13. George Wishart: Martyr
J H Merle d’Aubigné
Taken, with editing, from The History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin, vol 6. Last month’s article gave an account of George Wishart as a preacher of the gospel, particularly in Ayrshire and Dundee. We left him enjoying the hospitality of the Earl of Ormiston in his home near Haddington. He had sent John Knox away as he was convinced that his time in this world was almost over
A little before midnight a troop of armed men silently approached, surrounded the house so that no one might escape, and demanded Wishart. But neither promises nor threats could induce Ormiston to deliver up his guest. They then went for the Earl of Bothwell, the most powerful lord of that region. Bothwell came and told Ormiston that it was vain to keep Wishart inside, for the Governor and the Cardinal with all their power were coming. “But and if you will deliver the man unto me, I will promise upon my honour that he shall be safe and sound, and that it shall pass the power of the Cardinal to do him any harm.”
Ormiston, confiding in this promise, told Wishart what had occurred. “Open the gates,” he replied, immediately; “the blessed will of my God be done!” Bothwell entered, with several gentlemen who accompanied him. Wishart said to him, “I praise my God that so honourable a man as you, my Lord, receives me this night in the presence of these noblemen; for now I am assured that, for your honour’s sake, you will suffer nothing to be done unto me besides the order of law.” The Earl replied, “I shall preserve your body from all violence, neither shall the Governor or Cardinal have their will over you; but I shall retain you in my own hands till either I shall make you free or else restore you in the same place where I receive you”.
Immediately after giving this promise, the Earl set out with Wishart. The Cardinal, bent on getting possession of Wishart’s friends, sent 500 horsemen to Ormiston to seize the laird, together with the lairds of Brownston and Calder. Brownston fled through the woods, but the other two were carried off to Edinburgh castle. Wishart was removed to the strong castle of Hailes, Bothwell’s principal mansion in the Lothians.
That did not satisfy the Cardinal, who wanted Wishart more than all. The Queen Mother, Mary of Guise was not on friendly terms with Bothwell, but promised him her support if he would give up the evangelist. The Cardinal, on his part, “gave gold, and that largely”. “Gold and women have corrupted all worldly and fleshly men from the beginning,” says Knox. The Earl raised some objections; “but”, adds Knox, “an effeminate man cannot long withstand the assaults of a gracious queen”. Wishart was first taken to Edinburgh Castle and, at the end of January 1546, the Regent gave him up to the Cardinal, who confined him in the sea tower at St Andrews. The assistance of a civil judge was, it seems, necessary to give validity to the judgement. The Cardinal requested one from Arran, but one of the Regent’s councillors, Hamilton of Preston, asked him: “What, will you deliver up to wicked men those whose uprightness is acknowledged even by their enemies? Will you put to death those who are guilty of no more crime than that of preaching the gospel of Christ? What ingratitude towards God!”
The Regent consequently wrote to the Cardinal that he would not consent that any hurt should be done to that man without a careful investigation of his cause. When the cardinal received this letter, he flew into a violent passion. “It was only for civility’s sake”, he said, “that I made the request. I and my clergy have the power in ourselves to inflict on Wishart the chastisement which he deserves.” He invited the Archbishop of Glasgow and all bishops and other dignitaries of the Church to assemble at St Andrews on February 27 to consult on the matter, although it was already decided in his own mind.
The next day the Dean of St Andrews went to the prison where Wishart was confined and summoned him in the Cardinal’s name to appear before the judges the next day. “What needed,” replied the prisoner, “my Lord Cardinal to summon me to answer for my doctrine openly before him, under whose power and dominion I am thus bound in irons? May not my Lord compel me to answer to his extorted power?” On March 1 the Cardinal ordered all the household servants of his palace to put themselves under arms. The civil power, it is remembered, had refused to take part in the proceedings, and therefore Beaton took its place. His men at once equipped themselves with lances, swords, axes and other warlike array. It might have been thought that some military action was in hand, rather than a gathering of priests. These armed champions, putting themselves in marching order, first escorted the bishops with great ceremony to the abbey church, and then went for Wishart.
The governor of the castle put himself at the head of the band, and so they led the prisoner “like a lamb to sacrifice”. As Wishart entered the door of the abbey church he threw his purse to a poor infirm man lying there, and at length he stood in the presence of the large gathering. To invest the proceedings with due formality, Beaton had two platforms erected, facing each other. Wishart was set on one of them, and John Lauder, his accuser, took his place on the other.
The Dean, John Winram, then appeared in the pulpit. This worthy churchman, who was charged to deliver the customary sermon, was secretly a friend to the gospel. He read the parable of the good seed and the tares (Mt 13: 24-30) and set forth various points which told more against the judges than against the accused, and the latter heard them with pleasure. Winram concluded, however, by saying that the tares were heresy and that heretics ought to be put down in this life by the civil magistrate. Yet in the passage he was treating stood the words: “Let both grow together until the harvest”. It remained to ascertain which were heretics: the judges or the accused.
After the sermon, the bishops ordered Wishart to stand up on his platform to hear the accusation. Then John Lauder, a priest whom the chronicler calls a monster, rose and faced Wishart. He unrolled a long paper full of threatening curses and hurled pitilessly at the guiltless evangelist all the thunders of the papacy. The ignorant crowd who heard him expected to see the earth open and swallow the unhappy Reformer; but he remained quiet and listened with great patience to Lauder’s violent accusations. When Lauder had finished reading at the top of his voice the threatening indictment, he turned to Wishart with his face “all running down with sweat”, says the chronicler, “and frothing at the mouth like a boar, he spat at Mr George’s face, saying, ‘What answerest thou to these sayings, thou renegade, traitor and thief, which we have duly proved by sufficient witness against thee?'”
Wishart knelt down and prayed for God’s help. Then he rose and answered: “My lords, I pray you quietly to hear me, so that instead of condemning me unjustly, to the great peril of your souls, you may know that I have taught the pure Word of God, and that you may receive it yourselves as the source from which health and life shall spring forth for you. In Dundee I taught the Epistle of St Paul to the Romans and shall show you faithfully what fashion and manner I used when I taught, without any human dread . . .” At these words Lauder interrupted him, and cried with all his might: “Thou heretic, renegade, traitor and thief, it was not lawful for thee to preach . . . and we forethink that thou hast been a preacher too long”. Then all the prelates, terrified at the thought that he was going to set before that vast audience the very substance and pith of his teaching, said one to another, “He is so crafty, and in Holy Scriptures so exercised, that he will persuade the people to his own opinion and raise them against us”.
Wishart, perceiving that he had no chance of a fair hearing before that ecclesiastical court, said, “I appeal from my Lord Cardinal to my Lord the Governor”. “What,” replied Lauder, “is not my Lord Cardinal the second person within this realm, Chancellor of Scotland, Archbishop of St Andrews, Bishop of Mirepoix [in Languedoc], Commendator of Arbroath . . . ?” He recited so many titles, says the chronicler, that you might have laden a ship with them, much sooner an ass. “Whom desirest thou to be thy judge?” cried Lauder. Wishart replied with meekness, “I refuse not my Lord Cardinal, but I desire the Word of God to be my judge, and the temporal estate, with some of your lordships mine auditory; because I am here my Lord Governor’s prisoner”. But the priests mocked him, saying, “Such man, such judge!” According to them, the laymen who might have been appointed his judges were heretics also, like him.
Without further delay, the Cardinal was going to have sentence of condemnation passed; but some who stood by counselled him to read the articles of accusation, and to permit Wishart to answer them, in order that the people might not be able to say that he was condemned without a hearing. Lauder therefore began: “Thou, false heretic, renegade, traitor and thief, deceiver of the people, despisest the holy Church’s, and in like case contemnest my Lord Governor’s, authority; for when thou preachest in Dundee, and were charged by my Lord Governor’s authority to desist, thou wouldst not obey, but perserveredst in the same. Therefore the Bishop of Brechin cursed thee, and delivered thee into the hands of the devil, and gave thee in commandment that thou shouldst preach no more; yet notwithstanding thou didst continue obstinately.”
Wishart: “My lords, I have read in the Acts of the Apostles that it is not lawful for the threatenings and menaces of men to [cause anyone to] desist from the preaching of the evangel.”
Lauder: “Thou, false heretic, didst say that a priest standing at the altar saying mass was like a fox wagging his tail in July.”
Wishart: “My lords, I said not so. These were my sayings: the moving of the body outward, without the inward moving of the heart, is nought else but the playing of an ape, and not the true serving of God.”
Lauder: “Thou false heretic, traitor and thief, thou saidst that the sacrament of the altar was but a piece of bread baked upon the ashes.”
Wishart: “I once chanced to meet with a Jew when I was sailing upon the water of Rhine. By prophecies and many other testimonies of the Scripture I proved that the Messiah was come, the which they called Jesus of Nazareth. He answered, ‘You adore and worship a piece of bread baked upon the ashes, and say that is your God’. I have rehearsed here but the sayings of the Jew, which I never affirmed to be true.” At these words the bishops shook their heads, spitting on the ground and crying out, and showed in all ways that they would not hear him.
Lauder: “Thou, false heretic and renegade, hast said that every layman is a priest, and that the Pope hath no more power than another man.”
Wishart: “I have read in some places of St John and St Peter, of the which one sayeth, He hath made us kings and priests; the other sayeth, He hath made us the kingly priesthood. Wherefore I have affirmed any man, being cunning and perfect in the Word of God and the true faith of Jesus Christ, to have his power given him of God. And again I say, any unlearned man, not exercised in the Word of God, nor yet constant in his faith, whatsoever estate or order he be of, hath no power to bind nor to loose.”
These words greatly amused the assembly; the clergy burst out laughing, mocking Wishart and calling him an imbecile. The notion that a layman should have a power which the holy father had not seemed to them the very height of madness. “Laugh ye, my lords?” asked the messenger of Christ. “Though these my sayings appear scornful and worthy of derision to your lordships; nevertheless they are very weighty unto me and of great value, because they stand not only upon my life but also the honour and glory of God.”
Some pious men in the assembly were indignant at the madness of the prelates and affected by the invincible patience of Wishart. But others cried aloud: “Wherefore let we him speak any further?” A man named John Scot, who stood behind Lauder, said to him, “Tarry not upon his witty and godly answers, for we may not abide them, no more than the devil may abide the sign of the cross when it is named”. There was no due form of trial, nor any freedom of discussion, says Buchanan, but a great din of voices, shouts of disapprobation, and hateful speeches.
The accuser thundered from his platform, but that was all. The bishops unanimously pronounced that the pious Wishart must be burnt. Falling on his knees, Wishart prayed: “O immortal God, how long shalt Thou suffer the wodness [madness] and great cruelty of the ungodly to exercise their fury upon thy servants which do further Thy Word in this world? O Lord, we know surely that Thy true servants must needs suffer persecution for Thy name’s sake, affliction and troubles in this present life – which is but a shadow. But yet we desire Thee, merciful Father, that Thou defend Thy congregation which Thou hast chosen before the beginning of the world.”
The sentence must be pronounced, but the bishops were afraid to pronounce it before the people. They therefore gave orders to have the church cleared, and this could only be done slowly, as many of the people who had a wish to hear Wishart were removed with difficulty. At length, when the prelates and their colleagues found themselves almost alone, sentence of death was passed on Wishart, and the Cardinal ordered his guards to take him back to the castle. Confined in the governor’s room, he spent the greater part of the night in prayer.
The next morning the bishops sent to him two friars, who asked him if he wanted a confessor. “I will make no confession unto you,” he answered; “go and fetch me the man that preached yesterday, and I will make my confession unto him.” When Winram came, they talked together for some time. Then the Dean asked, “Have you a wish to receive the sacrament of the Supper?” “Assuredly,” replied Wishart, “if it be administered according to the institution of the Lord with the bread and the wine.” Winram then went to the Cardinal and declared to him that the man was innocent. Beaton, inflamed with anger, said, “And you, we have long known what you are!” When Winram inquired if he might give the sacrament to the prisoner, the Cardinal replied, “No, it is not fitting to grant any of the benefits of the Church to a heretic.”
The next morning, at 9 o’clock, the governor of the castle informed Wishart that he had been refused communion. Then, as he was going to breakfast with his dependents and servants, he invited Wishart to join them at the meal. “Right willingly,” he answered, “especially because I know that you and yours are good men and are united with me in the same body of Christ.”
When the table had been spread and the members of the household had taken their places, Wishart said to the governor, “Give me leave, for the Saviour’s sake, to make a brief exhortation”. It was to him an opportunity of celebrating the true Supper. He reminded his hearers of the institution of the sacred feast and of the Lord’s death. He exhorted those who sat at table with him to lay aside all hatred, to love one another and to lead a holy life. After this he gave thanks; he then took the bread and broke it and gave of it to such as he knew were willing to communicate and charged them to feed spiritually on Christ. Taking a cup, he spoke of the blood shed for the remission of sins, drank of it and gave them to drink. “I shall no more drink of this cup,” he said, “no more eat of this bread in this life; a bitterer draught is reserved for me, because I have preached Christ. Pray that I may take that cup with patience, as the Lord’s appointment.” He concluded with further giving of thanks and then retired to his cell.
On a plot of ground to the west of the castle and not far from the priory; men were already busily engaged – some preparing the pile, others erecting the gallows. The place of execution was surrounded by soldiers, and the gunners had their cannon in position and stood beside them ready to fire. One would have thought that preparations were being made for a siege. The Cardinal, afraid lest Wishart’s many friends should take him away, had ordered these measures, and perhaps still more to make a display of his own power. Meanwhile the windows in the castleyard were adorned with hangings, silken draperies and velvet cushions, so that the Cardinal and the prelates might enjoy at their ease the spectacle of the pile and of the tortures which they were going to inflict on that righteous man.
When all was ready, two of the executioners entered Wishart’s prison. One of them put on him a coat of black cloth; the other tied small bags of powder to various parts of his body. Next they bound his hands firmly behind him, put a rope round his neck and a chain about his waist, and led him forth in the midst of a party of soldiers.
When he came to the pile he knelt down and prayed. Then he rose and said to the people: “Christian brethren and sisters, be not offended in the Word of God for the affliction and torments which ye see already prepared for me; but I exhort you that you love the Word of God, and suffer patiently and with a comfortable heart, for the Word’s sake which is your undoubted salvation and everlasting comfort. My doctrine was no old wives’ fable after the constitutions made by men. But for the true evangel, which was given to me by the grace of God, I suffer this day by men, not sorrowfully, but with glad heart and mind. For this cause I was sent that I should suffer this fire, for Christ’s sake. This grim fire I fear not. Some have said of me that I taught that the soul of man should sleep until the last day. But I know surely, and my faith is such, that my soul shall sup with my Saviour Christ this night (ere it be six hours), for whom I suffer this.”
Then he prayed, “I beseech Thee, Father of heaven, to forgive them that have of any ignorance, or else have of any evil mind, forged any lies upon me; I forgive them with all my heart. I beseech Christ to forgive them that have condemned me to death this day ignorantly.” The hangman fell on his knees before him and said, “I pray you forgive me.” “Come hither to me,” replied Wishart. He kissed him and added, “Lo, here is a token that I forgive thee. My heart, do thine office.”
He was then bound with ropes to the stake and said; “Saviour of the world, have mercy on me! Father of heaven, into Thy hands I commit my spirit.” The executioner lit the fire. The Cardinal and his accomplices beheld from the windows the martyr and the fire which was consuming him. The governor of the castle watching the flames exclaimed, “Take courage”. Wishart answered, “This fire torments my body, but no way abates my spirit”.
Then catching sight of the Cardinal at the window with his courtiers, he added, “He who in such state, from that high place, feedeth his eyes with my torments, within a few days shall be hanged out at the same window to be seen with as much ignominy as he now leaneth there in pride”. Some authors consider these words, reported by Buchanan, to be an instance of that second sight with which they allege the Scots to be endowed. Wishart, however, did not need an extraordinary revelation to teach him that “the wicked is driven away in his wickedness”. He had hardly uttered those words when the rope was tightened about his neck, so that he lost the power of speaking. The fire reduced his body to ashes.
The bishops, full of steadfast hatred of this servant of God, caused an order to be published that evening, through all the town, that no one should pray for their victim under the severest penalties. They knew what respect many even of the followers of their own religion had for him. There are people who say that religion is a fable. A life and a death such as those of Wishart show that it is a great reality.