ATTEMPT TO MURDER WISHART.

Nevertheless, at the cardinal’s instigation, says Knox, a priest named Wighton took a sword, and concealing it under his gown mixed with the crowd as if he were a mere hearer, and stood waiting at the foot of the steps by which Wishart must come down. The discourse was finished, the people dispersed. Wishart, whose glance was keen and whose judgment was swift, noticed as he came down the steps a priest who kept his hand under his gown, and as soon as he came near him he said, ‘My friend, what would ye do?’ At the same moment he laid hold of the priest’s hand and snatched the weapon from him. The assassin fell at his feet and confessed his fault. Swiftly ran the report that a priest had attempted to kill the reformer, and the sick who heard it turned back and cried, ‘Deliver the traitor to us, or else we will take him by force.’ And so indeed they rushed on him. But Wishart put his arms round the assassin. ‘Whosoever troubles him,’ said he, ‘shall trouble me, for he has hurt me in nothing.’ His friends however insisted that for the future one of them, in arms, should accompany him whithersoever he went.[333]

When the plague had ceased at Dundee, Wishart thought that, as God had put an end to that battle, he called him to another. It was indeed proposed that he should hold a public disputation. He inquired of the bishops where he should be heard. But first he went to Montrose ‘to salute the kirk there,’ and although sometimes preaching the Gospel, he was ‘most part in secret meditation, in the which he was so earnest that night and day he would continue in it.’[334]

HIS NIGHT OF PRAYER.

While there he received a letter purporting to be written by his friend the laird of Kynneir, who being sick desired him to come to him.[335] It was a trick of the cardinal. Sixty armed horsemen were lying in wait behind a hill to take him prisoner. He set out unsuspecting, but when he had gone some distance, he suddenly stopped in the midst of the friends who were accompanying him and seemed absorbed in deep musing. Then he turned and went back. What mean you?’ said his friends, wondering. ‘I will go no further,’ he replied: ‘I am forbidden of God. I am assured there is treason.’ Pointing to the hill he added, ‘Let some of you go to yon place, and tell me what they find.’ These brave men reported with all speed what they saw. ‘I know,’ said he, ‘that I shall end my life in that bloodthirsty man’s hands, but it will not be of this manner.’ Shortly after, he set out for Edinburgh in spite of the entreaties of the laird of Dundee, and went to lodge at Innergowrie at the house of a Christian man named James Watson. A little after midnight two men of good credit who were in the house, William Spalding and John Watson, heard him open his door and go down stairs. They followed him secretly, and saw him go into the garden and walk for some time up and down an alley. Wishart, persuaded that he was drawing near to his end, and thinking of the horrors of martyrdom and of his own weakness, was greatly agitated and felt the need of calling upon God that he might not fail in the midst of the conflict. He was heard sighing and groaning, and just as day began to dawn, he was seen to fall on his knees and afterwards on his face. For a whole hour his two friends heard confused sounds of his prayer, interrupted now and then by his tears. At length he seemed to grow quiet and to have found rest for his soul. He rose and went quietly back to his chamber. In the morning his anxious friends began to ask him where he had been. He evaded the question. ‘Be plain with us,’ they said, ‘for we heard your groans, yea, we heard your mourning, and saw you both upon your knees and upon your face.’—‘I had rather ye had been in your beds,’ said he, ‘for I was scarce well occupied.’ And as they urged him, he spoke to them of his approaching death and of his need of God’s help. They were much saddened and wept. Wishart said to them—‘God shall send you comfort after me. This realm shall be illuminated with the light of Christ’s Evangel as clearly as ever was any realm since the days of the apostles. The house of God shall be built into it: yea, it shall not want, whatsoever the enemy imagine to the contrary, the very cape-stone’ [top-stone].[336] Meaning, adds Knox, that the house of God should there be brought to full perfection. Wishart went on—‘Neither shall this be long to; there shall not many suffer after me, till that the glory of God shall evidently appear and shall once triumph in despite of Satan. But alas! if the people shall be afterwards unthankful, then fearful and terrible shall the plagues be that after shall follow.’ Wishart soon after went into the Lothians, i. e. into the shires of Linlithgow, Edinburgh, and Haddington.

A man like Wishart assuredly belongs to the history of the Reformation. But there is another motive leading us to narrate these circumstances. The great reformer of Scotland was trained in the school of Wishart. Among those who followed the latter from place to place as he preached the Gospel was John Knox. He had left St. Andrews because he could not endure either the superstition of the Romish system or the cardinal’s despotism, and having betaken himself to the south of Scotland he had been for some time tutor in the family of Douglas of Langniddrie. He had openly professed the evangelical doctrine, and the clergy in their wrath had declared him a heretic and deprived him of the priesthood. Knox, attracted by the preaching and the life of Wishart, attached himself to him and became his beloved disciple. In addition to his public discourses, to which he listened with eager attention, he received also instructions in private. He undertook for Wishart a duty which was full of danger, but which he discharged joyfully. During Wishart’s evangelical excursions he kept watch for the safety of his person, and bore the sword which his friends had provided after the attempt of the Dundee priest to assassinate him. Knox was soon to bear another sword, the sword of the Spirit, like his master.

HIS PREACHING.

The earl of Cassilis and some other friends of Wishart had appointed to meet him at Leith, and as that town is very near Edinburgh, they had advised him not to show himself until their arrival. After awaiting them for a day or two he fell into a deep melancholy. ‘What differ I from a dead man,’ said he, ‘except that I eat and drink? To this time God has used my labors to the disclosing of darkness, and now I lurk as a man that was ashamed and durst not show himself before men.’—‘You know,’ said his friends, ‘the danger wherein ye stand.’ ‘Let my God,’ he replied, ‘provide for me as best pleases him.’ On the following Sunday, fifteen days before Christmas, he preached on the parable of the sower.[337] From Leith he went to Brownston, Langniddrie and Ormiston, and preached on the Sunday both morning and afternoon at Inveresk to a large concourse of people. Two Franciscan friars came and stood by the church door, and whispered something to those who were going in to turn them back. Wishart observing this said to some who were near the pulpit, ‘I heartily pray you to make room to these two men; it may be that they be come to learn.’ Then addressing the monks he said, ‘Come near, for I assure you ye shall hear the word of verity, which shall either seal unto you this same day your salvation or your condemnation.’ He continued his discourse, but the two friars, who had taken up their places, did not cease whispering right and left, and troubling all that stood near them. Wishart turned sharply to them and said—‘O sergeants of Satan, and deceivers of the souls of men, will ye neither hear God’s truth nor suffer others to hear it? Depart, and take this for your portion; God shall shortly confound and disclose your hypocrisy within this realm; ye shall be abominable unto men, and your places and habitations shall be desolate.’ He then resumed his sermon, and preached with so much power that Sir George Douglas, brother of the earl of Angus, who was present at the meeting, said publicly after the sermon, ‘I know that my lord governor and my lord cardinal shall hear that I have been at this preaching (for they were then in Edinburgh). Say unto them that I will avow it, and will not only maintain the doctrine that I have heard, but also the person of the teacher to the uttermost of my power.’ Those who were present greatly rejoiced at these words, spoken by so influential a man. As for Wishart, it was enough for him to know that God keeps his own people for the end to which he calls them.[338] He preached in other places to large numbers, and with all the more fervor for his persuasion and assertion that the day of his death was at hand.

After Christmas he passed into Haddingtonshire. The cardinal, hearing of his purpose, had informed the earl of Bothwell, who immediately let it be known, both in the town and in the country, that no one was to go and hear that heretic under pain of his displeasure. The prohibition of this powerful lord had its effect. The first day there was a large gathering to hear Wishart, but the next day his audience was very small. A new trial now came to afflict him. His friends in western Scotland had promised to come to Edinburgh to discuss with him the means of advancing the cause of the Gospel. Now on the third day after his arrival in Haddingtonshire, when he had already entered the church and was about to go into the pulpit, a messenger approached and handed him a letter. He opened it. His friends at Ayr and other places wrote to tell him that certain obstacles prevented them from fulfilling their promises. Struck with sorrow, ‘he called for John Knox, who had waited upon him carefully from the time he came to Lothian.’[339] ‘I am wearied of the world,’ said he, ‘for I perceive that men begin to be weary of God.’ Knox wondered that Wishart should enter into conversation with him before sermon, which he was never accustomed to do, and said to him, ‘Sir, the time of sermon approaches, I will leave you for the present to your meditations.’ He then took the letter and withdrew.

HIS LAST SERMON.