Meantime Beaton had come to Edinburgh; and, hearing that Wishart was in the neighborhood, resolved upon his instant apprehension. At midnight, Ormiston House was surrounded by a troop of cavalry, under the command of the earl of Bothwell, who demanded Wishart. But neither promises nor threatenings could induce the laird to deliver up his guest. Bothwell assured him on his honor, that he would be perfectly safe with him, and that no power of the cardinal would be allowed to harm him. Ormiston was disposed to confide in this solemn promise, and told Wishart what had occurred. "Open the gates," he replied, "the blessed will of my God be done." But alas! Bothwell violated his pledge, and the victim of a faithless earl and a bloodthirsty priest was hurried from Edinburgh to St. Andrew's, and thrown into prison.
The zeal of Arran in the cause of the Reformation by this time had greatly declined; and the cardinal, who had great influence over the mind of the weak and timid earl, was dominant in the nation. As it was contrary to the canon law for clergymen to meddle in matters of blood, Beaton asked the governor to appoint a lay judge, who might pronounce sentence of death upon Wishart, if found guilty of heresy. But Arran, irresolute as he was, refused to do this, and strongly urged delay. But Beaton was not a man to be hindered by canon law, or by the expostulations of the regent. Wishart was arraigned before a clerical tribunal, was found guilty of heresy, and condemned to the flames.
On the 1st of March, 1546, a scaffold was erected before the castle of St. Andrew's, and fagots of dried wood were piled around it. As the civil power refused to take part in the proceedings, the cardinal acted instead. His men were equipped with lances, swords, axes, and other warlike array; and the guns of the castle were brought to bear upon the spot, lest Wishart's many friends should attempt to rescue him. Meanwhile the balcony of the castle was adorned with silken draperies and velvet cushions, that Beaton and other prelates might enjoy at their ease the spectacle of the pile, and the tortures of the holy sufferer. When all was ready, two deathsmen brought Wishart from his prison. He was dressed in black; small bags of gunpowder were tied to various parts of his body; his hands were firmly tied behind him; a rope round his neck, and an iron chain round his waist to fasten him to the stake. He knelt down and prayed before the pile; then he exhorted the people to love the word of God, and suffer patiently and with a comfortable heart for the word's sake, which was their undoubted salvation and everlasting comfort. "For the true gospel," he added, "which was given to me by the grace of God, I suffer this day by men, not sorrowfully, but with a glad heart and mind. For this cause I was sent, that I should suffer this fire for Christ's sake. This grim fire I fear not; I know surely that I shall sup with my Savior Christ this night, for whom I suffer." And many other beautiful words did he say-according to Knox, Buchanan, and others.
When bound to the stake, he said, "Savior of the world, have mercy on me! Father of heaven, into Thy hands I commit my spirit." The fire was lighted. The cardinal, Dunbar, and other prelates were on the balcony watching the progress of the fire, and the sufferings of the martyr. Wishart, catching sight of the cardinal and his courtiers, fixed his eyes on the cardinal, and said, "He who in such state, from that high place, feedeth his eyes with my torments, within a few days shall be hanged out at the same window, to be seen with as much ignominy as he now leaneth there with pride." The rope round his neck was now tightened, so that he spoke no more, and the fire reduced his body to ashes.