As I have said, he may possibly have made the acquaintance of Mrs. Mackgil, Mrs. Guthrie, or some other, or all, of these Edinburgh friends while he was still Douglas of Longniddry's private tutor. But our certain knowledge begins in 1549. He was then but newly escaped from his captivity in France, after pulling an oar for nineteen months on the benches of the galley NOSTRE DAME; now up the rivers, holding stealthy intercourse with other Scottish prisoners in the castle of Rouen; now out in the North Sea, raising his sick head to catch a glimpse of the far-off steeples of St. Andrews. And now he was sent down by the English Privy Council as a preacher to Berwick-upon-Tweed; somewhat shaken in health by all his hardships, full of pains and agues, and tormented by gravel, that sorrow of great men; altogether, what with his romantic story, his weak health, and his great faculty of eloquence, a very natural object for the sympathy of devout women. At this happy juncture he fell into the company of a Mrs. Elizabeth Bowes, wife of Richard Bowes, of Aske, in Yorkshire, to whom she had borne twelve children. She was a religious hypochondriac, a very weariful woman, full of doubts and scruples, and giving no rest on earth either to herself or to those whom she honoured with her confidence.
From the first time she heard Knox preach she formed a high opinion of him, and was solicitous ever after of his society.
(1) Nor was Knox unresponsive. "I have always delighted in your company," he writes, "and when labours would permit, you know I have not spared hours to talk and commune with you."
Often when they had met in depression he reminds her, "God hath sent great comfort unto both." (2) We can gather from such letters as are yet extant how close and continuous was their intercourse. "I think it best you remain till the morrow," he writes once, "and so shall we commune at large at afternoon. This day you know to be the day of my study and prayer unto God; yet if your trouble be intolerable, or, if you think my presence may release your pain, do as the Spirit shall move you. . . . Your messenger found me in bed, after a sore trouble and most dolorous night, and so dolour may complain to dolour when we two meet. . . . And this is more plain than ever I spoke, to let you know you have a companion in trouble." (3) Once we have the curtain raised for a moment, and can look at the two together for the length of a phrase. "After the writing of this preceding," writes Knox, "your brother and mine, Harrie Wycliffe, did advertise me by writing, that our adversary (the devil) took occasion to trouble you because that I DID START BACK FROM YOU REHEARSING YOUR INFIRMITIES. I REMEMBER MYSELF SO TO HAVE DONE, AND THAT IS MY COMMON ON CONSUETUDE WHEN ANYTHING PIERCETH OR TOUCHETH MY HEART. CALL TO YOUR MIND WHAT I DID STANDING AT THE CUPBOARD AT ALNWICK. In very deed I thought that no creature had been tempted as I was; and when I heard proceed from your mouth the very same words that he troubles me with, I did wonder and from my heart lament your sore trouble, knowing in myself the dolour thereof." (4) Now intercourse of so very close a description, whether it be religious intercourse or not, is apt to displease and disquiet a husband; and we know incidentally from Knox himself that there was some little scandal about his intimacy with Mrs.
Bowes. "The slander and fear of men," he writes, "has impeded me to exercise my pen so oft as I would; YEA, VERY SHAME HATH HOLDEN ME FROM YOUR COMPANY, WHEN I WAS MOST SURELY PERSUADED THAT GOD HAD APPOINTED ME AT THAT TIME TO COMFORT AND FEED YOUR HUNGRY AND AFFLICTED SOUL. GOD IN HIS INFINITE MERCY," he goes on, "REMOVE NOT ONLY FROM ME ALL FEAR THAT TENDETH NOT TO GODLINESS, BUT FROM OTHERS SUSPICION TO JUDGE OF ME OTHERWISE THAN IT BECOMETH ONE MEMBER TO JUDGE OF ANOTHER," (5) And the scandal, such as it was, would not be allayed by the dissension in which Mrs. Bowes seems to have lived with her family upon the matter of religion, and the countenance shown by Knox to her resistance. Talking of these conflicts, and her courage against "her own flesh and most inward affections, yea, against some of her most natural friends," he writes it, "to the praise of God, he has wondered at the bold constancy which he has found in her when his own heart was faint." (6)
(1) Works, vi. 514.
(2) IB. iii. 338.
(3) IB. iii. 352, 353.
(4) Works, iii. 350.
(5) IB. iii. 390, 391.
(6) Works, iii. 142.
Now, perhaps in order to stop scandalous mouths, perhaps out of a desire to bind the much-loved evangelist nearer to her in the only manner possible, Mrs. Bowes conceived the scheme of marrying him to her fifth daughter, Marjorie; and the Reformer seems to have fallen in with it readily enough. It seems to have been believed in the family that the whole matter had been originally made up between these two, with no very spontaneous inclination on the part of the bride. (1)
