made in the religion “publicly and universally standing.”  The Queen’s servants and others from France must not be molested—­on pain of death, the usual empty threat.  They were assaulted, and nobody was punished for the offence.  Arran alone made a protest, probably written by Knox.  Who but Knox could have written that the Mass is “much more abominable and odious in the sight of God” than murder!  Many an honest brother was conspicuously of the opinion which Arran’s protest assigned to Omnipotence.  Next Sunday Knox “thundered,” and later regretted that “I did not that I might have done” (caused an armed struggle?), . . . “for God had given unto me credit with many, who would have put into execution God’s judgments if I would only have consented thereto.”  Mary might have gone the way of Jezebel and Athaliah but for the mistaken lenity of Knox, who later “asked God’s mercy” for not being more vehement.  In fact, he rather worked “to slokin that fervency.” {195} Let us hope that he is forgiven, especially as Randolph reports him extremely vehement in the pulpit.  His repentance was publicly expressed shortly before the murder of Riccio.  (In December 1565, probably, when the Kirk ordered the week’s fast that, as it chanced, heralded Riccio’s doom.) Privately to Cecil, on October 7, 1561, he uttered his regret that he had been so deficient in zeal.  Cecil had been recommending moderation. {196}

On August 26, Randolph, after describing the intimidation of the priest, says “John Knox thundereth out of the pulpit, so that I fear nothing so much as that one day he will mar all.  He ruleth the roast, and of him all men stand in fear.”  In public at least he did not allay the wrath of the brethren.

On August 26, or on September 2, Knox had an interview with the Queen, and made her weep.  Randolph doubted whether this was from anger or from grief.  Knox gives Mary’s observations in the briefest summary; his own at great length, so that it is not easy to know how their reasoning really sped.  Her charges were his authorship of the “Monstrous Regiment of Women”; that he caused great sedition and slaughter in England; and that he was accused of doing what he did by necromancy.  The rest is summed up in “&c.”

He stood to his guns about the “Monstrous Regiment,” and generally took the line that he merely preached against “the vanity of the papistical religion” and the deceit, pride, and tyranny of “that Roman Antichrist.”  If one wishes to convert a young princess, bred in the Catholic faith, it is not judicious to begin by abusing the Pope.  This too much resembles the arbitrary and violent method of Peter in The Tale of a Tub (by Dr. Jonathan Swift); such, however, was the method of Knox.

Mary asking if he denied her “just authority,” Knox said that he was as well content to live under her as Paul under Nero.  This, again, can hardly be called an agreeable historical parallel!  Knox hoped that he would not hurt her or her authority “so long as ye defile not your hands with the blood of the saints of God,” as if Mary was panting to distinguish herself in that way.  His hope was unfulfilled.  No “saints” suffered, but he ceased not to trouble.