Volume 2 — PERIOD VII. FROM AUGUST 1560, WHEN HE WAS SETTLED AS MINISTER OF EDINBURGH, AT THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE REFORMATION, TO DECEMBER 1563, WHEN HE WAS ACQUITTED FROM A CHARGE OF TREASON. (continued 2)

When the company convened on the following day, the abbot proceeded to impugn the view which his opponent had given of the text. He urged, first, that Abraham and his company had a sufficiency of provision in the spoils which they had taken from the enemy in their late victory, and did not need Melchizedec’s bread and wine; and, secondly, that the text said that Melchizedec brought them forth, and it was improbable that one man, and he a king, should carry as much as would refresh three hundred and eighteen men. To these objections Knox made such replies as will occur to any person who thinks on the subject. And in this manner did the second day pass.

When they met on the third day, the abbot presented a paper, in which he stated another objection to Knox’s view of the text. After some more altercation on this subject, Knox desired his opponent to proceed, according to his promise, to establish the argument upon which he had rested his cause. But the abbot, being indisposed, rose up, and put into Knox’s hand a book to which he referred him for the proof. By this time, the noblemen and gentlemen present were completely wearied out. For, besides the tedious and uninteresting mode in which the disputation had been managed, they could find entertainment neither for themselves nor for their retinue in Maybole; so that if any person had brought in bread and wine among them, it is presumable that they would not have debated long upon the purpose for which it was brought. Knox proposed that they should adjourn to Ayr and finish the dispute, which was refused by the abbot, who said he would come to Edinburgh for that purpose, provided he could obtain the queen’s permission. Upon this the company dismissed.

The dispute was never resumed, though Knox says that he applied to the privy council for liberty to the abbot to come to Edinburgh for this purpose. Kennedy died in August 1564. It has been said that he was canonized as a saint after his death,90 and Dempster makes him both a saint and a martyr.91 I have not seen his name in the Romish calendar, but I find (what is of as great consequence) that the grand argument upon which he insisted in his disputation with the Reformer has been canonized. For in the calendar, at “March 25,” it is written, “Melchezedec sacrifeit breid and wyne in figure of ye bodie and bloud of our lord, whilk is offerit in ye messe.”92 Doubtless, those who knew the very month and day on which this happened, must have been better acquainted with the design of Melchizedec, than either Moses or Paul.

The abbot, and his friends, having circulated the report that he had the advantage in the disputation, Knox, in 1563, published the account of it from the records of the notaries, to which he added a prologue and short marginal notes. The prologue and his answer to the abbot’s first paper, especially the latter, are pieces of good writing. I have been the more minute in the narrative of this dispute than its merits deserve, because no account of it has hitherto appeared, the tract itself being so exceedingly rare, as to have been seen by few for a long period.93

Another priest who defended the Roman catholic cause at this time was Ninian Wingate. He had been schoolmaster of Linlithgow, from which situation he was removed by Spotswood, superintendent of Lothian, on account of his devoted attachment to popery. In the month of February 1562, he sent to Knox a writing, consisting of eighty‑three questions upon the principal topics of dispute between the papists and protestants, which he had drawn up in the name of the inferior clergy, and laity, of the catholic persuasion in Scotland. To some of these, particularly the questions which related to the call of the protestant ministers, the Reformer returned an answer from the pulpit, and Wingate addressed several letters to him, complaining that his answers were not satisfactory. These letters, with addresses to the queen, nobility, bishops, and magistrates of Edinburgh, Wingate committed to the press, but the impression being seized in the printer’s house, (according to bishop Lesley,) the author made his escape, and went to the continent.94 Knox intended to publish an answer to Wingate’s questions, and to defend the validity of the protestant ministry; but it does not appear that he carried his design into execution.95

In the beginning of 1563, Knox went to Jedburgh, by appointment of the General Assembly, to investigate a scandal which had broken out against Paul Methven, the minister of that place, who was suspected of adultery. Methven was found guilty, and excommunicated.96 Having fled to England, he sent a letter to the General Assembly, professing his willingness to submit to the discipline of the church, but requesting that the account of his process should be deleted from the records of the church. The Assembly declared that he might return with safety to his native country, and that he should be admitted to public repentance, but refused to erase the process from their minutes.97 He afterwards returned to Scotland; and a severe and humiliating penance was prescribed to him. He was enjoined to appear at the church‑door of Edinburgh, when the second bell rang for public worship, clad in sackcloth, bareheaded, and barefooted; to stand there until the prayer and psalms were finished, when he was to be brought into the church to hear sermon, during which he was to be “placeit in the public spectakell above the peiple.” This appearance he was to make on three several preaching‑days, and on the last of them, being a Sabbath, he was, at the close of the sermon, to profess his sorrow before the congregation, and to request their forgiveness; upon which he was again to be “clad in his awin apparell,” and received into the communion of the church. He was to repeat this course at Dundee and at Jedburgh, where he had officiated as minister.98 Methven went through a part of this humbling scene, with professions of deep sorrow; but being overwhelmed with shame, and despairing to regain his lost reputation, he stopped in the midst of it, and again retired to England.99 Prudential considerations were not wanting to induce the reformed church of Scotland to stifle this affair, and to screen from public ignominy a man who had acted a distinguished part in the late reformation of religion. But they refused to listen to these; and by instituting a strict scrutiny into the fact, and inflicting an exemplary punishment upon the criminal, they “approved themselves to be clear in this matter,” and effectually shut the mouths of their popish adversaries.

The mode of public repentance enjoined on this occasion was appointed to be afterwards used in all cases of aggravated immorality.100 There was nothing in which the Scottish reformers approached nearer to the primitive church than in the rigorous and impartial exercise of ecclesiastical discipline, the relaxation of which, under the papacy, they justly regarded as one great cause of the universal corruption of religion. While they rejected many of the ceremonies which were introduced into the worship of the christian church during the three first centuries, they, from detestation of vice, and a desire to restrain it, did not scruple to conform to a number of their penitential regulations. In some instances they might carry their rigour against offenders to an extreme; but it was a virtuous extreme, compared with the dangerous laxity, or rather total disuse of discipline, which has gradually crept into almost all the churches which retain the name of reformed: even as the scrupulous delicacy with which our forefathers shunned the society of those who had transgressed the rules of morality, is to be preferred to modern manners, by which the vicious obtain easy admission into the company of the virtuous.

“’Twas hard, perhaps, on here and there a waif,

Desirous to return, and not received:

But was an wholesome rigour in the main,

And taught the unblemish’d to preserve with care

That purity, whose loss was loss of all.

―――――――But now—yes, now,

We are become so candid and so fair,

So liberal in construction, and so rich

In christian charity, (good‑natured age!)

That they are safe, sinners of either sex,

Transgress what laws they may.”

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

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

Having imparted the substance of what had passed between them to the earl of Murray, Knox meant to return to Edinburgh next day without waiting for any further communications with the queen. But a message was delivered to him at an early hour in the morning, desiring him not to depart until he had again spoken with her majesty. He accordingly met her at a place in the neighbourhood of Kinross, where she took the amusement of hawking. This interview was very different from that of the preceding evening. Waiving entirely the subject on which they had differed, she conversed with him upon a variety of topics, with the greatest familiarity and apparent confidence. Lord Ruthven (she said) had offered her a ring; but she could not love that nobleman. She knew that he used enchantment;101 yet he had been made a member of her privy council; and she blamed secretary Lethington for procuring his admission into that body. Knox excused himself from saying any thing of the secretary in his absence. “I understand,” said she, introducing another subject of discourse, “that ye are appointed to go to Dumfries, for the election of a superintendent to be established in these countries.” He answered in the affirmative. “But I understand the bishop of Athens102 would be superintendent.”—“He is one, madam, that is put in election.”—“If you knew him as well as I do, you would not promote him to that office, nor yet to any other within your kirk.” Knox said that the bishop deceived many, if he did not fear God. “Well, do as you will; but that man is a dangerous man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fertur pudicæ conjugis osculum,

Parvosque natos, ut capitis minor,

Ab se removisse, et virilem

Torvus humi posuisse vultum.

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

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

The queen flattered herself that she had at last caught the Reformer in an offence, which would infallibly subject him to punishment. During her residence at Stirling, in the month of August, the domestics whom she left behind her in Holyroodhouse, celebrated the popish worship with greater publicity than had been usual when she was present; and, at the time when the sacrament of the supper was dispensed in Edinburgh, they revived certain superstitious practices which had been laid aside by the Roman catholics, since the establishment of the Reformation. This boldness offended the protestants, and some of them went down to the palace to mark the inhabitants who repaired to the service. Perceiving numbers entering, they burst into the chapel, and presenting themselves at the altar, which was prepared for mass, asked the priest how he “durst be so malapert” as to proceed in that manner, when the queen was absent. Alarmed at this intrusion, the mistress of the household dispatched a messenger to the comptroller, who was attending sermon in St Giles’s church, desiring him to come instantly to save her life and the palace. Having hurried down, accompanied with the magistrates and a guard, the comptroller found every thing quiet, and no appearance of tumult, except what was occasioned by the retinue which he brought along with him.116 When the report of this affair was conveyed to the queen, she declared her determination not to return to Edinburgh until this riot was punished, and indicted two of the protestants, who had entered the chapel, to stand trial “for forethought felony, hamesucken, and invasion of the palace.” Fearing an intention to proceed to extremities against these men, and that their condemnation would be a preparative to some hostile attempt against their religion, the protestants in Edinburgh resolved that Knox, agreeably to a commission which he had received from the church, should write a circular letter to the principal gentlemen of their persuasion, informing them of the circumstances, and requesting their presence on the day of trial. He wrote the letter according to their request117 A copy of it having come into the hands of Sinclair, bishop of Ross, and president of the Court of Session, who was a great personal enemy to Knox, he conveyed it immediately to the queen at Stirling. She communicated it to the privy council, who, to her great satisfaction, pronounced it treasonable; but, to give the greater solemnity to the proceedings, it was resolved that an extraordinary meeting of the counsellors, assisted by other noblemen, should be held at Edinburgh, in the end of December, to try the cause; and the Reformer was summoned to appear before this convention.118

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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