John Knox and the Reformation

Meanwhile, Randolph dates this affair, the dancing, the sermon, the interview, not in May, but about December 13-15, 1562, [259 - Bain, i. 673.] and connects the dancing with no event in France, [260 - Randolph mentions the joy of the Court over some Guisian successes against the Huguenots, then up in arms, while Mary was on her expedition against Huntly, in October 1562. On December 30 he says that there is little dancing, less because of Knox’s sermons than on account of bad news from France. Bain, i. 658, 674.Dr. Hay Fleming dates the wicked dance in December 1562, but of course that date was not the moment when “persecution was begun again in France,” nor would Mary be skipping in December for joy over letters of the previous March. Mary Queen of Scots, 275.] nor can I find any such event in late November which might make Mary glad at heart. Knox, Randolph writes, mistrusts all that the Queen does or says, “as if he were of God’s Privy Council, that knew how he had determined of her in the beginning, or that he knew the secrets of her heart so well that she neither did nor could have one good thought of God or of his true religion.” His doings could not increase her respect for his religion.

The affair of Arran had been a sensible sorrow to Knox. “God hath further humbled me since that day which men call Good Friday,” he wrote to Mrs. Locke (May 6), “than ever I have been in my life..” He had rejoiced in his task of peace-making, in which the Privy Council had practically failed, and had shown great naïveté in trusting Bothwell. The best he could say to Mrs. Locke was that he felt no certainty about the fact that Bothwell had tempted Arran to conspire. [261 - Knox, vi. 140, 141.]

The probability is that the reckless and impoverished Bothwell did intend to bring in the desirable “new day,” and to make the Hamiltons his tools. Meanwhile he was kept out of mischief and behind stone walls for a season. Knox had another source of annoyance which was put down with a high hand.

The dominie of the school at Linlithgow, Ninian Winzet by name, had lost his place for being an idolater. In February he had brought to the notice of our Reformer and of the Queen the question, “Is John Knox a lawful minister?” If he was called by God, where were his miracles? If by men, by what manner of men? On March 3, Winzet asked Knox for “your answer in writing.” He kept launching letters at Knox in March; on March 24 he addressed the general public; and, on March 31, issued an appeal to the magistrates, who appear to have been molesting people who kept Easter. The practice was forbidden in a proclamation by the Queen on May 31. [262 - Keith, iii. 50, 51.] “The pain is death,” writes Randolph. [263 - Bain, i. 630.] If Mary was ready to die for her faith, as she informed a nuncio who now secretly visited her, she seems to have been equally resolved that her subjects should not live in it.

Receiving no satisfactory written answer from Knox, Winzet began to print his tract, and then he got his reply from “soldiers and the magistrates,” for the book was seized, and he himself narrowly escaped to the Continent. [264 - Lesley, ii. 468.] Knox was not to be brought to a written reply, save so far as he likened his calling to that of Amos and John the Baptist. In September he referred to his “Answer to Winzet’s Questions” as forthcoming, but it never appeared. [265 - Knox, vi. 193.] Winzet was Mary’s chaplain in her Sheffield prison in 1570-72; she had him made Abbot of Ratisbon, and he is said, by Lethington’s son, to have helped Lesley in writing his “History.”

On June 29 the General Assembly, through Knox probably, drew up the address to the Queen, threatening her and the country with the wrath of God on her Mass, which, she is assured, is peculiarly distasteful to the Deity. The brethren are deeply disappointed that she does not attend their sermons, and ventures to prefer “your ain preconceived vain opinion.” They insist that adulterers must be punished with death, and they return to their demands for the poor and the preachers. A new rising is threatened if wicked men trouble the ministers and disobey the Superintendents.

Lethington and Knox had one of their usual disputes over this manifesto; the Secretary drew up another. “Here be many fair words,” said the Queen on reading it; “I cannot tell what the hearts are.” [266 - Knox, ii. 337-345.] She later found out the nature of Lethington’s heart, a pretty black one. The excesses of the Guises in France were now the excuse or cause of the postponement of Elizabeth’s meeting with Mary. The Queen therefore now undertook a northern progress, which had been arranged for in January, about the time when Lord James was made Earl of Moray. [267 - Hay Fleming, Mary Queen of Scots, 301.]

He could not “brook” the Earldom of Moray before the Earl of Huntly was put down, Huntly being a kind of petty king in the east and north. There is every reason to suppose that Mary understood and utterly distrusted Huntly, who, though the chief Catholic in the country, had been a traitor whenever occasion served for many a year. One of his sons, John, in July, wounded an Ogilvy in Edinburgh in a quarrel over property. This affair was so managed as to drive Huntly into open rebellion, neither Mary nor her brother being sorry to take the opportunity.

The business of the ruin of Huntly has seemed more of a mystery to historians than it was, though an attack by a Catholic princess on her most powerful Catholic subject does need explanation. But Randolph was with Mary during the whole expedition, and his despatches are better evidence than the fables of Buchanan and the surmises of Knox and Mr. Froude. Huntly had been out of favour ever since Lord James obtained the coveted Earldom of Moray in January, and he was thought to be opposed to Mary’s visit to Elizabeth. Since January, the Queen had been bent on a northern progress. Probably the Archbishop of St. Andrews, as reported by Knox, rightly guessed the motives. At table he said, “The Queen has gone into the north, belike to seek disobedience; she may perhaps find the thing that she seeks.” [268 - Knox, ii. 347.] She wanted a quarrel with Huntly, and a quarrel she found. Her northward expedition, says Randolph, “is rather devised by herself than greatly approved by her Council.” She would not visit Huntly at Strathbogie, contrary to the advice of her Council; his son, who wounded Ogilvy, had broken prison, and refused to enter himself at Stirling Castle. Huntly then supported his sons in rebellion, while Bothwell broke prison and fortified himself in Hermitage Castle. Lord James’s Earldom of Moray was now publicly announced (September 18), and Huntly was accused of a desire to murder him and Lethington, while his son John was to seize the Queen. [269 - Act Parl. Scot., ii. 572.] Mary was “utterly determined to bring him to utter confusion.” Huntly was put to the horn on October 18; his sons took up arms. Huntly, old and corpulent, died during a defeat at Corrichie without stroke of sword; his mischievous son John was taken and executed, Mary being pleased with her success, and declaring that Huntly thought “to have married her where he would,” [270 - Bain, i. 665.] and to have slain her brother. John Gordon confessed to the murder plot. [271 - Bain, i. 668.] His eldest brother, Lord Gordon, who had tried to enlist Bothwell and the Hamiltons, lay long in prison (his sister married Bothwell just before Riccio’s murder). The Queen had punished the disobedience which she “went to seek,” and Moray was safe in his rich earldom, while a heavy blow was dealt at the Catholicism which Huntly had protected. [272 - Chalmers, in his Life of Queen Mary, vol. i. 78-96 (1818), takes the view of the Huntly affair which we adopt, but, observing the quietly obtained title of Moray under the Privy Seal (January 30, 1561-62) and the publicly assumed title of Mar, granted on February 7, 1561-62, Chalmers (mistaking Huntly for a loyal man) denounces the treachery of Lord James and the “credulity” of the Queen. To myself it appears that brother and sister were equally deep in the scheme for exalting Moray and destroying Huntly.] Cardinal Guise reports her success to de Rennes, in Austria, with triumph, and refers to an autograph letter of hers, of which Lethington’s draft has lately perished by fire, unread by historians. As the Cardinal reports that she says she is trying to win her subjects back to the Church, “in which she wishes to live and die” (January 30, 1562-63), Lethington cannot be the author of that part of her lost letter. [273 - Cf. Pollen, Papal Negotiations, 163, 164.]

Knox meanwhile, much puzzled by the news from the north, was in the western counties. He induced the lairds of Ayrshire to sign a Protestant band, and he had a controversy with the Abbot of Crosraguel. In misapplication of texts the abbot was even more eccentric than Knox, though he only followed St. Jerome. In his “History” Knox “cannot certainly say whether there was any secret paction and confederacy between the Queen herself and Huntly.” [274 - Knox, ii. 346.] Knox decides that though Mary executed John Gordon and other rebels, yet “it was the destruction of others that she sought,” namely, of her brother, whom she hated “for his godliness and upright plainness.” [275 - Ibid., ii. 358.] His upright simplicity had won him an earldom and the destruction of his rival! He and Lethington may have exaggerated Huntly’s iniquities in council with Mary, but the rumours reported against her by Knox could only be inspired by the credulity of extreme ill-will. He flattered himself that he kept the Hamiltons quiet, and, at a supper with Randolph in November, made Chatelherault promise to be a good subject in civil matters, and a good Protestant in religion.

Knox says that preaching was done with even unusual vehemence in winter, when his sermon against the Queen’s dancing for joy over some unknown Protestant misfortune was actually delivered, and the good seed fell on ground not wholly barren. The Queen’s French and Scots musicians would not play or sing at the Queen’s Christmas-day Mass, whether pricked in heart by conscience, or afraid for their lives. “Her poor soul is so troubled for the preservation of her silly Mass that she knoweth not where to turn for defence of it,” says Randolph. [276 - Bain, i. 675.] These persecutions may have gone far to embitter the character of the victim.

Mr. Froude is certainly not an advocate of Mary Stuart, rather he is conspicuously the reverse. But he remarks that when she determined to marry Darnley, “divide Scotland,” and trust to her Catholic party, she did so because she was “weary of the mask which she had so long worn, and unable to endure any longer these wild insults to her creed and herself.” [277 - Froude, ii. 144 (1863).] She had, in fact, given the policy of submission to “wild insults” rather more than a fair chance; she had, for a spirited girl, been almost incredibly long-suffering, when “barbarously baited,” as Charles I. described his own treatment by the preachers and the Covenanters.

CHAPTER XVI: KNOX AND QUEEN MARY (continued): 1563-1564

The new year, 1563, found Knox purging the Kirk from that fallen brother, Paul Methuen. This preacher had borne the burden and heat of the day in 1557-58, erecting, as we have seen, the first “reformed” Kirk, that of the Holy Virgin, in Dundee, and suffering some inconvenience, if no great danger, from the clergy of the religion whose sacred things he overthrew. He does not appear to have been one of the more furious of the new apostles. Contrasted with John Brabner, “a vehement man inculcating the law and pain thereof,” Paul is described as “a milder man, preaching the evangel of grace and remission of sins in the blood of Christ.” [278 - Registrum de Panmure, i. – xxxii., cited by Maxwell; Old Dundee, 162. Book of the Universal Kirk, 26.]

Paul was at this time minister of Jedburgh. He had “an ancient matron” to wife, recommended, perhaps, by her property, and she left him for two months with a servant maid. Paul fell, but behaved not ill to the mother of his child, sending her “money and clothes at various times.” Knox tried the case at Jedburgh; Paul was excommunicated, and fled the realm, sinking so low, it seems, as to take orders in the Church of England. Later he returned – probably he was now penniless – “and prostrated himself before the whole brethren with weeping and howling.” He was put to such shameful and continued acts of public penance up and down the country that any spirit which he had left awoke in him, and the Kirk knew him no more. Thus “the world might see what difference there is between darkness and light.” [279 - Knox, ii. 364-367; ii. 531, 532; Keith, iii. 140, 141.]

Knox presently had to record a scandal in a higher place, the capture and execution of the French minor poet, Chastelard, who, armed with sword and dagger, hid under the Queen’s bed in Holyrood; and invaded her room with great insolence at Burntisland as she was on her way to St. Andrews. There he was tried, condemned, and executed in the market-place. It seems fairly certain that Chastelard, who had joined the Queen with despatches during the expedition against Huntly, was a Huguenot. The Catholic version, and Lethington’s version, of his adventure was that some intriguing Huguenot lady had set him on to sully Queen Mary’s character; other tales ran that he was to assassinate her, as part of a great Protestant conspiracy. [280 - Spanish Calendar, i. 314.]

Randolph, who knew as much as any one, thought the Queen far too familiar with the poet, but did not deem that her virtue was in fault. [281 - Bain, i. 684-686.] Knox dilates on Mary’s familiarities, kisses given in a vulgar dance, dear to the French society of the period, and concludes that the fatuous poet “lacked his head, that his tongue should not utter the secrets of our Queen.” [282 - Knox, ii. 367-369.]

There had been a bad harvest, and a dearth, because the Queen’s luxury “provoked God” (who is represented as very irritable) “to strike the staff of bread,” and to “give His malediction upon the fruits of the earth. But oh, alas, who looked, or yet looks, to the very cause of all our calamities!” [283 - Knox, ii, 370.]

Some savage peoples are said to sacrifice their kings when the weather is unpropitious. Knox’s theology was of the same kind. The preachers, says Randolph (February 28), “pray daily.. that God will either turn the Queen’s heart or grant her short life. Of what charity or spirit this proceeds, I leave to be discussed by great divines.” [284 - Bain, i. 686.] The prayers sound like encouragement to Jehus.

At this date Ruthven was placed, “by Lethington’s means only,” on the Privy Council. Moray especially hated Ruthven “for his sorcery”; the superstitious Moray affected the Queen with this ill opinion of one of the elect – in the affair of Riccio’s murder so useful to the cause of Knox. “There is not an unworthier in Scotland” than Ruthven, writes Randolph. [285 - Ibid., i. 687.] Meanwhile Lethington was in England to negotiate for peace in France; if he could, to keep an eye on Mary’s chances for the succession, and (says Knox) to obtain leave for Lennox, the chief of the Stuarts and the deadly foe of the Hamiltons, to visit Scotland, whence, in the time of Henry VIII., he had been driven as a traitor. But Lethington was at that time confuting Lennox’s argument that the Hamilton chief, Chatelherault, was illegitimate. Knox is not positive, he only reports rumours. [286 - Knox, li. 361; Bain, i. 693. Lethington’s argument against Lennox’s claim, March 28, 1563.] Lethington’s serious business was to negotiate a marriage for the Queen.

Despite the recent threats of death against priests who celebrated Mass, the Archbishop Hamilton and Knox’s opponent, the Abbot of Crossraguel, with many others, did so at Easter. The Ayrshire brethren “determined to put to their own hands,” captured some priests, and threatened others with “the punishment that God has appointed to idolaters by His law.” [287 - Knox, ii. 371.] The Queen commanded Knox to meet her at Lochleven in mid-April – Lochleven, where she was later to be a prisoner. In that state lay the priests of her religion, who had been ministering to the people, “some in secret houses, some in barns, some in woods and hills,” writes Randolph, “all are in prison.” [288 - Bain, ii. 7.]

Mary, for two hours before supper, implored Knox to mediate with the western fanatics. He replied, that if princes would not use the sword against idolaters, there was the leading case of Samuel’s slaughter of Agag; and he adduced another biblical instance, of a nature not usually cited before young ladies. He was on safer ground in quoting the Scots law as it stood. Judges within their bounds were to seek out and punish “mass-mongers” – that was his courteous term.

The Queen, rather hurt, went off to supper, but next morning did her best to make friends with Knox over other matters. She complained of Ruthven, who had given her a ring for some magical purpose, later explained by Ruthven, who seems to have despised the superstition of his age. The Queen, says Ruthven, was afraid of poison; he gave her the ring, saying that it acted as an antidote. Moray was at Lochleven with the Queen, and Moray believed, or pretended to believe, in Ruthven’s “sossery,” as Randolph spells “sorcery.” She, rather putting herself at our Reformer’s mercy, complained that Lethington alone placed Ruthven in the Privy Council.

“That man is absent,” said Knox, “and therefore I will speak nothing on that behalf.” Mary then warned him against “the man who was at time most familiar with the said John, in his house and at table,” the despicable Bishop of Galloway, and Knox later found out that the warning was wise. Lastly, she asked him to reconcile the Earl and Countess of Argyll – “do this much for my sake”; and she promised to summon the offending priests who had done their duty. [289 - Knox, ii. 370-377.]

Knox, with his usual tact, wrote to Argyll thus: “Your behaviour toward your wife is very offensive unto many godly.” He added that, if all that was said of Argyll was true, and if he did not look out, he would be damned.

“This bill was not well accepted of the said Earl,” but, like the rest of them, he went on truckling to Knox, “most familiar with the said John.” [290 - Ibid., ii. 377-379.]

Nearly fifty priests were tried, but no one was hanged. They were put in ward; “the like of this was never heard within the realm,” said pleased Protestants, not “smelling the craft.” Neither the Queen nor her Council had the slightest desire to put priests to death. Six other priests “as wicked as” the Archbishop were imprisoned, and the Abbot of Crossraguel was put to the horn in his absence, just as the preachers had been. The Catholic clergy “know not where to hide their heads,” says Randolph. Many fled to the more tender mercies of England; “it will be the common refuge of papists that cannot live here.” [291 - Bain, ii. 9, 10.] The tassels on the trains of the ladies, it was declared by the preachers, “would provoke God’s vengeance.. against the whole realm. ” [292 - Knox, ii. 381.]

The state of things led to a breach between Knox and Moray, which lasted till the Earl found him likely to be useful, some eighteen months later.

The Reformer relieved his mind in the pulpit at the end of May or early in June, rebuking backsliders, and denouncing the Queen’s rumoured marriage with any infidel, “and all Papists are infidels.” Papists and Protestants were both offended. There was a scene with Mary, in which she wept profusely, an infirmity of hers; we constantly hear of her weeping in public. She wished the Lords of the Articles to see whether Knox’s “manner of speaking” was not punishable, but nothing could be done. Elizabeth would have found out a way. [293 - Ibid., ii. 387-389.]

The fact that while Knox was conducting himself thus, nobody ventured to put a dirk or a bullet into him – despite the obvious strength of the temptation in many quarters – proves that he was by far the most potent human being in Scotland. Darnley, Moray, Lennox were all assassinated, when their day came, though the feeblest of the three, Darnley, had a powerful clan to take up his feud. We cannot suppose that any moral considerations prevented the many people whom Knox had offended from doing unto him as the Elect did to Riccio. Manifestly, nobody had the courage. No clan was so strong as the warlike brethren who would have avenged the Reformer, and who probably would have been backed by Elizabeth.

Again, though he was estranged from Moray, that leader was also, in some degree, estranged from Lethington, who did not allow him to know the details of his intrigues, in France and England, for the Queen’s marriage. The marriage question was certain to reunite Moray and Knox. When Knox told Mary that, as “a subject of this realm,” he had a right to oppose her marriage with any infidel, he spoke the modern constitutional truth. For Mary to wed a Royal Catholic would certainly have meant peril for Protestantism, war with England, and a tragic end. But what Protestant could she marry? If a Scot, he would not long have escaped the daggers of the Hamiltons; indeed, all the nobles would have borne the fiercest jealousy against such an one as, say, Glencairn, who, we learn, could say anything to Mary without offence. She admired a strong brave man, and Glencairn, though an opponent, was gallant and resolute. England chose only to offer the infamous and treacherous Leicester, whose character was ruined by the mysterious death of his wife (Amy Robsart), and who had offered to sell England and himself to idolatrous Spain. Mary’s only faint chance of safety lay in perpetual widowhood, or in marrying Knox, by far the most powerful of her subjects, and the best able to protect her and himself.

This idea does not seem to have been entertained by the subtle brain of Lethington. Between February and May 1563, the Cardinal of Lorraine had reopened an old negotiation for wedding the Queen to the Archduke, and Mary had given an evasive reply; she must consult Parliament. In March, with the Spanish Ambassador in London, Lethington had proposed for Don Carlos. Philip II., as usual, wavered, consented (in August), considered, and reconsidered. Lethington, in France, had told the Queen-Mother that the Spanish plan was only intended to wring concessions from Elizabeth; and, on his return to England, had persuaded the Spanish Ambassador that Charles IX. was anxious to succeed to his brother’s widow. This moved Philip to be favourable to the Don Carlos marriage, but he waited; there was no sign from France, and Philip withdrew, wavering so much that both the Austrian and Spanish matches became impossible. On October 6, Knox, who suspected more than he knew, told Cecil that out of twelve Privy Councillors, nine would consent to a Catholic marriage. The only hope was in Moray, and Knox “daily thirsted” for death. [294 - Bain, ii. 24.] He appealed to Leicester (about whose relations with Elizabeth he was, of course, informed) as to a man who “may greatly advance the purity of religion.” [295 - Ibid., ii. 25.]

These letters to Cecil and Leicester are deeply pious in tone, and reveal a cruel anxiety. On June 20, three weeks after Knox’s famous sermon, Lethington told de Quadra, the Spanish Ambassador, that Elizabeth threatened to be Mary’s enemy if she married Don Carlos or any of the house of Austria. [296 - Spanish Calendar, i. 338.] On August 26, 1563, Randolph received instructions from Elizabeth, in which the tone of menace was unconcealed. Elizabeth would offer an English noble: “we and our country cannot think any mighty prince a meet husband for her.” [297 - Bain, ii. 19, 20.]

Knox was now engaged in a contest wherein he was triumphant; an affair which, in later years, was to have sequels of high importance. During the summer vacation of 1563, while Mary was moving about the country, Catholics in Edinburgh habitually attended at Mass in her chapel. This was contrary to the arrangement which permitted no Mass in the whole realm, except that of the Queen, when her priests were not terrorised. The godly brawled in the Chapel Royal, and two of them were arrested, two very dear brethren, named Cranstoun and Armstrong; they were to be tried on October 24. Knox had a kind of Dictator’s commission from the Congregation, “to see that the Kirk took no harm,” and to the Congregation he appealed by letter. The accused brethren had only “noted what persons repaired to the Mass,” but they were charged with divers crimes, especially invading her Majesty’s palace. Knox therefore convoked the Congregation to meet in Edinburgh on the day of trial, in the good old way of overawing justice. [298 - Bain, ii. 26; Knox, ii. 393, 394.] Of course we do not know to what lengths the dear brethren went in their pious indignation. The legal record mentions that they were armed with pistols, in the town and Court suburb; and it was no very unusual thing, later, for people to practise pistol shooting at each other even in their own Kirk of St. Giles’s. [299 - Hume Brown, Scotland under Queen Mary, p. 99.]

Still, pistols, if worn in the palace chapel have not a pacific air. The brethren are also charged with assaulting some of the Queen’s domestic servants. [300 - Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. 434.]

Archbishop Spottiswoode, son of one of the Knoxian Superintendents, says that the brethren “forced the gates, and that some of the worshippers were taken and carried to prison… ” [301 - Dr. M‘Crie accepts, like Keith, a story of Spottiswoode’s not elsewhere found (M‘Crie, 204), but innocently remarks that, as to the brawl in chapel, Spottiswoode could not know the facts so well as Knox! (p. 210). Certainly twenty-two attendants on the Mass were “impanelled” for trial for their religious misdemeanour. Knox, ii. 394, note I.] Knox admits in his “History” that “some of the brethren burst in” to the chapel. In his letter to stir up the godly, he says that the brethren “passed” (in), “and that in most quiet manner.”

On receiving Knox’s summons the Congregation prepared its levies in every town and province. [302 - Knox, ii. 397.] The Privy Council received a copy of Knox’s circular, and concluded that it “imported treason.”

To ourselves it does seem that for a preacher to call levies out of every town and province, to meet in the capital on a day when a trial was to be held, is a thing that no Government can tolerate. The administration of justice is impossible in the circumstances. But it was the usual course in Scotland, and any member of the Privy Council might, at any time, find it desirable to call a similar convocation of his allies. Mary herself, fretted by the perfidies of Elizabeth, had just been consoled by that symbolic jewel, a diamond shaped like a rock, and by promises in which she fondly trusted when she at last sought an asylum in England, and found a prison. For two months she had often been in deep melancholy, weeping for no known cause, and she was afflicted by the “pain in her side” which ever haunted her (December 13-21). [303 - Randolph to Cecil; Bain, ii. 28, 29.]

Accused by the Master of Maxwell of unbecoming conduct, Knox said that such things had been done before, and he had the warrant “of God, speaking plainly in his Word.” The Master (later Lord Herries), not taking this view of the case, was never friendly with Knox again; the Reformer added this comment as late as December 1571. [304 - Knox, ii. 399-401.]

Lethington and Moray, like Maxwell, remonstrated vainly with our Reformer. Randolph (December 21) reports that the Lords assembled “to take order with Knox and his faction, who intended by a mutinous assembly made by his letter before, to have rescued two of their brethren from course of law… ” [305 - Keith, ii. 210. The version in Bain, ii. 30, is differently worded.] Knox was accompanied to Holyrood by a force of brethren who crowded “the inner close and all the stairs, even to the chamber door where the Queen and Council sat.” [306 - Knox, ii. 403.] Probably these “slashing communicants” had their effect on the minds of the councillors. Not till after Riccio’s murder was Mary permitted to have a strong guard.

According to Knox, Mary laughed a horse laugh when he entered, saying, “Yon man gart me greit, and grat never tear himself. I will see gif I can gar him greit.” Her Scots, textually reported, was certainly idiomatic.

Knox acknowledged his letter to the Congregation, and Lethington suggested that he might apologise. Ruthven said that Knox made convocation of people daily to hear him preach; what harm was there in his letter merely calling people to convocation. This was characteristic pettifogging. Knox said that he convened the people to meet on the day of trial according to the order “that the brethren has appointed.. at the commandment of the general Kirk of the Realm.”

Mary seems, strangely enough, to have thought that this was a valid reply. Perhaps it was, and the Kirk’s action in that sense, directed against the State, finally enabled Cromwell to conquer the Kirk-ridden country. Mary appears to have admitted the Kirk’s imperium in imperio, for she diverted the discussion from the momentous point really at issue – the right of the Kirk to call up an armed multitude to thwart justice. She now fell on Knox’s employment of the word “cruelty.” He instantly started on a harangue about “pestilent Papists,” when the Queen once more introduced a personal question; he had caused her to weep, and he recounted all their interview after he attacked her marriage from the pulpit.

He was allowed to go home – it might not have been safe to arrest him, and the Lords, unanimously, voted that he had done no offence. They repeated their votes in the Queen’s presence, and thus a precedent for “mutinous convocation” by Kirkmen was established, till James VI. took order in 1596. We have no full narrative of this affair except that of Knox. It is to be guessed that the nobles wished to maintain the old habit of mutinous convocation which, probably, saved the life of Lethington, and helped to secure Bothwell’s acquittal from the guilt of Darnley’s murder. Perhaps, too, the brethren who filled the whole inner Court and overflowed up the stairs of the palace, may have had their influence.

This was a notable triumph of our Reformer, and of the Kirk; to which, on his showing, the Queen contributed, by feebly wandering from the real point at issue. She was no dialectician. Knox’s conduct was, of course, approved of and sanctioned by the General Assembly. [307 - Knox, ii. 399-415.] He had, in his circular, averred that Cranstoun and Armstrong were summoned “that a door may be opened to execute cruelty upon a greater multitude.” To put it mildly, the General Assembly sanctioned contempt of Court. Unluckily for Scotland contempt of Court was, and long remained, universal, the country being desperately lawless, and reeking with blood shed in public and private quarrels. When a Prophet followed the secular example of summoning crowds to overawe justice, the secular sinners had warrant for thwarting the course of law.

As to the brethren and the idolaters who caused these troubles, we know not what befell them. The penalty, both for the attendants at Mass and for the disturbers thereof, should have been death! The dear brethren, if they attacked the Queen’s servants, came under the Proclamation of October 1561; so did the Catholics, for they “openly made alteration and innovation of the state of religion… ” They ought “to be punished to the death with all rigour.” Three were outlawed, and their sureties “unlawed.” Twenty-one others were probably not hanged; the records are lost. For the same reason we know not what became of the brethren Armstrong, Cranstoun, and George Rynd, summoned with the other malefactors for November 13. [308 - Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. 434, 435.]

CHAPTER XVII: KNOX AND QUEEN MARY (continued), 1564-1567

During the session of the General Assembly in December 1563, Knox was compelled to chronicle domestic enormities. The Lord Treasurer, Richardson, having, like Captain Booth, “offended the law of Dian,” had to do penance before the whole congregation, and the sermon (unfortunately it is lost, probably it never was written out) was preached by Knox. A French apothecary of the Queen’s, and his mistress, were hanged on a charge of murdering their child. [309 - Randolph, December 31; Bain, ii. 33; Knox, ii. 415.] On January 9, 1564-65, Randolph noted that one of the Queen’s Maries, Mary Livingstone, is to marry John Sempill, son of Robert, third Lord Sempill, by an English wife. Knox assures us that “it is well known that shame hastened marriage between John Sempill, called ‘the Dancer,’ and Mary Livingstone, surnamed ‘the Lusty.’” The young people appear, however, to have been in no pressing hurry, as Randolph, on January 9, did not expect their marriage till the very end of February; they wished the Earl of Bedford, who was coming on a diplomatic mission, to be present. [310 - Randolph, February 19, 1564; Bain, i. 113, 125.] Mary, on March 9, 1565, made them a grant of lands, since “it has pleased God to move their hearts to join together in the state of matrimony.” [311 - Knox, ii. 415, note 3.] She had ever since January been making the bride presents of feminine finery.

These proceedings indicating no precipitate haste, we may think that Mary Livingstone, like Mary of Guise, is only a victim of the Reformer’s taste for “society journalism.” Randolph, though an egregious gossip, says of the Four Maries, “they are all good,” but Knox writes that “the ballads of that age” did witness to the “bruit” or reputation of these maidens. As is well known the old ballad of “Mary Hamilton,” which exists in more than a dozen very diverse variants, in some specimens confuses one of the Maries, an imaginary “Mary Hamilton,” with the French maid who was hanged at the end of 1563. The balladist is thus responsible for a scandal against the fair sisterhood; there was no “Mary Hamilton,” and no “Mary Carmichael,” in their number – Beaton, Seton, Fleming, and Livingstone.

An offended Deity now sent frost in January 1564, and an aurora borealis in February, Knox tells us, and “the threatenings of the preachers were fearful,” in face of these unusual meteorological phenomena. [312 - Knox, ii. 417-419.]