Aubrey is fixed by the date given in it (1671) to a period within two
or three years of the poet's death. During these latter years he was,
according to Wood, minister of the parish of Teddington, Middlesex. It
was there that Sir Orlando Bridgman's country residence was situated;
and it was doubtless owing to his lordship's influence that Traherne
was appointed minister. That he did hold that position seems to be
certain, though, curiously enough, his name does not appear in the list
of ministers of the parish which is given in Newcourt's "Repertorium
Ecclesiasticum." Perhaps this may be accounted for by the fact that
though Traherne was actually the working minister, the post was
nominally held by a clerical pluralist of the time. The succession of
curates as given by Newcourt during the period of Traherne's connection
with the parish is as follows: 1664,--Badcock; 1668, Car. Bryan; 1673,
Joh. Graves; 1677, Jacobus Elsby.
It was not until the year before his death that the first fruit of
Traherne's long and laborious studies was offered to the readers of
the time. His poems--or some of them, at least--were written early
in life, for he speaks of one of them as having been written "long
since"; but his "Roman Forgeries," "Christian Ethicks," and "Centuries
of Meditations" were almost certainly his latest productions. Without
undervaluing his two published works, it must be regretted that he did
not send to the press in preference to them his poems, which would
then have had the advantage of his own supervision, and would have
saved his name from the total obscurity in which it has now been sunk
for upwards of two centuries. But doubtless he did not anticipate so
untimely an end of his career, and may well have preferred to make his
first appearance in print as a serious student and thinker rather than
as a poet. I feel sure that he did not undervalue his poems (what poet
ever did?); but he must have believed that his prose writings were
better calculated to influence the world, as he desired to influence
it, than they were. His "Roman Forgeries" and "Christian Ethicks"
probably cost him far more labour and hard thought than his poems did;
and authors, it has been observed, usually value most highly the works
which have cost them the greatest pains.
It was in 1673 that "Roman Forgeries" was published. There never was
a period in the history of England when theological questions were
more hotly debated than during the second half of the seventeenth
century. Political and theological questions were then far more closely
connected than is now the case, so that a double degree or vehemence
was imparted to all the subjects of dispute which then divided the
nation. Hence it was that a continual flood of partisan books and
pamphlets issued from the press, to contemplate which nowadays is to be
filled with a melancholy sense of the energy and intellect which our
ancestors wasted in angry disputations and futile controversies.
That Traherne should have plunged into this whirlpool of controversy
is, I must needs think, matter for regret. His "Roman Forgeries" is,
it is true, a very able work; and as to its main contentions a very
convincing one to those who need no convincing, and possibly even to
the very few Catholics who could be induced to peruse it. But most of
the latter, it is probable, would brush the whole question aside, as
did the Catholic gentleman whom Traherne encountered at Oxford, merely
exclaiming "What does it matter?"
As to the object of the work, the passage which I have quoted from
it on p. xxxiv will give the reader a good idea of its scope and
purpose. It is, in fact, an indictment of the Roman Church as being
guilty of the most flagrant forgeries of documents and falsifications
of historical facts for the purpose of supporting its spiritual and
temporal pretensions. To those who are able to take any interest in
its subject the book is by no means a dull one. Traherne, indeed, felt
such a lively concern in his theme that he has succeeded in infusing
much of his own animation into his pages. He deals his blows at his
adversaries with such hearty good will, and has so much confidence in
the justice of his cause, that the reader can hardly fail to sympathise
with so earnest a combatant. Yet, as I have said, one can hardly help
regretting that the book should have been written, for, well as it is
done, it might have been done equally well by a writer of far inferior
gifts, while it is impossible not to feel that Traherne was wasting his
genius in its composition.[B]
Within twelve months after the publication of "Roman Forgeries" its
author was dead. But he had, during the few months of life still
left to him, finished another long and elaborate work. This was his
"Christian Ethicks," a work of much more value and interest than his
first book, though it seems to have fallen still-born from the press,
and to have remained neglected and unknown ever since.
The satisfaction of seeing his second work in print was denied to its
author. He had sent it to the press, but was dead before the printing
of it was commenced. Sir Orlando died on June 25, 1674, and was
interred in the church at Teddington, where a monument was erected to
him. Three months afterwards Traherne died in his patron's house, and
was also buried in the church at Teddington under the reading-desk. Of
the exact date of his decease we are ignorant, but he was buried on
October 10, 1674.
About a fortnight before his death, Traherne sent for his friend, John
Berdo, and his sister-in-law, Susan Traherne, and in their presence
made his Will--a nuncupative one. This Will, which I have to thank my
friend, Gordon Goodwin, for communicating to me, was registered in
the Prerogative Court of Canterbury. It is a curious and interesting
document, and I have therefore printed it in full in the Appendix to
the present volume. From its terms, it is very evident that Traherne
had accumulated no wealth, and that he died possessed of little indeed
beyond his books and other personal effects.
At the time of his death Traherne was probably not more than
thirty-eight years of age, but certainly under forty. He was thus in
the very prime of life, and his intellect was in its fullest vigour.
Had he lived he would surely have produced a succession of works which
would have sensibly enriched our literature, for his industry was not
less remarkable than his ability and his learning. As it was, his
career must have seemed to those who were capable of appreciating his
fine qualities a failure, for his books brought him little reputation;
and beyond the mention of him in the _Athenæ Oxonienses_, his name
quickly sank into entire oblivion, so to remain for upwards of two
centuries. A strange fate! the strangest, perhaps, that ever befell
an author of such fine genius. During all this period his manuscripts
were lying unknown and neglected, and exposed to all the accidents of
time and chance. Yet not altogether so, for it seems that those into
whose hands his papers fell had at least a dim perception of their
value. Twenty-five years after his death a little book stole into the
world the title of which was as follows: "A Serious and Patheticall
Contemplation of the Mercies of God, in several most Devout and Sublime
Thanksgivings for the same. Published by the Reverend Doctor Hickes
at the request of a friend of the Authors." It was the fortunate
issue of this work of Traherne's that, after the lapse of upwards of
two centuries, was to be the means of identifying him as the author
of the poems contained in the present volume, which else might now
be masquerading as those of Henry Vaughan. But for this we have not
altogether to thank the friend of Traherne's who brought about the
issue of the "Serious and Patheticall Contemplation." He certainly
laid us under considerable obligations to him when he procured its
publication; but his curious idea that it was not to the purpose to
tell us the author's name might have caused it to remain for ever
unknown but for one clue that he gave us, which ultimately led to its
discovery.
The "Serious and Patheticall Contemplation" opens with a letter from
the Rev. George Hickes (then a well-known writer on theological
subjects), in which he says that the work was recommended to him
for publication by "a devout person who was a great Judge of Books
of Devotion, having given the world one already which had been well
received in three impressions." He intended, he says, to have written
a Preface to the book himself, but had received from a friend of the
deceased author an account of him, which rendered it unnecessary for
him "who can only tell how greatly the author of them wrote, but knew
not how greatly he lived" to fulfil his intention. Dr. Hickes's Letter
is followed by an Address "To the Reader," written by Traherne's
friend. As this contains the best and most valuable account of our
author which has descended to us, I need make no apology for quoting it
in full:
Tho' the unhappy decay of true Piety and the Immoralities of the Age
we live in may be a discouragement to the multiplying such Books
as this, yet on the other hand this degeneracy of Manners, and too
evident contempt of Religion makes it (it may be) the more necessary
to endeavour to retrieve the Spirit of Devotion and the sacred
Fires of Primitive Christianity. And since 'tis hop'd this ensuing
Treatise may somewhat conduce to these noble Ends: It is thought
to be no unprofitable undertaking to commit it to the Press, it
being part of the Remains of a very devout Christian, who is long
since removed to the Regions of Beatified Spirits, to sing those
Praises and Hallelujahs, in which he was very vigourously employ'd
whilst he dwelt amongst us: and since somewhat of _Preface_ is
become, as it were, a necessary part of every book, instead of any
particular _Dedication_ (which is commonly over-stuft with Flattery
and Complements) I will only give thee some Account of the Author.
To tell thee who he was, is, I think, to no purpose: And therefore I
will only tell thee what he was, for that may possibly recommend the
following Thanksgivings and Meditations to thy use. He was a Divine
of the Church of England, of a very comprehensive Soul and very
acute Parts, so fully bent upon that Honourable Function in which
he was engaged; and so wonderfully transported with the Love of
God to Mankind, with the excellency of those Divine Laws which are
prescribed to us, and with those inexpressible Felicities to which
we are entitled by being created in, and redeemed to the Divine
Image that he dwelt continually amongst these thoughts with great
delight and satisfaction, spending most of his time when at home
in digesting his notions of these things into writing, and was so
full of them when abroad that those who would converse with him were
forced to endure some discourse upon these subjects, whether they
had any sense of Religion or not. And therefore to such he might be
sometimes thought troublesome, but his company was very acceptable
to all such as had any inclination to Vertue and Religion. And tho'
he had the misfortune to come abroad into the world in the late
disordered Times, when the Foundations were cast down, and this
excellent Church laid in the dust, and dissolved into Confusion
and Enthusiasme; yet his Soul was of a more refin'd alloy, and his
Judgment in discerning of things more solid and considerate than to
be infected with that Leaven, and therefore became much in love with
the beautiful order and Primitive Devotions of this our excellent
Church. Insomuch that I believe he never failed any one day either
publickly or in his private Closet to make use of her publick
Offices, as one part of his devotion, unless some very unavoidable
business interrupted him. He was a man of a cheerful and sprightly
Temper, free from anything of the sourness or formality by which
some great pretenders to Piety rather disparage and misrepresent
true Religion than recommend it; and therefore was very affable and
pleasant in his conversation, ready to do all good offices to his
Friends, and Charitable to the Poor almost beyond his ability. But
being removed out of the Country to the service of the late Lord
Keeper Bridgman as his Chaplain, he died young and got early to
those blissful Mansions to which he at all times aspir'd.
This eulogy of Traherne, it will be observed, was written twenty-five
years after his death, when the writer could have had no possible
motive to pen it, beyond a desire to do justice to the memory of his
friend. It is a most attractive picture; but not, I am convinced, one
in which truth was sacrificed to flattery. It is exactly what might
have been inferred from the poems and "Centuries of Meditations"; but
since it does not always happen that an author's personality tallies
with that which might be deduced from his writings, it is fortunate
that the impression derived from Traherne's works is thus confirmed by
independent evidence. The poet was, it is plain, one of those rare and
enviable individuals in whom no jarring element is present, who come
into the world as into their rightful inheritance, and whose whole life
is a song of thankfulness for the happiness which they enjoy in it. His
was indeed
A happy soul that all the way
To Heaven hath a summer's day,
and though we, who are not so constituted, and who may question whether
in a world, which to us seems to give at least as much reason for
lamenting as for rejoicing, any man has a right to be so happy as
Traherne was, the feeling is perhaps only an outcome of that envy which
those who are tortured with a thousand doubts and misgivings must needs
entertain for those who enjoy an existence of entire serenity.
It is fortunate that Traherne's friend, though he did not mention his
name, yet gave us a clue to him by mentioning that he was private
chaplain to Lord Keeper Bridgman. Without this clue we should probably
have had to remain in ignorance of his authorship of the poems
contained in this volume: for though there was (as will be seen later
on) another clue, it was hidden away so deeply that it is unlikely it
would ever have been discovered. Why Traherne's friend should have
thought that it was not to the purpose to tell us who he was, and yet
gave us such a means of discovering him, is rather a puzzle; but we
have reason to be ever grateful to him for what he has told us, while
regretting that he has told us no more.
I must now give some account of Traherne's "Christian Ethicks." It
is so rare a book that I have only just obtained a copy of it, after
searching for it for nearly two years. Few books surely have had so
unfortunate a fate. If there is a better book of its kind in the
English language I have not been so fortunate as to meet with it. It
is a work full of eloquence, persuasiveness, sagacity, and piety.
While the author's concern, as might be expected, is chiefly with the
spiritual life, he is by no means destitute of worldly wisdom, and he
often exhibits a shrewdness and knowledge of human nature which would
scarcely be expected from him. Open the book anywhere you please you
can hardly fail to discover a fine thought finely expressed. How then
shall we account for the fact that the work has remained in total
obscurity from the time of its first publication to the present day?
The fact that the author died before its appearance, and it was thus
thrown into the world without a parent or friend to foster it, was
no doubt in some degree accountable for its ill-fortune. It is true
that the author makes no appeal to the uninstructed or the fanatical,
and keeps throughout the work upon a higher level of thought than
the generality of readers can ascend to. He is somewhat too fond of
debating abstruse points of metaphysics, and of dwelling upon the
subtleties of theological speculation. Yet there is in the book enough,
one would think, of homely wisdom, and even of wit, to have secured it
a warm welcome from all those to whom it appealed.
I think the reader--since he is not likely to obtain a copy of
"Christian Ethicks," however much he may desire it--will be glad to
see a few extracts from it. And first I will quote a passage from
the chapter "Of Magnanimity." I do this because of its personal
interest--for Traherne, in painting the character of a magnanimous man,
was, whether consciously or unconsciously, drawing his own portrait.
Flattering as the picture may seem, I do not doubt in the least that it
is a true one.
Magnanimity and contentment are very near allied; like brothers
and sisters they spring from the same parents, but are of several
features. Fortitude and Patience are kindred to this incomparable
virtue. Moralists distinguish Magnanimity and Modesty, by making the
one the desire of greater, the other of less and inferior, honours.
But in my apprehension there is more in Magnanimity. It includes
all that belongs to a Great Soul: a high and mighty courage, an
invincible Patience, an immoveable Grandeur which is above the reach
of injuries, a contempt of all little and feeble enjoyments, and
a certain kind of majesty that is conversant with great things;
a high and lofty frame of spirit, allied with the sweetness of
Courtesy and Respect; a deep and stable resolution founded on
humility without any baseness; an infinite hope and a vast desire;
a Divine, profound, uncontrollable sense of one's own capacity; a
generous confidence, and a great inclination to heroical deeds; all
these conspire to complete it, with a severe and mighty expectation
of Bliss incomprehensible. It soars up to Heaven, and looks down
upon all dominion of fortune with pity and disdain. Its aims and
designs are transcendent to all concerns of this little world.
Its objects and its ends are worthy of a soul that is like God in
Nature; and nothing less than the Kingdom of God, his Life and
Image; nothing beneath the friendship and communion with Him can be
its satisfaction. The terrors, allurements, and censures of men are
the dust of its feet: their avarice and ambition are but feebleness
before it. Their riches and contentions, and interests and honours,
but insignificant and empty trifles. All the world is but a little
bubble; Infinity and Eternity the only great and sovereign things
wherewith it converseth. A Magnanimous Soul is always awake. The
whole globe of the earth is but a nutshell in comparison of its
enjoyments. The sun is its lamp, the sea its fishpond, the stars
its jewels, men, angels, its attendants, and God alone its sovereign
delight and supreme complacency. The earth is its garden, all
palaces its summer houses, cities are its cottages, empires its more
spacious Courts, all ages and kingdoms its demeans, monarchs its
ministers and public agents, the whole Catholick Church its family,
the Eternal Son of God its pattern and example. Nothing is great if
compared to a Magnanimous Soul but the sovereign Lord of all Worlds.
* * * * *
If you would have the character of a Magnanimous Soul, he is the son
of Eternal Power, and the friend of Infinite Goodness, a Temple of
Divine and Heavenly Wisdom, that is not imposed upon by the foul and
ragged disguises of Nature, but acquainted with her great capacities
and principles, more than commonly sensible of her interests, and
depths, and desires. He is one that has gone in unto Felicity,
and enjoyed her beauties, and comes out again her perfect Lover
and Champion: a man whose inward stature is miraculous; and his
complexion so divine that he is king of as many kingdoms as he will
look on: one that scorns the smutty way of enjoying things like a
slave, because he delights in the celestial way, and the Image of
God. He knows that all the world lies in wickedness; and admires not
at all that things palpable and near and natural, are unseen, though
most powerful and glorious, because men are blind and stupid. He
pities poor vicious kings that are oppressed with heavy crowns of
vanity and gold, and admires how they can content themselves with
such narrow territories: yet delights in their regiment of the
world, and pays them the honour that is due unto them. The glorious
exaltation of good kings he more abundantly extols, because so
many thousand Magnanimous Creatures are committed to their trust,
and they that govern them understand their value. But he sees
well enough that the king's glory and true repose consists in the
Catholick and Eternal kingdom. As for himself he _is come unto Mount
Sion, and to the City of the Living God, the Heavenly Jerusalem, and
to an innumerable company of Angels, to the General Assembly and
Church of the Firstborn, which are written in Heaven, and to God
the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and
to Jesus the Mediator of the New Covenant_: and therefore receiving
a Kingdom which cannot be moved, he desires to serve God acceptably
with reverence and godly fear: and the truth is we can fear nothing
else, for God alone is a consuming fire.
The above passage is a fairly representative one. If the reader is
pleased with it, he would be equally pleased with the whole work; if he
sees nothing to admire in it, he may conclude that "Christian Ethicks"
is not a book which has any message in it for him.
The following extract is taken from the chapter "Of Charity to our
Neighbours":
That which yet further commendeth this virtue of love unto us
is that it is the only soul of all pleasure and felicity in all
estates. It is like the light of the sun, in all the kingdoms and
houses and eyes and ages, in Heaven, in earth, in the sea, in shops
and temples, in schools and markets, in labours and recreations,
in theatres and fable. It is _the great demon of the world_, and
the sole cause of all operations. It is evidently impossible for
any fancy, or play, or romance, or fable to be composed well and
made delightful without a mixture of Love in the composure. In
all theatres and feasts and weddings and triumphs and coronations
Love is the Soul and Perfection of all. In all persons, in all
occupations, in all diversions, in all labours, in all virtues, in
all vices, in all occasions, in all families, in all cities and
empires, in all our devotions and religious actions, Love is all in
all. All the sweetness of society is seated in Love, the life of
music and dancing is Love; the happiness of houses, the enjoyment
of friends, the amity of relations, the providence of kings, the
allegiance of subjects, the glory of empires, the security, peace,
and welfare of the world is seated in Love. Without Love all is
discord and confusion. All blessings come upon us by Love, and by
Love alone all delights and blessings are enjoyed. All happiness
is established by Love, and by Love alone is Glory attained. God
knoweth that Love uniteth Souls, maketh men of one heart in a house,
fills them with liberality and kindness to each other, makes them
delightful in presence, faithful in absence, tender of the honour
and welfare of the beloved, apt to obey, ready to please, constant
in trials, patient in sufferings, courageous in assaults, prudent
in difficulties, victorious and triumphant. All that I shall need
to observe further is that it _completed the Joys of Heaven_. Well,
therefore, may wisdom desire Love, well may the Goodness of God
delight in Love. It is the sum and glory of his Eternal Kingdom.
The following spirited, vigorous, and eloquent passage is from the
chapter "Of Courage":
What a glorious and incomparable virtue this is appeareth from the
baseness and ineptitude of its contrary. A coward and an honest man
can never be the same; a coward and a constant lover can never be
the same; cowardice and wisdom are as incompatible for ever as Love
and Wisdom were thought to be of old. A coward is always despicable
and wretched, because he dares not expose himself to any hazards,
nor adventure upon any great attempt for fear of some little pain
and damage that is between him and an excellent achievement. He is
baffled from the acquisition of the most great and beautiful things,
and nonplust with every impediment. He is conquered before he begins
to fight. The very sight of danger makes him a slave. He is undone
when he sees his enemy afar off, and wounded before the point of his
sword can touch his shadow. He is all ways a terror and burden to
himself, a dangerous knave, and a useless creature.