confesses that the Regent is probably not "so free as a public
reformation perhaps would require," for that required the downcasting of
altars and images, and prohibition to celebrate or attend Catholic rites.
Thus Knox would, apparently, be satisfied for the moment with toleration
and immunity for his fellow-religionists. Nothing of the sort really
contented him, of course, but at present he asked for no more.

Yet, a few days later, he writes, the Regent handed his letter to the
Archbishop of Glasgow, saying, "Please you, my Lord, to read a pasquil,"
an offence which Knox never forgave and bitterly avenged in his
"History."

It is possible that the Regent merely glanced at his letter. She would
find herself alluded to in a biblical parallel with "the Egyptian
midwives," with Nebuchadnezzar, and Rahab the harlot. Her acquaintance
with these amiable idolaters may have been slight, but the comparison was
odious, and far from tactful. Knox also reviled the creed in which she
had been bred as "a poisoned cup," and threatened her, if she did not act
on his counsel, with "torment and pain everlasting." Those who drink of
the cup of her Church "drink therewith damnation and death." As for her
clergy, "proud prelates do Kings maintain to murder the souls for which
the blood of Christ Jesus was shed."

These statements were dogmatic, and the reverse of conciliatory. One
should not, in attempting to convert any person, begin by reviling his
religion. Knox adopted the same method with Mary Stuart: the method is
impossible. It is not to be marvelled at if the Regent did style the
letter a "pasquil."

Knox took his revenge in his "History" by repeating a foolish report that