him for the hazardous and difficult post which he occupied. His integrity was above the suspicion of corruption; his firmness proof equally against the solicitations of friends and the threats of enemies. Though his impetuosity and courage led him frequently to expose himself to danger, we never find him neglecting to take prudent precautions for his safety. The confidence reposed in him by his countrymen, shows the high opinion which they entertained of his sagacity as well as of his honesty. The measures taken for advancing the Reformation, were either adopted at his suggestion, or sanctioned by his advice; and we must pronounce them to have been as wisely planned as they were boldly executed.