His
messengers, coming from so obnoxious a quarter, narrowly
escape imprisonment. His old congregation are coldly
received, and even begin to look back again to their place of
exile with regret. "My First Blast," he writes ruefully,
"has blown from me all my friends of England." And then he
adds, with a snarl, "The Second Blast, I fear, shall sound
somewhat more sharp, except men be more moderate than I hear
they are." (1) But the threat is empty; there will never be
a second blast - he has had enough of that trumpet. Nay, he
begins to feel uneasily that, unless he is to be rendered
useless for the rest of his life, unless he is to lose his
right arm and go about his great work maimed and impotent, he
must find some way of making his peace with England and the
indignant Queen. The letter just quoted was written on the
6th of April 1559; and on the 10th, after he had cooled his
heels for four days more about the streets of Dieppe, he gave
in altogether, and writes a letter of capitulation to Cecil.
In this letter, (2) which he kept back until the 22d, still
hoping that things would come right of themselves, he
censures the great secretary for having "followed the world
in the way of perdition," characterises him as "worthy of
hell," and threatens him, if he be not found simple, sincere,
and fervent in the cause of Christ's gospel, that he shall
"taste of the same cup that politic heads have drunken in
before him.
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