Part 9

He could not deny, without ingratitude to him who had called him to be his servant, that his qualifications for the ministry had been in no small degree improved since he came to England; and he had the testimony of his own conscience, in addition to that of his numerous auditors, that he had not altogether neglected the gifts bestowed on him, but had exercised {125} them with some measure of fidelity and painfulness. At the same time, he found reason for self‑accusation on different grounds. Having mentioned, in one of his letters, the reiterated charge of Christ to Peter, “Feed my sheep, feed my lambs,” he exclaims, “O, alas! how small is the number of pastors that obeys this commandment. But this matter will I not deplore, except that I, not speaking of others, will accuse myself that do not, I confess, the uttermost of my power in feeding the lambs and sheep of Christ. I satisfy, peradventure, many men in the small labours I take, but I satisfy not myself. I have done somewhat, but not according to my duty.”[181] In the discharge of private duties, he acknowledges, that shame, and the fear of incurring the scandal of the world, had sometimes hindered him from visiting the female part of his charge, and administering to them the instruction and comfort which they craved. In public ministrations, he had been deficient in fervency and fidelity, in impartiality, and in diligence. He could not charge himself with flattery, and his “rude plainness” had given offence to some; but his conscience now accused him of not having been sufficiently plain in admonishing offenders. His custom had been to describe the vices of which his hearers were guilty in such colours that they might read their own image; but, being “unwilling to provoke all men” against him, he had restrained himself from particular application. Though his “eye had not been much {126} set on worldly promotion,” he had sometimes been allured, by affection for friends and familiar acquaintances, to reside too long in some places, to the neglect of others which had an equal or perhaps stronger claim on his labours. Formerly he thought he had not sinned, if he had not been idle; now he was convinced that it was his duty to have considered how long he should remain in one place, and how many hungry souls were starving elsewhere. Sometimes, at the solicitation of friends, he had spared himself, and devoted to worldly business, or to bodily recreation and exercise, the time which ought to have been employed in the discharge of his official duties. “Besides these,” says he, “I was assaulted, yea infected, with more gross sins, that is, my wicked nature desired the favours, the estimation, and praise of men; against which, albeit that sometimes the Spirit of God did move me to fight, and earnestly did stir me (God knoweth I lie not) to sob and lament for these imperfections, yet never ceased they to trouble me when any occasion was offered; and so privily and craftily did they enter into my breast, that I could not perceive myself to be wounded till vainglory had almost got the upper hand. O Lord! be merciful to my great offence; and deal not with me according to my great iniquity, but according to the multitude of thy mercies.”[182]

Such was the strict scrutiny which Knox made into his ministerial conduct. To many the offences {127} of which he accused himself will appear slight and venial, while others will perceive in them nothing worthy of blame; but they struck his mind in a very different light, in the hour of adversity and solitary meditation. If he, whose labours were so abundant as to appear to us excessive, had such reason for self‑condemnation, how few are there in the same station who may not say, “I do remember my faults this day!”

He did not, however, abandon himself to melancholy and unavailing complaints. One of his first cares, after arriving at Dieppe, was to employ his pen in writing suitable advices to those whom he could no longer instruct by preaching and conversation. With this view, he transmitted to England two short treatises. The one was an exposition of the sixth Psalm, which, at the request of Mrs Bowes, he had begun to write in England, but had not found leisure to finish. It is an excellent practical discourse upon that portion of scripture, and will be read with peculiar satisfaction by those who have been trained to religion in the school of adversity. The other treatise was a large letter, addressed to those in London and other parts of England, among whom he had been employed as a preacher. The drift of it was to warn them against abandoning the religion which they had embraced, or giving countenance to the idolatrous worship now erected among them. The reader of this letter cannot fail to be struck with its animated strain, when he reflects that it proceeded from a forlorn exile, in a strange country, without a single acquaintance, and ignorant where he would {128} find a place of abode, or the means of subsistence. As a specimen of elevated piety and the most fervid eloquence, I cannot refrain from quoting the conclusion of the letter; in which he addresses their consciences, their hopes, their fears, and adjures them, by all that is sacred, and all that is dear to them, as men, as parents, and as Christians, not to start back from their good profession, and plunge themselves and their posterity into the gulf of ignorance and idolatry.

“Allace! sall we, efter so many graces that God has offerit in our dayis, for pleasure, or for vane threatnying of thame whome our hart knaweth and our mouthes have confessit to be odious idolateris, altogidder without resistance turne back to our vomit and damnabill ydolatrie, to the perdition of us and our posteritie? O horribill to be hard! Sall Godis halie preceptis wirk no greater obedience in us? Sall nature no otherwayis molifie our hartis? Sall not fatherlie pitie overcum this cruelnes? I speik to you, O natural fatheris! Behold your children with the eie of mercie, and considder the end of thair creatioun. Crueltie it were to saif your selves, and damn thame. But, O! more than crueltie, and madnes that can not be expressit, gif,[183] for the pleasure of a moment, ye depryve yourselves and your posteritie of that eternall joy that is ordanit for thame that continewis in confessioun of Christis name to the end. Gif natural lufe, fatherly affectioun, reverence of God, feir {129} of torment, or yit hoip of lyfe, move you, then will ye ganestand that abominabill ydol; whilk, gif ye do not, then, allace! the sone[184] is gone doun, and the lyht is quyte lost, the trompet is ceissit, and ydolatrie is placeit in quietnes and rest. But gif God sall strenthin you, (as unfainedlie I pray that his majestie may,) then is their but ane dark clude overspred the sone for ane moment, whilk schortlie shall vanische, sa that the beames efter salbe seven fald mair bryht and amiable nor they were befoir. Your patience and constancie salbe a louder trompit to your posteritie than were the voces of the prophetis that instructit you; and so is not the trompit ceissit sa lang as any baldlie resistith ydolatrie. And, thairfoir, for the tender mercies of God, arme yourselves to stand with Christ in this his schorte battell.

“Let it be knawn to your posteritie that ye wer Christianis, and no ydolateris; that ye learnit Chryst in tyme of rest, and baldlie professit him in tyme of trubill. The preceptis, think ye, are scharpe and hard to be observit; and yet agane I affirme, that comparit with the plagis that sall assuredlie fall upon obstinat ydolateris, thay salbe fund easie and lycht. For avoyding of ydolatrie ye may perchance be compellit to leave your native contrie and realme, but obeyris of ydolatrie without end salbe compellit to burne in hell; for avoyding ydolatrie your substance salbe spoillit, but for obeying ydolatrie heavenly ryches salbe lost; for avoyding ydolatrie ye may fall {130} into the handis of earthlie tirantis, but obeyeris, manteaneris, and consentaris to ydolatrie sall not eschaip the handis of the liveing God; for avoyding of ydolatrie your children salbe depryvit of father, friendis, ryches, and of rest, but by obeying ydolatrie they sall be left without God, without the knawledge of his word, and without hoip of his kingdome. Considder, deir brethrene, that how mekill mair[185] dolorous and feirfull it is to be tormentit in hell than to suffer trubill in erth, to be depryvit of heavenlie joy than to be rubbit of transitorie ryches, to fall in the hands of the liveing God than to obey manis vane and uncertane displeasure, to leif oure children destitute of God than to leif thame unprovydit befoir the world,――sa mekill mair feirful it is to obey ydolatrie, or by dissembling to consent to the same, than by avoyding and flying from the abominatioun, to suffer what inconvenient may follow thairupon.

“Ye feir corporall deth. Gif nature admitit any man to live ever, then had your feir sum aperance of reasone. But gif corporall deth be commoun to all, why will ye jeoparde to lois eternall lyfe, to eschaip that which neither ryche nor pure, nether wyse nor ignorant, proud of stomoke nor febill of corage, and finally, no earthlie creature, by no craft nor ingyne[186] of man, did ever avoid. Gif any eschapit the uglie face and horibill feir of deth, it was thay that baldlie confessit Chryst befoir men.――Why aucht the way of lyfe to be so feirfull by reasone of any pane, considering {131} that a great noumber of oure brethrene hes past befoir ws, by lyke dangeris as we feir. A stout and prudent marinell, in tyme of tempest, seeing but one or two schippis, or like weschells to his, pass throughout any danger, and to win a sure harberie, will have gud esperance,[187] by the lyke wind, to do the same. Allace! sall ye be mair feirfull to win lyfe eternall, than the natural man is to save the corporall lyfe? Hes not the maist part of the sanctis of God from the begynning enterit into thair rest, by torment and trubillis? And yit what complayntis find we in their mouthis, except it be the lamenting of thair persecuteris? Did God comfort thame? and sall his Majestie despyse us, gif, in fichting aganis iniquitie, we will follow thair futstepis? Hie will not.”[188]

On the last day of February, 1554,[189] he set out from Dieppe, like the Hebrew patriarch of old, “not knowing whither he went;”[190] and “committing his {132} way to God,” travelled through France to Switzerland. A correspondence had been kept up between some of the English reformers and the most noted divines of the Helvetic church. The latter had already heard, with the sincerest grief, of the overthrow of the Reformation, and the dispersion of its friends, in England. On making himself known, Knox was cordially received by them, and treated with the most affectionate hospitality. He spent some time in Switzerland, visiting the particular churches, and conferring with the learned men of that country; and embraced the opportunity of submitting to them certain difficult questions, which were suggested by the present conjuncture of affairs in England, and about which his mind had been greatly occupied. Their views with respect to these coinciding with his own, he was confirmed in the judgment which he had already formed for himself.[191]

In the beginning of May he returned to Dieppe, to receive information from England; a journey which he repeated at intervals as long as he remained on the continent. The kind reception which he had met with, and the agreeable company which he enjoyed, during his short residence in Switzerland, had helped to dissipate the cloud which hung upon his spirits when he landed in France, and to open his {133} mind to more pleasing prospects as to the issue of the present afflicting events. This appears from a letter written by him at this time, and addressed “To his afflicted brethren.” After discoursing of the situation of the disciples of Christ during the time that he lay in the grave, and of the sudden transition which they experienced, upon the reappearance of their master, from the depth of sorrow to the summit of joy, he adds: “The remembrance thereof is unto my heart great matter of consolation. For yet my good hope is, that one day or other, Christ Jesus, that now is crucified in England, shall rise again, in despite of his enemies, and shall appear to his weak and sore troubled disciples (for yet some he hath in that wretched and miserable realm); to whom he shall say, ‘Peace be unto you; it is I, be not afraid.’”[192]

His spirit was also refreshed at this time, by the information that he received of the constancy with which his mother‑in‑law adhered to the protestant faith. Her husband, it appears, took it for granted that she and the rest of the family had consciences equally accommodating with his own. It was not until she had evinced, in the most determined manner, her resolution to forsake friends and native country, rather than sacrifice her religion, that she was released from his importunities to comply with the Roman catholic religion.[193] Before he went to Switzerland, Knox had signified his intention, if his life was {134} spared, of visiting his friends at Berwick.[194] When he returned to Dieppe, he had not relinquished the thoughts of this enterprise.[195] It is likely that his friends had, in their letters, dissuaded him from it; and, after cool consideration, he resolved to postpone an attempt, by which he must have risked his life, without the prospect of doing any good.[196]

Wherefore, setting out again from Dieppe, he repaired to Geneva. The celebrated Calvin was then in the zenith of his reputation and usefulness in that city, and having completed its ecclesiastical establishment, and surmounted the opposition raised by those who envied his authority, or disliked his system of doctrine and discipline, was securely seated in the affections of the citizens. His writings were already translated into most of the languages of Europe; and Geneva was thronged with strangers from England, France, Germany, Poland, Hungary, and even from Spain and Italy, who came to consult him about the advancement of the Reformation, or to find shelter from the persecutions to which they were exposed, in their native countries. The name of Calvin was respected by none more than the protestants of England; and, at the desire of archbishop Cranmer, he had imparted to the protector Somerset, and to Edward VI., his advice as to the best method of advancing the Reformation in that kingdom.[197] Knox was affectionately received by him as a refugee from {135} England, and an intimate friendship was soon formed between them, which subsisted until the death of Calvin in 1564. They were nearly of the same age; and there was a striking similarity in their sentiments, and in the more prominent features of their character. The Genevan reformer was highly pleased with the piety and talents of Knox, who, in his turn, entertained a greater esteem and deference for Calvin than for any other of the reformers. As Geneva was an eligible situation for prosecuting study, and as he approved much of the religious order established in that city, he resolved to make it the ordinary place of his residence during the continuance of his exile.

But no prospect of personal safety or accommodation could banish from his mind the thoughts of his persecuted countrymen. In the month of July he undertook another journey to Dieppe, to inform himself accurately of their situation, and to learn if he could do any thing for their comfort.[198] The tidings he received on this occasion tore open those wounds which had begun to close. In Scotland, every thing was dark and discouraging. The severities used against the protestants of England daily increased; and, what was still more afflicting to him, many of those who had embraced the truth under his ministry {136} had been induced to return to the communion of the popish church. In the agony of his spirit, he wrote to them, setting before them the destruction to which they exposed their immortal souls by such cowardly desertion, and earnestly calling them to repentance.[199] Under his present impressions, he repeated his former admonitions to his mother‑in‑law, and to his wife; over whose religious constancy he was tenderly jealous. “By pen will I write (because the bodies are put asunder to meet again at God’s pleasure) that which, by mouth, and face to face, ye have heard, that if man or angel labour to bring you back from the confession that once you have given, let them in that behalf be accursed. If any trouble you above measure, whether they be magistrates or carnal friends, they shall bear their just condemnation, unless they speedily repent. But now, mother, comfort you my heart (God grant ye may) in this my great affliction and dolorous pilgrimage; continue stoutly to the end, and bow you never before that idol, and so will the rest of worldly troubles be unto me more tolerable. With my own heart I often commune, yea, {137} and, as it were comforting myself, I appear to triumph, that God shall never suffer you to fall in that rebuke. Sure I am that both ye would fear and eschame to commit that abomination in my presence, who am but a wretched man, subject to sin and misery like to yourself. But, O mother! though no earthly creature should be offended with you, yet fear ye the presence and offence of him, who, present in all places, searcheth the very heart and reins, whose indignation, once kindled against the inobedient, (and no sin more inflameth his wrath than idolatry doth,) no creature in heaven nor in earth is able to appease.”[200]

He was in this state of mind when he composed the Admonition to England, which was published about the end of this year. Those who have censured him, as indulging in an excessive vehemence of spirit and bitterness of language, usually refer to this tract in support of their charge.[201] It is true, that he there paints the persecuting papists in the blackest colours, and holds them up as objects of human execration and divine vengeance. I do not now stop to enquire, whether he was chargeable with transgressing the bounds of moderation prescribed by reason and religion, in the expression of his indignation and zeal; or whether the censures pronounced by his accusers, and the principles upon which they proceed, do not involve a condemnation of the temper and language of the most righteous men mentioned in scripture, and even of our Saviour himself. But, I may ask, is {138} there no apology for his severity to be found in the character of the persons against whom he wrote, and in the state of his own feelings, lacerated, not by personal sufferings, but by sympathy with his suffering brethren, who were driven into prisons by their unnatural countrymen, “as sheep for the slaughter,” to be brought forth and barbarously immolated to appease the Roman Moloch? Who could suppress indignation in speaking of the conduct of men, who, having raised themselves to honour and affluence by the warmest professions of friendship to the reformed religion under the preceding reign, now abetted the most violent measures against their former brethren and benefactors? What terms were too strong for stigmatizing the execrable system of persecution coolly projected by the dissembling, vindictive Gardiner, the brutal barbarity of the bloody Bonner, or the unrelenting, insatiable cruelty of Mary, who, having extinguished the feelings of humanity, and divested herself of the tenderness which characterises her sex, continued to urge to fresh severities the willing instruments of her cruelty, after they were sated with blood, and to issue orders for the murder of her subjects, until her own husband, bigoted and unfeeling as he was, turned with disgust from the spectacle?

On such a theme ’tis impious to be calm; Passion is reason, transport temper here.

Oppression makes a wise man mad; but (to use the words of a modern orator, with a more just application) “the distemper is still the madness of the wise, {139} which is better than the sobriety of fools. Their cry is the voice of sacred misery, exalted, not into wild raving, but into the sanctified frenzy of prophecy and inspiration.”

Knox returned to Geneva, and applied himself to study with all the ardour of youth, although his age now bordered upon fifty. It seems to have been at this time that he made himself master of the Hebrew language, which he had no opportunity of acquiring in early life.[202] It is natural to enquire, by what funds he was supported during his exile. However much inclined his mother‑in‑law was to relieve his necessities, the disposition of her husband appears to have put it greatly out of her power. Any small sums which his friends had advanced to him, before his sudden departure from England, were exhausted; and he was at this time very much straitened for money. Being unwilling to burden strangers, he looked for assistance to the voluntary contributions of those among whom he had laboured. In a letter to Mrs Bowes, he says, “My own estate I cannot well declare; but God shall guide the footsteps of him that is wilsome, and will feed him in trouble that never greatly solicited for the world. If any collection might be made among the faithful, it were no shame for me to receive that which Paul refused not in the time of his trouble. But all I remit to his providence that ever careth for his own.”[203] I find that remittances {140} were made to him by particular friends, both in England and Scotland, during his residence on the continent.[204]

Meanwhile, the persecution growing hot in England, great numbers of protestants had made their escape from that kingdom. Before the close of the year 1554, there were on the continent several hundred Englishmen of good education, besides others of different ranks, who had preferred religion to country, and voluntarily encountered all the hardships of exile, that they might hold fast the profession of the protestant faith. The foreign reformed churches exhibited, on this occasion, an amiable proof of the spirit of their religion, and amply recompensed the kindness which England had shown to strangers during the reign of Edward. They emulated one another in exertions to accommodate the unfortunate refugees who were dispersed among them, and endeavoured, with the most affectionate solicitude, to supply their wants and alleviate their sufferings.[205] The principal places in which the English exiles obtained settlements, were Zurich, Basle, Geneva, Arrow, Embden, Wesel, Strasburg, Duysburg, and Frankfort.