This tumult, however, was almost the end of the undisturbed reign of the
Congregation. In August, Mary Stewart, with all the pomp that her poor
country could muster for her, arrived in a fog, as so many lesser people
have done, on her native shores; and henceforward the balance of power
was strangely disturbed. The gravest of the lords owned a certain
divergence from the hitherto unbroken claims of religious duty, and a
hundred softnesses and forbearances stole in, which were far from being
according to the Reformer's views. The new reign began with a startling
test of loyalty to conviction, which apparently had not been
anticipated, and which came with a shock upon the feelings even of those
who loved the Queen most. The first Sunday which Mary spent in Holyrood,
preparations were made for mass in the chapel, probably with no
foresight of the effect likely to be produced. Upon this a sudden tumult
arose in the very ante-chambers. "Shall that idol be suffered again to
take its place in this realm? It shall not," even the courtiers said to
each other. The Master of Lindsay, that grim Lindsay of the Byres, so
well known among Mary's adversaries, standing with some gentlemen of
Fife in the courtyard, declared that "the idolatrous priests should die
the death." In this situation of danger the Lord James, afterwards so
well known as Murray, the Queen's brother, put himself in the breach. He
"took upon him to keep the door of the chapel." There was no man in
Scotland more true to the faith, and none more esteemed in the
Congregation. He excused himself after for this act of true charity by
saying that his object was to prevent any Scot from entering while the
mass was proceeding: but Knox divined that it was to protect the priest,
and preserve silence and sanctity for the service, though he disapproved
it, that Murray thus intervened. The Reformers did not appreciate the
good brother's devotion. Knox declared that he was more afraid of one
mass than of ten thousand armed men, and the arches of St. Giles's rang
with his alarm, his denunciation, his solemn warning. He recounts,
however, how by degrees this feeling softened among those who frequented
the Court. "There were Protestants found," he says, "that were not
ashamed at tables and other open places to ask 'Why may not the Queen
have her mass, and the form of her religion? What can that hurt us, or
our religion?' until by degrees this indulgence rose to a warmer and
strong