1Abridged from The History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin, vol 6. Last month’s article gave an account of George Wishart’s martyrdom.
14. The End of the Cardinal
J H Merle d’Aubigné
Wishart’s death excited diverse feelings in Scotland. The bishops and their followers extolled the Cardinal to the skies. They said, “If the Church had formerly had such champions, she would have kept all things under her dominion by the very force and weight of her majesty”. Without troubling himself about the Regent’s authority he had suppressed the insolence of the people and made himself the defender of Rome and of the priesthood.
Simple-hearted Christians lamented the martyrdom, without a thought of revenge. But some of the people, including several most eminent men, condemned aloud the Cardinal’s cruelty and declared that the blood which had been shed called for vengeance. Even those who, without sharing Wishart’s views, were actuated by just and generous sentiments, asked themselves what hope they could have of preserving their liberties under a prelate who made war on men and on God, who pursued with his enmity everyone who possessed wealth or piety and sacrificed them to his caprice, who dissolved lawful marriages at his pleasure, who in his own house wallowed in debauchery with prostitutes and out of doors angrily slaughtered innocent men and heretics.
Such is the portrait of Beaton drawn by George Buchanan. The Cardinal could not be ignorant of these speeches and desired to strengthen his power through new alliances. He therefore gave one of his daughters, Margaret Beaton, in marriage to a son of the Earl of Crawford, with a dowry of 4000 marks. That a priest could celebrate his daughter’s marriage with almost-royal magnificence showed that he was destitute even of that honourable shame which is excited by the dread of anything that violates decency. He believed himself to be stronger than all Scotland, but by his despotic measures he was constantly adding to the number of his enemies.
Among those who had served him with most devotion was Norman Lesley, brother of the Earl of Rothes. After Lesley had reminded the Cardinal of certain promises, they exchanged angry words and parted as bitter foes. From then on, Lesley was head of the disaffected, and by setting before his friends the Cardinal’s intolerable pride, he induced them to join in a conspiracy against his life. His uncle, John Lesley, did not shrink from saying before them all, clapping his right hand on his sword, “This hand shall draw this old sword, and they two shall be the Cardinal’s confessors,” meaning that they would dismiss him into the other world. The saying was reported to Beaton, but he made light of it, fancying himself perfectly safe in the fortress he had built. “I laugh at all that noise,” he said, “and I would not give a button for such bragging. . . . Is not France my friend, and am not I a friend to France? What danger should I fear?”
Yet Beaton, with a view to cutting off those who troubled him, ordered all his followers among the gentlemen of Fife to meet him at Falkland on Monday, 31 May 1546. The Lesleys and some of their friends were to be taken prisoner and put to death. On the other side, Lesley and his accomplices had no scruples at all. A violent coup d’état was quite a common occurrence in that half-barbarian age. These nobles looked on Wishart’s death, without the concurrence of the civil judges – which the lawful government had refused – as murder; and they considered that, as Beaton was a murderer, he ought himself to be put to death. They did not reflect that they were making themselves guilty of the very crime which Beaton had committed – putting themselves in the place of the regular judges.
It was arranged that Norman Lesley, with his brother and four of his friends, should go to St Andrews, where the Cardinal was residing. They entered the town without fear, although the place swarmed with the friends and followers of the mighty primate. Some of the inhabitants who shared their views held themselves in readiness to give them assistance at the first signal. They agreed to seize the castle in the early morning, before the household were up.
In the evening of Friday, May 28, Norman Lesley arrived at St Andrews, where he found William Kirkcaldy of Grange awaiting him. John Lesley, on whom the Cardinal’s suspicions chiefly fell, came last. At 3 am the next day, the conspirators set out to capture a strong castle held by more than 100 men. Beaton well knew the feelings of indignation which his activities had roused in the country, even amongst his own flatterers, and had decided to turn the castle into a citadel fit to withstand a siege. The works were in progress, and this facilitated the daring attempt to be made by his enemies. The primate pressed the work on so urgently that it hardly ceased by day or by night.
Consequently the gates were opened early in the morning, and the drawbridge was let down for the workmen to bring in stone, mortar and other building materials. The Lesleys were concealed in a small house near the gates with some of their companions and had sent William Kirkcaldy and six others to the castle. After passing the gate they asked the doorman: “Is my Lord Cardinal waking?” “No”, he replied. Mary Ogilvy, the Cardinal’s mistress, had spent the night at the castle. She was seen going away early in the morning by the private entrance. The cardinal was in a sound sleep when the Lesleys and their friends arrived.
One of the conspirators broke the doorman’s head, got possession of his keys, and threw his body into the ditch. At that moment the workmen fled at full speed. Kirkcaldy took possession of the private entrance, “fearing that the fox should have escaped”. As there were only 16 assailants, they felt obliged to proceed cautiously. The leaders sent four of their men, including Peter Carmichael and James Melville, to guard the Cardinal’s door and see that no one warned him of his danger. In small groups, the men entered the rooms, found the occupants half asleep, and told them, “If you utter the faintest cry you are dead men!” These men, in their fright, dressed hastily and were led quietly out of the castle, no violence being done to any of them. The only person whom they left in the castle was the Regent’s eldest son.
John Lesley knocked loudly at the Cardinal’s door. “What means that noise?” said he. “That Norman Lesley has taken the castle. Open!” was the reply. Beaton ran towards the gate, but seeing that it was guarded, he returned at once into his room, seized his two-handed sword, and bade his valet barricade the door. “Open,” they cried again. The Cardinal answered, “Who calls?” “My name is Lesley.” While the knocks at the door grew louder, the Cardinal seized a box of gold and hid it in a corner. Then he said, “Will ye save my life?” “It may be that we will,” said John. “Nay,” replied Beaton, “swear unto me by God’s wounds, and I shall open to you.”
Then John Lesley cried out, “Fire! fire!” The door was too strong to burst open, and they brought a grate full of burning coals. Just as it was ready, the Cardinal ordered the door to be opened. Lesley and his companions rushed into the chamber and found Beaton sitting on a chair. Lesley threw himself violently upon him. “I am a priest; ye will not slay me!” the Cardinal exclaimed. But Lesley struck him with his sword, and Carmichael, full of wrath, did the same. Melville, a gentle and serious man, says Knox, seeing his comrades in so great a rage, checked them. He said, “This work and judgement of God, although it be secret, yet ought to be done with greater gravity”.
Melville and others, because of the ignorance of the age, sincerely believed in the continued authority of the Mosaic system, which conferred on certain persons the right of killing a murderer. But he forgot there was no city of refuge for Beaton, in which the guilty man should be safe from the vengeance of the pursuer. Regarding him as a murderer, and not supposing that, by killing him, he himself incurred the guilt of murder, he presented to him the point of his sword, and said gravely to him, “Repent thee of thy former wicked life, but especially of the shedding of the blood of that notable instrument of God, Mr George Wishart; which albeit the flame of fire consumed before men, yet cries it a vengeance upon thee, and we from God are sent to revenge it. Here before my God I protest that neither the hatred of thy person, the love of thy riches, or the fear of any trouble thou couldst have done to me in particular, moved or moveth me to strike thee.”
The Cardinal fell under repeated blows. It was very soon known all over the city that the castle had been taken. Tidings of the murder speedily spread over all the land and, while some angrily denounced it, others welcomed it as an event which restored their country to liberty. There were indeed some who, like Melville, reckoned it a lawful act. But even among the enemies of the Cardinal there were wise and moderate men who looked on the murder with horror. One historian has noted that few of those who took part in it escaped the judgement of God, who punishes transgressors by smiting them with the same stroke with which they have smitten others.
The Lesleys and their friends remained masters of the castle, and they kept with them the Regent’s eldest son James, Lord Hamilton, afterwards Earl of Arran, whom Beaton had detained as his hostage. Kirkcaldy believed that they had done a praiseworthy deed in delivering Scotland from the tyrant. He went to London and obtained from Henry VIII a declaration that he was prepared to take the party under his protection, on condition that the marriage contract between Edward and Mary should be carried out. English ships conveyed all needful supplies to the castle.
The Regent named his illegitimate brother as Archbishop of St Andrews, and this was confirmed by Pope Paul III. This energetic prelate immediately pressed on his brother the duty of punishing all those who had taken the castle. On 23 August 1546, the main body of the army set out from Edinburgh to begin the siege; but at the end of July 1547 an agreement on advantageous terms was made with the besieged, as capture of the fortress was evidently hopeless. Here we must suspend the course of our narrative.2
We have now traced the ministry and the martyrdom of Patrick Hamilton and George Wishart. We have yet to trace, with God’s help, the mighty action of the third and greatest of the Scottish Reformers, John Knox. The period whose history we have covered was one of active persecution. It remains for us to recount the events of the contest with the Papacy, into which the Scottish nobility energetically entered, and the victory of the Reformation. Without entering at present upon the narrative of facts, we shall cast a glance forward in order to point out what was to give victory to evangelical Christianity. Assuredly it was not such actions as the capture of the castle and the violent death of the persecutor. Such things are more likely to ruin a cause than to save it. The Christian life and death of Wishart contributed far more powerfully to advancing the kingdom of God.
2Regrettably d’Aubigné did not live to complete his account of the Reformation in Scotland. This article therefore concludes the series.
The history of the Scottish Reformation serves to show the untruth of one assertion frequently made by the enemies of Reform. According to them, Reform could triumph only in those countries where it had the protection of princes. This is a serious error. It was not bloodthirsty Philip II who established the Reformation in the Netherlands. It was neither the feeble James V nor the popish Mary Stuart who secured its triumph in Scotland. That worthy niece of the Guises sought only to crush it. A stronger arm than theirs fought against those mighty ones and gave victory to the weak. The enemies of the Reformation made use in Scotland of the very weapons which in Italy, Spain and elsewhere arrested the movement of rebirth. The Reformers were burnt also in Scotland, but Reform arose out of their ashes.
The Scots attributed the triumph neither to their character or their strength. They knew that Jesus is King of the Church, and that it is He who saves it. This feature more than any other, as we shall see, characterised the Scottish Reformation. Andrew Melville said to James VI: “Sir, there two kings and two kingdoms in Scotland. There is King James, the head of the state, and there is Christ who is head of the Church.” With the king enthroned at Rome, the Scottish Reformers contrasted the King enthroned in heaven, and to Him they attributed the victory.
In proclaiming this supreme authority, the Reformation in Scotland also established the duties and the rights of Christians. The charge of the Church in conformity with the law of God was entrusted to General Assemblies elected by the free choice of a Christian people. The clergy ruled in Scotland throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and during the first part of the sixteenth. The Reformation rescued the country from that clerical domination, and gave to it the greatest of all liberties, the freedom of faith. For centuries three powers had existed there, – the king, the nobles, and the priests, and the last had kept the upper hand. After the Reformation, two of these still remained, the king and the nobles; the people took the place of the clergy.
It was under a popular form of government, that of Presbyterianism, that the Church of Scotland constituted itself. The feudal castles had for some time afterwards a marked influence on the destinies of the country; but the tide of national and Christian life was steadily rising all round their walls and soon overflowed the battlements of those old fortresses. Laymen, the deputies of the people, obtained a voice in presbyteries, synods and general assemblies. Thus, by successive steps, the voice of the people became, through the influence of Reform, the expression of the main force of the country.
It is a grave error to attribute, as some have done, to the Protestant pastors of Scotland “an authority nowise inferior to that which they had exercised as Catholic priests”, and to represent them as “the most effectual obstacle to popular progress”. Nothing has in fact been less like the haughty Roman Catholic prelates of St Andrews and other dioceses than a Scottish minister. The Reformation gave Scotland not only Christian truth, but religious and political liberty besides. It took from the priesthood its magic and its supremacy, which had been its two main attributes in the Middle Ages. The ministers, whom it substituted for the priests, became simple heralds of the divine Word. They no longer had the marvellous power of transforming a bit of bread into God the Creator; as disciples of Jesus, they were no longer seated on the despotic throne of the confessional to give pardon for sins. This holy Word has its place in every family and reigns supreme in the Church.3 Thus, ministers have ceased to be masters and have become servants.
3This was written shortly before d’Aubigné’s death, which took place in 1872. No doubt his reference to the power of the Word on the family was hyperbole, but tragically the hold of the Word on the Scottish Church was seriously weakened in the second half of the nineteenth century, through the onslaught of unbelief on theological colleges and on pulpits.
The real offence of these Scottish pastors, in the sight of their detractors, is that they have always been a great obstacle, not to the progress of the people and of civilisation, as some have said, but to the progress of unbelief and materialism. It is these mischievous doctrines which, in fact, are mortal enemies to the freedom and prosperity of nations.