Eighty Sermons, Biography – Approbation
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF Dr DONNE, LATE DEANE OF St PAULS LONDON.
IF that great Maſter of Language and Art, Sir Henry Wootton, Provoſt of Eaton Colledge, (lately deceaſed) had lived to ſee the publication of theſe Sermons, he had preſented the world with the Authors life exactly written. It was a Work worthy his undertaking, and he fit to undertake it; betwixt whom and our Author, there was ſuch a friendſhip contracted in their youths, that nothing but death could force the ſeparation. And though their bodies were divided, that learned Knights love followed his friends fame beyond the forgetfull grave, which he teſtified by intreating me (whom he acquainted with his deſigne) to inquire of certaine particulars that concerned it: Not doubting but my knowledge of the Author, and love to his memory, would make my diligence uſefull. I did prepare them in a readineſs to be augmented, and rectified by his powerfull pen; but then death prevented his intentions.
When I heard that ſad newes, and likewiſe that theſe Sermons were to be publiſht without the Authors life, (which I thought was rare) indignation or griefe (I know not whether) tranſported me ſo far, that I re-viewed my forſaken Collections, and reſolved the world ſhould ſee the beſt picture of the Author that my artleſſe Penſil (guided by the hand of Truth) could preſent to it.
If I be demanded, as once Pompeys poore Bondman was,Plutarch. (whileſt he was alone on the Sea ſhore gathering the pieces of an old Boat to burne the body of his dead Maſter) What art thou that prepareſt the funeralls of Pompey the great? Who I am that ſo officiouſly ſet the Authors memorie on fire? I hope the queſtion hath in it more of wonder then diſdaine.
Wonder indeed the Reader may, that I (who profeſſe my ſelfe artleſſe) ſhould preſume with my faint light to ſhew forth his life, whoſe very name makes it illuſtrious; but be this to the diſadvantage of the perſon repreſented, certaine I am, it is much to the advantage of the beholder; who ſhall ſee the Authors picture in a naturall dreſſe, which ought to beget faith in what is ſpoken, for he that wants skill to deceive, may ſafely be truſted.
And though it may be my fortune to fall under ſome cenſures for this undertaking, yet I am pleaſed in a beliefe I have, that if the Authors glorious ſpirit (which is now in heaven) can have the leaſure to look downe, and ſee his meaneſt friend in the midſt of his officious duty, he will not diſdaine my well meaning ſacrifice to his memory. For whilſt his converſation made me (and many others) happy below, I know his humility and gentleneſs was eminent: And I have heard Divines ſay, thoſe vertues that are but ſparks on earth, become great and glorious flames in heaven.
He was borne in LONDON, of good and vertuous Parents; And though his own learning and other multiplied merits, may juſtly ſeeme ſufficient to dignifie both himſelfe and poſteritie; yet Reader be pleaſed to know, that his Father was maſculinely and lineally deſcended from a very ancient Family in Wales, where many of his name now live, that have and deſerve great reputation in that Countrey.
By his Mother he was deſcended from the Family of the famous Sir Thomas More, ſometimes Lord Chancellor of England; and alſo from that worthy and laborious Judge Raſtall, who left behind him the vaſt Statutes of the Lawes of this Kingdome, moſt exactly abridged.
He had his firſt breeding in his Fathers houſe, where a private Tutor had the care of him, till he was nine yeares of age; he was then ſent to the Univerſitie of Oxford, having at that time a command of the French and Latine Tongues, when others can ſcarce ſpeak their owne.
There he remained in Hart Hall, (having for the advancement of his ſtudies, Tutors in ſeverall Sciences to inſtruct him) till time made him capable, and his learning expreſt in many publique Exerciſes, declared him fit to receive his firſt Degree in the Schooles, which he forbore by adviſe from his friends, who being of the Romiſh perſwaſion, were conſcionably averſe to ſome parts of the Oath, alwayes tendred and taken at thoſe times.
About the fourteenth yeare of his age, he was tranſplanted from Oxford to Cambridge, where (that he might receive nouriſhment from both ſoiles) he ſtaid till his ſeventeenth yeare. All which time he was a moſt laborious Student, often changing his ſtudies, but endeavouring to take no Degree for the reaſons formerly mentioned.
About his ſeventeenth yeare he was removed to London, and entred into Lincolnes Inne, with an intent to ſtudy the Law, where he gave great teſtimonies of wit, learning, and improvement in that profeſsion, which never ſerved him for any uſe, but onelyonly for ornament.
His Father died before his admiſsion into that Society, and (being a Merchant) left him his Portion in money (which was 3000. li.) His Mother, and thoſe to whoſe care he was committed, were watchful to improve his knowledge, and to that end appointed him there alſo Tutors in ſeverall Sciences, as the Mathematicks and others, to attend and inſtruct him. But with theſe Arts they were adviſed to inſtill certaine particular principles of the Romiſh Church, of which thoſe Tutors (though ſecretly) profeſt themſelves to be members.
They had almoſt obliged him to their faith, having for their advantage, beſides their opportunity, the example of his moſt deare and pious Parents, which was a powerfull perſwaſion, and did work upon him, as he profeſſeth in his PREFACE to his Pſeudo-Martyr.
He was now entred into the nineteenth yeare of his age, and being unreſolved in his Religion, (though his youth and ſtrength promiſed him a long life) yet he thought it neceſſary to rectifie all ſcruples which concerned that: And therefore waving the Law, and betrothing himſelfe to no art or profeſſion, that might juſtly denominate him, he began to ſurvey the body of Divinity, controverted between the Reformed and Roman Church.Preface to Pſeudo-Martyr. And as Gods bleſſed Spirit did then awaken him to the ſearch, and in that induſtry did never forſake him, (they be his owne words) So he calls the ſame Spirit to witneſs to his Proteſtation, that in that ſearch and diſquiſition he proceeded with humility and diffidence in himſelfe, by the ſafeſt way of frequent Prayers, and indifferent affection to both parties. And indeed, Truth had too much light about her, to be hid from ſo ſharp an Inquirer; and he had too much ingenuity, not to acknowledge he had ſeen her.
Being to undertake this ſearch, he beleeved the learned Cardinal Bellarmine to be the beſt defender of the Roman cauſe: and therefore undertook the examination of his reaſons. The cauſe was waighty, and wilfull delaies had been inexcuſable towards God and his own conſcience; he therfore proceeded with all moderate haſte; And before he entred into the twentieth yeare of his age, did ſhew the Deane of Glouceſter all the Cardinalls Works marked with many waighty Obſervations under his own hand, which Works were bequeathed by him at his death as a Legacy to a moſt deare friend.
About the twentieth yeare of his age, he reſolved to travell; And the Earle of Eſſex going to Cales, and after the Iland voyages, he took the advantage of thoſe opportunities, waited upon his Lordſhip, and ſaw the expeditions of thoſe happy and unhappy imployments.
But he returned not into England, till he had ſtaid a convenient time, firſt in Italy, and then in Spaine, where he made many uſefull Obſervations of thoſe Countries, their Lawes, and Government, and returned into England perfect in their Languages.
Not long after his returne, that exemplary pattern of gravity and wiſdome, the Lord Elſmore, Lord Keeper of the great Seale, and after Chancellor of England, taking notice of his Learning, Languages, and other abilities, and much affecting both his perſon and condition, received him to be his chiefe Secretarie, ſuppoſing it might be an Introduction to ſome more waighty imployment in the State, for which his Lordſhip often proteſted he thought him very fit.
Nor did his Lordſhip account him ſo much to be his ſervant, as to forget hee had beene his friend; and to teſtifie it, hee uſed him alwayes with much curteſie, appointing him a place at his owne Table, unto which he eſteemed his company and diſcourſe a great ornament.
He continued that employment with much love and approbation, being daily uſefull (and not mercenary) to his friends, for the ſpace of five yeares: In which time, he (I dare not ſay unfortunately) fell into ſuch a liking, as (with her approbation) increaſed into a love with a young Gentlewoman, who lived in that Family, Neece to the Lady Elſmore, Daughter to Sir George More, Chancellor of the Garter, and Lieutenant of the Tower.
Sir George had ſome immation of their increaſing love, and the better to prevent it, did remove his Daughter to his owne houſe, but too late, by reaſon of ſome faithfull promiſes interchangeably paſt, and inviolably to be kept between them.
Their love (a paſsion, which of all other Mankind is leaſt able to command, and wherein moſt errors are committed) was in them ſo powerfull, that they reſolved, and did marry without the approbation of thoſe friends that might juſtly claime an intereſt in the adviſing and diſpoſing of them.
Being married, the newes was (in favour to M. Donne, and with his allowance) by the Right Honourable Henry then Earle of Northumberland, ſecretly and certainly intimated to Sir George More, to whom it was ſo immeaſurably unwelcome, that (as though his paſsion of anger and inconſideration ſhould exceed theirs of love and error) he ingaged his ſiſter the Lady Elſmore to joyn with him to procure her Lord to diſcharge M. Donne the place he held under his Lordſhip. And although Sir George were remembred that Errors might be over-puniſht, and therefore was deſired to forbeare, till ſecond conſiderations had cleered ſome ſcruples, yet he was reſtleſſe untill his ſuit was granted, and the puniſhment executed; The Lord Chancellor then (at M. Donnes diſmiſsion) proteſting, he thought him a Secretary fitter for a King then a Subject.
But this phyſick of M. Donnes diſmiſsion was not ſtrong enough to purge out all Sir George his choler, who was not ſatisfied, till M. Donne, and his Compupill in Cambridge that married him, M. Samuel Brooke, (who was after D. in D. and Maſter of Trinity Colledge in that Univerſity) and his brother M. Chriſtopher Brook of Lincolns Inne, (who gave M. Donne his Wife, and witneſſed the Mariage) were all committed to ſeverall Priſons.
M. Donne was firſt inlarged, who neither gave reſt to his body, his braine, nor any friend, in whom he might hope to have any intereſt, untill he had procured the inlargement of his two impriſoned friends.
He was now at liberty, but his dayes were ſtill cloudie, and being paſt this trouble, others did ſtill multiply, for his Wife (to her extreame ſorrow) was detained from him.Geneſ. 29. And though with Iacob, he endured not a hard ſervice for her, yet he loſt a good one, and was forced to get poſſeſsion of her by a long ſuit in Law, which proved very chargeable, and more troubleſome.
It was not long, but that Time and M. Donnes behaviour (which when it would intice, had a ſtrange kind of irreſiſtible art) had ſo diſpaſsioned his Father in Law, That as the world had approved his Daughters choice, ſo he alſo could not chooſe but ſee a more then ordinary merit in his new Sonne, which melted him into ſo much remorſe, that he ſecretly laboured his ſons reſtauration into his place, uſing his owne, and his ſiſters power, but with no ſucceſſe; The Lord Chancellor replying, That although he was unfainedly ſorry for what he had done, yet it ſtood not with his credit to diſcharge and re-admit ſervants, at the requeſt of paſsionate Petitioners.
Within a ſhort time, Sir George appeared to be ſo far reconciled, as to wiſh their happineſſe; (or ſay ſo) And being asked for his paternal bleſsing, did not deny it; but refuſed to contribute any meanes that might conduce to their livelyhood.
M. Donnes Portion was the greateſt part ſpent in many and chargeable travels, the reſt disburſt in ſome few Books, and deare bought experience; he out of all imployment, that might yeeld a ſupport for himſelfe and Wife, who had been curiouſly and plentifully educated; his nature generous, and he accuſtomed to confer, not to receive curteſies. Theſe and other conſiderations, but chiefly that his deare Wife was to bear a part in his ſufferings, ſurrounded him with many and ſad thoughts, and ſome apparent apprehenſions of want.
But his ſorrow was leſſened, and his wants prevented by the ſeaſonable curteſies of their noble Kinſman Sir Francis Wally of Pirford, who intreated them to a co-habitation with him; where they remained with very much freedome to themſelves, and equall content to him for many yeares. And as their charge increaſed, (ſhe had yearly a child) ſo did his love and bounty.
With him they continued till his death: a little before which time Sir Francis was ſo happy as to make a perfect reconciliation betwixt that good man Sir George More and his forſaken ſonne and daughter, Sir George then giving Bond to pay M. Donne 800 l. at a certain day as a Portion with his wife, and to pay him for their maintenance 20. l. quarterly, (as the Intereſt of it) untill the ſaid Portion were paid.
Moſt of thoſe yeares that he lived with Sir Francis, he ſtudied the Civil and Canon Lawes: In which he acquired ſuch a perfection as was judged to hold ſome proportion with many, who had made that ſtudy the imployment of their whole life.
Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family diſſolved, M. Donne tooke a houſe at Micham (neere unto Croydon in Surrey) where his wife and family remained conſtantly: and for himſelfe (having occaſions to be often in London) he tooke lodgings neere unto White-hall, where he was frequently viſited by men of greateſt learning and judgement in this Kingdome; his company being loved, and much deſired by many of the Nobility of this Nation, who uſed him in their counſels of greateſt conſiderations.
Nor did our owne Nobility onelyonly favour him, but his acquaintance and friendſhip was uſually ſought for by moſt Ambaſſadors of forraigne Nations, and by many other ſtrangers, whoſe learning or employment occaſioned their ſtay in this Kingdome.
He was much importuned by friends to make his reſidence in London, which he could not doe, having ſetled his dear wife and children at Micham, whither he often retired himſelfe, and then ſtudied inceſſantly ſome Points of Controverſie. But at laſt the perſwaſion of friends was ſo powerfull, as to cauſe the removall of himſelfe and family to London; where that honourable Gentleman Sir Robert Drury aſsigned him a very convenient houſe rent-free, next his own in Drury-lane, and was alſo a daily cheriſher of his ſtudies, and ſuch a friend as ſympathiz'd with him and his, in their joy and ſorrow.
Divers of the Nobility were watchfull and ſolicitous to the King for ſome preferment for him. His Majeſty had formerly both knowne, and much valued him, and had given him ſome hopes of a State employment, being much pleaſed that M. Donne attended him, eſpecially at his meales, where there was uſually many deep diſcourſes of Learning, and often friendly diſputes of Religion betwixt the King and thoſe Divines whoſe places required their attendance on his Majeſtie: Particularly, the Right Reverend Biſhop Montague, then Deane of the Chappel, (who was the publiſher of the eloquent and learned Works of his Majeſtie) and the moſt learned Doctor Andrewes, then his Majeſties Almoner, and at his death Biſhop of Wincheſter.
About this time grew many diſputes in England, that concerned the Oath of Supremacy and Allegeance, in which the King had appeared and ingaged himſelfe by his publique writings now extant. And his Majeſtie occaſionally talking with M. Donne concerning many of thoſe Arguments urged by the Romaniſts, apprehended ſuch a validity and cleereneſſe in his anſwers, that he commanded him to ſtate the Points, and bring his Reaſons to him in writing; to which he preſently applyed himſelfe, and within ſixe weeks brought them to his Majeſtie fairely written under his owne hand, as they be now printed in his Pſeudo-Martyr.
When the King had read and conſidered that Book, he perſwaded M. Donne to enter into the Miniſtery, to which he appeared (and was) un-inclinable, apprehending it (ſuch was his miſtaking modeſty) too weighty for his abilities. But from that time, though many friends mediated with his Majeſtie to prefer him to ſome civil employment, (to which his education had apted him) yet the King denied their requeſts, and (having a diſcerning ſpirit) replyed, I know M. Donne is a learned man, an excellent Divine, and will prove a powerfull Preacher. After that, as he profeſſeth*In his Devotions, Expoſt. 8., the King deſcended almoſt to a ſolicitation of him to enter into ſacred Orders, which though he denied not, he deferred for the ſpace of three yeares: All which time he applyed himſelfe to an inceſſant ſtudy of Textuall Divinity, and attained a greater perfection in the learned Languages, Greek and Hebrew.
Forwardneſſe and inconſideration could not in him (as in many others) argue an inſufficiencie; for he conſidered long, and had many ſtrifes within himſelfe concerning the ſtrictneſſe of life, and competencie of learning required in ſuch as enter into ſacred Orders: And doubtleſſe (conſidering his owne demerits) did with meek Moſes humbly aske God, Who am I? And if he had conſulted with fleſh and bloud, he had not put his hand to that holy plough: But God who is able to prevaile, wraſtled with him, as the Angel did with Iacob, Gen. 32.and marked him for his owne, marked him with a bleſsing, a bleſsing of obedience to the motions of his bleſſed Spirit; And then as he had formerly asked God humbly with Moſes, Who am I? So now (being inſpired with the apprehenſion of Gods mercies) he did ask King Davids thankfull queſtion, Lord who am I that thou art ſo mindfull of me? So mindfull of me as to lead me for more then forty years through a wilderneſſe of the many temptations and various turnings of a dangerous life? So mindfull as to move the learnedſt of Kings to deſcend to move me to ſerve at thine Altar? So merciful to me as to move my heart to embrace this holy motion? Thy motions I will embrace, take the cup of ſalvation, call upon thy Name, and preach thy Goſpell.
Such ſtrifes as theſe S. Auguſtine had when S. Ambroſe indeavoured his converſion to Chriſtianity, with which he confeſſeth he acquainted his deare friend Alippius. Our learned Author (a man fit to write after no meane Copy) did the like; and declaring his intentions to his deare friend D. King the then worthy Biſhop of London, (who was Chaplaine to the Lord Chancellor in the time of his being his Lordſhips Secretary) That Reverend Biſhop moſt gladly received the newes, and with all convenient ſpeed ordained him Deacon and Prieſt.
Now the Engliſh Church had gained a ſecond S. Auguſtine, for I think none was ſo like him before his converſion, none ſo like S. Ambroſe after it. And if his youth had the infirmities of the one Father, his age had the excellencies of the other, the learning and holineſſe of both.
Now all his ſtudies (which were occaſionally diffuſed) were concentred in Divinity; Now he had a new calling, new thoughts, new imployment for his wit and eloquence. Now all his earthly affections were changed into divine love, and all the faculties of his ſoule were ingaged in the converſion of others, in preaching glad tidings, remiſsion to repenting ſinners, and peace to each troubled ſoule: To this he applyed himſelfe with all care and diligence; and ſuch a change was wrought in him,Pſal. 84. that he was gladder to be a doore-keeper in the houſe of God, then to enjoy any temporall employment.
Preſently after he entred into his holy Profeſsion, the King made him his Chaplaine in Ordinary, and gave him other incouragements, promiſing to take a particular care of him.
And though his long familiarity with perſons of greateſt quality was ſuch as might have given ſome men boldneſſe enough to have preached to any eminent Auditory; yet his modeſty was ſuch, that he could not be perſwaded to it, but went uſually to preach in ſome private Churches, in Villages neere London, till his Majeſtie appointed him a day to preach to him. And though his Majeſtie and others expected much from him, yet he was ſo happy (which few are) as to ſatisfie and exceed their expectations: preaching the Word ſo, as ſhewed he was poſſeſt with thoſe joyes that he laboured to diſtill into others: A Preacher in earneſt, weeping ſometimes for his Auditory, ſometimes with them, alwayes preaching to himſelfe, like an Angel from a cloud, though in none: carrying ſome (as S. Paul was) to heaven, in holy raptures; enticing others, by a ſacred art and courtſhip, to amend their lives; and all this with a moſt particular grace, and un-imitable faſhion of ſpeaking.
That Summer, the ſame month in which he was ordained Prieſt, (and made the Kings Chaplaine) his Majeſtie (going his Progreſſe) was intreated to receive an entertainment in the Univerſity of Cambridge, and M. Donne attending his Majeſtie there, his Majeſtie was pleaſed to recommend him to be made Doctor in Divinity, Doctor Harſnet (after Archbiſhop of York) being then their Vice-Chancellour, who knowing him to be the Author of the Pſeudo-Martyr, did propoſe it to the Univerſity, and they preſently granted it, expreſsing a gladneſſe they had an occaſion to entitle and write him Theits.
His abilities and induſtry in his profeſsion were ſo eminent, and he ſo much loved by many perſons of quality, that within one yeare after his entrance into Sacred Orders, he had fourteen Advowſons of ſeverall Benefices ſent unto him; but they (being in the Countrey) could not draw him from his long loved friends and London, to which he had a naturall inclination, having received his birth and breeding in it: deſiring rather ſome preferment that might fixe him to an employment in that place.
Immediately after his returne from Cambridge, his wife died, leaving him a man of an unſetled eſtate: And (having buried five) the carefull father of ſeven children then living, to whom he made a voluntary promiſe (being then but forty two years of age) never to bring them under the ſubjection of a Step-mother: which promiſe he moſt faithfully kept, burying with his teares all his ſublunary joyes in his moſt deare and deſerving Wives grave, living a moſt retired and ſolitary life.
In this retiredneſſe, he was importuned by the grave Benchers of Lincolns Inne, (once the friends of his youth) to accept of their Lecture, which (by reaſon of M. Gatakers removall) was then void; of which he accepted, being glad to renew his intermitted friendſhip with them, whom he ſo much loved, and where he had been a Saul, (not ſo far as to perſecute Chriſtianity, yet in his irregular youth to neglect the practiſe of it) to become a Paul, and preach ſalvation to his brethren.
Nor did he preach onelyonly, but as S. Paul adviſed his Corinthians to be followers of him as he was of Chriſt; ſo he alſo was an ocular direction to them by a holy and harmleſſe converſation.
Their love to him was expreſt many wayes; for (beſides the faire lodgings that were provided and furniſht for him) other curteſies were daily accumulated, ſo many, and ſo freely, as though they meant their gratitude (if poſsible) ſhould exceed, or at leaſt equall his merit. In this love-ſtrife of deſert and liberality, they continued for the ſpace of three yeares, he conſtantly and faithfully preaching, they liberally requiting him. About which time the Emperour of Germany died, and the Palſgrave was elected and crowned King of Bohemia, the unhappy beginning of much trouble in thoſe Kingdomes.
King Iames, whoſe Motto, Beati Pacifici, did truly characterize his diſpoſition, endeavoured to compoſe the differences of that diſcompoſed State, and to that end ſent the Earle of Carlile, (then Vicount Doncaſter) his Ambaſſadour to thoſe unſetled Princes, and (by a ſpeciall command from his Majeſtie) D. Donne was appointed to attend the Embaſſage of the ſaid Earle to the Prince of the Union: For which the Earle (that had long knowne and loved him) was moſt glad: So were many of the Doctors friends, who feared his ſtudies,Gen. 47. and ſadneſſe for his wives death, would as Iacob ſayes, make his dayes few, and (reſpecting his bodily health) evill too.
At his going, he left his friends of Lincolnes Inne, and they him with many reluctations; For though he could not ſay, as S. Paul to his Epheſians, Behold, you to whom I have preacht the kingdome of God, ſhall henceforth ſee my face no more; yet he (being in a Conſumption) queſtioned it, and they feared it, conſidering his troubled minde, which, with the helpe of his un-intermitted ſtudies, haſtned the decayes of his weake body; But God turned it to the beſt, for this imployment did not onelyonly divert him from thoſe ſerious ſtudies and ſad thoughts, but gave him a new and true occaſion of joy, to be an eye-witneſſe of the health of his honoured Miſtris, the Queene of Bohemia, in a forraigne Land, (who having formerly knowne him a Courtier) was moſt glad to ſee him in a Canonicall habit, and more glad to be an eare-witneſſe of his moſt excellent and powerfull preaching.
Within fourteen moneths he returned to his friends of Lincolnes Inne, with his ſorrowes much moderated, and his health improved.
About a yeare after his returne from Germany, Dr Cary was made Biſhop of Exeter, and by his removall, the Deanry of S. Pauls being vacant, the King appointed Doctor Donne to waite on him at dinner the next day; And his Majeſty (being ſet downe) before he eat any meat, ſaid (after his pleaſant manner) Doctor Donne, I have invited you to dinner, And though you ſit not downe with me, yet I will carve to you of a diſh that I know you love; you love London well, I doe therefore make you Deane of Pauls, take your meate home to your ſtudy, ſay grace, and much good may it doe you.
Immediately after he came to his Deanry, he imployed workmen to repaire the Chappel belonging to his houſe;Pſal. 132. Suffering (as holy David once vowed) his eyes and temples to take no reſt, untill he had firſt beautified the houſe of God.
The next quarter following, when his Father in Law Sir George More, who now admired and dearly loved him, came to pay him the conditioned ſum of twenty pound, he denied to receive it, And ſaid to his Father,Gen. 45. (as good Iacob ſaid when he beard Ioſeph his ſonne lived) It is enough, you have been kinde to me, and carefull of mine, I am, I thanke my God, provided for, and will receive this money no longer; And not long after freely gave up his bond of eight hundred pound.
Preſently after he was ſetled in his Deanry, the Vicarage of S. Dunſtans in London fell to him by the death of Doctor White, The advowſon being formerly given to him by the right Honorable Richard Earle of Dorſet a little before his death, And confirmed to him by his Brother the right Honorable Edward Earle of Dorſet that now lives.
By theſe and another Eccleſiaſticall Endowment (which fell to him about the ſame time) he was inabled to be charitable to the poore, and to make ſuch proviſion for his Children, that at his death they were not left ſcandalous to his profeſsion and quality.
The next Parliament following he was choſen Prolocutor to the Convocation, and about that time, by the appointment of his Majeſty, (his gracious Maſter) did preach many occaſionall Sermons: All which he performed not onelyonly with the approbation, but to the admiration of the repreſentative body of the Clergy of this Kingdome.
He was once (and but once) clouded with the Kings diſpleaſure; It was about this time, occaſioned by ſome malicious whiſperer, which aſſured the King Doctor Donne had preacht a Sermon that implied a diſlike of his government, particularly of his late Directions that the Evening Lectures on Sundaies, ſhould be turned into Catechizing, expounding the Commandements, Beliefe, and Lords Prayer. His Majeſty was the more inclinable to beleeve this, for that about the ſame time a perſon of the Nobility of great note in the Kingdome, and favour with the King (whom his Majeſty knew Doctor Donne loved very much) was diſcarded the Court, and preſently after committed to priſon, which begot many rumors in the multitude.
The King ſuffered not the Sunne to ſet, till he had ſearcht out the truth of this report, but ſent preſently for Doctor Donne, and required his anſwer to the accuſation: which was ſo ſatisfactory, That the King ſaid he was glad he reſted not under that ſuſpition. Doctor Donne proteſted his anſwer was faithfull and free from all Colluſion. And therefore begged of his Majeſty, that he might not riſe (being then kneeling) before he had (as in like caſes he alwayes had from God) ſome aſſurance that he ſtood cleere and faire in his Majeſties opinion. The King with his own hand, did, or offered to raiſe him from his knees, and proteſted he was truly ſatisfied, that he was an honeſt man, and loved him. Preſently his Majeſty called ſome Lords of his Councell into his Chamber, and ſaid with much earneſtneſſe, My Doctor is an honeſt man; And my Lords, I was never more joyed in anything that I have done, then in making him a Divine.
He was made Deane in the fiftieth yeare of his age; And in the fifty fourth yeare, a dangerous ſickneſſe ſeiſed him, which turned to a ſpotted Feaver, and ended in a Cough, that inclined him to a Conſumption. But God (as Iob thankfully acknowledgeth) preſerved his ſpirit, keeping his intellectualls as cleere and perfect, as when that ſickneſſe firſt ſeiſed his body. And as his health increaſed, ſo did his thankfulneſſe, teſtified in his booke of Devotions, A book that may not unfitly be called, A compoſition of holy Extaſies, occaſioned, and appliable to the Emergencies of that ſickneſſe, which booke (being Meditations in his ſickneſſe) he writ on his ſicke bed; herein imitating the holy Patriarchs,Gen. 12.7.8. Gen. 28.18. who were wont in that place to build their Altars where they had received their bleſsing.
This ſickneſſe brought him to the gates of death, and he ſaw the grave ſo ready to devoure him, that he calls his recovery ſupernaturall. But God reſtored his health, and continued it untill the fifty-ninth yeare of his life. And then in Auguſt 1630. being with his daughter Miſtris Harvy at Abrey-Hatch in Eſſex, he fell into a Feaver, which with the helpe of his conſtant infirmity, vapours from the ſpleene, haſtened him into ſo viſible a Conſumption, that his beholders might ſay (as S. Paul of himſelfe) he dyes daily, And he might ſay with Iob, Job 30.15. Job. 7.3.My welfare paſſeth away as a cloud; The dayes of affliction have taken hold of me. And weary nights are appointed for me.
This ſickneſſe continued long, not onelyonly weakning, but wearing him ſo much, that my deſire is, he may now take ſome reſt: And that thou judge it no impertinent digreſsion (before I ſpeake of his death) to looke backe with me upon ſome obſervations of his life, which (while a gentle ſlumber ſeiſes him) may (I hope fitly) exerciſe thy Conſideration.
His marriage was the remarkable error of his life, which (though he had a wit apt enough, and very able to maintaine paradoxes; And though his wives competent yeares, and other reaſons might be juſtly urged to moderate a ſevere cenſure; yet) he never ſeemed to juſtifie, and doubtleſſe had repented it, if God had not bleſt them with a mutuall, and ſo cordiall an affection, as in the midſt of their ſufferings made their bread of ſorrow taſte more pleaſantly then the banquet of fooles.
The recreations of his youth were Poetry, in which he was ſo happy, as if nature with all her varieties had been made to exerciſe his great wit, and high fancy. And in thoſe pieces which were careleſly ſcattered in his younger daies (moſt of them being written before the twentieth yeare of his age) it may appeare by his choice Metaphors, that all the Arts joyned to aſsiſt him with their utmoſt skill.
It is a truth, that in his penitentiall yeares, viewing ſome of thoſe pieces looſely ſcattered in his youth, he wiſht they had been abortive, or ſo ſhort-liv'd, that he had witneſſed their funeralls: But though he was no friend to them, he was not ſo falne out with heavenly Poetry, as to forſake it, no not in his declining age, witneſſed then by many divine Sonnets, and other high, holy, and harmonious compoſures; yea even on his former ſick bed, he wrote this heavenly Hymne, expreſſing the great joy he then had in the aſſurance of Gods mercy to him.
A Hymne to God the Father.
VVIlt thou forgive that ſin where I begun,
Which was my ſin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that ſin through which I run;
And doe run ſtill, though ſtill I doe deplore?
When thou haſt done, thou haſt not done,
For I have more.
Wilt thou forgive that ſin which I have won
Others to ſin, and made my ſin their dore?
Wilt thou forgive that ſin which I did ſhun
A yeare or two, but wallowed in, a ſcore?
When thou haſt done, thou haſt not done,
For I have more.
I have a ſin of feare, that when I have ſpun
My laſt thred, I ſhall periſh on the ſhore;
But ſweare by thy ſelfe, that at my death thy Sonne
Shall ſhine as he ſhines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, thou haſt done,
I feare no more.
And on this (which was his Death-bed) writ another Hymne which bears this Title, A Hymne to God my God in my ſickneſſe.
If theſe fall under the cenſure of a ſoule whoſe too much mixture with earth makes it unfit to judge of theſe high illuminations, let him know, that many devout and learned men have thought the ſoule of holy Prudentius was moſt refined, when not many dayes before his death, he charged it to preſent his God each morning with a new and ſpirituall Song; juſtified by the examples of King David, and the good King Hezekias, who upon the renovation of his yeares, payed his gratefull vowes to God, in a royall hymne,Eſay 38. which he concludes in theſe words, The Lord was ready to ſave, therefore we will ſing my ſongs to the ſtringed inſtruments, all the dayes of our life, in the Temple of my God.
The later part of his life was a continued ſtudie, Saturdaies onelyonly excepted, which he uſually ſpent in viſiting friends, and reſting himſelfe under the weary burthen of his weeks Meditations; And he gave himſelfe this reſt, that thereby he might be refreſht and inabled to doe the work of the day following, not negligently, but with courage and cheerfulneſſe.
Nor was his age onelyonly ſo induſtrious, but in his moſt unſetled youth he was (being in health) never knowne to be in bed after foure of the clock in the morning nor uſually out of his chamber till ten; and imployed that time conſtantly (if not more) in his Studie. Which, if it ſeeme ſtrange, may gain beliefe by the viſible fruits of his labours: ſome of which remaine to teſtifie what is here written: for he left the reſultance of 1400. Authors, moſt of them analyzed with his owne hand; He left ſixſcore Sermons alſo, all writ with his owne hand; A large and laborious Treatiſe concerning Self-murther, called Biathanatoſe, wherein all the Lawes violated by that act, are diligently ſurvayed, and judiciouſly cenſured; A Treatiſe written in his youth, which alone might declare him then, not onelyonly perfect in the Civil and Canon Law, but in many other ſuch ſtudies and arguments as enter not into the conſideration of many profeſt Scholars, that labour to be thought learned Clerks, and to know all things.
Nor were theſe onelyonly found in his Studie, but all buſineſſes that paſt of any publique conſequence in this or any of our neighbour Kingdoms, he abbreviated either in Latine, or in the Language of the Nation, and kept them by him for a memoriall. So he did the Copies of divers Letters and Caſes of Conſcience that had concerned his friends, (with his ſolutions) and divers other buſineſſes of importance, all particularly and methodically digeſted by himſelfe.
He did prepare to leave the world before life left him, making his Will when no facultie of his ſoule was dampt or defective by ſickneſſe, or he ſurprized by ſudden apprehenſion of death; But with mature deliberation, expreſſing himſelfe an impartiall Father, by making his Childrens Portions equall; a conſtant lover of his friends, by particular Legacies, diſcreetly choſen, and fitly bequeathed them; And full of charity to the poore, and many others, who by his long continued bounty might entitle themſelves His almes-people. For all theſe he made proviſion, ſo largely, as having ſix children, might to ſome appeare more then proportionable to his eſtate. The Reader may think the particulars tedious, but I hope not impertinent, that I preſent him with the beginning and concluſion of his laſt Will.
IN the name of the bleſſed and glorious Trinitie, Amen. I Iohn Donne, by the mercy of Chriſt Ieſus, and the calling of the Church of England, Prieſt, being at this time in good and perfect underſtanding, (praiſed be God therefore) doe hereby make my laſt Will and Teſtament in manner and forme following.
Firſt, I give my gracious God an intire ſacrifice of body and ſoule, with my moſt humble thanks for that aſſurance which his bleſſed Spirit imprints in me now of the ſalvation of the one, and of the reſurrection of the other; And for that conſtant and cheerfull reſolution which the ſame Spirit eſtabliſhed in me, to live and die in the Religion now profeſſed in the Church of England: In expectation of that Reſurrection I deſire my body may be buried (in the moſt private manner that may be) in that place of S. Pauls Church London, that the now Reſidentiaries have at my requeſt aſsigned for that purpoſe, &c.
And this my laſt Will and Teſtament made in the feare of God, (whoſe merit I humbly beg, and conſtantly rely upon in Ieſus Chriſt) and in perfect love and charity with all the world, whoſe pardon I aske from the loweſt of my ſervants to the higheſt of my Superiours. Written all with mine owne hand, and my name ſubſcribed to every Page, being five in number.
Nor was his charity expreſt onelyonly at his death, but in his life, by a cheerfull and frequent viſitation of friends, whoſe minds were dejected, or fortunes neceſsitous. And he redeemed many out of Priſon that lay for ſmall debts, or for their fees; He was a continuall giver to poore Scholars, both of this, and forraigne Nations; (beſides what he gave with his owne hand) he uſually ſent a ſervant to all the Priſons in London, to diſtribute his charity, at all feſtivall times in the yeare. He gave 100. l. at one time to a Gentleman that he had formerly knowne live plentifully, and was then decayed in his eſtate. He was a happy Reconciler of of differences in many Families of his friends and kindred, who had ſuch faith in his judgement and impartiality, that he ſcarce ever adviſed them to any thing in vaine. He was (even to her death) a moſt dutifull ſon to his Mother, carefull to provide for her ſupportation, of which ſhe had been deſtitute, but that God raiſed him up to prevent her neceſsities; who having ſuckt in the Religion of the Romane Church with her mothers milk, (or preſently after it) ſpent her eſtate in forraigne Countries, to enjoy a liberty in it, and died in his houſe but three moneths before him.
And to the end it may appeare how juſt a Steward he was of his Lord and Maſters Revenue, I have thought fit to let the Reader know, that after his entrance into his Deanry, as he numbred his yeares, and (at the foot of a private account, to which God and Angels onelyonly were witneſſes with him) computed firſt his Revenue, then his expences, then what was given to the poore and pious uſes, laſtly, what reſted for him and for his, he bleſt each yeares poore remainder with a thankfull Prayer; which for that they diſcover a more then common devotion, the Reader ſhall partake ſome of them in his owne words.
1624. So all is that remains of theſe two years
1625. So all is that remains of theſe two years
Deo Opt. Max. benigno Largitori, à me, & ab iis quibus haec à me reſervantur, gloria, & gratia in aeternum. Amen.
1626. So that this yeare God hath bleſſed me and mine with
Multiplicatae ſunt ſuper nos miſericordiae tuae Domine.
Da Domine, ut quae ex immenſa bonitate tua nobis elargiri dignatus ſis, in quorumcunque manus devenerint, in tuam ſemper cedant gloriam. Amen.
1628. In fine horum ſex annorum manet
1629.
Quid habeo, quod non accepi à Domino? Largiatur etiam, ut quae largitus eſt, ſua iterum fiant bono eorum uſu, ut quemadmodum, nec officiis hujus mundi, nec loci, in quo me poſuit, dignitati, nec ſervis, nec egenis, in toto hujus anni curriculo, mihi conſcius ſum, me defuiſſe, ita ut libert, quibus quae ſuperſunt, ſuperſunt, grato animo ea accipiant, & beneficum Authorem recognoſcant. Amen.
But I returne from my digreſſion.
We left the Author ſick in Eſſex, where he was forced to ſpend moſt of that Winter, by reaſon of his diſability to remove from thence. And having never during almoſt twenty yeares, omitted his perſonall attendance on his Majeſtie, in his monthly ſervice. Nor being ever left out of the number of Lent Preachers. And in January following, there being a generall report that he was dead, that report occaſioned this Letter to a familiar friend.
SIR,
THis advantage you and my other friends have by my frequent feavers, that I am ſo much the oftner at the gates of heaven; And this advantage by the ſolitude and cloſe impriſonment that they reduce me to after, that I am ſo much the oftner at my Prayers, in which I ſhall never leave out your happineſſe; And I doubt not but amongst his other bleſſings, God will adde ſome one to you for my Prayers.
A man would be almoſt content to die, (if there were no other benefit in death) to heare of ſo much ſorrow, and ſo much good teſtimony from good men, as I (God be bleſſed for it) did upon the report of my death: Yet I perceive it went not through all; For one writ to me, that ſome (and he ſaid of my friends) conceived I was not ſo ill as I pretended, but withdrew my ſelfe to live at eaſe, diſcharged of preaching. It is an unfriendly, and (God knowes) an ungrounded interpretation; for I have alwayes been ſorrier when I could not preach, then any could be they could not hear me. It hath been my deſire (and God may be pleaſed to grant it) that I might die in the Pulpit; If not that, yet that I might take my death in the Pulpit, that is, die the ſooner by occaſion of thoſe labours. Sir, I hope to ſee you preſently after Candlemas, about which time will fall my Lent Sermon at Court, except my Lord Chamberlaine beleeve me to be dead, and leave me out: For as long as I live, and am not ſpeechleſſe, I would not willingly decline that ſervice. I have better leaſure to write, then you to reade, yet I would not willingly oppreſſe you with too much Letter: God bleſſe you and your ſon, as I wiſh
January 7. 1630. Your poore friend and ſervant in Chriſt Jeſus, Iohn Donne.
Before that month ended, he was appointed to preach upon his old conſtant day, the firſt Friday in Lent, he had notice of it; and having in his ſickneſſe prepared for the employment as he had long thirſted for it. So reſolving his weakneſſe ſhould not hinder his journey, he came to London ſome few dayes before his day appointed. Being come, many of his friends (who with ſorrow ſaw his ſickneſſe had left him onelyonly ſo much fleſh as did cover his bones) doubted his ſtrength to performe that taske: And therefore perſwaded him from undertaking it, aſſuring him however, it was like to ſhorten his dayes: But he paſsionately denyed their requeſts, ſaying, He would not doubt, that God who in many weakneſſes had aſsiſted him with an unexpected ſtrength, would now withdraw it in his laſt employment, profeſsing a holy ambition to performe that ſacred Work. And when (to the amazement of ſome beholders) he appeared in the Pulpit, many thought he preſented himſelfe, not to preach mortification by a living voice, but mortality by a decayed body, and dying face. And doubtleſſe many did ſecretly ask that queſtion in Ezekiel, Doe theſe bones live? Ezek. 37.3.Or can that ſoule organiſe that tongue to ſpeak ſo long time as the ſand in that glaſſe will move towards its center, and meaſure out an houre of this dying mans unſpent life? Doubtleſſe it cannot. Yet after ſome faint pauſes in his zealous Prayer, his ſtrong deſires inabled his weak body to diſcharge his memory of his pre conceived Meditations which were of dying; The Text being, To God the Lord belong the iſſues from death. Many that ſaw his teares, and heard his hollow voice, profeſsing they thought the Text Prophetically choſen, and that D. Donne had preacht his owne Funerall Sermon.
Being full of joy that God had inabled him to performe this deſired duty, he haſtned to his houſe, out of which he never moved, untill like S. Stephen, Acts 8.He was carried by devout men to his grave: And the next day after his Sermon, his ſpirits being much ſpent, and he indiſpoſed to diſcourſe, a friend asked him, Why are you ſad? To whom he replyed after this manner, I am not ſad; I am in a ſerious contemplation of the mercies of my God to me; And now I plainly ſee, it was his hand that prevented me from all temporall employment. And I ſee it was his will that I ſhould never ſettle nor thrive untill I entred into the Miniſtery, in which I have now lived almoſt twenty yeares, (I hope to his glory) and by which (I moſt humbly thank him) I have been enabled to requite moſt of thoſe friends that ſhewed me kindneſſe when my fortunes were low. And (as it hath occaſioned the expreſſion of my gratitude) I thank God, moſt of them have ſtood in need of my requitall. I have been uſefull and comfortable to my good Father in Law Sir George More, whoſe patience God hath been pleaſed to exerciſe by many temporall croſſes. I have maintained my owne Mother, whom it hath pleaſed God after a plentifull fortune in her former times, to bring to a great decay in her very old age. I have quieted the conſciences of many that groaned under the burthen of a wounded ſpirit, whoſe Prayers I hope are availeable for me. I cannot plead innocencie of life, (eſpecially of my youth) but I am to be judged by a mercifull God, who hath given me (even at this time) ſome teſtimonies by his holy Spirit, that I am of the number of his Elect. I am ful of joy, and ſhall die in peace.
Upon Munday following, he took his laſt leave of his beloved Studie, and being hourely ſenſible of his decay, retired himſelfe into his bed-chamber: and that week ſent (at ſeverall times) for many of his moſt conſiderable friends, of whom he tooke a ſolemne and deliberate Farewell, commending to their conſiderations ſome ſentences particularly uſefull for the regulation of their lives, and diſmiſt them (as*Gen. 49. Iacob did his ſons) with a ſpirituall benediction. The Sunday following, he appointed his ſervants, that if there were any worldly buſineſſe undone, that concerned them or himſelfe, it ſhould be prepared againſt Saturday next; for after that day he would not mixe his thoughts with any thing that concerned the world. Nor ever did.
Now he had nothing to doe but die; To doe which, he ſtood in need of no more time, for he had long ſtudied it, and to ſuch a perfection, that in a former ſickneſſe he called God to witneſſe,Devot. Prayer 23. he was that minute prepared to deliver his ſoule into his hands, if that minute God would accept of his diſſolution. In that ſickneſſe he begged of his God, (the God of conſtancy) to be preſerved in that eſtate for ever. And his patient expectation to have his immortall ſoule diſrobed from her garment of mortality, makes me confident he now had a modeſt aſſurance, that his prayers were then heard, and his petition granted. He lay fifteene dayes earneſtly expecting his hourely change; And in the laſt houre of his laſt day, (as his body melted away, and vapoured into ſpirit) his ſoule having (I verily beleeve) ſome revelation of the Beatifical Viſion, he ſaid, I were miſerable, if I might not die: And after thoſe words, cloſed many periods of his faint breath with theſe words, Thy kingdome come, Thy will be done. His ſpeech which had long been his faithfull ſervant, remained with him till his laſt minute; and then forſook him, not to ſerve another maſter, but died before him, for that it was uſeleſſe to him, who now converſed with God on earth, (as Angels are ſaid to doe in heaven) onelyonly by thoughts and looks. Being ſpeechleſſe, he did (as S. Stephen) look ſtedfaſtly towards heaven, till he ſaw the Sonne of God ſtanding at the right hand of his Father; And being ſatisfied with this bleſſed ſight, (as his ſoule aſcended, and his laſt breath departed from him) he cloſed his owne eyes, and then diſpoſed his hands and body into ſuch a poſture, as required no alteration by thoſe that came to ſhroud him.
Thus variable, thus vertuous was the life, thus memorable, thus exemplary was the death of this moſt excellent man.
He was buried in S. Pauls Church, in that place which he had appointed for that uſe, ſome yeares before his death, and by which he paſſed daily to his devotions. But not buried privately, though he deſired it; For (beſides an unnumbred number of others) many perſons of Nobility and eminency, who did love and honour him in his life, did ſhew it at his Funerall, by a voluntary and very ſad attendance of his body to the grave.
To which (after his buriall) ſome mournfull friends repaired: And as Alexander the Great did to the grave of the famous Achillis, Plutarch.ſo they ſtrewed his with curious and coſtly flowers. Which courſe they (who were never yet knowne) continued each morning and evening for divers dayes, not ceaſing till the ſtones that were taken up in that Church to give his body admiſsion into the cold earth, (now his bed of reſt) were againe by the Maſons art levelled and firmed, as they had been formerly, and his place of buriall undiſtinguiſhable to common view.
Nor was this (though not uſuall) all the honour done to his reverend aſhes; for by ſome good body, (who, tis like thought his memory ought to be perpetuated) there was 100. marks ſent to his two faithfull friends*D. Henry King. D. Mountfort. and Executors, (the perſon that ſent it, not yet known, they look not for a reward on earth) towards the making of a Monument for him, which I think is as lively a repreſentation, as in dead marble can be made of him.
HE was of ſtature moderately tall; of a ſtraight and equally proportioned body, to which all his words and actions gave an unexpreſsible addition of comelineſſe.
His aſpect was cheerfull, and ſuch as gave a ſilent teſtimony of a cleere knowing ſoule, and of a conſcience at peace with it ſelfe.
His melting eye ſhewed he had a ſoft heart, full of noble pity, of too brave a ſpirit to offer injuries, and too much a Chriſtian, not to pardon them in others.
His fancie was un-imitable high, equalled by his great wit, both being made uſefull by a commanding judgement.
His mind was liberall, and unwearied in the ſearch of knowledge, with which his vigorous ſoule is now ſatisfied, and employed in a continuall praiſe of that God that firſt breathed it into his active body, which once was a Temple of the holy Ghoſt, and is now become a ſmall quantity of Chriſtian duſt. But I ſhall ſee it re-inanimated.
Iz: Wa:
IOHANNES DONNE SAC: THEOL: PROFESSOR, POST VARIA STUDIA, QVIBUS AB ANNIS TENERRIMIS FIDELITER, NEC INFELICITER, INCUBUIT, INSTINCTU ET IMPULSU SPIR: Sti: MONITU ET HORTATU REGIS IACOBI, ORDINES SACROS AMPLEXUS Ao: SUI JESU 1614. ET SUAE AETATIS 42.
DECANATU HUJUS ECCLESIAE INDUTUS XXVII. NOVEMBRIS 1621.
EXUTUS MORTE ULTIMO DIE MARTII. 1631.
Hic licet in Occiduo Cinere Aſpicit Eum Cujus Nomen eſt ORIENS.