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The Journal Of John Wesley by John Wesley

Wesley and Mary Queen of Scots

Tuesday, 26. -- I came to Aberdeen.

Here I found a society truly alive, knit together in peace and love. The congregations were large both morning and evening, and, as usual, deeply attentive. But a company of strolling players, who have at length found place here also, stole away the gay part of the hearers. Poor Scotland! Poor Aberdeen! This only was wanting to make them as completely irreligious as England.

Friday, 29. -- I read over an extremely sensible book, but one that surprised me much; it is An inquiry into the Proofs of the Charges commonly advanced against Mary Queen of Scots. By means of original papers, he has made it more clear than one would imagine it possible at this distance: 1) that she was altogether innocent of the murder of Lord Darnley, and no way privy to it; 2) that she married Lord Bothwell (then nearly seventy years old, herself but four-and-twenty) from the pressing instance of the nobility in a body, who at the same time assured her he was innocent of the King's murder; 3) that Murray, Morton, and Lethington themselves contrived that murder in order to charge it upon her, as well as forged those vile letters and sonnets which, they palmed upon the world for hers.

|But how then can we account for the quite contrary story, which has been almost universally received?| Most easily. It was penned and published in French, English, and Latin (by Queen Elizabeth's order) by George Buchanan, who was secretary to Lord Murray, and in Queen Elizabeth's pay; so he was sure to throw dirt enough. Nor was she at liberty to answer for herself. |But what then was Queen Elizabeth?| As just and merciful as Nero and as good a Christian as Mohammed.

Sunday, May 1. -- I preached at seven in the new room; in the afternoon at the College kirk, in Old Aberdeen. At six, knowing our house could not contain the congregation, I preached in the castle gate, on the paved stones. A large number of people were all attention; but there were many rude, stupid creatures round about them who knew as little of reason as of religion; I never saw such brutes in Scotland before. One of them threw a potato, which fell on my arm; I turned to them, and some were ashamed.

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