John Knox and the Reformation | Page 8

the doctrine of "killing no murder," was, and Wishart may
have been, a man of his time. But Knox, in telling the story of a murder
which he approves, unhappily displays a glee unbecoming a reformer
of the Church of Him who blamed St. Peter for his recourse to the
sword. The very essence of Christianity is cast to the winds when Knox
utters his laughter over the murders or misfortunes of his opponents,
yielding, as Dr. M'Crie says, "to the strong propensity which he felt to
indulge his vein of humour." Other good men rejoiced in the murder of
an enemy, but Knox chuckled.
Nothing has injured Knox more in the eyes of posterity (when they
happen to be aware of the facts) than this "humour" of his.
Knox might be pardoned had he merely excused the murder of "the
devil's own son," Cardinal Beaton, who executed the law on his friend
and master, George Wishart. To Wishart Knox bore a tender and
enthusiastic affection, crediting him not only with the virtues of charity
and courage which he possessed, but also with supernormal

premonitions; "he was so clearly illuminated with the spirit of
prophecy." These premonitions appear to have come to Wishart by way
of vision. Knox asserted some prophetic gift for himself, but never
hints anything as to the method, whether by dream, vision, or the
hearing of voices. He often alludes to himself as "the prophet," and
claims certain privileges in that capacity. For example the prophet may
blamelessly preach what men call "treason," as we shall see. As to his
actual predictions of events, he occasionally writes as if they were mere
deductions from Scripture. God will punish the idolater; A or B is an
idolater; therefore it is safe to predict that God will punish him or her.
"What man then can cease to prophesy?" he asks; and there is, if we
thus consider the matter, no reason why anybody should ever leave off
prophesying. {18a}
But if the art of prophecy is common to all Bible-reading mankind, all
mankind, being prophets, may promulgate treason, which Knox
perhaps would not have admitted. He thought himself more specially a
seer, and in his prayer after the failure of his friends, the murderers of
Riccio, he congratulates himself on being favoured above the common
sort of his brethren, and privileged to "forespeak" things, in an unique
degree.
"I dare not deny . . . but that God hath revealed unto me secrets
unknown to the world," he writes {18b}; and these claims soar high
above mere deductions from Scripture. His biographer, Dr. M'Crie,
doubts whether we can dismiss, as necessarily baseless, all stories of
"extraordinary premonitions since the completion of the canon of
inspiration." {19} Indeed, there appears to be no reason why we should
draw the line at a given date, and "limit the operations of divine
Providence." I would be the last to do so, but then Knox's premonitions
are sometimes, or usually, without documentary and contemporary
corroboration; once he certainly prophesied after the event (as we shall
see), and he never troubles himself about his predictions which were
unfulfilled, as against Queen Elizabeth.
He supplied the Kirk with the tradition of supernormal premonitions in
preachers--second-sight and clairvoyance--as in the case of Mr. Peden

and other saints of the Covenant. But just as good cases of clairvoyance
as any of Mr. Peden's are attributed to Catherine de Medici, who was
not a saint, by her daughter, La Reine Margot, and others. In Knox, at
all events, there is no trace of visual or auditory hallucinations, so
common in religious experiences, whatever the creed of the percipient.
He was not a visionary. More than this we cannot safely say about his
prophetic vein.
The enthusiasm which induced a priest, notary, and teacher like Knox
to carry a claymore in defence of a beloved teacher, Wishart, seems
more appropriate to a man of about thirty than a man of forty, and, so
far, supports the opinion that, in 1545, Knox was only thirty years of
age. In that case, his study of the debates between the Church and the
new opinions must have been relatively brief. Yet, in 1547, he already
reckoned himself, not incorrectly, as a skilled disputant in favour of
ideas with which he cannot have been very long familiar.
Wishart was taken, was tried, was condemned; was strangled, and his
dead body was burned at St. Andrews on March 1, 1546. It is highly
improbable that Knox could venture, as a marked man, to be present at
the trial. He cites the account of it in his "History" from the
contemporary Scottish narrative used by Foxe in his "Martyrs," and
Laing, Knox's editor, thinks that Foxe "may possibly have been
indebted for some" of the Scottish