Kinyeancleuch, offended that they should be debarred their parish
kirk, determined to enter by force. But the said Master George drew
the said Hugh aside, and said unto him, "Brother, Christ Jesus is as
potent upon the fields as in the kirk; and I find that He Himself
preached in the desert, at the sea side, and other places judged
profane, more often than He did in the Temple of Jerusalem. It is
the word of peace that God sends by me; the blood of no man shall
be shed this day for the preaching of it." And so, withdrawing
the whole people, he came to a dyke at the side of a moor, upon
the south-west side of Mauchline, and upon this he climbed. The
whole multitude stood and sat about him, God giving a pleasing and
hot day. He continued in preaching more than three hours. In that
sermon, God wrought so wonderfully with him that one of the most
wicked men that was in that country, Lawrence Rankin, Laird of
Sheill, was converted. The tears ran from his eyes in such abundance
that all men wondered. His conversion was without hypocrisy, for his
life and conversation witnessed it in all after-times.
[Sidenote: The Plague comes to Dundee: Wishart returns.]
While this faithful servant of God was thus occupied in Kyle, word
came that the plague of pestilence had arisen in Dundee. This had
begun within four days after Master George was inhibited from
preaching, and was so vehement that it almost passed credibility to
hear what number died every four-and-twenty hours. This certainly
understood, Master George took his leave of Kyle, with the regret of
many. No request could make him remain. "They are now in trouble,"
he said, "and they need comfort. Perchance this hand of God will
make them now to magnify and reverence that Word, which before, for
the fear of men, they set at light price." On his coming to Dundee,
the joy of the faithful was exceeding great. He delayed no time,
but even upon the morrow gave signification that he would preach.
The most part were either sick or were in company with those that
were sick, and for this reason he chose the head of the East Port
of the town for his preaching place. Those who were whole sat or
stood within the Port, the sick and suspected without. The text of
his first sermon was taken from the hundred-and-seventh Psalm, "He
sent His Word and healed them;" joining therewith these words, "It
is neither herb nor plaster, O Lord, but Thy Word healeth all." In
this sermon he most comfortingly treated of the dignity and utility
of God's Word; the punishment that comes for contempt of the same;
the promptitude of God's mercy to such as truly turn to Him; yea,
the great happiness of them whom God takes from this misery, even in
His own gentle visitation, a happiness that the malice of man can
neither eke nor pare.[68]
[68] Increase nor diminish.
By this sermon Master George so raised up the hearts of all that
heard him that they regarded not death, but judged those more happy
that should depart, than such as should remain behind; considering
that they knew not if they should have such a comforter with them
at all times. Master George did not hesitate to visit them that lay
in the very extremity of sickness. Them he comforted as well as he
might in such a multitude. He also caused that all things necessary
for those that could use meat or drink should be ministered; and in
that respect the town was wondrously benefited; for the poor were no
more neglected than were the rich.
[Sidenote: The Cardinal attempts to assassinate Wishart at Dundee.]
While Master George Wishart was spending his life to comfort the
afflicted, the Devil ceased not to stir up his own son the Cardinal
again. He, by money, corrupted a desperate priest named Sir John
Wighton to slay the said Master George, who did not look to himself
in all things so circumspectly as worldly men would have wished.
One day, the sermon ended, and the people departing, suspecting no
danger and therefore not heeding the said Master George, the priest
that was corrupted stood waiting at the foot of the steps, his gown
loose, and his drawn whinger in his hand under his gown. The said
Master George, who was most sharp of eye and judgment, marked him,
and as he came near said, "My friend, what would ye do?" Therewith
he clapped his hand upon the priest's hand wherein the whinger was,
and took this from him. The priest, abashed, fell down at his feet
and openly confessed the truth. The noise coming to the ears of the
sick, they cried, "Deliver the traitor to us, or else we will take
him by force;" and burst in at the gate. But Master George took him
in his arms and said, "Whosoever troubles him shall trouble me. He
has hurt me in nothing, but has done great comfort both to you and
me, he has let us understand what we may fear in times to come.
We will watch better." Thus he appeased both the one part and the
other, and saved the life of him that sought his.
When the plague was so ceased that there were almost none sick,
Master George took his leave of the people of Dundee; saying that
God had almost put end to that battle, and he found himself called
to another. The gentlemen of the west had written unto him that he
should meet them at Edinburgh; for they would demand disputation
with the bishops, and he should be publicly heard. Thereto he
willingly agreed; but first he passed to Montrose to salute the kirk
there. There he remained, occupied sometimes in preaching but for
the most part in secret meditation, in which he was so earnest that
he would continue in it night and day.
[Sidenote: Further Treachery of the Cardinal.]
While Master George was so occupied with his God, the Cardinal drew
a secret draught for his slaughter. He caused to be written unto
him a letter, purporting to be from his most familiar friend, the
Laird of Kynneir, desiring him to come unto him with all possible
diligence, for he was stricken with a sudden sickness. In the
meantime the traitor had provided threescore men, with jacks[69]
and spears, to lie in wait within a mile and a half of the town of
Montrose, for his despatch. The letter coming to his hand, he made
haste at the first, for the boy had brought a horse; and so with
some honest men, he passed forth of the town. But suddenly he stayed
and, musing a space, turned back. "I will not go," he said; "I am
forbidden by God. I am assured there is treason. Let some of you go
to yonder place, and tell me what ye find." Diligence made, they
found the treason, as it was; and this being shown with expedition
to Master George, he answered, "I know that I shall finish my life
in that bloodthirsty man's hands; but it will not be in this manner."
[69] Coats of mail.
[Sidenote: The Agony of Master George Wishart.]
When the time at which he had appointed to meet the gentlemen at
Edinburgh approached, Master George took his leave of Montrose,
and, sorely against the judgment of the Laird of Dun, entered on
his journey. He returned to Dundee, but did not remain, going on
to the house of a faithful brother named James Watson, who dwelt
in Invergowrie, two miles distant from the said town. That night,
according to information given to us by William Spadin and John
Watson, both men of good credit, he passed forth into a yard, a
little before day. The said William and John followed privily, and
took heed what he did. When he had gone up and down in an alley for
some time, with many sobs and deep groans, he platt upon his knees,
and remaining thus, his groans increased. From his knees, he fell
upon his face; and then the persons forenamed heard weeping, and an
indistinct sound, as it were of prayers. In this agony he continued
for nearly an hour, and afterwards began to be quiet, when he arose
and came in to his bed.
They that had watched got in before Master George, as if they had
been ignorant of his absence until he came in; and then they began
to ask where he had been. But that night he would answer nothing.
Upon the morrow they urged him again; and, when he dissimulated,
they said, "Master George, be plain with us; we heard your groans;
yea, we heard your bitter mourning, and saw you both upon your knees
and upon your face." With dejected visage, he said, "I had rather ye
had been in your beds. It would have been more profitable for you,
for I was scarcely well employed." They insistently urged him to let
them know something for their comfort, and he then said, "I will
tell you that I am assured that my travail is near an end. Therefore
call to God with me, that now I shrink not, when the battle waxes
most hot." When they wept, and said, that was "small comfort unto
them;" he answered, "God shall send you comfort after me. This
realm shall be illuminated with the light of Christ's Evangel, as
clearly as ever was any realm since the days of the Apostles. The
house of God shall be builded in it. Yea, it shall not lack the very
copestone, whatsoever the enemy imagine to the contrary." Neither
shall this be long; there shall not many suffer after me, before
the glory of God shall evidently appear, and shall once triumph
in despite of Satan. But, alas! if the people shall thereafter be
unthankful, fearful and terrible shall the plagues be that shall
follow." With these words he marched forward in his journey towards
Perth; and so to Fife, and then to Leith.
[Sidenote: Master George arrives in Leith.]
Arrived in Leith, and hearing no word of those that had appointed
to meet him, to wit, the Earl of Cassillis and the gentlemen of
Kyle and Cunningham, Master George kept himself secret for a day
or two. But beginning to wax sorrowful in spirit, and being asked
the cause, he said, "What differ I from a dead man, except that
I eat and drink? Unto this time, God has used my labours for the
instruction of others, and for the disclosing of darkness; and now
I lurk as a man that is ashamed, and dare not show himself before
men." From these and like words, they that heard him understood that
his desire was to preach; and therefore said they, "Most comfortable
it were unto us to hear you; but, because we know the danger wherein
ye stand, we dare not desire you." "Only dare ye and others hear,"
said he, "and then let my God provide for me, as best pleaseth Him."
Finally, it was concluded that he should preach in Leith on the next
Sunday. This he did, taking the text, "The parable of the sower
that went forth to sow seed." (Matthew xiii.) This was fifteen days
before Yule.
[Sidenote: For Safety he is removed to the Lothians; preaches at
Inveresk.]
The sermon ended, the gentlemen of Lothian, who then were earnest
professors of Christ Jesus, thought it not expedient that Master
George should remain in Leith, as the Governor and Cardinal were
shortly to come to Edinburgh. Therefore they took him with them,
and kept him sometimes in Brunstone, sometimes in Longniddry, and
sometimes in Ormiston; for those three Lairds diligently waited upon
him. On the Sunday following, he preached in the kirk of Inveresk,
beside Musselburgh, both before and after noon. There was a great
congregation of people, amongst them being Sir George Douglas, who
said publicly after the sermon, "I know that my Lord Governor and
my Lord Cardinal shall hear that I have been at this preaching.
Say unto them that I will avow it, and will not only maintain the
doctrine that I have heard, but also the person of the teacher, to
the uttermost of my power." These words greatly rejoiced the people
and the gentlemen then present.
We cannot pass by one notable thing in that sermon. Amongst others,
there came two Grey Friars, who, standing in the entry of the kirk
door, made some whispering to such as came in. This perceived, the
preacher said to the people that stood nigh them, "I heartily pray
you to make room for those two men. It may be that they be come to
learn." Unto them he said, "Come near,"--they stood in the very
entry of the door,--"for I assure you ye shall hear the Word of
truth, which shall this same day seal unto you your salvation, or
your condemnation." He then proceeded with his sermon, supposing
that they would have been quiet. But, when he perceived that they
still troubled the people that stood nigh them (for vehement was
he against the false worshipping of God), he turned unto them the
second time, and with an awful countenance said, "O sergeants of
Satan and deceivers of the souls of men, will ye neither hear God's
truth, nor suffer others to hear it? Depart, and take this for your
portion,--God shall shortly confound and disclose your hypocrisy.
Within this realm ye shall be abominable unto men, and your places
and habitations shall be desolate." This sentence he pronounced with
great vehemence, in the midst of the sermon; and, turning to the
people, he said, "Yon wicked men have provoked the Spirit of God to
anger." Then he returned to his matter, and proceeded to the end.
That day's travail ended, he came to Longniddry; and on the two
next Sundays he preached in Tranent, with the like grace and like
confluence of people. In all his sermons, after his departure
from Angus, he forespake the shortness of the time that he had to
travail, and of his death, the day whereof, he said, approached
nigher than any would believe.
[Sidenote: Master George goes to Haddington.]
Towards the close of those days that are called the holy days of
Yule, he passed, by the consent of the gentlemen, to Haddington,
where it was supposed the greatest confluence of people might be
found, both by reason of the town and of the country adjacent. On
the first day, before noon, the audience was reasonable, and yet
nothing in comparison with that which used to be in that kirk.
But, in the afternoon and on the next forenoon, the audience was
so slender that many wondered. The reason was thought to have been
that the Earl Bothwell, who in these bounds had great credit and
obedience, had, by procurement of the Cardinal, given inhibition
to the town, as well as to the country, that they should not hear
Master George, under the pain of his displeasure. On the first night
he lay within the town with David Forrest, now called the general,
a man that long has professed the truth, and upon whom many in that
time depended. On the second night he lay in Lethington, the Laird
whereof was ever civil, albeit not persuaded in religion.
[Sidenote: John Knox's first Appearance.]
On the day following, before the said Master George passed to the
sermon, a boy came to him with a letter from the west land. This
read, he called for John Knox, who had waited upon him carefully
from the time he came to Lothian. With him he began to enter into
purpose,[70] saying that he wearied of the world, for he perceived
that men began to weary of God. The cause of his complaint was
that the gentlemen of the west had written to him that they could
not keep diet at Edinburgh. The said John Knox, wondering that he
desired to keep any purpose before sermon, for that was never his
custom, said, "Sir, the time of sermon approaches: I will leave
you for the present to your meditation;" and so left him. The said
Master George paced up and down behind the high altar for more than
half an hour; his very countenance and visage declared the grief and
alteration of his mind. At last he passed to the pulpit, but the
audience was small.
[70] Conversation.
[Sidenote: The last Sermon of Master George Wishart: his Arrest.]
Master George should have begun to have treated of the second
table of the Law; but thereof in that sermon he spake very little,
and began in this manner: "O Lord, how long shall it be that Thy
holy Word shall be despised, and men shall not regard their own
salvation. I have heard of thee, Haddington, that in thee two or
three thousand people would have been at a vain clerk play;[71] and
now, to hear the messenger of the Eternal God, of all thy town or
parish there cannot be numbered a hundred persons. Sore and fearful
shall the plague be that shall ensue this thy contempt: with fire
and sword thou shalt be plagued; yea, thou Haddington, in special,
strangers shall possess thee, and you, the present inhabitants,
shall either in bondage serve your enemies, or else ye shall be
chased from your own habitations; and that because ye have not
known, and will not know, the time of God's merciful visitation."
That servant of God continued for nearly an hour and a half in such
vehemency and threatening, and during this he foretold all the
plagues that ensued, as plainly as afterwards our eyes saw them
performed. In the end he said, "I have forgotten myself and the
matter that I should have entreated; but let these my last words as
concerning public preaching remain in your minds, until God send you
new comfort." Thereafter he made a short paraphrase upon the second
table, with an exhortation to patience, to the fear of God, and
unto His works of mercy; and so ended, as it were making his last
testament that the spirit of truth and of true judgment was both in
his heart and mouth. Before midnight he was apprehended in the house
of Ormiston, by the Earl Bothwell, who for money was become butcher
to the Cardinal....
[71] Dramatic entertainment founded on a passage of Scripture: a
"mystery."
[Sidenote: Master George is betrayed into the Hands of the Cardinal.]
The servant of God, Master George Wishart, was carried first to
Edinburgh; thereafter brought back to the House of Hailes, which was
the principal place that then the Earl of Bothwell had in Lothian.
As gold and women have corrupted all worldly and fleshly men from
the beginning, so did they him. For the Cardinal gave gold, and
that largely; and the Queen, with whom the said Earl was then in
the glondours,[72] promised favours in all his lawful suits to
women, if he would deliver the said Master George to be kept in the
Castle of Edinburgh. He made some resistance at the first, by reason
of his promise:[73] but an effeminate man cannot long withstand
the assaults of a gracious Queen. And so the servant of God was
transported to Edinburgh Castle, where he remained not many days.
For that bloody wolf, the Cardinal, ever thirsting for the blood of
the servant of God, so travailed with the abused Governor, that he
was content that God's servant should be delivered to the power of
that tyrant.
[72] A state of ill humour.
[73] Promise made at the arrest of Wishart, that he should not be
delivered to the Governor or the Cardinal.
Thus, small inversion being made, Pilate obeyed the petition of
Caiaphas and of his fellows, and adjudged Christ to be crucified.
The servant of God being delivered into the hand of that proud
and merciless tyrant, triumph was made by the priests. The godly
lamented, and accused the foolishness of the Governor; for, by
retaining the said Master George, he might have caused Protestants
and Papists to have served: the one to the end that the life of
their preacher might have been saved; the other, for fear that
he should have set him at liberty again, to the confusion of the
bishops. But, where God is forsaken, what can counsel or judgment
avail?
[Sidenote: The Bishops and Clergy are convoked to the Trial of
Wishart.]
How the servant of God was treated, and what he did from the day
that he entered within the Sea-Tower of St. Andrews, which was in
the end of January, in the year of God 1546, until the first of
March in the same year, when he suffered, we cannot certainly tell.
We understand that he wrote something when in prison; but that was
suppressed by the enemies. The Cardinal delayed no time, but caused
all bishops, yea all the clergy that had any pre-eminence, to be
convocated to St. Andrews against the penult[74] of February, for
consultation. The question was no less resolved in his own mind
than was Christ's death in the mind of Caiaphas; but, that the rest
should bear the burden with him, he desired that, before the world,
they should subscribe to whatsoever he did.
[74] Second last day.
In that day was wrought no less a wonder than that at the accusation
and death of Jesus Christ, when Pilate and Herod, who before were
enemies, were made friends, by both of them consenting to Christ's
condemnation. There was no difference between the two cases, except
that Pilate and Herod were brethren under their father the Devil in
the estate called temporal, and these two of whom we are to speak
were brethren, sons of the same father the Devil, in the estate
ecclesiastical. If we interlace merriness with earnest matters,
pardon us, good reader. The fact is so notable that it deserveth
long memory.
[Sidenote: A merry Tale of the Cardinal and Archbishop Dunbar.]
The Cardinal was known to be proud; and Dunbar, Archbishop of
Glasgow, was known for a glorious fool; and yet, because for some
time he had been called the King's Master,[75] he was Chancellor
of Scotland. The Cardinal had come to Glasgow this same year, in
the end of harvest, upon what purpose we omit. But while they
remained together, the one in the town, the other in the Castle,
question arose as to precedence in the bearing of their croziers.
The Cardinal alleged that, by reason of his cardinalship and of his
office of _Legatus Natus_ and primate within Scotland in the kingdom
of Antichrist, he should have the pre-eminence, and that his crozier
should not only go before, but should alone be borne, wheresoever he
was. Good Gukstoun Glaikstour,[76] the foresaid Archbishop, lacked
no reasons, as he thought, for maintenance of his glory. He was an
Archbishop, and, within his own diocese and in his own Cathedral
seat and Church, ought to give place to no man. The power of the
Cardinal was but begged from Rome, and appertained but to his own
person, and not to his bishopric; for it might be that his successor
should not be Cardinal. But his dignity was annexed to his office,
and did appertain to all that ever should be archbishops of Glasgow.
[75] He had been tutor to James V.
[76] _See_ Glossary.
Howsoever these doubts were resolved by the doctors of divinity of
both the prelates, the decision was as we shall hear. Coming forth,
or going in, at the choir door of Glasgow Kirk there began a strife
for position betwixt the two cross-bearers. From glooming they came
to shouldering; from shouldering they went on to buffets, and from
dry blows, by neifs and neifeling;[77] and then for charity's sake
they cried, "_Dispersit, dedit pauperibus_," and assayed which of
the croziers was finest metal, which staff was strongest, and which
bearer could best defend his master's pre-eminence; and, that there
should be no superiority in that behalf, to the ground went both the
croziers.
[77] Fists and fisticuffs.
And then began no little fray, but yet a merry game, for rochets
were rent, tippets were torn, crowns were knapped,[78] and side
gowns might have been seen wantonly wag from the one wall to the
other. Many of them lacked beards, and that was the more pity, for
they could not buckle each other by the birse,[79] as bold men would
have done. But fie on the jackmen that did not their duty; for had
the one part of them rencountered the other then had all gone right.
The sanctuary, we suppose, saved the lives of many. However merrily
this be written, it was bitter bourding[80] to the Cardinal and his
court. It was more than irregularity. Yea, it might well have been
judged lese-Majesty to the son of perdition, the Pope's own person;
and yet the other in his folly, as proud as a peacock, would let the
Cardinal know that he was a bishop when the other was but Beaton,
before he got Arbroath!
[78] Struck; "cracked."
[79] Bristle, _i.e._ beard.
[80] Jesting.
[Sidenote: Pilate and Herod patch the Quarrel.]