Sep. 7.
Robert Hepburn, second son of the Laird of Waughton, was a partisan of the queen. Travelling to visit his friends in Lothian, he was betrayed by a companion to the knowledge of a party of the king’s friends, consisting of the Lairds of Applegarth and Carmichael, who consequently made an attempt to lay hold of him as he was passing Bathgate. ‘He, being alone with ane boy, fled, and they chasit him continually fra the said place while he come to the castle of Edinburgh, wherein he was resavit with great difficulty; for when the said Robert was passand in at the castle-yett, his adversaries were at Patrick Edgar his house-end. Ane thing to be wonderit at that he could escape the hands of the said persons, considering their multitude and [their being] as weel horsit as he was; and he being riding upon ane brown naig, could never have space to change off the same upon his led horse, but continually rade while he come to the castle foresaid; but his pursuers not only changit horse, but also did cast from them saddles and other gear, to mak licht for pursuing of him.’[73]—D. O.
Oct. 4. 1570.
John Kello, minister of Spott, in Haddingtonshire, was executed in Edinburgh for the murder of his wife. The confession of this wretched man shews that he was tempted to the horrible act by a desire to marry more advantageously, his circumstances being somewhat straitened. He deliberated on the design for forty days; tried poison, which failed; then accomplished it by strangulation. His confession admits the amiable character of the victim; nay, he tells that, ‘in the verie death, she could not believe I bure her onie evil will, but was glad, as she then said, to depart, gif her death could do me either vantage or pleasure.’[74] According to a contemporary recital, ‘he stranglit her in her awn chamber, and thereafter closit the ordinar door that was within the house for his awn passage, and sae finely seemit to colour that purpose after he had done it, that immediately he passed to the kirk, and in the presence of the people made sermon as if he had done nae sic thing. And when he was returnit hame, he brought some neighbours into his house to vissie his wife, and callit at the ordinar door, but nae answer was made. Then he passed to another back passage with the neighbours, and that was fund open, and she hinging stranglit at the roof of the house. Then, with admiration, he cryit, as though he had knawn naething of the purpose, and they for pity in like manner cryit out. But, in [the] end, finding himself prickit with the judgments of God, of the grievous punishment wherewith transgressors have been plagued in time bygane, he thought gude to communicate his fact to ane of his brether in office, wha then was schoolmaster at Dunbar.’—H. K. J.
To resume his own confession: ‘Mr Andrew Simson, minister of Dunbar, did so lively rype furth the inward cogitations of my heart, and discover my mind so plainly, that I persuaded myself God spak in him ... he remembered me of ane dream which in my great sickness did apparently present the self. “Brother,” said he, “I do remember when I visited you in time of your sickness, ye did expose to me this vision, that ye were carried by ane great man before the face of ane terrible judge, and to escape his fury, ye did precipitate yourself in ane deep river, when his angels and messengers did follow you with two-edged swords, and sae when they struck at you, ye did decline and jouk in the water, while in the end, by ane way unknown to you, ye did escape. This vision I do interpret, that ye are the author yourself of this cruel murder then conceived in your heart, and ye were carried before the terrible judgments of God in your awn conscience, which now stands in God’s presence to accuse you; the messengers of God is the justice of the country before the which ye sall be presented; the water wherein ye stood is that vain hypocrisy of your awn, and feigned blasphemy of God’s name, whereby ye purpose to colour your impiety; your deliverance sall be spiritual.”... At this time did God move my heart to acknowledge the horror of my awn offence, and how far Sathan had obteinit victory ower me.’—Ban. J. ‘Briefly, by his awn confession, being clearly convict, he was condemnit to be hangit, and his body to be casten in the fire and brynt to ashes, and so to die without any burial. And thus he departit this life, with an extreme penitent and contrite heart, baith for this and all other his offences in general, to the great gude example and comfort of all beholders.’—H. K. J.
Oct. 1570.
In those days, while as yet there were not only no newspapers, but no ready means of conveying letters, true intelligence made its way slowly, and the most ridiculous rumours obtained circulation. For example, on John Knox being at this time struck with apoplexy, ‘a bruit [report] went through Scotland and England, that he was become the most deformed creature that ever was seen; that his face was turned awry to his neck; and that he would never preach or speak again.’ In the ensuing year, while the venerable reformer lived at St Andrews, it was rumoured, and very generally believed as a serious truth, that he had been banished from the town, ‘because in his yard he had raised some sancts, among whom came up the devil with horns; which, when his servant, Richard Bannatyne, saw, he ran wood, and so died.’ It is stated that Lady Hume and some others thronged round the postman of St Andrews, with anxious inquiries whether it was true that Knox was banished from St Andrews, and that Bannatyne had run mad in consequence of seeing the devil raised.[75]