passed before he spake to Mr. Donne to this purpose:-" Mr. Donne, the occasion of sending for you is to propose to you what I have often revolved in my own thought since I last saw you, which, nevertheless, I will not declare but upon this condition, that you shall not return me a present answer, but forbear three days, and bestow some part of that time in fasting and prayer; and after a serious consideration of what I shall propose, then return to me with your answer. Deny me not, Mr. Donne ; for it is the effect of a true love, which I would gladly pay as a debt due for yours to me." This request being granted, the doctor expressed himself thus : "Mr. Donne, I know your education and abilities; I know your expectation of a state-employment, and I know your fitness for it; and I know too the many delays and contingencies that attend court promises and let me tell you that my love, begot by our long friendship and your merits, hath prompted me to such an inquisition after your present temporal estate, as makes me no stranger to your necessities, which I know to be such as your generous spirit could not bear, if it were not supported with a pious patience. You know I have formerly persuaded you to wave your court-hopes, and enter into holy orders, which I now again persuade you to embrace, with this reason added to my former request:-the king hath yesterday made me Dean of Gloucester, and I am also possessed of a benefice, the profits of which are equal to those of my deanery; I will think my deanery enough for my maintenance, who am, and resolve to die, a single man, and will quit my benefice, and estate you in it; which the patron is willing I shall do, if God shall incline your heart to embrace this motion. Remember, Mr. Donne, no man's education or parts make him too good for this employment, which is to be an ambassador for the God of glory—that God, who by a vile death opened the gates of life to mankind. Make me no present answer, but remember your promise, and return to me the third day with your resolution." At the hearing of this, Mr. Donne's faint breath and perplexed countenance gave a visible testimony of an inward conflict; but he performed his promise, and departed without returning an answer till the third day, and then his answer was to this effect : "My most worthy and most dear friend, since I saw you, I have been faithful to my promise, and have also meditated much of your great kindness, which hath been such as would exceed even my gratitude; but that it cannot do; and more I cannot return you; and I do that with a heart full of humility and thanks, though I may not accept of your offer: but, sir, my refusal is not for that I think myself too good for that calling, for which kings, if they think so, are not good enough: nor for that my education and learning, though not eminent, may not, being assisted with God's grace and humility, render me in some measure fit for it: but I dare make so dear a friend as you are, my confessor: some irregularities of my life have been so visible to some men, that though I have, I thank God, made my peace with him by penitential resolutions against them, and by the assistance of his grace banished them my affections; yet this, which God knows to be so, is not so visible to man as to free me from their censures, and it may be that sacred calling from a dishonour. And besides, whereas it is determined by the best of casuists, that God's glory should be the first end, and a maintenance the second motive to embrace that calling; and though each man may propose to himself both together, yet the first may not be put last without a violation of conscience, which he that searches the heart will judge. And truly my present condition is such, that if I ask my own conscience, whether it be reconcilable to that rule, it is at this time so perplexed about it, that I can neither give myself nor you an answer. know, sir, who says, Happy is that man whose conscience doth not accuse him for that thing which he does.' To these I might add other reasons that dissuade me; but I crave your favour that I may forbear to express them, and thankfully decline your offer." You This was his present resolution, but the heart of man is not in his own keeping; and he was destined to this sacred service by a higher hand; a hand so powerful, as at last forced him to a compliance; of which I shall give the reader an account before I shall give a rest to my pen. Mr. Donne and his wife continued with Sir Francis Wolly till his death: a little before which time, Sir Francis was so happy as to make a perfect reconciliation betwixt Sir George, and his forsaken son and daughter; Sir George conditioning by bond, to pay to Mr. Donne 8007. at a certain day, as a portion with his wife, or 207. quarterly for their maintenance, as the interest for it, till the said portion was paid. Most of those years that he lived with Sir Francis, he studied the Civil and Canon Laws; in which he acquired such a perfection, as was judged to hold proportion with many who had made that study the employment of their whole life. Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family dissolved, Mr. Donne took for himself a house in Mitcham, near to Croydon in Surrey,-a place noted for good air and choice company there his wife and children remained; and for himself he took lodgings in London, near to Whitehall, whither his friends and occasions drew him very often, and where he was as often visited, by many of the nobility and others of this nation, who used him in their counsels of greatest consideration, and with some rewards for his better subsistence. Nor did our own nobility only value and favour him, but his acquaintance and friendship was sought for by most ambassadors of foreign nations, and by many other strangers, whose learning or business occasioned their stay in this nation. He was much importuned by many friends to make his constant residence in London; but he still denied it, having settled his dear wife and children at Mitcham, and near some friends that were bountiful to them and him; for they, God knows, needed it: and that you may the better now judge of the then present condition of his mind and fortune, I shall present you with an extract collected out of some few of his many letters. then found me under too great a sadness; and at present 'tis thus with me: There is not one person, but myself, well of my family: I have already lost half a child, and, with that mischance of hers, my wife is fallen into such a discomposure, as would afflict her too extremely, but that the sickness of all her other children stupifies her, of one of which, in good faith, I have not much hope: and these meet with a fortune so ill provided for physic, and such relief, that if God should ease us with burials, I know not how to perform even that but I flatter myself with this hope, that I am dying too; for I cannot waste faster than by such griefs. As for, From my hospital at Mitcham, Aug. 10. JOHN DONNE. Thus he did bemoan himself: and thus in other letters. For, we hardly discover a sin, when it is but an omission of some good, and no accusing act with this or the former I have often suspected myself to be overtaken; which is, with an over-earnest desire of the next life: and, though I know it is not merely a weariness of this, because I had the same desire when I went with the tide, and enjoyed fairer hopes than I now do; yet I doubt worldly troubles have increased it: 'tis now spring, and all the pleasures of it displease me; every other tree blossoms, and I wither: I grow older, and not better; my strength diminisheth, and my load grows heavier; and yet I would fain be or do something; but that I cannot tell what, is no wonder in this time of my sadness; for to choose is to do; but to be no part of any body, is as to be nothing: And so I am, and shall so judge myself, unless I could be so incorporated into a part of the world, as by business to contribute some sustentation to the whole. This I made account; I began early, when I understood the study of our laws; but was diverted by leaving that, and embracing the worst voluptuousness, an hydroptic immoderate desire of human learning and languages: beautiful ornaments indeed to men of great fortunes, but mine was grown so low as to need an occupation; which I thought I entered well into, when I subjected myself to such a service as I thought might exercise my poor abilities and there I stumbled, and fell too; and now I am become so little, or such a nothing, that I am not a subject good enough for one of my own letters.-Sir, I fear my present discontent does not proceed from a good root, that I am so well content to be nothing, that is, dead. But, sir, though my fortune hath made me such, as that I am rather a sickness or a disease of the world, than any part of it, and therefore neither love it, nor life; yet I would gladly live to become some such thing as you should not repent loving me : Sir, your own soul cannot be more zealous for your good, than I am; and God, who loves that zeal in me, will not suffer you to doubt it: would pity me now, if you saw me write, for my pain hath drawn my head so much awry, and holds it so, that my eye cannot follow my pen. I therefore receive you into my prayers with mine own weary soul, and commend myself to yours. I doubt not but next week will bring you good news, for I have either mending or dying on my You side but, if I do continue longer thus, I shall have comfort in this, that my blessed Saviour in exercising his justice upon my two worldly parts, my fortune and my body, reserves all his mercy for that which most needs it, my soul! which is, I doubt, too like a porter, that is very often near the gate, and yet goes not out. Sir, I profess to you truly, that my loathness to give over writing now, seems to myself a sign that I shall write no Your poor friend, and God's poor patient, more. Sept. 7. JOHN DONNE. By this you have seen a part of the picture of his narrow fortune, and the perplexities of his generous mind; and thus it continued with him for about two years, all which time his family remained constantly at Mitcham; and to which place he often retired himself, and destined some days to a constant study of some points of controversy betwixt the English and Roman Church, and especially those of Supremacy and Allegiance: and to that place and such studies he could willingly have wedded himself during his life but the earnest persuasion of friends became at last to be so powerful, as to cause the removal of himself and family to London, where Sir Robert Drewry", a gentleman of a very noble estate, and a more liberal mind, assigned him and his wife an useful apartment in his own large house in Drury-lane, and not only rent free, but was also a cherisher of his studies, and such a friend as sympathized with him and his, in all their joy and sorrows. : At this time of Mr. Donne's and his wife's living in Sir Robert's house, the Lord Hay was, by King James, sent upon a glorious embassy to the then French king, Henry the Fourth; and Sir Robert put on a sudden resolution to accompany him to the French court, and to be present at his audience there. And Sir Robert put on as sudden a resolution, to solicit Mr. Donne to be his companion in that journey. And this desire was suddenly made known to his wife, who was then with child, and otherwise under so dangerous a habit of body, as to her health, that she professed an unwillingness to allow him any absence from her; saying, Her divining soul boded her some ill in his absence; and therefore desired him not to leave her. This made Mr. Donne lay aside all thoughts of the journey, and really to resolve against it. *The eldest son of Sir William Drury of Howsted, in Suffolk, who was killed in a duel in France in 1589. When he was not more than fourteen, he accompanied the Earl of Essex to the unsuccessful siege of Rouen, and was knighted on that occasion. He married Anne, daughter of Sir Nicholas Bacon of Redgrave, in Suffolk. In 1610 he lost his daughter Dorothy, to whose memory Dr. Donne composed two poems, An Anatomie of the World," and "The Progresse of the Soule." In March of the same year, Sir Robert built and endowed an almshouse for widows, at Hawsted; and in 1612, went with Dr. Donne to Paris. Walton seems to have fallen into an error respecting the date and occasion of this journey, since Lord Hay was not sent as ambassador to Paris until July, 1616, and Sir Robert Drury died on the 2d of April, 1615. Drury House stood at the lower end of Drury-lane and upper end of Wych-street. It was afterwards the seat of William, Earl of Craven, who made considerable additions to it, and gave it the name of Craven House. The remains of Craven House were taken down in 1809, and the Olympic theatre now stands on part of its site. that the ghost of Julius Cæsar did appear to Brutus, and that both St. Austin, and Monica his mother, had visions in order to his conversion. And though these, and many others--too many to yet the incredible reader may find in the Sacred story*, that Samuel did appear to Saul eve after his death-whether really or not I undertake not to determine.-And Bildad, in the Book of Job, says these words +: "A spirit passed before my face; the hair of my head stood up; fear and trembling came upon me, and made all my bones to shake." Upon which words I will make no comment, but leave them to be considered by the incredulous reader; to whom I will also commend this following consideration: That there be many pious and learned men, that believe our merciful God hath assigned to every man a particular guardian angel, to be his constant monitor; and to attend him in all his dangers, both of body and soul. And the opinion that every man hath his particular angel may gain some authority by the relation of St. Peter's miraculous deliverance out of prison, not by many, but by one angel. And this belief may yet gain more credit, by the reader's considering, that when Peter after his enlargement knocked at the door of Mary the mother of John, and Rhode, the maid - servant, being surprised with joy that Peter was there, did not let him in, but ran in haste, and told the disciples -who were then and there met together-that Peter was at the door; and they, not believing it, said she was mad yet, when she again affirmed it, though they then believed it not, yet they con But Sir Robert became restless in his persuasions for it, and Mr. Donne was so generous as to think he had sold his liberty, when he received so many charitable kindnesses from him; and told his wife so; who did therefore, with an unwilling-name-have but the authority of human story, willingness, give a faint consent to the journey, which was proposed to be but for two months; for about that time they determined their return. Within a few days after this resolve, the ambassador, Sir Robert, and Mr. Donne, left London; and were the twelfth day got all safe to Paris. Two days after their arrival there, Mr. Donne was left alone in that room, in which Sir Robert, and he and some other friends, had dined together. To this place Sir Robert returned within half an hour; and as he left, so he found, Mr. Donne alone: but in such an ecstacy, and so altered as to his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to behold him; insomuch that he earnestly desired Mr. Donne to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his absence. To which Mr. Donne was not able to make a present answer: but, after a long and perplexed pause, did at last say, "I have seen a dreadful vision since I saw you: I have seen my dear wife pass twice by me through this room, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms: this I have seen since I saw you." To which Sir Robert replied, "Sure, sir, you have slept since I saw you; and this is the result of some melancholy dream, which I desire you to forget, for you are now awake." To which Mr. Donne's reply was: "I cannot be surer that I now live, than that have not slept since I saw you and am as sure, that at her second appearing, she stopped, and looked me included, and said, "It is his angel." the face, and vanished.". Rest and sleep had not altered Mr. Donne's opinion the next day: for he then affirmed this vision with a more deliberate, and so confirmed a confidence, that he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the vision was true.-It is truly said, that desire and doubt have no rest; and it proved so with Sir Robert; for he immediately sent a servant to Drewry-house, with a charge to hasten back, and bring him word, whether Mrs. Donne were alive; and, if alive, in what condition she was as to her health. The twelfth day the messenger returned with this account, that he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad, and sick in her bed; and that, after a long and dangerous labour, she had been delivered of a dead child. And, upon examination, the abortion proved to be the same day, and about the very hour, that Mr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by him in his chamber. This is a relation that will beget some wonder, and it well may; for most of our world are at present possessed with an opinion, that visions and miracles are ceased. And, though it is most certain, that two lutes being both strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, that is not touched, being laid upon a table at a fit distance, will-like an echo to a trumpet-warble a faint audible harmony in answer to the same tune; yet many will not believe there is any such thing as a sympathy of souls; and I am well pleased, that every reader do enjoy his own opinion. But if the unbelieving will not allow the believing reader of this story a liberty to believe that it may be true, then I wish him to consider, many wise men have believed More observations of this nature, and inferences from them, might be made to gain the relation of a firmer belief: but I forbear, lest I, that intended to be but a relator, may be thought to be an engaged person for the proving what was related to me; and yet I think myself bound to declare, that though it was not told me by Mr. Donne himself, it was told me-now long since-by a person of honour, and of such intimacy with him, that he knew more of the secrets of his soul than any person then living and I think he told me the truth; for it was told with such circumstances, and such asseveration, that—to say nothing of my own thoughts-I verily believe he that told it me, did himself believe it to be true. I forbear the reader's farther trouble, as to the relation, and what concerns it; and will conclude mine, with commending to his view a copy of verses given by Mr. Donne to his wife at the time he then parted from her. And I beg leave to tell, that I have heard some critics, learned both in languages and poetry, say, that none of the Greek or Latin poets did ever equal them. Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears: Men reckon what it did or meant: But trepidation of the spheres, -Whose soul is sense-cannot admit That ourselves know not what it is, Care not hands, eyes, or lips to miss. Like gold to airy thinness beat. If we be two? we are two so As stiff twin-compasses are two: And though thine in the centre sit, And grows erect as mine comes home. And me to end where I begun. I return from my account of the vision, to tell the reader, that both before Mr. Donne's going into France, at his being there, and after his return, many of the nobility and others that were powerful at court, were watchful and solicitous to the king for some secular employment for him. The king had formerly both known and put a value upon his company, and had also given him some hopes of a state employment; being always much pleased when Mr. Donne attended him, especially at his meals; where there were usually many deep discourses of general learning, and very often friendly disputes, or debates of religion, betwixt his majesty and those divines, whose places required their attendance on him at those times particularly the Dean of the Chapel, who then was Bishop Montague*- the publisher of *The fifth son to Sir Edward Montague, and brother to Edward, the first lord Montague, of Broughton, eminent for his learning and liberality, and usually called "King James's Ecclesiastical Favourite." He was created Bishop of Bath and Wells by King James, and afterwards translated to the see of Winchester, which he filled only two years, dying in 1618. He was buried in the Abbey church of Bath, which, while he filled the see of Bath and Wells, he repaired and beautified at a great expense, having been incited to this act of munificence in the following manner. When he held his primary visitation in the church at Bath, the business being done and the benediction given, Sir John Harrington stood up in the midst of the congregation, and addressed his lordship in a Latin poem on the ruinous state of the buildings of the church, and concluded with a prophecy of its future flourishing and beautiful condition under the auspices of the bishop. Te nempe ad decus hoc peperit Natura; replevit Euge; opus hoc miræ pietatis perfice. The bishop, so far from being displeased at this bold and unusual address, answered it in a short Latin speech, and promised to restore the cathedral. the learned and eloquent works of his majestyand the most Reverend Doctor Andrewst, the late learned Bishop of Winchester, who was then the king's almoner. About this time there grew many disputes, that concerned the oath of supremacy and allegiance, in which the king had appeared, and engaged himself by his public writings now extant; and his majesty discoursing with Mr. Donne, concerning many of the reasons which are usually urged against the taking of those oaths, apprehended such a validity and clearness in his stating the questions, and his answers to them, that his majesty commanded him to bestow some time in drawing the arguments into a method, and then to write his answers to them; and, having done that, not to send, but be his own messenger, and bring them to him. To this he presently and diligently applied himself, and within six weeks brought them to him under his own hand-writing, as they be now printed; the book bearing the name of Pseudo-Martyr, printed anno 1610. When the king had read and considered that book, he persuaded Mr. Donne to enter into the ministry; to which, at that time, he was, and appeared, very unwilling, apprehending it-such was his mistaken modesty-to be too weighty for his abilities; and though his majesty had promised him a favour, and many persons of worth mediated with his majesty for some secular employment for him,-to which his education had apted him-and particularly the Earl of Somerset, when in his greatest height of favour; who being then at Theobald's with the king, where one of the clerks of the council died that night, the earl posted a messenger for Mr. Donne to come to him immediately, and at Mr. Donne's coming, said, "Mr. Donne, to testify the reality of my affection, and my purpose to prefer you, stay in this garden till I go up to the king, and bring you word that you are clerk of the council: doubt not my doing this, for I know the king loves you, and know the king will not deny me." But the king gave a positive denial to all requests, and, having a discerning spirit, replied, "I know Mr. Donne is a learned man, has the abilities of a learned divine, and will prove a powerful preacher; and my desire is to prefer him that way, and in that way I will deny you nothing for him." After that time, as he professeth§, the king descended to a persuasion, almost to a solicitation, of him to enter into sacred orders: which, though he then denied not, yet he deferred it for almost three years. All which time he applied himself to an incessant ↑ One of the translators of King James's Bible; a man celebrated for his learning and piety. He is said to have possessed a critical and accurate knowledge of at least fifteen modern tongues. His writings were numerous; but that best known, and perhaps most deservedly so, is his Manual of Devotion, which was seldom out of his hand for some time before his death, and was found worn with his fingers and wet with his tears. A modern editor thus recommends it to the reader:-" When thou hast bought the book, enter into thy closet and shut the door; pray with Bishop Andrews for one week, and he will be thy companion for the residue of thy years; he will be pleasant in thy life, and in thy death he will not forsake thee." He departed this life at Winchester House in Southwark, on the 25th of September 1626, in the seventyfirst year of his age. The notorious Robert Carr. § In his Book of Devotions. study of textual divinity, and to the attainment of a greater perfection in the learned languages, Greek and Hebrew. In the first and most blessed times of Christianity, when the clergy were looked upon with reverence, and deserved it, when they overcame their opposers by high examples of virtue, by a blessed patience and long-suffering, those only were then judged worthy the ministry, whose quiet and meek spirits did make them look upon that sacred calling with an humble adoration and fear to undertake it; which indeed requires such great degrees of humility, and labour, and care, that none but such were then thought worthy of that celestial dignity. And such only were then sought out, and solicited to undertake it. This I have mentioned, because forwardness and inconsideration could not, in Mr. Donne, as in many others, be an argument of insufficiency or unfitness; for he had considered long, and had many strifes within himself concerning the strictness of life, and competency of learning, required in such as enter into sacred orders; and doubtless, considering his own demerits, did humbly ask God with St. Paul, "Lord, who is sufficient for these things" and with meek Moses, "Lord, who am I?" And sure, if he had consulted with flesh and blood, he had not for these reasons put his hand to that holy plough. But God, who is able to prevail, wrestled with him, as the angel did with Jacob, and marked him; marked him for his own; marked him with a blessing, a blessing of obedience to the motions of his blessed Spirit. And then, as he had formerly asked God with Moses, "Who am I?" so now, being inspired with an apprehension of God's particular mercy to him, in the king's and others' solicitations of him, he came to ask King David's thankful question, "Lord, who am I, that thou art so mindful of me!" So mindful of me, as to lead me for more than forty years through this wilderness of the many temptations and various turnings of a dangerous life; so merciful to me, as to move the learnedest of kings to descend to move me to serve at the altar! So merciful to me, as at last to move my heart to embrace this holy motion! Thy motions I will and do embrace and I now say with the blessed Virgin, " Be it with thy servant as seemeth best in thy sight :" and so, blessed Jesus, I do take the cup of salvation, and will call upon thy name, and will preach thy gospel. Such strifes as these St. Austin had, when St. Ambrose endeavoured his conversion to Christianity; with which he confesseth he acquainted his friend Alipius. Our learned author,—a man fit to write after no mean copy-did the like. And declaring his intentions to his dear friend Dr. King, then Bishop of London, a man famous in his generation, and no stranger to Mr. Donne's abilities, for he had been chaplain to the lord chancellor, at the time of Mr. Donne's being his lordship's secretary-that reverend man did re. ceive the news with much gladness; and, after some expressions of joy, and a persuasion to be constant in his pious purpose, he proceeded with all convenient speed to ordain him first deacon, and then priest not long after. Now the English church had gained a second St. Austin; for I think none was so like him Lefore his conversion, none so like St. Ambrose after it: and if his youth had the infirmities of the one, his age had the excellencies of the other; the learning and holiness of both. And now all his studies, which had been occasionally diffused, were all concentred in divinity. Now he had a new calling, new thoughts, and a new employment for his wit and eloquence. Now, all his earthly affections were changed into divine love; and all the faculties of his own soul were engaged in the conversion of others; in preaching the glad tidings of remission to repenting sinners, and peace to each troubled soul. To these he applied himself with all care and diligence and now such a change was wrought in him, that he could say with David, "O how amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord God of hosts!" Now he declared openly, that when he required a temporal, God gave him a spiritual blessing. And that he was now gladder to be a door-keeper in the house of God, than he could be to enjoy the noblest of all temporal employments. Presently after he entered into his holy profession, the king sent for him, and made him his chaplain in ordinary, and promised to take a particular care for his preferment. And, though his long familiarity with scholars and persons of greatest quality, was such as might have given some men boldness enough to have preached to any eminent auditory; yet his modesty in this employment was such that he could not be persuaded to it, but went usually accompanied with some one friend to preach privately in some village, not far from London; his first sermon being preached at Paddington. This he did, till his majesty sent and appointed him a day to preach to him at Whitehall; and, though much were expected from him, both by his majesty and others, yet he was so happy-which few are -as to satisfy and exceed their expectations : preaching the word so, as showed his own heart was possessed with those very thoughts and joys that he laboured to distil into others: a preacher in earnest; weeping sometimes for his auditory, sometimes with them; always preaching to himself, like an angel from a cloud, but in none; carrying some, as St. Paul was, to heaven in holy raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and courtship to amend their lives: here picturing a vice so as to make it ugly to those that practised it; and a virtue so as to make it beloved, even by those that loved it not; and all this with a most particular grace and an unexpressible addition of comeliness. There may be some that may incline to thinksuch indeed as have not heard him-that my affection to my friend hath transported me to an immoderate commendation of his preaching. If this meets with any such, let me entreat, though I will omit many, yet that they will receive a double witness for what I say; it being attested by a gentleman of worth,-Mr. Chidley, a frequent hearer of his sermons-in part of a funeral elegy writ by him on Dr. Donne ; and is a known truth, though it be in verse. Each altar had his fire He kept his love, but not his object; wit Mr. John Chudleigh, M.A., of Wadham College in Oxford, and the eldest son of Sir George Chudleigh, Bart., of Alston, in Devonshire. C |