_He receives sentence of Condemnation; he thereupon
seriously contemplates Death, and considers Eternity._
Appearing at the Sessions, and seeing so many of my Adversaries ready to
give in their evidence against me, I concluded my self a leman; my very
countenance betrayed both my thoughts of guilt and despair. In short, I
received sentence of Death to be hanged at _Tyburn_, by the neck till I
was dead. I thought these sad tidings would have presently deprived me
of my life, and so have saved the Hangman a labour. All the way I went
back to _Newgate_, I fancied nothing but Gibbets stood in my way, and
that I saw no other trades but Cord-winders. Being entred the prison, I
was forthwith put into the Dungeon, laden with shackles: I had not been
many hours there, before a charitable Physician of the soul, I mean a
Minister, came to visit me, who advised me to repent, since it was high
time; and endeavouring to disburden my conscience, by extracting from me
a general ingenious confession of what enormous crimes I had committed.
Finding this person to have no other design, but merely for my souls
sake, I dissected the actions of my whole life, not omitting any thing
that might be accounted sinful. He was amazed to hear such notorious
Roguery in one Man, and so young; wherefore, before he applied any
cordial, he administered his corrosives, and so thorowly searcht every
corner of my heart, that there was nothing hid from him. In the first
place, he made me sensible of the wickedness of my life, and that every,
nay, the least evil action, deserved the loss of eternal and
inexpressible happiness, and instead thereof, torments everlasting and
intolerable. It will take up too much time, to give an account of every
thing this pious man alleadged for my information, contrition, and
consolation: so effectually and powerfully he delivered his divine
Message, that the obdurateness of my heart was able to hold out no
longer, but melting into tears, was willing to have its flintiness
broken by the hammer of Sacred Writ. Finding me in so good a temper, he
left me to God and my self, for the perfecting of that work he had so
hopefully and successfully begun. I began to consider what I was, only a
statue of dust kneaded with tears, and mov’d by the hid engines of
restless passions; a clod of earth, which the shortest Fever can burn to
ashes, and the least showre of rheums wash away to nothing; and yet I
made as great a noise in the world, as if both the Globes (those
glorious Twins) had been unwombed from that formless Chaos, by the
Midwifry of my wit: all my actions were attended with so much success,
and so answerable to my desires, as if I had been one of heavens
privy-Counsellors; which swelled me up with so much arrogance, that I
spake thunder, lookt lightning, and breathed destruction; and by the
eloquence of my own vanity, I perswaded my self, that the machinations
of my brain were able to unhinge the Poles: but it is otherwise decreed,
that the Ministers of Justice should put a period to my boundless pride,
to make me know I am but a man, and that mortal too. And having but a
short time to live, I thought it very requisite to think of that which
must shortly be the means to convey me either to bliss or woe; by so
doing, I seized on death before it seized on me. It was the fittest
subject I could b usie my soul about; for what more heavenly, than the
thought of immortality? and what so necessary, as the thought of death?
_Seneca _saith_, When he was a young man, he studied to live well; when
aged how to dye well_: but I never practised _Artem bene vivendi_, and
therefore am so ignorant in _Arte bene moriendi_; which makes me so
fearful, that I know not how to be careful of not being found
unprepared. Methinks I already hear that doleful saying, _Ite imparata
in paratum_. My sole companions were now despair and fear, for the King
of fear is death; and indeed there is nothing absolutely fearful, but
what tends to death, and I am confident, the fear of death is worse than
the pains of death: for, fear of death kills us often, whereas death it
self can do it but once. Life would not be troubled with too much care,
nor death with too much fear, because fears betray, and cares disorder
those succours which reason would afford to both: and though some say,
he is more sorrowful than is necessary, that is sorrowful before there
is necessity; yet that soul cannot be in a good condition, so long as it
fears to think of dying; but did I not sorrow now, and justly fear that
messenger that must bring me before the Tribunal of Heaven, I should
have too little time to wash away so many black spots, especially having
nothing but objects of terror and amazement before my eyes; but I never
needed have feared what I should suffer when dead, if I had not deserved
it whilst I lived. Life is not alike to all men: To such a wicked wretch
as I am, the best had been, that I never had been, and the next best
were to live long; in this condition, it was ill for me that I was born,
worse for me that I must die: for without unfeigned repentance, this
dying life will bring me to a living death; whereas a good man is
otherwise minded, he counts his end the best of his being, for that
brings him to the fruition of his hope: could death end misery, it
should be the greatest happiness I would wish: but my conscience will
not let me lye, for I fear the end of my present miseries will be but
the beginning of worse; yea, such as death it self cannot terminate. Now
came into my mind the consideration of Eternity: and with it, I
remembred how it was represented by the Ancients, which very much helpt
my present Contemplation; which was thus: A vast Den full of horror,
round about which a Serpent winds it self, and in the winding bites it
self by the tail. At the right-hand of this Den, stands a young man of a
most beautiful and pleasant countenance, holding in his right-hand a Bow
and two Arrows, and in his left an Harp. In the entrance sits an old man
opposite, and having his eyes very intent on his Table-book, writes
according to the dictations of the young man standing by. At the
left-hand of this Den, sits a grave Matron gray-headed, and having her
eyes always busied. At the mouth hereof, are four stairs ascending by
degrees; the first is of iron, the second of brass, the third of silver,
and the last of Gold: On these are little children sporting up and down,
playing, fearless, and inapprehensive of falling. The sight of this
Emblem of Eternity inculcated into my thoughts this interpretation: The
Den, which was bottomless, signified to me the incomprehensibility of
Eternity; the circumferating Serpent, Time; the young man, Nature: on
Earth and Hell are her arrows fastned; but in Heaven there is the Harp,
fulness of joy, and pleasures inexpressible: The old man I lookt upon to
be Fate; the grave Matron, Providence; the Stairs, distinct Times and
Ages; the Children running up and down the Stairs without fear of
danger, do signifie foolish Man and Woman, who regardless of their
salvation, sport and play with it so long, till they slipt into
Eternity. So have I been careless of that which should have been my
greatest care, though I knew (but would not know) that the least and
lightest touch of death were sufficient, in a moment to translate me
from Time to Eternity. Were we all to live a thousand years (whereas the
Executioner is to put a period to my life in one day longer) we should
before we had ran half our course, in our very non-age, apply our selves
to repentance and newness of life. Now, now is the time, every hour,
every moment: now one part of an hour (as I am informed, to my great
comfort) may obtain pardon here, which all Eternity cannot hereafter.
Therefore, let this now be my time (this one day I have left me) to
cancel my debts and trespasses against Heaven, which I can never do in
Hell-fire, in all the years and times to come hereafter. Let such who
have liv’d (as I) in all manner of wickedness, consider what Eternity
is, which may make them return like the penitent Prodigal. What then is
Eternity? It is a Circle running back into it self, whose center is
every where, and circumference no where, that is to say, infinite: It is
an Orb that hath neither beginning nor ending: Or it is a Wheel,
_Volvitur & volvetur in omne volubilis evum._
A Wheel that turns, a Wheel that turned ever:
A Wheel that turns, and will leave turning never.
Eternity is like a year, continually wheeling about, which returns again
to the same point from whence it began, and still wheels about again. It
is an ever-running Fountain, whither the waters after many turnings flow
back again, that they may always flow. It is a bottomless pit, whose
revolutions are endless. It may be compared to a snake bowed back unto
it self orbicularly, holding its tail in its mouth; which in its end
doth again begin, and never ceaseth to begin. What is Eternity? It is a
duration always present; it is one perpetual day, which is not divided
into that which is past, and that which is to come: Or, it is an age of
ages, never expiring, and never changing: Or, more properly, it is a
beginning continuing, never ending, always beginning, in which the
blessed always begin a blessed life, in which the damned always die, and
after all death and strugling therewith, always begin again to die. As
Hell-torments are eternal, so will the conscience be perpetually
tormented with deep and horrid despair for the life past: Their worm
shall not die. The Poets of old alluded to this place notably, in that
Fiction or Fable of _Tytius_, whom _Virgil_ feigneth, that a flying
Vulture every day gnaws and tears his Liver, which is every night again
repaired and made up, that every day the Vulture may have more matter to
prey upon. What is this Vulture, but the worm I speak of? and what is
his Liver, but the conscience always gnawn and tormented? Not only this
(as he that preacht my Funeral-Sermon told me) but all the torments of
the damned shall never have end, because there can be no place for
satisfaction: For although these inexpressible torments shall continue
many millions of years; yet shall there not one hour, no, nor one minute
of respite be granted: Let us then be no longer forgetful of our selves,
and so degenerate into beasts, but seriously to consider our end, and
what shall come after. All men are in the way of Eternity, but I am now
almost at my journeys end: I sit on the Stairs of Eternity, expecting
when one small thrust shall plunge me into the bottomless pit, where one
hours punishment shall be more grievous (as _Thomas a Kempis_ saith)
then 100 years here in the bitterest of torments: There they are
tortured for infinite millions of ages, & are so far from finding an
end, as never to be able to hope for any end. The consideration of these
things brought me to that pass, as I was content to suffer any thing in
this life, so that I might not suffer in the life to come. Though a
King, I should willingly and patiently have endured what _Andronicus_
did, Emperour of the East; who (as History relates) being overcome and
taken prisoner by _Isaac Angelo_, had immediately two great chains of
iron put about his neck; and being laden with fetters, was brought
before _Isaac_, who delivered him over to the rage of the multitude, to
be abused at their pleasure. This rabble being incenst and stimulated on
by revenge, some buffeted him, some bastinado’d him, others pulled him
by the beard, twitching the hair from his head, dashing out his teeth,
dragging him in publick through the streets: the insolence of women was
such, as to fall upon him, leaving the marks of their nails in his
Imperial face. After all this, they cut off his right-hand: thus maimed
and bruised, he was thrown into the Dungeon of Thieves and Robbers,
without either attendance, or the least thing necessary to sustain life:
Some few days being past, they put out one of his eyes: thus mangled,
they put upon him an old rotten short coat, shav’d his head, set him
upon a scabbed Camel, with his face towards the Tail, put on his head a
crown of Garlick, made him hold in his hand the Camels Tail instead of a
Scepter, and so they carried him through the Market-place very
leisurely, with great pomp & triumph. Here did the most impudent crew,
and base among the people, like Tygers, after an inhumane manner fall
upon him, not considering in the least, that not three days before he
was no less then an Emperour, crowned with a royal Diadem, whose frowns
were inevitable death, was honoured, yea, adored of all men. Their rage
and madness fitted every one with instruments to execute their revenge:
Some struck him on the head with sticks, others filled his nostrils with
dirt, others squeezed spunges upon his face soaked in humane and
beastial excrements: some threw stones, others dirt at him. An impudent
woman as he past, came running out with scalding water in her hand, and
poured it on his head. All these indignities which they exercised upon
this poor Emperor, did not satisfie their insatiate revenge, but
bringing him to the Theatre, took him down from the Camel, and hung him
up by the heels: yet did he behave himself like a man, by bearing
patiently what was inflicted upon him, being never heard to cry out
against the cruelty of his fate. All that he was heard to say, was this,
which he often repeated, _Domine miserere, Domine miserere_. Thus
hanging up, one would have thought their malice should have ceased; but
they spared him not as long as he lived; for pulling his Coat from his
body, they tore him with their nails. One more cruel then the rest, ran
his Sword through his bowels as he was hanging: Two others, to try whose
Sword was sharpest, cut him and gasht him in several places; and so
ended his life miserably, but was not suffered to be buried. Oh, that my
condition were as _Andronicus_, to suffer all that man can lay upon me,
that I might not perish for ever! I should be content to be miserable
for so short a time, that I may not be miserable to all Eternity.
Questionless he could never have suffered such things so constantly and
couragiously, but that he had Eternity in his thoughts; and were our
minds imployed about the same subject, any adversity or affliction we
should more easily bear. From the time of my condemnation till Monday
morning I slept not, neither did I eat or drink: then did I hear my
passing-bell (having heard the day before my Funeral-Sermon) every
stroke methought carried my soul one degree higher, being confident I
had made my peace above. Whilst I was in the depth of Meditation, and my
soul breathing out this short ejaculation.
_Is there no hope now of Relief,
In this Extremity?
Mercy e’re now hath sav’d a Thief,
And may do as much for me._
Behold, a friend came to me (that never visited me during my
imprisonment) but now in the time of need brought me a Reprieve; when I
lookt thereon at first, I could not believe my own eyes; I thought I
dreamt, or that grief had so distracted me, as that I imagined things
that are not. My friend at length cleer’d up my doubts; but I shall tell
you this for a truth, I knew not whether I were best accept of this
self-preserving courtesie: For, methought I had so well settled my
eternal concerns, as that I had nothing else to do but die.
About a fortnight after, I was sent aboard, in order to my
transportation; my sentence of Death being converted into a seven years
banishment.