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. [{229b}]
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. [{231a}] 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.” [{231b}]
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. [{231c}] 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.” [{231d}]
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. [{232a}] 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. [{232b}]
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. [{232c}]
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. . . . ” [{232d}] 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. [{233a}] The Privy Council received a copy of Knox’s circular, and concluded that it “imported treason.”