different occasions to act as umpire and mediator in disputes of a
civil nature among the protestants. He was frequently requested to
intercede with the town council in behalf of such of the inhabitants
as had subjected themselves to punishment by their disorderly
conduct.[62] Soon after his return to Scotland, he had composed a
domestic variance between the earl and countess of Argyle.[63] In
the year 1561, he had been employed as arbitrator in a difference
between Archibald, earl of Angus, and his brothers.[64] And he was
now urged by the earl of Bothwell to assist in removing a deadly feud
which subsisted between him and the earl of Arran. He was averse to
interfere in this business, which had already baffled the authority
of the privy council;[65] but at the desire of friends, he yielded,
and, after considerable pains, had the satisfaction of bringing the
parties to an amicable interview, at which they mutually promised to
bury their former differences. But all the fair hopes which he had
formed from this reconciliation were speedily blasted. For, {48} in
the course of a few days, Arran came to him in great agitation, with
the information that Bothwell had endeavoured to engage him in a
conspiracy, to seize upon the person of the queen, and to kill the
prior of St Andrews, Maitland, and the rest of her counsellors. Knox
does not seem to have given much credit to this information; he even
endeavoured to prevent Arran from making it public; in this, however,
he did not succeed, and both noblemen were imprisoned. It soon after
became evident that Arran was lunatic, but the fears of the courtiers
show that they did not altogether disbelieve his accusation, and that
they suspected that Bothwell had formed a design of which his future
conduct proved him not incapable.[66]
In the month of May, Knox had another interview with the queen, on the
following occasion. The family of Guise were making the most vigorous
efforts to regain that ascendency in the French councils of which they
had been deprived since the death of Francis II.; and, as zeal for
the catholic religion was the cloak under which they concealed their
ambitious designs, they began by stirring up persecution against the
protestants. The massacre of Vassy, in the beginning of March, was a
prelude to this; in which the duke of Guise and cardinal of Lorrain
attacked, with an armed force, a congregation peaceably assembled
for worship, killed a number of them, and {49} wounded and mutilated
others, not excepting women and children.[67] Intelligence of the
success which attended the measures of her uncles was brought to
queen Mary, who immediately after gave a splendid ball to her foreign
servants, at which the dancing was prolonged to a late hour.
Knox was advertised of the festivities in the palace, and had no doubt
that they were occasioned by the accounts which the queen had received
from France. He always felt a lively interest in the concerns of the
French protestants, with many of whom he was intimately acquainted;
and he entertained a very bad opinion of the princes of Lorrain. In
his sermon on the following Sabbath, after discoursing of the dignity
of magistrates, and the obedience which was due to them, he proceeded
to lament the abuse which the greater part of rulers made of their
power, and introduced some severe strictures upon the vices to which
they were commonly addicted, their oppression, ignorance, hatred of
virtue, attachment to bad company, and fondness for foolish pleasures.
Glancing at the amusements which were common in the palace, he said
that princes were more exercised in dancing and music than in reading
or hearing the word of God, and delighted more in fiddlers and
flatterers than in the company of wise and grave men, who were capable
of giving them wholesome counsel. As to dancing, he said, that,
although he did not find it praised in scripture, and profane writers
had termed {50} it a gesture more becoming mad than sober men, yet
he would not utterly condemn it, provided those who practised it did
not neglect the duties of their station, and did not dance, like the
Philistines, from joy at the misfortunes of God’s people. If they
were guilty of such conduct, their mirth would soon be converted into
sorrow. Information of this discourse was quickly conveyed to the
queen, with many exaggerations; and the preacher was next day ordered
to attend at the palace. Being conveyed into the royal chamber, where
the queen sat with her maids of honour and principal counsellors, he
was accused of having spoken of her majesty irreverently, and in a
manner calculated to bring her under the contempt and hatred of her
subjects.
After the queen had made a long speech on that theme, he was allowed
to state his defence. He told her majesty, that she had been treated
as persons usually were who refused to attend the preaching of the
word of God; she had been deceived by the false reports of flatterers.
For, if she had heard the calumniated discourse, he did not believe
she could have been offended with any thing that he had said. She
would now, therefore, be pleased to hear him repeat, as exactly as he
could, what he had preached yesterday. Mary was obliged for once to
listen to a protestant sermon. Having finished the recapitulation
of his discourse, he said, “If any man, madam, will say that I spake
more, let him presently accuse me; for I think I have not only touched
the sum, but the very words as I spake them.” Several of the company,
{51} who had heard the sermon, attested that he had given a fair and
accurate account of it. After turning round to the informers, who
were dumb, the queen told him, that his words, though sharp enough
as related by himself, had been reported to her in a different way.
She added, that she knew that her uncles and he were of a different
religion, and therefore did not blame him for having no good opinion
of them; but if he heard any thing about her conduct which displeased
him, he ought to come to herself privately, and she would willingly
listen to his admonitions. Knox easily saw through this proposal; and,
from what he already knew of Mary’s character, was convinced that she
had no inclination to receive his private instructions, but wished
merely to induce him to refrain in his sermons from every thing that
might be displeasing to the court. He replied, that he was willing to
do any thing for her majesty’s contentment, which was consistent with
his office; if her grace chose to attend the public sermons, she would
have an opportunity of knowing what pleased or displeased him in her
and in others; or if she chose to appoint a time when she would hear
the substance of the doctrine which he preached in public, he would
most gladly wait upon her grace’s pleasure, time, and place; but to
come and wait at her chamber‑door, and then to have liberty only to
whisper in her ear what people thought and said of her, that would
neither his conscience nor his office permit him to do. “For,” added
he, in a strain which he sometimes used even on serious occasions,
{52} “albeit, at your grace’s commandment, I am heir now, yit can I
not tell what uther men shall judge of me, that, at this time of day,
am absent from my buke, and waitting upon the court.”――“Ye will not
alwayes be at your buke,” said the queen, pettishly, and turned her
back. As he left the room “with a reasonable merry countenance,”
he overheard one of the popish attendants saying, “He is not
afraid!”――“Why should the plesing face of a _gentilwoman_ afray me?”
said he, regarding them with a sarcastic scowl; “I have luiked in
the faces of mony angry _men_, and yit have not bene affrayed above
measour.”[68]
There was at that time but one place of worship in the city of
Edinburgh.[69] The number of inhabitants was, indeed, small, when
compared with its present population; but still they must have formed
a very large congregation. St Giles’s church, the place then used for
worship, was capacious; for we learn that, on some occasions, three
thousand persons assembled in it to hear sermon.[70] In this church,
Knox had, since 1560, performed all the parts of ministerial duty,
without any other assistant than John Cairns, who acted as reader.[71]
He preached twice every Sabbath, and thrice on other days of the
week.[72] He met regularly once every week with his {53} kirk‑session
for discipline,[73] and with the assembly of the neighbourhood for
the exercise on the scriptures. He attended, besides, the meetings of
the provincial synod and general assembly; and at almost every meeting
of the latter, he received an appointment to visit and preach in some
distant part of the country. These labours must have been oppressive
to a constitution which was already much impaired; especially as he
did not indulge in extemporaneous effusions, but devoted a part of
every day to study. His parish was sensible of this; and, in April
1562, the town council came to a unanimous resolution to solicit the
minister of Canongate to undertake the half of the charge. The ensuing
general assembly approved of the council’s proposal, and appointed
the translation to take place.[74] It was not, however, accomplished
before June 1563, owing, as it would seem, to the difficulty of
obtaining an additional stipend.[75]
The person who was appointed colleague to our Reformer was John Craig.
A short account of this distinguished minister cannot be altogether
foreign to the history of one with whom he was so strictly associated,
and it will present incidents which are curious in themselves, and
illustrative of the singular manner in which many of the promoters of
the Reformation were fitted by providence for engaging in that great
undertaking. He was born in 1512, and {54} soon after lost his father
in the battle of Flodden, which proved fatal to so many families
in Scotland. After finishing his education at the university of
St Andrews, he went to England, and became tutor to the family of
Lord Dacres; but war having broken out between England and Scotland,
he returned to his native country, and entered into the order of
Dominican friars. The Scottish clergy were at that time eager in
making inquisition for Lutherans; and owing to the circumstance of
his having been in England, or to his having dropped some expressions
respecting religion which were deemed too free, Craig fell under the
suspicion of heresy, and was thrown into prison. The accusation was
found to be groundless, and he was set at liberty. But although still
attached to the Roman catholic religion, the ignorance and bigotry
of the clergy gave him such a disgust at his native country, that
he left it in 1537, and, after remaining a short time in England,
went to France, and from that to Italy. At the recommendation of the
celebrated cardinal Pole, he was admitted among the Dominicans in the
city of Bologna, and was soon raised to an honourable employment in
that body. In the library of the Inquisition, which was attached to
the monastery, he found a copy of Calvin’s Institutions. Being fond
of books, he determined to read that work; and the consequence was,
that he became a thorough convert to the reformed opinions. In the
warmth of his first impressions, he could not refrain from imparting
his change of sentiments to his associates, and must {55} soon have
fallen a sacrifice to the vigilant guardians of the faith, had not the
friendship of a father in the monastery saved him. The old man, who
was a native of Scotland, represented the danger to which he exposed
himself by avowing such tenets in that place, and advised him, if
he was fixed in his views, to retire immediately to some protestant
country. With this prudent advice he complied so far as to procure
his discharge from the monastery.
At an early period of the Christian era, there were converts to the
gospel “in Cæsar’s household;” and in the sixteenth century, the light
of reformation penetrated into Italy, and even into the territories of
the Roman pontiff. On leaving the monastery of Bologna, Craig entered
as tutor into the family of a neighbouring nobleman, who had embraced
protestant principles; but he had not resided long in it, when, along
with his host, he was delated for heresy, seized by the familiars
of the Inquisition, and carried to Rome. After being confined nine
months in a noisome dungeon, he was brought to trial, and condemned
to be burnt, along with some others, on the 20th of August, 1559. On
the evening previous to the day appointed for their execution, the
reigning pontiff, Paul IV., died; and, according to an accustomed
practice on such occasions, the prisons in Rome were all thrown open.
While those who were confined for debt and other civil offences were
liberated, heretics, after being allowed to go without the walls of
their prison, were conveyed back to their cells. A tumult, however,
having been raised that night in the city, {56} Craig and his
companions effected their escape, and took refuge in a house at a
small distance from Rome. They had not been long there when they were
followed by a company of soldiers, sent to apprehend them. On entering
the house, the captain looked Craig eagerly in the face, and taking
him aside, asked, if he recollected of once relieving a poor wounded
soldier in the vicinity of Bologna. Craig was in too great confusion
to remember the circumstance. “But I remember it,” replied the captain,
“and I am the man whom you relieved, and providence has now put it
in my power to return the kindness which you showed to a distressed
stranger. You are at liberty; your companions I must take along with
me, but, for your sake, shall show them every favour in my power.” He
then gave him what money he had upon him, with directions how to make
his escape.
We are not yet done with the wonderful incidents in the life of Craig.
“Another accident,” says archbishop Spotswood, “befell him, which I
should scarcely relate, so incredible it seemeth, if to many of good
place he himself had not often repeated it as a singular testimony of
God’s care of him.” In the course of his journey through Italy, while
he avoided the public roads, and took a circuitous route to escape
from pursuit, the money which he had received from the grateful
soldier failed him. Having laid himself down by the side of a wood to
ruminate on his condition, he perceived a dog approaching him with a
purse in its teeth. It occurred to him that it had been sent by some
evil‑disposed person who was concealed in {57} the wood, and wished
to pick a quarrel with him. He therefore endeavoured to drive it away,
but the animal continuing to fawn upon him, he at last took the purse,
and found in it a sum of money which enabled him to prosecute his
journey. Having reached Vienna, and announced himself as a Dominican,
he was employed to preach before the archduke of Austria, who
afterwards wore the imperial crown, under the title of Maximilian II.
That discerning prince, who was not unfriendly to a religious reform,
was so much pleased with the sermon, that he was desirous of retaining
Craig; but the new pope, Pius IV., having heard of his reception
at the Austrian capital, applied to have him sent back to Rome as
a condemned heretic; upon which the archduke dismissed him with a
safe‑conduct. When he arrived in England, in 1560, and was informed
of the establishment of the reformed religion in his native country,
he immediately repaired to Scotland, and was admitted to the ministry.
Having in a great measure forgotten his native language during an
absence of twenty‑four years, he preached for a short time in Latin to
some of the learned in Magdalene chapel. He was afterwards appointed
minister of the parish of Canongate, where he had not officiated long,
till he was elected colleague to Knox.[76]
{58} The queen still persevered in the line of policy which she
had adopted at her first arrival in Scotland, and employed none but
protestant counsellors. She intrusted the chief direction of public
affairs to the prior of St Andrews, who, in 1562, was created earl of
Murray,[77] and married a daughter of the earl marischal. The marriage
ceremony was performed by Knox publicly before the congregation,
according to the custom at that time; and on that occasion the
Reformer reminded the earl of the benefit which the church had
hitherto received from his services, and exhorted him to persevere in
the same course, lest, if an unfavourable change was perceived, the
blame should be imputed to his wife.[78] The fact, however, was, that
Knox was more afraid that Murray would be corrupted by his connexion
with the court, than by his matrimonial alliance.
Although the protestants filled the cabinet, it was well known that
they did not possess the affection and confidence of her majesty,
and in consequence of this, various plots were laid to displace and
ruin them. During the autumn of 1562, the Roman catholics in Scotland
entertained great hopes of a change in their favour. After several
unsuccessful attempts to cut off the principal courtiers,[79] the
earl of Huntly openly {59} took arms in the north, to rescue the
queen from their hands; while the archbishop of St Andrews endeavoured
to unite and rouse the papists of the south. On this occasion, our
Reformer acted with his usual zeal and foresight. Being appointed by
the General Assembly as commissioner to visit the churches of the west,
he persuaded the gentlemen of that quarter to enter into a new bond of
defence. Hastening into Nithsdale and Galloway, he, by his sermons and
conversation, confirmed the protestants in these places. He employed
the master of Maxwell to write to the earl of Bothwell, who had
escaped from confinement, and meant, it was feared, to join Huntly.
He himself wrote to the duke of Chastelherault, warning him not to
listen to the solicitations of his brother, the archbishop, nor accede
to a conspiracy which would infallibly prove the ruin of his house.
By these means the southern parts of the kingdom were preserved in
a state of peace, while the vigorous measures of Murray crushed the
rebellion in the north.[80] The queen expressed little satisfaction
at the victory gained over Huntly, and there is every reason to think,
that, if not privy to his rising, she expected to turn it to the
advancement of her projects.[81] According to archbishop Spotswood,
she {60} scrupled not to say, at this time, that she “hoped, before
a year was expired, to have the mass and catholic profession restored
through the whole kingdom.”[82]
While these hopes were indulged, the popish clergy thought it
necessary to gain credit to their cause, by appearing more openly
in defence of their tenets than they had lately done. They began to
preach publicly in different parts of the country, and boasted that
they were ready to dispute with the protestant ministers.[83]
The person who stept forward as their champion was Quintin Kennedy,
uncle to the earl of Cassilis, and abbot of Crossraguel. Though his
talents were not of a superior order, the abbot was certainly one of
the most respectable of the popish clergy in Scotland, not only in
birth, but also in regularity and decorum of conduct. He seems to have
spent the greater part of his life in the same neglect of professional
duty which characterised his brethren; but he was roused from his
inactivity by the zeal and success of the protestant preachers, who,
in the years 1556 and 1557, attacked the popish faith, and inveighed
against the idleness and corruption of the clergy.[84] At an age
when others retire from the field, {61} he began to rub up his
long‑neglected armour, and descended into the theological arena.
His first appearance as a polemical writer was in 1558, when he
published a short system of catholic tactics, under the title of
_Ane Compendius Tractive_, showing “the nerrest and onlie way to
establish the conscience of a Christian man,” in all matters which
were in debate concerning faith and religion. This way was no other
than implicit faith in the decisions of the church or clergy. When
any point of religion was controverted, the scripture might be cited
as a witness, but the church was the judge, whose determinations, in
general councils canonically assembled, were to be humbly received and
submitted to by all the faithful.[85] It was but “a barbour saying,”
which the protestants had commonly in their mouths, that every man
ought to examine the scriptures for himself. It was sufficient for
those who did not occupy the place of teachers, that they had a
general knowledge of the creed, the ten commandments, and the Lord’s
prayer, according to the sense in which these were explained by the
church. And “as to the sacramentis, and all other secretis of the
scripture,” every Christian man ought to “stand to the judgement of
his pastor, who did bear his burden in all matters doubtsome above his
knowledge.”[86]
This was doubtless a very near way to stability of mind, and a most
compendious mode of deciding every {62} controversy which might arise,
without having recourse to examination, reasoning, or debate. But as
the wilful and stubborn reformers would not submit to this easy and
short mode of decision, the abbot was reluctantly obliged to enter the
lists of argument with them. Accordingly, in the beginning of 1559,
he challenged Willock, who was preaching in his neighbourhood, to
a dispute on the sacrifice of the mass. The challenge was accepted,
the time and place of meeting were fixed; but the dispute did not
take place, as Kennedy refused to appear, unless his antagonist would
previously engage to submit to the interpretations of scripture which
had been given by the ancient doctors of the church.[87] From this
time he seems to have made the mass the great subject of his study,
and in 1561 wrote a book in its defence, which was answered by George
Hay.[88]
On the 30th of August, 1562, the abbot read, in his chapel of
Kirkoswald, a number of articles respecting the mass, purgatory,
praying to saints, the use of images, and other points, which, he
said, he would defend against any who should impugn them, {63} and he
promised to declare his mind more fully on the following Sabbath. Knox,
who was in the vicinity, came to Kirkoswald on that day, with the
design of hearing the abbot, and granting him the disputation which
he had courted. In the morning, he sent some gentlemen who accompanied
him to acquaint Kennedy with the reason of his coming, and to desire
him either to preach according to his promise, or to attend Knox’s
sermon, and afterwards to state his objections to the doctrine which
might be delivered. The abbot did not think it proper to appear, and
Knox preached in the chapel. When he came down from the pulpit, a
letter from Kennedy was put into his hand, which led to an epistolary
correspondence between them, fully as curious as the dispute which
followed.