Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions; Together with Death's Duel
forbear his name, unless I had a fairer occasion--and justly committed
to prison; which begot many rumours in the common people, who in this
nation think they are not wise unless they be busy about what they
understand not, and especially about religion.
The King received this news with so much discontent and restlessness
that he would not suffer the sun to set and leave him under this doubt;
but sent for Dr. Donne, and required his answer to the accusation; which
was so clear and satisfactory that the King said, "he was right glad he
rested no longer under the suspicion." When the King had said this, Dr.
Donne kneeled down, and thanked his Majesty, and protested his answer
was faithful, and free from all collusion, and therefore "desired that
he might not rise till, as in like cases, he always had from God, so he
might have from his Majesty, some assurance that he stood clear and fair
in his opinion." At which the King raised him from his knees with his
own hands, and "protested he believed him; and that he knew he was an
honest man, and doubted not but that he loved him truly." And, having
thus dismissed him, he called some Lords of his Council into his
chamber, and said with much earnestness, "My Doctor is an honest man;
and, my Lords, I was never better satisfied with an answer than he hath
now made me; and I always rejoice when I think that by my means he
became a Divine."
He was made Dean in the fiftieth year of his age, and in his
fifty-fourth year a dangerous sickness seized him, which inclined him to
a consumption; but God, as Job thankfully acknowledged, preserved his
spirit, and kept his intellectuals as clear and perfect as when that
sickness first seized his body; but it continued long, and threatened
him with death, which he dreaded not.
Within a few days his distempers abated; and as his strength increased
so did his thankfulness to Almighty God, testified in his most excellent
"Book of Devotions," which he published at his recovery; in which the
reader may see the most secret thoughts that then possessed his soul,
paraphrased and made public: a book that may not unfitly be called a
Sacred Picture of Spiritual Ecstasies, occasioned and applicable to the
emergencies of that sickness; which book, being a composition of
meditations, disquisitions, and prayers, he writ on his sick-bed; herein
imitating the holy Patriarchs, who were wont to build their altars in
that place where they had received their blessings.
This sickness brought him so near to the gates of death, and he saw the
grave so ready to devour him, that he would often say his recovery was
supernatural: but that God that then restored his health continued it to
him till the fifty-ninth year of his life: and then, in August 1630,
being with his eldest daughter, Mrs. Harvey, at Abury Hatch, in Essex,
he there fell into a fever, which, with the help of his constant
infirmity--vapours from the spleen--hastened him into so visible a
consumption that his beholders might say, as St. Paul of himself, "He
dies daily;" and he might say with Job, "My welfare passeth away as a
cloud, the days of my affliction have taken hold of me, and weary nights
are appointed for me."
Reader, this sickness continued long, not only weakening, but wearying
him so much, that my desire is he may now take some rest; and that
before I speak of his death thou wilt not think it an impertinent
digression to look back with me upon some observations of his life,
which, whilst a gentle slumber gives rest to his spirits, may, I hope,
not unfitly, exercise thy consideration.
His marriage was the remarkable error of his life; an error which,
though he had a wit able and very apt to maintain paradoxes, yet he was
very far from justifying it: and though his wife's competent years, and
other reasons, might be justly urged to moderate severe censures, yet he
would occasionally condemn himself for it: and doubtless it had been
attended with an heavy repentance, if God had not blessed them with so
mutual and cordial affections, as in the midst of their sufferings made
their bread of sorrow taste more pleasantly than the banquets of dull
and low-spirited people.
The recreations of his youth were poetry, in which he was so happy as if
nature and all her varieties had been made only to exercise his sharp
wit and high fancy; and in those pieces which were facetiously composed
and carelessly scattered,--most of them being written before the
twentieth year of his age--it may appear by his choice metaphors that
both nature and all the arts joined to assist him with their utmost
skill.
It is a truth, that in his penitential years, viewing some of those
pieces that had been loosely--God knows, too loosely--scattered in his
youth, he wished they had been abortive, or so short-lived that his own
eyes had witnessed their funerals; but, though he was no friend to them,
he was not so fallen out with heavenly poetry, as to forsake that; no,
not in his declining age; witnessed then by many divine sonnets, and
other high, holy, and harmonious composures. Yea, even on his former
sick-bed he wrote this heavenly hymn, expressing the great joy that then
possessed his soul, in the assurance of God's favour to him when he
composed it:--
"AN HYMN
"TO GOD THE FATHER
"Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.
"Wilt Thou forgive that sin, which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two:--but wallow'd in a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.
"I have a sin of fear, that when I've spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son
Shall shine as He shines now, and heretofore;
And having done that, Thou hast done,
I fear no more."
I have the rather mentioned this hymn, for that he caused it to be set
to a most grave and solemn tune, and to be often sung to the organ by
the choiristers of St. Paul's Church, in his own hearing; especially at
the Evening Service; and at his return from his customary devotions in
that place, did occasionally say to a friend, "the words of this hymn
have restored to me the same thoughts of joy that possessed my soul in
my sickness, when I composed it. And, O the power of church-music! that
harmony added to this hymn has raised the affections of my heart, and
quickened my graces of zeal and gratitude; and I observe that I always
return from paying this public duty of prayer and praise to God, with an
unexpressible tranquillity of mind, and a willingness to leave the
world."
After this manner did the disciples of our Saviour, and the best of
Christians in those ages of the Church nearest to His time, offer their
praises to Almighty God. And the reader of St. Augustine's life may
there find, that towards his dissolution he wept abundantly, that the
enemies of Christianity had broke in upon them, and profaned and ruined
their sanctuaries, and because their public hymns and lauds were lost
out of their Churches. And after this manner have many devout souls
lifted up their hands and offered acceptable sacrifices unto Almighty
God, where Dr. Donne offered his, and now lies buried.
But now [1656], Oh Lord! how is that place become desolate!
Before I proceed further, I think fit to inform the reader, that not
long before his death he caused to be drawn a figure of the Body of
Christ extended upon an anchor, like those which painters draw, when
they would present us with the picture of Christ crucified on the cross:
his varying no otherwise than to affix Him not to a cross, but to an
anchor--the emblem of Hope;--this he caused to be drawn in little, and
then many of those figures thus drawn to be engraven very small in
Heliotropium stones, and set in gold; and of these he sent to many of
his dearest friends, to be used as seals, or rings, and kept as
memorials of him, and of his affection to them.
His dear friends and benefactors, Sir Henry Goodier and Sir Robert
Drewry, could not be of that number; nor could the Lady Magdalen
Herbert, the mother of George Herbert, for they had put off mortality,
and taken possession of the grave before him; but Sir Henry Wotton, and
Dr. Hall, the then--late deceased--Bishop of Norwich, were; and so were
Dr. Duppa, Bishop of Salisbury, and Dr. Henry King, Bishop of
Chichester--lately deceased--men, in whom there was such a commixture of
general learning, of natural eloquence, and Christian humility, that
they deserve a commemoration by a pen equal to their own, which none
have exceeded.
And in this enumeration of his friends, though many must be omitted, yet
that man of primitive piety, Mr. George Herbert, may not; I mean that
George Herbert, who was the author of "The Temple, or Sacred Poems and
Ejaculations." A book, in which by declaring his own spiritual
conflicts, he hath comforted and raised many a dejected and discomposed
soul, and charmed them into sweet and quiet thoughts; a book, by the
frequent reading whereof, and the assistance of that Spirit that seemed
to inspire the author, the reader may attain habits of peace and piety,
and all the gifts of the Holy Ghost and Heaven: and may, by still
reading, still keep those sacred fires burning upon the altar of so pure
a heart, as shall free it from the anxieties of this world, and keep it
fixed upon things that are above. Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr.
Donne, there was a long and dear friendship, made up by such a sympathy
of inclinations that they coveted and joyed to be in each other's
company; and this happy friendship was still maintained by many sacred
endearments; of which that which followeth may be some testimony.
"TO MR. GEORGE HERBERT;
"SENT HIM WITH ONE OF MY SEALS OF THE ANCHOR AND CHRIST.
"_A Sheaf of Snakes used
heretofore to be my Seal,
which is the Crest of our
poor family._"
"Qui prius assuetus serpentum falce tabellas
Signare, hæc nostræ symbola parva domus,
Adscitus domui Domini----
"Adopted in God's family, and so
My old coat lost, into new Arms I go.
The Cross, my Seal in Baptism, spread below,
Does by that form into an Anchor grow.
Crosses grow Anchors, bear as thou shouldst do
Thy Cross, and that Cross grows an Anchor too.
But He that makes our Crosses Anchors thus,
Is Christ, who there is crucified for us.
Yet with this I may my first Serpents hold;--
God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old--
The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be;
My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me.
And, as he rounds the earth to murder, sure
He is my death; but on the Cross, my cure,
Crucify nature then; and then implore
All grace from Him, crucified there before.
When all is Cross, and that Cross Anchor grown
This Seal's a Catechism, not a Seal alone.
Under that little Seal great gifts I send,
Both works and pray'rs, pawns and fruits of a friend.
O! may that Saint that rides on our Great Seal,
To you that bear his name, large bounty deal.
"John Donne."
"IN SACRAM ANCHORAM PISCATORIS
"GEORGE HERBERT.
"Quod Crux nequibat fixa clavique additi,--
Tenere Christum scilicet ne ascenderet,
Tuive Christum--
"Although the Cross could not here Christ detain,