Patrick Hamilton was finally arrested, by Beaton’s orders, under cover of night—truly a fitting time for the dark and malicious deed. A little company, like-minded with himself, had met to spend the evening with their beloved friend, and, as the hours sped on, they were in no haste to depart. They held converse together on those things which were dearest to every heart, and their sympathies very specially flowed forth to the young nobleman round whom they gathered. Far into the night those dear friends lingered—ah! little knowing that they should witness a rough and speedy parting, ere they left that hallowed room.
When all was quiet in the stillness of the night, footsteps were heard, and a knocking for admittance told every ear that danger was at hand. Who, then, could or would open that door and let in the intruders? None other than the man they sought. With calm serenity he presented himself before the men who stood there. “Whom do you want?” was his demand. “I want Hamilton,” was the reply. “I am Hamilton,” answered the brave servant of God, and without the slightest resistance, he stood ready to be led away. His only request was that the friends who were around him, might be permitted to depart in peace.
A company of armed men then escorted their prisoner through the streets of St. Andrews to the tower by the seashore. There he was left for the night, and the cruel Beaton had, at last, the gratification of knowing that the young and courageous Patrick Hamilton was in the iron grasp of the law, a victim to the vile hatred of popery. But ah! more sweetly rested that brave disciple of the Lord in his prison by the sea than did the iniquitous Beaton in his splendid palace. For a heart at peace with God beat within that noble prisoner’s breast, while evil thoughts and desires raged in the bosom of the man who was bringing him to an early death. Beaton had not finished his persecution of Patrick Hamilton when he lodged him a prisoner in the castle of St. Andrews. The next step was to lead the noble preacher out to die, and thus silence forever on earth that faithful voice, so loved by his friends and hated by his foes. Immediately before being led to the stake, Hamilton was called upon to answer the questions of a friar who seemed pleased to have a last opportunity of insulting the faithful servant of God. That examiner was a man who had privately owned to Hamilton that the truths for which he was now to die, were in accordance with the Word of God. No wonder, then, that to stifle his conscience, that worthless friar could not be too loud and harsh, in his cruel offensive words before those popish dignitaries.
Patrick Hamilton boldly but gently gave distinct and decisive answers to his accuser, and thereby increased the fury of all. As the Jews did of old to the meek and lowly Jesus, so did this archbishop and his companions to the disciple as he stood before them. “Away with him,” broke forth from angry lips; and the cry was, “To the stake! to the stake!” The archbishop, having thus succeeded in getting the opinion of many on his side, without further delay, sentenced Patrick Hamilton to be handed over to the executors of the law, as a heretic.
The greater the speed with which the sentence could be carried out, the better would the archbishop’s object be served. Hamilton was therefore fully aware, that a very short time would elapse between his last appearance before his judges, and the final carrying out of their desires.
From the presence of his accusers, he was led back to the castle of St. Andrews, but carefully guarded by a body of armed men as he passed through the streets on his way. Preparations were then made for the fire, and everything hastened on as rapidly as possible. No terror, no fear marked that noble servant of Christ, so soon to suffer death. He spent his closing hours in conversation with those he loved, and we may well imagine that he spoke of the Master with whom he was very shortly to be.
Twelve o’clock struck, and Patrick Hamilton calmly met the governor who had come to lead him forth, and as serenely he left the castle to die. A devoted attendant followed him, some dear friends walked by his side, while in his hands he held in affectionate reverence, a copy of the New Testament. Soldiers surrounded, and the crowd looked on; but no face was more placid, no step more secure, than the peaceful countenance and steady pace of the man who was about to die.
As the martyr neared the stake and the wood, he paused, and reverently uncovering his head, spent a few moments in prayer to God. Then passing onwards, he stood still for a little before being bound to the stake. His beloved Testament he gave to a friend, and the kind of cloak which he wore was given to his servant, as well as the cap which had covered his head. These little tributes of affection being bestowed, the noble martyr parted from the objects of them, and walking forward a few paces to the place where he was to be bound, his last steps on earth were over.
All being now ready, Hamilton was fastened to the stake, while wood and gunpowder surrounded that beloved man, and bitter enemies formed a still wider circle to see the end. But God in heaven looked down, and heard those trustful words from His servant’s lips, and doubtless answered them, too: “In the name of Jesus, I give up my body to the fire, and commit my soul into the hands of the Father.”
The fire burned very slowly, so that for six hours that suffering body was in the midst of the flames. Yet not the slightest impatience did he shew, nor was any murmur heard from his lips. Nay more, while he was undergoing the agony of burning, Patrick Hamilton was able to refute the enemy in the person of the wicked friar who continued to revile him. That unhappy man ceased not to reproach the dying believer, until he could no longer bear the searching words addressed to him by the preacher whom he had accused. At last, in great terror, he fled to his monastery, where in a very short time he became insane, and died a wild maniac as the result of his falsity and wickedness.
What a contrast was the end of that wretched man to the closing moments of the peaceful martyr at the stake. The latter was asked near the end to make a sign that he was holding fast in death the truths which he had taught in life. In reply, Patrick Hamilton stretched forth his right hand, on which only three fingers remained, and held it thus till they, too, were consumed in the flames. The last words which were heard falling from his lips were those of prayer for his country, and the peaceful committing of his spirit in faith to the Lord Jesus Christ. “How long, O Lord, shall darkness overwhelm this realm? how long wilt Thou suffer this tyranny of men? Lord Jesus, receive my soul.”
Though death had been lingering while the patient sufferer steadfastly endured, it came at last, and set that ransomed spirit free. Brightly had the young man entered on his noble course, and brief comparatively had been his useful life. All that birth, education, position, could procure were his; yet the one Treasure on which his heart was set, was the priceless Christ of God. Everything else paled before one divine Object, and for that ever worthy One nothing was withheld—not even life itself. And as he lived, so he died—that brave, true-hearted servant of God, who preached during life, and suffered unto death.
The date was February 28th, 1528, the place was at that time the chief seat of learning in Scotland; and the heart that planned his death was that of a man who had taken the positions of priest, archbishop, and cardinal. Such was the popish religion in those dark days, when the sword and the stake were its most powerful weapons. But Patrick Hamilton, and many more, will yet be able to sing eternally: “Unto him that loveth us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”