write letters urging martyrdom on others while shrinking from it oneself.

Nor was the apathy general. The Covenant signed by the Protestants in the end of the year proved how much they were in earnest. Knox, indeed, was alarmed at their action, and rumours of a rebellion in Scotland circulated in Dieppe. He had exhausted his fervour in his first letter, and a fortnight after the "godly band" was formed (December 17) they are are exhorted to caution. It was needed. There were factions in the country little influenced by religion. He warned them to act in the fear of God. He implored them not to "suddanlie disobey or displeas the establissit autoritie in thingis lawfull," nor to "assist or fortifie suche as, for their awn particular cause and warldlie promotioun, wold trubill the same." He reminded them, in conclusion, that there is a great difference betwix lawfull obedience, and ane feirfull flattering of princes, or ane

Law and Order

unjust accomplischment of thair desyres in thingis whilk be requyrit or devysit for the distructioun of a Commoun-welth." There is no reason to sneer at this conduct of Knox, or to infer from one instance that he was in the habit of urging martyrdom on others while shrinking from it himself. It only indicates that he was human, and not altogether indifferent to danger even in the service of God. One may be faithful and not reckless, while it is sometimes difficult to determine one's duty. Knox was afterwards not quite satisfied with the prudence exhibited on this occasion, but a good man may make mistakes with the best intentions, and few have dealt more severely with themselves than Knox. He is wonderfully frank on this subject in a letter to Mrs. Guthrie, wife of the City Clerk of Edinburgh, in the following spring (April 16). "This dar I say," he writes, "that sumtymes (seldome, allace!) I feill a sob and

grone, willing that Chryst Jesus mycht opinlie be preachit in my native countrey, with a certain desyre that my earis myght heir it, althocht it should be with the loss of this wreachit lyfe. And of verie purpois to haif visited yow did I leif this congregatioun heir, and also the familie committed to my particular charge: but the cause of my stop do I not to this day clearlie understand: I maist suspect my awn wickitnes. It may be that my God maist justlie hath permitted Sathan to put in my mind sic cogitationis as did impeid my journey toward you at this present and they wer theis: I hard sic trubillis as appeirit in that realme, I began to disput with myself as followeth :Sall Christ, the author of peace, concord, and quyetness, be preachit whair weir is proclamit, seditioun engenderit, and tumults appeir to ryse? Sall not his Evangell be accusit as the caus of all calamitie whilk is lyke to follow? What comfort canst

Self-Accusation

thou have to sie the one-half of the pepill ryse up aganis the other; yea, to jeopard the ane, to murther and destroy the other, but above all, what joy sall it be to thy hart to behold with thi eyes thi native contrey betrayd in the handis of strangeris, whilk to na manis judgment can be avoydit, becaus that thay wha aucht to defend it, and the libertie thairof, ar sa blind, dull, and obstinat, that thay will not sie thair awn destructioun. . . . I grant that nane of theis dangeris whilk are befoir expressit, ar any sufficient cause or excuse why that I should not hasard all for the manifestatioun of Chrystis glorie; for gif thi Apostillis had lukit to any of theis, thay should never have preachit Chryst. And thairfor, I say, I knaw that na cogitatiounis can excuse me befoir God: for my conscience beireth record that the salvatioun of my brethrein aucht to be as deir unto me, that it aucht to be socht with the hasard of all that

. .

the doubtis and cald wryttings of some brethrene did augment my dolour, and sumwhat discorage me, that befoir was mair nor febill: for Sathan is sa subtill, that he can mak the verie elect of God labour and travell for a tyme to stop the preaching of the Evangell." One cannot but respect the writer of such a letter. His courage for the time failed Knox. It was not merely that he might die, but die to little purpose and drag others with him to the same hapless doom. It reminds us of Mazzini.1 He had been sentenced to perpetual exile from the Swiss Republic, and came to London in 1837. He touched the lowest depths of poverty, but his mental condition made him even more miserable. "I felt myself a criminal," he writes, "conscious of guilt, yet incapable of expiation.

The forms of those shot at

1 The Camelot Series-Introduction to Mazzini's Essays, p. xv.