‘You are charged,’ said the commissioner, ‘with teaching false doctrines: 1st, that the corruption of sin remains in the child after baptism; 2nd, that no man is able by mere force of free will to do any good thing; 3rd, that no one continues without sins so long as he is in this life; 4th, that every true Christian must know if he is in the state of grace; 5th, that a man is not justified by works but by faith alone; 6th, that good works do not make a good man, but that a good man makes good works; 7th, that faith, hope and charity are so closely united that he who has one of these virtues has also the others; 8th, that it may be held that God is cause of sin in this sense, that when he withholds his grace from a man, the latter cannot but sin; 9th, that it is a devilish doctrine to teach that remission of sins can be obtained by means of certain penances; 10th, that auricular confession is not necessary to salvation; 11th, that there is no purgatory; 12th, that the holy patriarchs were in heaven before the passion of Jesus Christ; and 13th, that the pope is Antichrist, and that a priest has just as much power as a pope.’[95]
The young reformer of Scotland had listened attentively to this long series of charges, drawn up in somewhat scholastic terms. In the official indictment of the priests were included some doctrines for the maintenance of which Hamilton was willing to lay down his life; others which, he admitted, were fair subjects for discussion; but the primate’s theologians had, in their zeal, piled up all that they could find, true or false, essential or accidental, and had flung the confused mass at the young man in order to crush him. One of the clergy, who had visited him for the purpose of catching him unawares in some heresy, had given out that the reformers made God the author of sin. Patrick had denied it, saying,—and this was matter of reproach in the 8th article,—that a sinner may get to such a pitch of obduracy that God leaves him because he will no longer hear him. Hamilton, therefore, made a distinction between the various heads of the indictment. ‘I declare,’ said he, ‘that I look on the first seven articles as certainly true, and I am ready to attest them with a solemn oath. As for the other points they are matter for discussion; but I cannot pronounce them false until stronger reasons are given me for rejecting them than any which I have yet heard.’
The doctors conferred with Hamilton on each point; and the thirteen articles were then referred to the judgment of a commission of divines nominated by the primate. A day or two later, the commissioners made their report, and declared all the articles, without exception, to be heretical. The primate then, in order that the judgment might be invested with special solemnity, announced that sentence would be delivered in the cathedral on the last day of February, before an assembly of the clergy, the nobility, and the people.[96]
ANDREW DUNCAN’S ATTEMPT.
While the priests were making ready to put to death one of the members of the illustrious family of the Hamiltons, some noble-hearted laymen were preparing to rescue him. The men of Linlithgow were not the only ones to stir in the matter. John Andrew Duncan, laird of Airdrie, who, as we have seen, was taken prisoner by the English at the battle of Flodden, had, during his captivity, found friends in England, whom he gained for the Gospel. On his return to Scotland, he had opened his house as an asylum for the gospellers, and had become intimate with the Hamiltons. Hearing of the danger that beset Patrick, indignant at the conduct of the bishops and burning with desire to save the young reformer, Duncan had armed his tenants and his servants, and then marching towards the metropolitan city, intended to enter it by night, to carry off his friend and conduct him to England. But the archbishop’s horsemen, warned of the enterprise, set out and surrounded Duncan’s feeble troop, disarmed them and made Duncan prisoner. The life of this noble evangelical Christian was spared at the intercession of his brother-in-law, who was in command of the forces which captured him, but he had once more to quit Scotland.[97]
This attempt had been frustrated just at the moment when the commissioners presented their report on the alleged heresies of Hamilton. There was no longer any need for hesitation on the part of the archbishop; he therefore ordered the arrest of the young evangelist. Wishing to prevent any resistance, the governor of the castle of St. Andrews, who was to carry out the order, waited till night; and then putting himself at the head of a well-armed body of men, he silently surrounded the house in which Hamilton dwelt.[98] According to one historian, he had already retired to rest; according to others, he was in the society of pious and devoted friends and was conversing with them. The young reformer, while he appreciated the affection and the eagerness of his friend Duncan, had no wish that force should be employed to save him. He knew that of whatever nature the war is, such must the weapons be; that for a spiritual war the weapons must be spiritual; that Christ’s soldiers must fight only with the sword of the holy Word. He remained calm in the conviction that God disposes all that befalls his children in such wise that what the world thinks an evil turns out for good to them. At the very moment when the soldiers were surrounding his house, he felt himself encompassed with solid ramparts, knowing that God marshals his forces around his people, as if for the defence of a fortress. At that moment there were knocks at the door: it was the governor of the castle. Hamilton knew what it meant. He rose, went forward accompanied by his friends, and opening the door asked the governor whom he wanted;[99] the latter having answered, Hamilton said, ‘It is I!’ and gave himself up. Then pointing to his friends he added, ‘You will allow them to retire;’[100] and he entreated them not to make any resistance to lawful authority. But these ardent Christians could not bear the thought of losing their friend. ‘Promise us,’ they said to the governor, ‘promise us to bring him back safe and sound.’ The officer only replied by taking away his prisoner. On the summit of huge rocks which rise perpendicularly from the sea, and whose base is ceaselessly washed by the waves, stood at that time the castle whose picturesque remains serve still as a beacon to the mariner. It was within the walls of this feudal stronghold that Hamilton was taken and confined.
HAMILTON IN THE CASTLE.
The last day of February at length arrived, the day fixed by the archbishop for the solemn assembly at which sentence was to be pronounced. The prelate, followed by a large number of bishops, abbots, doctors, heads of religious orders, and the twelve commissioners, entered the cathedral—a building some centuries old, which was to be cast down in a day by a word of Knox, and whose magnificent ruins still astonish the traveller.[101] Beatoun sat on the bench of the inquisitorial court, and all the ecclesiastical judges took their places round him. Among these was observed Patrick Hepburn, prior of St. Andrews, son of the earl of Bothwell, a worthless and dissolute man, who had eleven illegitimate children, and who gloried in bringing distress and dishonor into families. This veteran of immorality—who ought to have been on the culprit’s seat, but whose pride was greater even than his licentiousness—took his place with a shameless countenance on the judges’ bench. Not far from him was David Beatoun, abbot of Arbroath, an ambitious young man, who was already coveting his uncle’s dignity, and who, as if to prepare himself for a long work of persecution, vigorously pressed on the condemnation of Patrick. In the midst of these hypocrites and fanatics sat one man in a state of agitation and distress—the prior of the Dominicans, Alexander Campbell—with his countenance gloomy and fallen. A great crowd of canons, priests, monks, nobles, citizens, and the common people, filled the church; some of them greedy for the spectacle which was to be presented to them, others sympathizing with Hamilton. ‘I was myself present,’ said Alesius, ‘a spectator of that tragedy.’[102]
The tramp of horses was presently heard: the party of troops sent to seek Hamilton were come. The young evangelist passed into the church, and had to mount a lofty desk, from which he could be easily seen and heard by the assembly. All eyes were turned towards him. ‘Ah,’ said pious folk, ‘if this young Christian had been a worldling, and had given himself up, like the other lords of the court, to a life of dissipation and rioting,[103] he would doubtless have been loved by everybody; and this flower of youth which we now look on would have blown amidst flatteries and delights. But because to his rank he has added piety and virtue, he must fall under the blows of the wicked.’
THE TRIAL.