The Novelty of Popery Opposed to the Antiquity of True Christianity, Biography of author · Letter
Gentlemen,
I Do not write to you to pour my ſorrows into your boſom, or to entertain you with my private croſſes: Upon that I need no comforter, accounting it a great honour that in the publick affliction of the Church God would have me to march in the Front. And I would account it a great happineſs, if all the ſtorm ſhould light on my head, ſo that I were the only ſufferer, and the Church of God ſhould enjoy peace and proſperity. A more ſmarting care hath moved me to write to you, & forced me to go beyond my nature, which was always averſs from medling with publick buſineſſes, and from moving out of the ſphere of my proper calling. For ſeeing the general body of the Church in eminent danger, and upon the brink of a diſmal precipice, it was not poſſible for me to keep ſilence: Nay, I cannot be ſilent in this urgent neceſſity without drawing upon me the guilt of inſenſibility, and cruelty, towards the Church of God. And I am full of hope, that while I deliver my minde to you about publick buſineſſes, my domeſtick affliction wil free me from jealouſies in your opinion: If it be not believed, at leaſt I ſhall be excuſed. It becomes me not indeed to take upon me to give counſel to an Aſſembly of perſons choſen out of the whole Kingdom to bear the burden of the publick affairs in a time ſo full of difficulties. Yet I think it is uſefull for you to be truly informed what the ſenſe and what the diſpoſition is of our Churches, by perſons that have a particular knowledge of it.
The queſtion being then whether you ought to ſeparate your Aſſembly, to obey his Majeſty, or keep together to give order to the affairs of the Churches; I am obliged to tell you, that the general deſire of our Churches is, that it may pleaſe God to continue our peace, in our obedience to his Majeſty. And that ſeeing the King reſolved to make himſelf obeyed by the force of his arms, they truſt that you will do your beſt to avoid that ſtorm, and rather yield unto neceſſity then to engage them in a War, which moſt certainly will ruine great part of our Churches, and will bring us into a trouble, of which we ſee the beginning, but can ſee no end. By obeying the King you ſhall take away the pretence uſed by thoſe that ſet on his Majeſty to perſecute us: And if we muſt be perſecuted, all that fear God, deſire that it may be for the profeſſion of the Goſpel, and that our perſecution may truly be the croſs of Chriſt. In one word, I can aſſure you, Gentlemen, that the greateſt and beſt part of our Churches wiſheth for your ſeparation, if it may be with the ſafety of your perſons: Yea that many of the Roman Church, deſiring the publick peace, are continually about us, beſeeching and exhorting us, that we do not by caſting our ſelves headlong, involve them in the ſame ruine.
Hereupon we need not repreſent unto you, how terribly and generally our poor flocks are frighted and diſmayed, caſting their eyes upon you, as perſons that may procure their reſt, and by yeilding to the preſent neceſſity, blow away the ſtorm hanging over their heads. Many already have forſaken the Land; Many have forſaken their Religion; whence you may judge what diſſipation is like to follow, if this exaſperation go on further.
No more do I need to recommend unto you to have a tender care of the preſervation of our poor Churches, knowing, that you would chooſe death rather then to draw that reproach upon you, that you have haſtened the perſecution of the Church, and deſtroyed that which the zeal of our Fathers had planted, and put this State in confuſion.
I am not ignorant, that many reaſons are alledged to perſwade you to continue your Aſſembly. They tell you that the King hath granted it; But for that grant of his Majeſty you can ſhew no warrant, nor any written Declaration, without which all promiſes are but words loſt in the ayr: For Kings believe they have power to forbid that which they have permitted, and to revoke that which they have granted, when they judge it expedient for the good of their affairs. Neither is there any of you, after he hath ſent his ſervant, or given him leave to go to ſome place, that thinks not that he hath power to call him back: Soveraign Princes eſpecially are very unwilling to keep their promiſes when they have been extorted.
Alſo great numbers of grievances and contraventions to to the Kings Edicts are repreſented unto you, which complaints to our great grief are too true: But beſides that, we have given occaſion to many of thoſe evils our own ſelves; the difficulty lyeth not in repreſenting our griefs, but in finding the remedies. Conſider then whether the ſubſiſtence of your Aſſembly can heal all theſe ſores; whether your ſitting can give a ſhelter to our Churches, provide all things neceſſary for a War, where the parties are ſo unequal, raiſe forces, and make a ſtock of money to pay them; whether all the good that your ſitting can produce, can countervail the diſſipation of ſo many Churches, that lye open to the wrath of their enemies? whether when they are fallen you can raiſe them again? Whether in the evident diviſion that is among us you are able to rallie the ſcattered parts of that divided body, which if it were well united, yet would be too weak to ſtand upon the defenſive part.
Pardon me Gentlemen, if I tell you, that you ſhall not find all our Proteſtants inclined alike to obey your reſolutions, and that the fire being kindled all about, you ſhall remain helpleſs beholders, of the ruine you have provoked. Neither can it be unknown to you, that many of the beſt quality among us, and beſt able to defend us, openly blame your actions, holding and profeſſing that ſuffering for this cauſe, is not ſuffering for the cauſe of God. Theſe making no reſiſtance, and opening the gates of their places, or joyning their arms with the Kings, you may eaſily judge what loſs, and what weakening of the party that will be: How many of our Nobility will forſake you, ſome out of conſcience, ſome out of treachery, ſome out of weakneſs! Even they who in an Aſſembly are moſt vehement in their votes, and to ſhew themſelves zealous are altogether for violent wayes, are very often they that firſt revolt and betray their brethren. They bring our diſtreſſed Churches to the hotteſt danger, and there leave them, going away after they have ſet the houſe on fire.
If there be once fighting, or beſieging of our Towns, whatſoever may the iſſue be of the Combat or the Siege, all that while it will be hard to keep the people animated againſt us from falling upon our Churches, that have neither retreat nor defence. And what order ſoever the Magiſtrates of contrary Religion take about it, they ſhall never be able to compaſs it.
I might alſo repreſent unto you many reaſons out of the ſtate of our Churches, both within and without the Kingdom, to ſhew you that this ſtirring of yours is altogether unſeaſonable, and that you ſet ſail againſt wind and tide. But you are clear-ſighted enough to ſee it, and to conſider in what poſture your neighbours are, and from whence you may look for help; Whether among you the vertue, and the concord, and the qualitie of the heads is grown or diminiſht. Certainly this is not the time when the troubling of this pool can heal our diſeaſes. And certain it is, that if any thing can help ſo much weakneſs, it muſt be the zeal of Religion, which in the time of our Fathers hath upholden us, when we had leſs ſtrength and more vertue: But in this cauſe you ſhall find that zeal languiſhing, becauſe moſt of our people believe that this evil might have been avoided without any breach to our Conſcience. Be ye ſure that there will be alwaies diſunion among us every time that we ſhall ſtir for civil cauſes, and not directly for the cauſe of the Goſpel.
Againſt this it is objected that our enemies have determined our ruine; That they undermine us by little and little; That it it better to begin now then to ſtay longer. Truly that man ſhould be void of common ſenſe that ſhould doubt of their ill will. And yet when I call to mind our ſeveral loſſes, as that of Lectoure, Privas, and Bearn, I find that we our ſelves have contributed to them; and it is no wonder that our enemies take no care to remedie our faults, and joyn with us to do us harm. But hence it follows not that we muſt throw the helve after the hatchet, and ſet our houſe on fire our ſelves, becauſe others are reſolved to burn it; or take in hand to remedy particular loſſes by means weak to redreſs them, but ſtrong and certain to ruine the general. God who hath ſo many times diverted the counſels taken for our ruine, hath neither loſt his power, nor altered his will. We ſhall find him the ſame ſtill, if we have the the grace to wait for his aſſiſtance, not caſting our ſelves headlong by our impatience, or ſetting our minds obſtinately upon impoſſibilities. Take this for certain, that although our enemies ſeek our ruine, they will never undertake it openly, without ſome pretence, other and better then that of Religion, which we muſt not give them: For if we keep our ſelves in the obedience which ſubjects owe to their Soveraign, you ſhall ſee that while our enemies hope in vain that we ſhall make our ſelves guilty by ſome diſobedience, God will give them ſome other work, and afford us occaſions to ſhew to his Majeſty that we are a body uſeful to his State, and put him in mind of the ſignal ſervices that our Churches have done to the late King of glorious memory. But if we are ſo unfortunate, that while we keep our ſelves to our duty, the calumnies of our enemies prevail, at leaſt we ſhall get ſo much, that we ſhall keep all the right on our ſide, and make it appear that we love the peace of the State.
Notwithſtanding all this, Gentlemen, you may and ought to take order for the ſafety of your perſons: For whereas his Majeſty and his Councel have ſaid often, that if you ſeparate your ſelves, he will let our Churches enjoy peace, and the benefit of his Edicts, it is not reaſonable that your ſeparation be done with the peril of your perſons: And whenſoever you petition for your ſafe diſſolution, I truſt it will be eaſie to obtain it, if you make poſſible requeſts, and ſuch as the miſery of the time and the preſent neceſſity can bear. And in the mean while you may adviſe before you part what ſhould be done, if notwithſtanding your ſeparation we ſhould be oppreſt. That order your prudence may find, and it is not my part to ſuggeſt it unto you.
If by propounding theſe things unto you, I have exceeded the limits of diſcretion, you will be pleaſed to impute it to my zeal for the good and preſervation of the Church. And if this advice of mine is rejected as unworthy of your conſideration, this comfort I ſhall have, that I have diſcharged my conſcience, and retiring my ſelf unto ſome forreign Countrey, there I will end thoſe few days I have yet to live, lamenting the loſs of the Church, and the deſtruction of the Temple; for the building whereof, I have laboured with much more courage and fidelity then ſucceſs. The Lord turn away his wrath from us, direct your Aſſembly, and preſerve your perſons. I reſt, &c.
From Sedan, Feb. 12. 1621.
Theſe Letters being read in the Aſſembly, raiſed much conteſtation. In the end the violent party overcoming, it was reſolved that Monſieur de la Milletiere ſhould write to Doctor Du Moulin in the name of the Aſſembly, to deſire him that he would not impart the ſaid Letters to any, amd to tell him that his advice was not approved.
Yet his advice was ſo reliſhed by ſome of the Aſſembly, that they aroſe and preſently left it, and never returned to it again.
One would have thought that this advice of peace and obedience to the Aſſembly of Rochel, ſhould have made the Doctors peace with the Councel of State; but I believe that it made the Kings Councel more averſe from granting his return to Paris; for the violent men in the Aſſembly did good ſervice to the Court by their violence, and were fee'd by the Court to thruſt their brethren into a precipice, and give to the King the long deſired occaſion to take from the Proteſtants the places granted to them by his Fathers Edict. The forenamed Miltiere was one of thoſe violent men, who afterwards forſook his Party and his Religion; and by his working and unhappy wit, he hath created many ſorrows unto the French Churches.
Neither did the Jeſuites work Doctor Du Moulins expulſion out of Paris for any greater reaſon then becauſe by preaching obedience upon occaſions, he croſſed their long-winded deſign to undo the Reformed Churches of France, by ſuggeſting violent counſels unto them by their ſecret inſtruments. Some of which having gotten places of Truſt by their counterfeit zeal, betrayed them, and got money for them, doing open ſervice to thoſe whom they had ſerved before in ſecret.
At Sedan, in the year 1623. Doctor Du Moulin being a Widower, married a vertuous Gentlewoman, that had with great conſtancy reſiſted the ſeverity of her Father Capt. de Gelhay, who having left the Proteſtant Religion, would force her to do the ſame.
About that time came forth the famous Book of Cardinal Du Perron againſt the moſt excellent King James. That Book was extolled by the Romaniſts with great praiſes and brags; and the truth is, that it is the moſt learned and ſubtil piece of work that ever appeared in French in defence of Popery. His Majeſty being eſpecially intereſſed and provoked by that book, was pleaſed to recommend the confutation of that to his old Champion Doctor Du Moulin, who undertook it upon his Majeſties command.
That he might attend that work with more leiſure and helps, his Majeſty invited him to come into England. And together being moved with compaſſion by the adverſities the Doctor had ſuffered for his ſake, he offered him a refuge in England, promiſing to take care of him, and to imploy him in one of his Univerſities.
He accepted that Royal favour. And becauſe it was dangerous for him to travel through France, he got a paſs to go from the Spaniſh Netherlands to Holland.
He ſet out of Sedan in March 1624. and went to Bruxels and Antwerp, and ſo to Holland. Whence after ſome dayes ſtay at the Hague with his worthy Brother-in-law Doctor Rivet, he took ſhipping for England.
He was graciouſly received by his Majeſty. And about half a year after his coming, the Hoſpital of Savoy falling vacant, he would have beſtowed it upon him, and gave him his word for it. Yet his Majeſty was perſwaded by the Scots that waited in his chamber, to give it to Doctor Belcanqual, and to offer to Doctor Du Moulin a Living of inconſiderable value, repreſenting it to his Majeſty as equivalent to the Savoy; but the Doctor would not accept of it.
He never was a good hunter of preferments; but then worſe then ever: God having viſited him with a grievous ſickneſs, by an heavy oppreſſion in his hypocondries, with an inflammation of black choler, which ſeldom let him ſleep, and kept him in perpetual agony. Yet being a man of great vigour, he went about and walked much; yea in that ſore affliction he ſpent much time in this great work againſt Cardinal du Perron, and preacht often in the French Church. The great Phyſician Sir Theodore Mayerne took him into his houſe to cure him; but the malignancy of that melancholy ſtood out againſt his Remedies. Sir Theodore taking a journey into France, Mr. Philip Burlamachi received him, and entertained him in his houſe half a year together, yea when his wife, and family, and three of his Nephews, hearing of his ſickneſs, came over to aſſiſt him, that bountiful and magnificent Gentleman entertained them all.
My duty to ſuch a Father having called me from Leyden to London, I had the happineſs to be his daily attendant, and to ſit up with him a hundred nights, which he paſsd almoſt all without ſleep, in deep anguiſh, and holy diſcourſes, imploying all the ſtrength of his Faith, and of his pregnant rational brains, to fight againſt the pain of his body, and the temptations of the darkeſt melancholy with the comforts of Heaven. So that he might ſay after David, that in the multitude of his thoughts which he had within him, Gods comforts refreſht his ſoul. If ſometimes I had the happineſs to ſuggeſt ſome thought to him in which he found comfort, he would beſtow upon me moſt hearty bleſſings, with fervent prayers to God, of which I find the benefit to this day. Could I remember all the divine and vertuous diſcourſes which I heard from his mouth in that time of my attendance, it would conduce very much to make me grow in grace, and in all good gifts.
In the depth of his pain and anguiſh, he was beyond meaſure afflicted with the perſecutions that ruined the Churches of France, and the diviſions increaſing in the Church of England. He might ſay with St. Paul, that he was in wearineſs and painfulneſs, in watchings often. And that beſides thoſe things that that came upon him, the care of all the Churches oppreſt him. To that purpoſe he was once ſaying to me, Son, conſidering the face of the times, I fear very much that the deadly wound of the Beaſt will heal up, at leaſt it will skin over. Yet we have given her the blow that will ſerve her turn. She muſt die of it ſoon or late. Haeret lateri lethalis arundo.
There was at London at that time the Marqueſs d' Effiat, extraordinary Embaſſador of France, a zealous Papiſt, who upon a falſe information of Fiſher and others Jeſuites that were about him, that Doctor Du Moulin, by his long watchings and melancholy fumes, was decayed in his intellectuals, did maliciouſly invite him to his houſe, to engage him in a Conference, and inſult over his weakneſs. The good man perceived well enough the trap that was laid for him; yet he went in the ſtrength of the Lord, praying after David, Let not thoſe that ſeek thee be confounded for my ſake, O God of Iſrael. I attended my Father to the Embaſſador, who received us with ſome face of kindneſs, and made us dine with him. After dinner the Embaſſador deſired him to hear a Scottiſhman, who would tell him the reaſons that made him leave the Proteſtant Religion to embrace the Catholick. The Scottiſhman then aſſiſted by Fiſher & others of his ſort, made an elaborate diſcourſe half an hour long of the Church, of S. Peters Primacy, of ſucceſſion of Chairs, and the like. When he had done, the Doctor reſumed all his points and allegations in the ſame order, and anſwered them with his ordinary vigour and preſence of wit. And becauſe the principal matter in queſtion was about the marks of the true Church, he maintained that the profeſſion of the true Doctrine was the mark of the true Church, and thence took occaſion to lay open the foulneſs of the errours of Popery with ſo much pregnancie, that the Embaſſadour, a cholerick man, roſe from his ſeat in great fury, and gave many ſoul words to the Doctor, who upon that went out and returned home.
The Embaſſadour repenting himſelf of his violence, ſent his Coach to him the next day, and deſired his company to dinner. The work and ſucceſs of that day, was like that of the day before: For after dinner the Scottiſhman ſpoke again of the ſame points; and when the Doctor in his anſwer had turned his Diſpute againſt the groſſeſt errours of Popery incompatible with the true Church, Fiſher would have taken the Scottiſhmans part; but the Embaſſadors paſſion gave him no time to anſwer, but broke out worſe then the day before (yet without foul words) ſaying that he could hear no longer that one ſhould revile before him the Catholick Religion, and maintain to him that he did wilfully damn himſelf, his wife, and his children. We left him to his own paſſion, and went out of his houſe. Whatſoever the effect might be of theſe Conferences upon the hearers, they ſhewed the gracious and indeed miraculous aſſiſtance of God to his ſervant: For neither he, nor we that tended him in his ſickneſs, and ſaw his perpetual torment, could expect of him the ſtength, patience, and readineſs requiſite in ſuch an important occurence, and before perſons of great reſpect, and his Adverſaries.
The Embaſſador was leſs too blame for giving him ill words, then for entertaining him at his table. For ſeeing that there was a criminal proceſs againſt the Doctor in the Councel of State of France, for his correſpondence with England, it was a great errour in an Embaſſador of France to ſhew him any countenance, eſpecially in England. All that can be ſaid for him, is, that his zeal and hope to get credit to his party by the Doctors diſcredit, made him run into that great overſight in point of State, and that greater fault in point of charity and ordinary humanity, to ſeek to pick advantages out of a ſick mans weakneſs. But he came ſhort of that end, and the Doctor might ſay to God after this, as after all his other Conferences; By this I know that thou favoureſt me, becauſe mine enemy doth not triumph over me.
The Doctor continuing ſick, the King ſent twice his Chaplain Doctor Young to viſit him; and to comfort him, offered him a Living, which he took not. And at the ſame time that great and good King fell ſick of the ſickneſs of which he died. That death of his Royal Patron, and the plague raging in London, ſoon perſwaded the Doctor to return to Sedan, hoping that God would give him ſtrength for that journey, and that the change of Air would mend his health. To return the way he came, through the Spaniſh Dominions of Flanders and Brabant, he could not for want of a Paſs; and to go through France, it was dangerous for him: Yet he ventured it, and taking me along with him; and giving order to the reſt of his Family to come after him a week after, he went from London ſecretly to Dover, where he imbarqued himſelf in a French bottom full of Frenchmen of both Religions, who had attended the Queen when her Majeſty came over the firſt time. Though he was in a gray ſuit, diſguiſed with a periwig, he was known by ſome Lawyers of Roven of contrary Religion, who knowing that he was gone out of France upon a criminal indictment, plotted together, yet not ſo ſecretly, but that I heard it, to give notice of him to the Governour of Deep to arreſt him.
The Duke of Langueville, Governour of Normandy, was then at Deep, and lay in the Caſtle; but becauſe the Caſtle did not open but late, they that had plotted our ruine, could not give notice of us, neither to the Duke, nor to the Governour before we were gone; for being landed before Sun-riſing, we haſted away to Roven.
The Duke hearing that we had taken horſes for Roven, ſent three Meſſengers to apprehend us, or if they miſſed us, to give order to the firſt Preſident of Roven to ſecure the Doctor. The meſſengers overtook us half a mile from the City, and enquired of our Inn at Roven, and rid before us to the Town, where they might better examine whether we were the men that they lookt for. We knew them preſently for ſuch as they were. To avoid them, the Doctor left his horſe, and gave money to a Peaſant to bring him to the City by a by-way, and by another gate then that of the Road of Deep. Going on foot, in that by-way, he could ſee afar off the Sergeants looking about for him, but they perceived him not. He had left order with me to meet him at Maſter de l' Angle, the famous Miniſter of Roven, who had married his Neece. His horſe and mine I committed to the Poſt of Deep, who was driving many horſes before him to Roven, and I met him at the appointed place. The next morning a Gentleman of the Reformed Church of Roven came to give us warning that the Officers of the firſt Preſident had been ſeeking for the Doctor in the Inn, where we were to deliver the Hackneys we had taken at Deep, and were examining our fellow-Travellers to know where they had left us. Whereupon we preſently ſhifted to that Gentleman houſe, making no doubt but that Monſieur de l' Angel's houſe ſhould be preſently ſearched, he and his wife being the only relations that the Doctor had at Roven; yet none came thither to ſeek for him. In the evening a Gentlewoman came to us and carried us in her Coach to a houſe of hers a League from Roven. The next day our men, which by that time were come from Deep, brought us horſes for our journey to Sedan, where we arrived ſafe by the great mercy of God, who had ſo the inclined the heart of the firſt Preſident (who might have apprehended us) that he winked at us, and would not ſee where we were; for whereas he knew well enough where to finde the Doctor at Roven, he would not ſend to his Kinſmans houſe, but to an Inn, where he knew that he was not. And that his kindneſs might not be interpreted as an overſight, he ſent for Monſieur de l' Angle four or five days after we were gone, and told him, Sir, I ſhould have been glad to have ſeen Monſieur Du Moulin when he was at your houſe, but that it could not be with his ſafety. A year or two after the Duke of Longueville being come to Sedan with the Count of Soiſſons, whoſe party he had taken againſt the King, would ſee the Doctor, and told him. Sir, when you came out of England, I did all my endeavour to apprehend you, but now I am very glad that I miſt you. Let all that love God and his ſervants help us to praiſe God for this miraculous deliverance.Pſal. 66.8. O bleſs our God ye people, and make the voice of his praiſe to be heard, which holdeth our ſoul in life, and ſuffereth not our feet to be moved; Joh. 5.12.Who diſappointeth the devices of the crafty, ſo that their hands cannot perform their enterprize.
The labour of the Journey, and the intolerable he…t of the ſeaſon increaſed his ſickneſs. Which to heal, the Phyſicians of Sedan made him drink Spaw waters, which were brought to him from Spaw to Sedan. Whereby they wrought a ſtrange kind of cure upon him; for theſe waters brought him to a moſt violent Feaver, and the Feaver conſumed all thoſe humours, and winds that oppreſt him, and left him in health, but it brought him ſo low before, that we deſpaired of his life; and the Phyſitians proved true, who told us, that the Feaver would conſume either the ſickneſs, or the ſick man.
So he returned to his former Function in the Church and Univerſity, ſerving God with cheerfulneſs and aſſiduity, and bleſt with great ſucceſs. He lived at Sedan three and thirty years from his return into England unto his death, without any notable change in his condition, but one of publick concernment by the miſerable change of the Duke of Bovillon.
That Duke being Prince of Sedan, the Protector of a flouriſhing Proteſtant Church, and the refuge of many oppreſſed Proteſtants in France, was perverted by falling in love with a beautifull Lady, a Subject born of the Spaniard, and a Papiſt of the deepeſt Jeſuitiſh dye; which ſeduced and turned him, both to the Romiſh Religion, and to the Spaniſh party: Marrying that Lady he preſently profeſt the firſt, and a few years after embraced the ſecond.
Before he had profeſt himſelf a Papiſt, he and his brother, now Marſhal and Prince of Turenne, being at Luyck, the ſaid Monſieur de Turenne fell grievouſly ſick. Whereupon his Mother, the old Dutcheſs of Bovillion, deſired the Doctor to go to him with another Gentleman, bringing a Phyſitian and an Apothecary along with them. The Duke, who was already revolted in his heart, received the Doctor unkindly, and deſired him to withdraw and return to Sedan, but procured him no Paſs for his ſafe return, expoſing him with great inhumanity to eminent danger in the enemies Countrey, in a time of fierce War. Whereby he afforded him new occaſions of experimenting the wonders of Gods watchfull and fatherly care for his preſervation.
For when he came with his company to Givay, a place under Charlemonts Caſtle, where there was a Spaniſh Garriſon; The Souldiers hearing of their coming, and that they had no Paſs, reſolved to apprehend them: They might have taken them in the Inn, but they choſe rather to take them the next morning in a Boat which they had hired to make the reſt of their journey by water. But one of the Doctor's Company adviſed his fellow-Travellers to walk on foot to a Village a mile off, to avoid a compaſs of twelve miles which the River makes, and there to expect their Boat. They followed his Counſel, and thereby diſappointed the Souldiers, who coming to the Boat and miſſing them, plundred their Cloak-bags, and took the Doctors man, but them they followed not, which they might have done, and overtaken them; but having their plunder; they were leſs eager to have their perſons; And God preſerved them, both then and the reſt of the journey, which they performed with great danger and difficulty.
Soon after this, the Duke of Bovillon declared himſelf a Papiſt, to the incredible loſs of the Proteſtant party. Sedan was grown by the perſecutions in France; The greateſt number, and the richeſt ſort, conſiſted of the poſterity of perſons that had tranſported their Families and their eſtates to Sedan, during the Wars of Religion, and that place was a refuge at hand for the Proteſtants, when any trouble aroſe in France: Wherefore this change in the Prince wrought a great conſternation in the people of Sedan, and a great grief in the generality of all the French Proteſtants; which the Duke of Bovillon perceiving, and judging, that as they lived at Sedan upon the account of their Religion, they might retire from it upon the ſame account; He called the Church, and the Univerſity, and told them that he would lend them the ſame protection as before, and innovate nothing. Only whereas he gathered the Tythes of his Dominions, and therewith gave wages to the Miniſters, Profeſſors, and Regents, as alſo ſtipends to the Prieſts, now the Prieſts muſt have the tythes as their ancient right, and he would pay to the Miniſters, Profeſſors, and Regents their ordinary ſtipends out of his own eſtate.
Sedan enjoyed that reſt for a year or two, till the Duke won by his wife to forſake the Protection which he enjoyed under the King of France who paid his Garriſon, agreed with the Spaniard to put himſelf under his protection, turn out the French Gariſon, and receive his. Which Plot being diſcovered by ſome of Sedan, was made known to the French Court, and ſuch order was taken that the Dukes Deſign was prevented. Himſelf, his Lady, and all his retinue were turned out of Sedan, and kept out of it to this day, and the place continueth under the ſubjection of France. What recompenſe he had for it, is beyond my knowledge and the limits of this relation.
In this ſad change of Religion at Sedan, the Doctor beſides his ſufferings common with others had many particular trials, being eſpecially maligned by the Capucins and the new Clergy, with whom he had many Conferences, and was perſecuted by them with continual invectives. He ſuffered much alſo by the war, his houſe in the Country being plundered, and his cattel driven away, which in all likelyhood was done upon eſpecial recommendation.
Of the charge laid againſt him about his Letters to King James of bleſſed and glorious memory, he heard no more when Sedan was brought under the French Scepter; for it was but a pickt quarrel to remove him from Paris.
About the year 1644. Upon a return of the ſickneſs that had troubled him in England, he was adviſed to travel into Auvergne to ſome waters which he went to drink upon the place, and with good effect. He returned to Paris, where he was received and entertained by his ancient flock with moſt ſingular expreſſions of love; but he was ſetled in Sedan, and his reſtitution to Paris had been tryed many times, and found an impoſſible pull. At Sedan then he lived the reſt of his days, ſerving God in the Church, and in the Univerſity, defending the truth of God by his Sermons, Conferences and Books, confirming Gods people in the faith, and powerfully convincing the Adverſaries.
Thus he held out in his conſtant courſe of Sermons, and Divinity-Lectures, without abating any part of his ordinary duties, till by extremity of old age his voice being grown too low for a great Congregation, he deſired to be excuſed of preaching upon the Lords day, but inſtead of it he preacht every Tueſday: And becauſe his weakneſs ſuffered him not to go much abroad, he obtained leave of the Academical Counſel to make his Divinity Lectures in his own houſe in a ſpacious Parlour, where he had as great audience as the Univerſity could afford.
Three years and a half before his death, as he was taking the air abroad, he got a great hurt by a fall from his horſe; ſince which time he enjoyed no health, yet he did not give over the exerciſe of his charge either in the Church, or in the School, and very ſeldom miſt preaching once a week and reading two Divinity-Lectures. And having been all his life time much given to private devotion, in that laſt ſickly time he was ſo extraordinarily taken up with holy private exerciſes, that he did almoſt nothing elſe but pray and meditate. He kept to the laſt hour that neatneſs of language, wherein he was ſo eminent, and the readineſs of his memory, which afforded him matter of holy Diſcourſes, upon any ſubject offered to him in queſtion.
Upon Tueſday Feb. 26. 1658. [ſtilo novo] he awaked in the morning, ſo weak and oppreſt in his breaſt that he thought himſelf not able to preach that day; yet taking heart, he was led and helpt up to the Church; being got into the pulpit with much difficulty, he fainted: And ſome wine being brought to him he would not taſte it, chooſing rather to expect Gods help, then to do any thing which might ſeem to border upon indecency. And he was not diſappointed of his expectation; for after he had read his Text, which was, Pſal. 16 9. My fleſh ſhall reſt in hope, he ſpake with more vigour then he had done of a long time before, and applied the doctrine to himſelf, giving an account of his Faith and hope to his Hearers, taking his leave of them in a manner, and preaching his own Funeral Sermon, as if he had had a Prophetical knowledge that he ſpake the laſt time to his people in the Church.
Upon Thurſday the laſt day of February he found his oppreſſion ſo much increaſed in the morning that there was no ſmall fear of a ſudden death. Being then viſited by his Colleagues, who prayed by him, he deſired them to remember him that day (which was a Sermon day) in the prayers of the Church. After the Sermon a great company flocked to him to bid him farewell, and to receive his bleſſing: He looked upon them all, and ſpake to them with much facility and preſence of minde: To ſuch as he knew to be of an exemplary life he gave praiſes and encouragements to vertue and piety. Thoſe in whoſe life he knew there was matter of blame, he would not in downright terms rebuke before that great company; but going about in a diſcreet way he would (addreſſing his ſpeech to them) commend thoſe vertues that were oppoſite to their vices, and would ſay to them that were ſomewhat given to tricks, that of all crafts the maſter-craft was to be an honeſt man.
Seeing a blind woman in the company he told her; You want the eyes of the body, but you have the eye of Faith, penetrating as far as heaven: You ſee not the light of the Sun, but God will let you ſee the brightneſs of his face.
Then turning his eyes upon a Gentleman who was a Roman Catholick, he ſaid, This is a worthy Gentleman: And ſpeaking to him he ſaid, Sir, I ſuffer great pains, but God will have mercy upon me: I have many wayes offended him, yet my conſcience bears me witneſs, that I never preacht or writ any thing, but what I believed to be conſonant unto the word of God.
Next he applied himſelf to his Colleagues, and ſaid, Farewell, my Maſters, I have that ſatisfaction in my mind, that I leave this Church in the hands of perſons whom God hath endowed with great gifts, and above all with an exemplary piety: I make no doubt but that you will carefully look to the conduct of the flock committed unto you.
One of them having anſwered, The Lord grant Sir, that we may imitate you, for you are that good ſervant, who not only have not buried your talent, but have very much improved it: You have done good ſervice in your time, and your labours will live, and do good when you are gone.
He replied, Ah Sir, you little know how much you grieve me by ſpeaking ſo; for I have not done all the good that I ſhould have done; and that little benefit which the Church hath reaped by my labour is not from me, but from the grace of God in me, as it is uſual with him to do a good effect by a weak inſtrument. I am conſcious to my ſelf that I have neglected my duty in many things, and that I have offended my God; but I have loved his holy truth, and I hope in his mercy. He is my Father and my God, and Jeſus Chriſt is my Saviour; Whoſoever believeth on him ſhall not periſh, but have everlaſting life.
His Friends told him that he did himſelf harm by ſpeaking ſo much. It is true (ſaith he) but I will die glorifying God.
He ſpent the four or five firſt days of his ſickneſs in expreſſions of deep humiliation: his prayers were vehement and fervent, and full of penitent ſorrow: He acknowledged himſelf the greateſt of ſinners, and the moſt unworthy of the graces which he had received of God: He abhorred his own ungratefulneſs, aggravating his faults, and deſpiſing all that others commended in him. Lord (ſaid he) I have done nothing but deſerveth puniſhment: Thou haſt heaped bleſſings upon me, Thou haſt honoured me with a holy Calling: But I have not laboured according to the great worth of it: I have mingled mine own glory with thine; I have often neglected thy ſervice to ſeek my particular intereſt. O how much ſelf love, how many perverſe affections have oppoſed the Kingdom of thy Son within me! How many times have I grieved thy good Spirit by a thouſand idle thoughts, and carnal affections! But though it had been but juſtice in thee to have cruſht me in thy wrath, yet thou haſt always ſhewed thy ſelf a mercifull and gracious Father unto me: In very faithfulneſs thou haſt afflicted me: Indeed thou haſt ſometimes beaten me with thy moſt terrible rods; Thou haſt hid thy face from me for a moment, but thou haſt remembred me in thy great compaſſions.
His devout expreſſions ſuffered but little intermiſſion, and his holy meditations none at all. For, if ſometimes he was kept ſilent by a drouſie fit, one might ſee by the lifting up of his eyes and hands that his heart was with God: And every time that he reſumed his diſcourſe, it was evident that his ſpeech was but the attendance of a longer meditation.
As when he began thus, Lord thou wilt do it, Thou art faithfull in thy promiſes; I am thy creature; Thou haſt led me and taught me from my youth. O forſake me not in this laſt period of my life: Have mercy upon me, my God, my my Father, have mercy upon me: O Lord hear, O Lord forgive, O Lord hearken and do: Defer not for thine own ſake, O my God; even for thy Sons ſake, who hath loved me, and given himſelf for me.
That meditation of Gods mercy he did much ſtretch himſelf upon, ſaying, The mercy of God is infinite as himſelf; no ſin ſo great but may be remitted. How great was Aarons ſin that made the golden Calf? How grievous that of David in the buſineſs of Ʋriah? And that of Solomon whom God ſo highly honoured, whoſe heart was ſeduced by the love of ſtrange women to the abominable worſhip of falſe gods? And yet God ſaid of him, that if he brake Gods Statutes, and kept not his commandments, he would viſit his tranſgreſſion with the rod, and his iniquity with ſtripes, but nevertheleſs he would not utterly take his loving kindneſs from him. Then making application to himſelf, he cryed, Thou wilt pardon me, even me alſo, O my God; Thou wilt deliver me from every evil work, and ſave me unto thy heavenly Kingdom: Let me dye the death of the righteous: Let me ſee thy face in righteouſneſs: Let me taſte goods of which thou haſt given me many foretaſts. O how happy a thing it is to live in Gods fear, and to die in his peace!
His ſickneſs being violent, and his pains ſharp, one of the Miniſters ſeeing how he ſuffered, bade him to be of good chear, becauſe the time of his deliverance drew nigh. How welcom you are to me (ſaid the holy Patient) with that good news! Welcom kind Death! O how happy ſhall I be to ſee my God, to whom my heart hath been of a long time aſpiring! He will be mercifull to me. Pray to him that he perfect his work in me. Then feeling his pulſe, It is intermittent (ſaid he) and to another, it would preſage a ſudden death; but my ſoul cleaveth ſo faſt to this wretched body, that it ſhall have much ado to come out of it.
Sometimes the violence of his pains extorted ſome complaints from him. 'O Lord (ſaid he) lay not too heavy a hand upon thy poor ſervant. Thou haſt ſufficiently afflicted me to make me ſenſible of my ſin. Then correcting himſelf he added; Nay, Lord, I am far from murmuring againſt thee; I have kept my ſelf from that in my long tryals. Why? I have deſerved infinitely more then I ſuffer. Bruiſe this duſt and aſhes, my body, and ſave my precious ſoul: As miſerable as I am, I would not exchange my condition with that of a King, while I hope in the grace of my God.
He would be entertained with good diſcourſes, and delighted much that his friends ſhould help him with thoſe Texts of Scripture which were the fitteſt to ſtrengthen his faith, and raiſe his hope: And when they began a Text, he would end it, and added ſomething to it, or did illuſtrate it with ſome interpretation. As when one told him the words of Jacob, I have waited for thy ſalvation, O God; he ſaid, Many of our Doctors by that ſalvation underſtand the temporal deliverances which God did promiſe his people; but I will apply it to my ſelf in the ſame ſenſe as you take it.
When the words of the hymne of Zacharias were uſed to him of the tender mercy of our Lord, whereby the day-ſpring from on high hath viſited us; he added preſently, Yea it is that Sun of righteouſneſs with healing in his wings. Likewiſe when he heard that Text of the 130. Pſalm. I wait for the Lord, my ſoul doth wait, and in his word do I hope, he ſaid, That word is the promiſe of the Goſpel, that whoſoever believeth in Jeſus Chriſt hath everlaſting life. That is the word which my ſoul doth wait for.
He had very often the 51 Pſalm in his mouth, and inſiſted eſpecially upon this verſe, The ſacrifices of God are a broken ſpirit; a broken and a contrite heart O God, thou wilt not deſpiſe. And then he would ſay, That ſacrifice, O my God, I offer unto thee; Thou knoweſt my heart, and how it is bruiſed and wounded with ſorrow that I have offended thee. Forgive me, my God, graciouſly forgive me all my ſins; deal with me as thoa didſt with the poor Publican, as with the humble Canaanitiſh woman, as with the converted Thief. O let me be this day with thee in Paradiſe. Crucifie the old man within me; kill that man of ſin which is too quick and too ſtrong, and raiſe me unto newneſs of life, that I may behold thy face, and be with my Saviour Jeſus Chriſt.
He had a particular love for the Holy Tongue. Seeing a Student that was learned in the ſame, he deſired him to read before him ſome Pſalms in Hebrew. Then he began to reckon how many names were given to God in the Old Teſtament, making learned conſiderations upon each. Thus paſſing from one good diſcourſe to another, he gave occaſion to the Student to ask him whether he thought that Hebrew was the Language uſed in the Kingdome of Heaven? That is not revealed (ſaid the Doctor) neither do I think that the language of Heaven is known here on Earth. But I think that we ſhall learn it in a moment when God ſhall be all in all. And that is that tongue of Angels which St. Paul mentions. This is as other things which God hath prepared for thoſe that love him; things which eye hath not ſeen, nor ear heard, and which are not come into a mans heart.
The next Lords day-morning, being viſited by the Miniſter that was to preach that morning, he deſired him that for his ſake the Congregation ſhould ſing the one and fiftieth Pſalm, which he would often repeat with a profound humiliation. He had alſo the 130th. in his mouth very often, and the two and thirtieth. Once having ſaid the firſt and ſecond verſes of verſes of that Pſalm, Bleſſed is he whoſe tranſgreſſion is forgiven, whoſe ſin is covered. Bleſſed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whoſe spirit there is no guile. He added, Thou knoweſt, Lord, that in ſincerity, and without guile, I humble my ſelf before thy face. I am a miſerable ſinner, and durſt not lift up mine eyes towards thee, did I not truſt in thy Commandement and Promiſe. Such as labour under the ſenſe of their miſeries, are thoſe whom thou calleſt, ſaying, Come unto me all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will eaſe you. O then let me come unto thee! Draw me Lord, that I may run after thee. I am tired, I am weary to be abſent from my God; My ſoul thirſteth for God, for the living God; when ſhall I come and appear before God? Alas! I am unworthy of it, for I am conceived in ſin. My whole life hath been a continued tranſgreſſion; yet far be it from me to doubt of his power and faithfulneſs. Where ſin aboundeth, his grace aboundeth much more. It is not for the righteous, but for repenting ſinners that he hath given his Son, that whoſoever believeth on him, ſhould not periſh, but have life everlaſting. Lord I believe, help thou my unbelief; increaſe and ſtrengthen my faith. It is now weak and ſmall; but it is true and unfeigned, and ſtayeth upon Jeſus Chriſt only. There is no ſalvation in any other: He is the way, the truth, and the life: None can come to the Father but by him. Away with all other interceſſions. Away with all merits of works; all our righteouſneſſes are but pollutions. Ah my God! I have no righteouſneſs but thine; for I am conceived in ſin. I never did any work ſo good, but it needs pardon. Mercy Lord, Mercy! Pardon me my ſins; pardon me my righteouſneſſes. Waſh me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanſe me from my ſin. Purge me with hyſſop; but let it be dipt in the blood of the Lamb without blemiſh and without spot, which taketh away the ſins of the world. Thou knoweſt Lord, that I have loved thy holy truth, and that I have believed thy promiſes. They are the joy of my heart: They are the comforts which have kept up my ſoul from being caſt down with ſorrow. O God, perfect thy work within me. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Reſtore unto me the joy of thy ſalvation, and uphold me with thy free Spirit.
When by too long bending of his ſpirit and voice he found himſelf ſpent, and conſtrained to intermit theſe elevations, he would ſay, or cauſe to be read before him ſome Pſalms, and choſe them himſelf, leaving out thoſe verſes which were not for his preſent uſe. As when he ſaid the ſixth Pſalm, Return, O Lord, deliver my ſoul; O ſave me for thy mercies ſake. Then came to the ninth verſe: The Lord hath heard my ſupplication, the Lord will receive my prayer. And then ſaid, All the reſt of the Pſalm is not for me: For death is not my fear, but my joy and deliverance from a languiſhing life; And I have no enemies.
He that read Pſalms to him, would alſo skip over that which was not for the Doctors uſe. And if ſometimes he did forget ſome Text fit for his turn, he would preſently take notice of it; As when the 31. Pſalm was read to him, he ſaid to the Reader, You have omitted the principal and moſt convenient Text for me, Into thy hand I commit my spirit. Thou haſt redeemed me, O Lord God of truth. And you have omitted ſomething about the 11. verſe. I left it out purpoſely (ſaid the Reader) becauſe you are not a reproach among your neighbours, nor a fear to your acquaintance; neither do they that ſee you, flee from you. You ſee that all your ſheep are flocking about you: They bleſs you, and crave your bleſſing. I am not ſorry (ſaid the Doctor) that my Miniſtery leaveth a good favour after me. I beſeech God with all my heart, that he ſend faithful Labourers into his Harveſt, which may do that holy work better then I. O Lord, I have not been diligent as I ſhould have been; but I have obtained grace to be faithful: For with all the affection of my heart I have ſtudied to ſpeak, and to defend the truth; and I have been grieved with the affliction of the Church. O Lord, Purifie her from all ſcandal. Let her be bleſſed, and let not the adverſaries of thy truth triumph over her for ever.
So humble he was, and ſuch a contemner of himſelf, that he could not abide thoſe that expreſt before his face the great value which they ſet upon him, or ſaid any thing to his commendation: And when they came out with ſome praiſes, he rejected them with a kind of indignation; Away (ſaid he) with that flatttery; Pray to God that he have mercy upon me.
His ſickneſs was an inflammation of the Lungs, with a burning Feaver, which redoubled every day at the ſame hour. Once coming out of a ſtrong fit which had handled him very ſore, he ſaid. My God, how weary, how tired am I! When ſhall I reſt in thy boſome? When ſhall I be filled with the true goods? When ſhall I drink in the River of thy pleaſures? I am unworthy of it, O my God! But thou art glorified by doing good to the unworthy. It is not for them that are whole, but for them that are ſick, that thy Son the great Phyſician was ſent. Whoſo believeth in him, is paſs'd from death to life.
He was compaſſed about with his Family and his chief friends. Every one comforted him according to his talent. Being asked by one of them whether he did Perfectly hope in the grace of God which was preſented to him? I hope (ſaid he) but not perfectly; yet as much as I am able. I ſuffer now the pains of death; But God will redeem my ſoul from the power of the grave, for he ſhall receive me.
When ſome comfortable place of Scripture was brought to him, whereby he found himſelf ſtrengthened, he ſtrived to riſe to embrace him that ſpake it; and being too weak to do it, he would take his hand and kiſs it, giving him ſome bleſſing, and ſaying, It was the Spirit of God that ſpake by your mouth. The Lord bleſs you, and increaſe his graces in you.
Another time, after an exhortation which had affected him very much, he ſaid, Theſe are excellent words; The Lord by his grace print them in my heart.
This Text, Eph. 1.3. was alledged unto him; Bleſſed be the God and Father of our Lord Jeſus Chriſt, who hath bleſſed us with all ſpiritual bleſſings in heavenly places in Chriſt; He added the following verſe; According as he hath choſen us in him before the foundation of the World.
Sometimes he was in ſuch a rapture, hearing them that ſpake to him of the excellency of that glory which he was going to poſſeſs, that he opened his mouth and his eyes in an exſtatical countenance, pronouncing but few words with great intervals between; as, O what is it to ſee Geds face in rigteouſneſs! O when ſhall I be ſatisfied with his likeneſs!
Many times he would ſay theſe words of Pſal. 36. How excellent is thy loving kindneſs, O God! Therefore the children of men put their truſt under the ſhadow of thy wings. They ſhall be abunantly ſatisfied with the fatneſs of thy houſe, and thou ſhalt make them drink of the river of thy pleaſures. And theſe again: For with thee is the fountain of life, and in thy light ſhall we ſee light. And out of the 67. Pſal. Bleſſed is the man whom thou chooſeſt, and cauſeſt to approach unto thee, that he may dwell in thy Courts. We ſhall be ſatisfied with the goodneſs of thy houſe even of thy holy Temple.
Very often he would repeat the 27. the 63. and the 71. Pſalm. In the laſt ſtaying eſpecially upon theſe words, O God, thou haſt taught me from my youth, and hitherto have I declared thy wondrous works: Now alſo when I am old and gray-headed, O God, forſake me not.
No day paſs'd but he prayed for his children, both preſent and abſent, ſaying, The Lord bleſs them, and give them his peace, his love, and his fear.
Every hour his Family lookt that he ſhould expire; but he examining his pulſe, would ſay, You ſhall ſee me very ſick, but I ſhall not ſo ſoon die.
The four firſt dayes of his ſickneſs he ſpake both day and night with little intermiſſion: So that it is impoſſible exactly to follow the fluency of his diſcourſe, and the fervency of his expreſſions, eſpecially in his prayers. So much we relate here as his diligent hearers can remember; for all this was ſpoken before many and worthy witneſſes that reſorted to him to hear him, and to learn to die. But the ſix laſt dayes of his ſickneſs, he was for the moſt part of the time in a deep ſlumber, againſt which he did earneſtly ſtrive. Prick me (ſaid he) Now I ſhould watch. It is no time new to ſleep, but to die. Watch and and pray (ſaid my Saviour) that you enter not into temptation. O great God, abandon me not to mine infirmities; but ſo preſerve and keep up my ſpirit, that I may glorifie thee even when I am dying.
And though after ſuch expreſſions he fell preſently into his ſlumber, one might ſee by his geſtures, and by the words which he ſpake now and then, that it might have been ſaid of him, as the Spouſe ſaid of her ſelf, He was aſleep, but his heart waked. He open'd his eyes; He lift up his hands; He ſaid often, Lord be merciful to me; Be gracious to me. Even when he ſeemed to be deep aſleep, he would come out with five or ſix words, which ſhewed what his mind was ſet upon. Death (ſaid he) is ſwallowed up in victory. And a good ſpace after, It is the gift of God — It is my hope — It is my comfort. Sometime the ſame thing came often to his mind and mouth. For a whole day he would ſay every time that he awaked, The Word was made fleſh.
When he was too long without ſpeaking, his friends were careful to awake him, to know whether he had ſenſe and knowledge ſtill. Being awaked, he was asked whether he did lift up his ſoul unto God? He anſwered, Yes, inceſſantly. He was asked again whether he would be glad to go to God? O (ſaid he) when ſhall I ſee him, that good God?
He was not much troubled with his ſlumber in the morning from ſeven to nine, becauſe then his Feaver was leſs, which uſed to redouble about nine. In that interval he would ſpeak with facility. That interval was husbanded to comfort him, and to pray by him. He would then hearken to prayers with great attention, and to all the good things that were ſaid to him. And it is obſervable, that in this laſt ſickneſs he was leſs deaf then he had been ten years before.
Many times he would feel his pulſe, and then ſaid, O what a grief is this, I cannot die! Good God have mercy upon me. Set my ſoul free. I am weary of being abſent from my God. I deſire to depart, and to be with Chriſt. O my God, come fetch me. Shorten the dayes of my combat. Let me die, I beſeech thee. Into thy hands I commend my ſpirit; for thou haſt redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.
His chamber was full of people day and night. Once opening his eyes after a ſlumber, he ſaid, Here is a great company. One anſwered him, Sir, they are your ſheep, that deſire you to call for Gods bleſſing upon them; The Lord bleſs them (ſaid he) and give them his fear, and the promiſed ſalvation.
The two laſt dayes of his ſickneſs added to his burning Feaver, and deadly ſlumber, contractions of ſinews and convulſions. Every hour was thought to be his laſt. None lookt to hear him ſpeak any more. All his friends thought that his deep ſleep would end in that of death; But about midnight he opened his eyes, and ſaid to one of them that ſtood by, I ſhall ſoon be eaſed. I am going to my Father and my God. He hath heard me indeed. And ſoon after, I go to him with confidence; for he hath arrayed me with his robe. Then being raiſed into an unexpreſſible rapture, he ſaid, I ſee him. And with an exclamation, O how beautiful he is! Being thus exalted in ſpirit far above the world, although he was alwayes tender-affected towards his Family, he ſaid to them that were there preſent, putting them far with his hand, I renounce all earthly affections. I will no more love any thing in the world but thee, O God, who doſt alone poſſeſs me. After theſe words he continued a good while in that holy rapture, cauſing more edification in all the ſtanders by with his countenance without words, then with all the words which he had ſpoken before. His eyes were clear and ſparkling; his mouth panting after the living God. His arms ſtretcht up to heaven, and his body ſtriving wonderfully to riſe as it were to meet and to embrace that beautiful object of love and contemplation. All that were preſent wiſht that God would receive him in that happy inſtant; But his hour was not yet come.
All the next day, which was Saturday the ninth of March, he ſtruggled with the agony of death, being tormented with frequent convulſions, and ſtill fighting the good fight by faith, and humilitie, and patience. Towards the evening, tokens of his approaching death made his aſſiſtants to double their endeavours to comfort him. He underſtood all that was ſaid to him, and ſhewed holy elevations in his prayer; he gave thanks to thoſe that prayed, ſaying, The Lord hear you, and the Lord bleſs you.
When he heard the glory at hand extolled in ſome emphatical terms of Scripture, he returned into his former raptures: And once more he pronounced theſe words of Pſal. 17. I ſhall be ſatisfied with thy likeneſs when I awake. And twice or thrice, Come Lord Jeſu, come; Come Lord Jeſu, come. And for the laſt time that Text which he loved ſo much, He that believeth in Jeſus Chriſt, ſhall not periſh, but have everlaſting life. Then a little after, Lord Jeſu, receive my ſpirit.
He that comforted him ſaid to him, Sir, you ſhall ſee your Redeemer with your eyes. To which he anſwered with an effort, laying his hand over his heart, I believe it.
That was the laſt intelligible word which he pronounced, though he made yet great efforts to make himſelf underſtood, and was a quarter of an hour ſpeaking with a fervent affection: But the flegm that filled his throat and palat, ſuffered not the aſſiſtants to underſtand any of his words.
After this he was half an hour without ſpeaking, yet without loſing ſenſe and knowledge. His friends made the laſt prayer, during which he did perpetually lift up his eyes and hands to heaven.
And ſome moments after he quietly gave up the laſt breath, dying with peace and joy viſible on his face. It was half an hour after midnight the tenth of March 1658. [ſtylo novo] in the fourſcore and tenth year of his age.
Thus died the good Servant of God, the faithful Paſtour of his Church, The valiant Champion of his Truth, the zealous Promoter of his glory, the great Maſter of clear Wit, exquiſite Learning, and admired Eloquence, the Pillar of the Univerſitie, and the Father of the poor. Such men as he live after their death: And of him we may ſay, not only he was, but he is a burning and a ſhining Lamp, for to the worlds end the Church of God ſhall rejoyce in his light.
We have ſet a Marble Stone upon his Grave, with this Inſcription.
Qui ſub iſto Marmore quieſcit, Olim fuit PETRƲS MOLINAEƲS.
HOC SAT VIATOR, CAETERA NOSTI, QƲISQƲIS ES QƲI NOMEN INCLYTƲM LEGIS. LAƲDES, BEATI GLORIA NON DESIDERAT, AƲT SƲSTINET MODESTIA.
Obiit Sedani AD VI. NON. MART. MDCLVIII.
So much was enough for him who hath erected a laſting Monument to himſelf. But I cannot take leave of my precious Father in ſo few words. Not then to advance his glory, but to ſatisfie my love, I muſt attend his going to Heaven with theſe filial breathings.
OPTIMO PARENTI ſic Parentabat moerens FILIƲS.
QUalis quadrijugis raptum ſuper aethera flammis
Heliam, famulus paſsis ad ſydera palmis
Suſpiciebat hians, & demirantia fletu
Ora rigans, divo paſcebat lumina viſu:
Talis te, Genitor, vaſtum per inane volante,
Invectum ſuper aſtra triumphantemque quadriga
Proſequor aſpectu ſphaeras penetrante polorum,
Laetitiae & luctus medius; oculoſque ſub axem
Defigens, lachrymis utrinque fluentibus udos.
O Pater, O noſtrae currus turmaeque Sionis,
Cujus fida comes lateri Victoria ſedit;
O ſi parte ſui quadam ſacer ille tuuſque
Spiritus haereſeon victor certiſsimus, in nos
Defluat, attonitos te diſcedente, gementeſque,
Et tibi delapſam vix dignos tollere veſtem!
Tu certe hinc abiens tua nobis arma reſignas
Grandia, Romuleas debellatura cohortes.
Haec haret tibi propria laus, antiqua Sionis
Suppleviſſe novis armamentaria telis.
Sed vires, quique incutiant haec tela lacerti
Heu deſunt; moerent gladii rubigine turpes,
Lugent lenti arcus viduam duce conclamato
Militiam, magnamque manum magna arma repoſcunt.
Hic meminiſse juvat qualis quantuſque videri
In Latii turmas coeleſtia ſtrinxerit arma;
Agmina tota ruens, unus ſatis omnia contra
Tela Latinorum; quo turbine fulmina Verbi
Torſerit, & late Monachorum armenta nefandorum
Impiger incuſſa Veri proſtraverit haſta,
Pulveream temere pedibus ſpargentia nubem,
Horrida mugitu, curtoque minacia cornu.
Quid quod perpetuus ineuntem praelia terror,
Bellorumque regens ſortem tuba praevia Famae,
Anteibant; ictum quae lumine nominis hoſtem
Ei jam ſeminecem ceu fulgure praeſtringebant!
Conſimiles animos prae ſe toto ore ferebat
Jovae bella gerens immani robore Samſon,
Mirifica inſtructus mala, qua ſolus, inermi
Proximus, armatae ſternebat millia turbae,
Humana major ſpecie, flamm…ſque micantes
Intorquens oculos, ſacrum teſtantibus aeſtum
Aetheriae mentis, & foetum numine pectus.
Abſit enim, Deus alme, tuae miracula dextrae
Ut cuiquam illuſtri quantumlibet inſtrumento
Attribuam: quisquamne tuo niſi robore fortis,
Tarpeiae ſacra luſtra Lupae, rictuſque cruentos,
Et late dominam non formidaſſet Erynnim,
Lethatique ferum fodiſſet vulnere pectus?
Illa ſub ima gerens fixum praecordia telum,
Nec ſatis ad morſus ex labris vulneris exſtans,
Dentibus incaſſum viro ſpumantibus ardens
Appetit, & morſu nitens educere, figit
Altius; exacuunt iram dolor, ira dolorem.
Mox demente fuga & terrifico ululatu
Exagitat, augetque ſuum lymphata furorem.
Tum repetit morſu pungentem inſana ſagittam,
Si queat incuſſum lateri depellere lethum:
Hui fruſtra; licet uſque furat, & ovilia vaſtet
Vindictae indulgens, paſtoris ſaucia dextra;
Ilicet intus habet quo poſt conamina mille,
Mille ſtrophas patrio tandem reddatur Averno.
Interea puris celſum caput inſerit aſtris
Longum expectatos carpens MOLINAEUS honores,
Luce Dei fulgens, & Chriſti ſanguinis oſtro
Purpuream indutus trabeam; laetuſque corona
Juſtitiae, camitem ſanctis Heroibus addit,
Queis datur aeternas aeternum implere curules.
Militiam antiquam nondum tamen intermittit
Magna pace fruens: dum Mundus & iſta ſuperſunt
Scripta Quirinali fatalia tela Tyra…no,
Militat in terris, quamvis ſuper aſtra triumphet.
EPIGRAMMA Subjiciendum noſtri Authoris imagini aeri inciſae.
QƲi modo ſydeream miranti lampada Mundo
Praebuit, incertum doctior an melior,
Occidit heu! noſtri Sol aureus occidit aevi;
Jamque latens metam purpurat Occiduam.
Cernis ut illuſtrem texant ſibi poſthuma limbum
Lumina, & elapſi ſplendeat ignis honos?
Ceu rutilis Titan ſua tecta coloribus ornat,
Heſperio faciem conditus Oceano.
Sed modo digreſsi vaneſcunt Solis honores;
Perpetuum noſtri creſcit in orbe decus.