ly place
of sojourn; but it makes men lean on one another and join hands. It was
on this that Knox relied to begin the union of the English and the
Scottish. And he had, perhaps, better means of judging than any even of
his contemporaries. He knew the temper of both nations; and already
during his two years' chaplaincy at Berwick, he had seen his scheme put
to the proof. But whether practicable or not, the proposal does him much
honour. That he should thus have sought to make a love-match of it
between the two peoples, and tried to win their inclination towards a
union instead of simply transferring them, like so many sheep, by a
marriage, or testament, or private treaty, is thoroughly characteristic
of what is best in the man. Nor was this all. He had, besides, to assure
himself of English support, secret or avowed, for the Reformation party
in Scotland; a delicate affair, trenching upon treason. And so he had
plenty to say to Cecil, plenty that he did not care to "commit to paper
neither yet to the knowledge of many." But his miserable publication had
shut the doors of England in his face. Summoned to Edinburgh by the
confederate lords, he waited at Dieppe, anxiously praying for leave to
journey through England. The most dispiriting tidings reached him. 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."[75] 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,[76] which
he kept back until the 22nd, still hoping that things would come right
of themselves, he censures the great secretary for having "followed the
world