The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 3

Visit to download the full and correct content document:

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-3/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 1

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-1/

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 10

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-
volume-10/

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 8

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-8/

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 5

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-5/
The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 7

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-7/

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 2

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-2/

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 6

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-6/

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 4

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-4/

The Sermons of John Donne: Volume 9

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sermons-of-john-donne-volume-9/
 Volume III.
The Sermons of John Donne
 J O H N EGERTON, FIRST E A R L OF BRIDGEWATER
From the portrait at Mertoun, Roxburghshire, in the
possession of the Earl of Ellesmere.
 THE

SERMONS
OF

JOHN DONNE
Edited\
with Introductions
and Critical Apparatus, by
GEORGE R. POTTER
and
EVELYN M. SIMPSON

In Ten Volumes

i n .

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRHSS

BHRKI:I.I:Y, LOS A N G L L L S , LONDON

 U N I V F R S I T Y Ol- C A L I F O R N I A PRF.SS
B F R K E L H Y A N D LOS ANGHI.HS, CALIFORNIA

U N I V F R S I T Y Ol- C A L I F O R N I A PRF.SS, LTD.

LONDON, F.NGLAND

Copyright. 1957, by
T H F RF.GFNTS Ol' T H F UNIVFRSITY OF CALIFORNIA
RFISSUFD 19S4
L I B R A R Y OK C O N G R F S S C A T A I . O G C A R D N U M B F R : 53-7179
ISBN: 0-520-05255-2
D H S I G N F D BY W A R D RITCHIF
M A N L T A C T U R F D IN T H F U N I T F D STATINS O F AMFRICA
 Table of Contents

Volume III
PAGE

INTRODUCTION I

T H E SERMONS:

Sermon No. i : Preached at Whitehall, April 2, 1620, on Eccle-

siastes 5.13 and 14 (No. 10 in XXVI Sermons) 47

Sermon No. 2: Preached at Whitehall, April 30,1620, on Psalms

144.15 (No. 74 in LXXX Sermons) 73

Sermon No. 3: Preached at Lincoln's Inn [ ? Easter Term, 1620],

on Job 19.26 (No. 14 in Fifty Sermons) 91

Sermon No. 4: Preached at Lincoln's Inn [ ? Easter Term, 1620],

on I Corinthians 15.50 (No. 15 in Fifty Sermons) 114

Sermon No. 5: Preached at Lincoln's Inn upon Trinity Sunday,

1620, on Genesis 18.25 (No. 42 in LXXX Sermons) 134

Sermon No. 6: Preached at Lincoln's Inn [? late November,

1620], on Matthew 18.7 (No. 17 in Fifty Sermons) 156

Sermon No. 7: Preached at Lincoln's Inn [? late November,

1620]. The Second Sermon on Matthew 18.7 (No. 18 in Fifty
Sermons) 171

Sermon No. 8: Preached to the Countess of Bedford, then at

Harrington House, January 7, 1620/21, on Job 13.15 (No. 30
in Fifty Sermons) 187

Sermon No. 9: Preached before the King at Whitehall, February

16,1620/21, on Z Timothy 3.16 (No. 4 in XXVI Sermons) 206

Sermon No. 10: Preached at Whitehall, April 8, 1621, on Prov-

erbs 25.16 (No. 70 in LXXX Sermons) 225
vi Contents
PAGE

Sermon No. n : Preached at the marriage of Mistress Margaret

Washington, May 30, 1621, on Hosea 2.19 (No. 3 in Fifty
Sermons) 241
Sermon No. 12: Preached at Lincoln's Inn [? Trinity Term,
1621], on II Corinthians 1.3 (No. 38 in LXXX Sermons) 256
Sermon No. 13: Preached at Lincoln's Inn [ ? Trinity Term,
1621 ], on I Peter 1.17 (No. 39 in LXXX Sermons) 274

Sermon No. 14: Preached at Lincoln's Inn [? Trinity Term,

1621], on I Corinthians 16.22 (No. 40 in LXXX Sermons) 292

Sermon No. 15 : Preached at Lincoln's Inn [ ? Trinity Term,

1621], on Psalms 2.12 (No. 41 in LXXX Sermons) 313

Sermon No. 16: Preached at Lincoln's Inn, on Colossians 1.24

(No. 16 in Fifty Sermons) 332
Sermon No. 17: Preached at St. Paul's on Christmas Day, 1621,
on John 1.8 (No. 36 in Fifty Sermons) 348

Sermon No. 18: Preached on Candlemas Day [February 2,

? 1621/2], on Romans 12.20 (No. 10 in LXXX Sermons) 376

T E X T U A L N O T E S TO THE SERMONS 391

 List of Illustrations
Volume III
PAGE

John Egerton, first Earl of Bridgewater Frontispiece

Lucy, Countess of Bedford 16

vii
 Prefatory Note
BEFORE his untimely death George Potter had done a considerable
amount of work on the text of this volume, but he left no material for
the Introduction. I have supplied this, and have collected and revised
the textual notes. I wish to express my gratitude to the friends who
have helped me, and in particular to Mrs. Mary Holtby and Miss
Elizabeth Wade White. Miss Helen Gardner, Reader in English
Literature in the University of Oxford, has given me valuable advice
on some special points. My thanks are due to His Grace the Duke of
Bedford for permission to reproduce the portrait at Woburn Abbey
of Donne's patroness, Lucy, Countess of Bedford, before whom one of
the sermons in this volume was preached; and to the Delegates of the
Clarendon Press for kindly allowing us to make use of their photo-
graph of this portrait, which appeared in Volume VIII of The Wor\s
of Ben Jonson, edited by C. H. Hereford and Percy and Evelyn
Simpson. I am also much indebted to the Right Honorable the Earl
of Ellesmere for his kindness in allowing me to reproduce the
fine portrait at Mertoun, St. Boswells, of his ancestor the first Earl of
Bridgewater.
E. M . S.

IX
 Introduction
THIS volume continues the series of sermons preached by Donne at
Lincoln's Inn and Whitehall, and at the close of it we reach his
appointment to the Deanery of St. Paul's Cathedral, and his subse-
quent relinquishment of his office as Reader in Divinity at Lincoln's
Inn. It covers the period from the beginning of April, 1620, to the
middle of February, 1621/2.
In the first eight sermons we see Donne in a mood of frustration
and perplexity. This is particularly strong in Sermons 1, 6, 7, and 8,
where he repeats the cry of the Preacher in Ecclesiastes, "Vanity of
vanities, all is vanity," and later echoes Christ's warning, "Woe unto
the world because of offences." In the latter part of the volume his
mood gradually changes. His melancholy disappears, and in a number
of fine sermons1 he concentrates his thoughts on God made manifest
in Christ, the Light of the World. Such an alternation of mood is
frequent in Donne's experience, but it is not readily perceived in the
sermons until these have been arranged in the order in which they
were delivered, since the arrangement of the Folios is planned accord-
ing to the ecclesiastical seasons or according to the place at which the
sermons were preached.
There is, of course, no contradiction between the first and second
parts of the volume. All the sermons are soundly based on the
Christian Faith, but there is a difference of mood and emphasis. In
the first part Donne shows us that he is acutely aware of the human
predicament, and that he is himself involved in it. Something of this
may be due to personal disappointment or to a spell of poor health,
but in Sermons 6, 7, and 8 Donne shows himself troubled by the
political situation in Europe and the disasters which overcame the
Elector's cause. His continental travels in Doncaster's embassy in 1619
had brought him into close touch with the Elector and his wife, the
Princess Elizabeth. He must have seen for himself how great were the
"The latter part of the volume is not uniformly fine. Sermon 10 is
elaborate but not very interesting, and Sermon 18 is short and disappoint-
ing, inferior in quality to several of the sermons in the earlier part.

I
2 Introduction
dangers which threatened the Protestant cause in Europe, and must
have realized that the impending war would bring disaster to millions
of Catholics and Protestants alike. King James had hoped that the
embassy would help to keep the peace, but his effort had failed, and
the miseries of the Thirty Years' War began.
Sermon i was preached at Whitehall on April 2, 1620. It begins
with a theme to which we have already alluded—the vanity of
vanities, the vexation and weariness, the sense of frustration in
worldly things. Donne admits the greatness of the universe: "all the
world together, hath amazing greatness, and an amazing glory in it,
for the order and harmony, and continuance of it"—but yet the world
is not eternal, it will pass away. "Therefore Solomon shakes the world
in peeces, he dissects it, and cuts it up before thee, that so thou mayest
the better see, how poor a thing, that particular is, whatsoever it be,
that thou sets thy love upon in this world. H e threads a string of the
best stones, of the best Jewels in this world, knowledge in the first
Chapter, delicacies in the second, long life in the third, Ambition,
Riches, Fame, strength in the rest, and then he shows you an Ice, a
flaw, a cloud in all these stones, he layes this infamy upon them all,
vanity, and vexation of spirit."*
The main body of the sermon is concerned with the danger of
riches to the soul. "Some sins we have done, because we are rich; but
many more because we would be rich; And this is a spiritual harm,
the riches do their owners Summe up the diseases that voluptuous-
ness by the ministery of riches imprints in the body; the battery that
malice, by the provocation of riches, layes to the fortune; the sins that
confidence in our riches, heaps upon our souls; and we shall see, that
though riches be reserved to their owners, yet it is to their harm." 3
The sermon is not, however, an indiscriminate attack on wealth of
all kinds. Donne distinguishes between money acquired by trade
which enriches the community, and money acquired by usury: "And
this good use is not, when thou makest good use of thy Money, but
when the Common-wealth, where God hath given thee thy station,
makes use of it: The Common-wealth must suck upon it by trade, not
it upon the Common-wealth, by usury. Nurses that give suck to
' P. 48.
8
P- 54-55-
 Introduction 3
children, maintain themselves by it too; but both must be done; thou
must be enriched so, by thy money, as that the state be not im-
poverished.'"
The close of the sermon is sombre. Donne describes the death of the
wicked rich man: "The substance of the ungodly shall be dryed up like
a river; and they shall make a sound like a thunder, in rain. It shall
perish, and it shall be in Parabolam, it shall be the wonder, and the
discourse of the time he shall hear, or he shall whisper to himself
that voice: O fool, This night they will fetch away thy soul; he must
go under the imputation of a fool, where the wisdome of this genera-
tion, (which was all the wisdome he had) will do him no good; he
must go like a fool. His soul must be fetch'd away; he hath not his In
manus tuas, his willing surrender of his Soul ready; It must be fetch'd
in the night of ignorance, when he knows not his own spiritual state;
It must be fetch'd in the night of darkness, in the night of solitude, no
sence of the assistance of the communion of Saints in the Triumphant,
nor in the Militant Church; in the night of disconsolatenes, no com-
fort in that seal, Absolution,... and it must be fetch'd this night, the
night is already upon him, before he thought of it."8
We have printed this sermon as one, though the reader will see that
on p. 60 there is a heading "The Second Sermon Preached at White-
Hall upon Ecclesiastes 5.12, & 13." Our reasons for so doing will be
found at the beginning of the Textual Notes for this volume.
The next sermon (No. 2) was preached at Whitehall four weeks
later. Donne gave his hearers a discourse which was evidently more to
their taste than the sombre attack on riches which had preceded it. It
has been preserved in four manuscripts ( D , L, M, P) as well as in
the Folio of 1640, which appears to give us a slightly revised form of
the manuscript text.8 In this sermon Donne considered the national
blessings for which the psalmist prayed, and transferred the applica-
tion from Israel to his own nation. The blessings mentioned in the
psalm were first of a temporal kind—victory, plenty, and health—
and secondly spiritual, allegiance to the true God. Donne spent an
' P . 65.
0
Pp. 70-71.
' See the textual notes on lines 137, 222 of this sermon, and also Vol. I,
pp. 69-70, n. 44.
4 Introduction
unnecessary amount of time in considering the comments of those
Fathers who debated whether temporal blessings would be considered
blessings at all, but he finally decided that peace, plenty, and health
were seals and testimonies of God's blessing. He converted the
psalmist's prayer for victory into a eulogy of peace, and made an
adroit compliment to King James in "an acknowledgement of blessed-
nesse, that we are borne in a Christian Church, in a Reformed
Church, in a Monarchy, in a Monarchy composed of Monarchies, and
in the time of such a Monarch, as is a Peace-maker, and a peace-
preserver both at home and abroad;.. ."7
"For the first temporall blessing of peace, we may consider the love-
linesse, the amiablenesse of that, if we looke upon the horror and
gastlinesse of warre: either in Effigie, in that picture of warre, which
is drawn in every leafe of our own Chronicles, in the blood of so many
Princes, and noble families, or if we looke upon warre it selfe, at that
distance where it cannot hurt us, as God had formerly kindled it
amongst our neighbours, and as he hath transferred it now to remoter
Nations, whilest we enjoy yet a Goshen in the midst of all those
Egypts."8
In speaking of the blessing of plenty, Donne makes the same lament
that was made by Ben Jonson, that so many families had left the land
for the City, or rather, "have brought their lands into the City, they
have brought all their Evidences into Scriveners shops, and changed
all their renewing of leases every seaven yeares, into renewing of
bonds every six moneths."" On the subject of health Donne has some
heartfelt words to say. "What is all the peace of the world to me, if I
have the rebellions and earth-quakes of shaking and burning Feavers
in my body ? What is all the plenty of the world to me, if I have a
languishing consumption in my blood, and in my marrow ? . . . All
temporall blessings are insipid and tastlesse, without health."10
The nation is not truly blessed, unless these blessings are lasting,
for the people of the text are a living organism renewed from one
generation to another. "Nay, the people are not blessed, if these bless-
ings be not permanent; for, it is not onely they that are alive now,
that are the people; but the people is the succession." And the term
7 P. 80.
' P . 81.
* P. 82.
"Pp. 82-83.
 Introduction 5
people includes the King as well as his subjects; the King must join
his subjects in blessing God, and the people must see that the King
partakes in the blessings given by God. u
Finally Donne comes to the spiritual blessing of the text—"Blessed
are the people whose God is the Lord." "In which, first wee must
propose a God, that there is one, and then appropriate this God to
our selves, that he be our God, and lastly, be sure that we have the
right God, that our God be the Lord.'"3 Donne points out that there
are many professing Christians who are practically atheists. "He that
enterprises any thing, seeks any thing, possesses any thing without
recourse to God, without acknowledging God in that action, he is, for
that particular, an Atheist, he is without God in that; and if hee doe
so in most of his actions, he is for the most part an Atheist. If he be an
Atheist every where, but in his Catechisme, if onely then he confesse
a God when hee is asked, Doest thou beleeve that there is a God, and
never confesse him, never consider him in his actions, it shall do him
no good, to say at the last day, that he was no speculative Atheist, he
never thought in his heart, that there was no God, if hee lived a
practique Atheist, proceeded in all his actions without any considera-
tion of him."13 But to those who recognize God not only in their
words, but in their actions, and who accustom themselves to a per-
petual sense of the presence of God, He manifests Himself as their
God, and each one can speak of Him as Deus meus and Deus noster,
my God and our God. "It is a wise and a provident part, to ask more
of him, whose store is inexhaustible; So if I feele God, as hee is Deus
meus, as his Spirit works in me, and thankfully acknowledge that,
Non sum ingratus; But if I derive this Pipe from the Cistern, this
Deus meus, from Deus noster, my knowledge and sense of God, from
that knowledge which is communicated by his Church, in the preach-
ing of his Word, in the administration of his Sacraments, in those
other meanes which he hath instituted in his Church, for the assist-
ance and reparation of my soule that way, Non ero vacuus, I shall
have a fuller satisfaction, a more abundant refection then if I rely
upon my private inspirations: for there he is Deus noster
U
P . 84.
" P . 86.
u
Pp. 86-87.
" P. 88.
6 Introduction
T h e two sermons which we have placed as Nos. 3 and 4 were
preached at Lincoln's Inn, probably in the Easter Term, which this
year must have begun rather late, for Easter Day itself, which was
always in the vacation, was celebrated on April 16. These two ser-
mons are placed in Fifty Sermons immediately after the sermons on
John 5.22 and 8.15, which we printed as Sermons 15 and 16 of Volume
II of our edition. There Donne took two texts which appeared to
contradict each other, and showed that there was no real discrepancy
when the true sense of both was understood. H e remarked that he
thought it "a usefull and acceptable l a b o u r , . . . to employ for a time
those Evening exercises to reconcile some such places of Scripture, as
may at first sight seem to differ from one another." 15 Careful examina-
tion of the present sermons shows that these two must belong to the
same course, for they are similarly complementary to each other." In
Sermon 3 Donne took as his text the words of Job 19.26: " A n d though,
after my skin, worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see
God," while the text of Sermon 4 was, " N o w this I say, brethren, that
flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God." A t the close of
this latter sermon Donne remarks:

Adde we but this, by way of recollecting this which hath been said now,
upon these words, and that which hath been formerly said upon those
words of Job, which may seem to differ from these, (In my flesh I shall
see God) Omne verum omni vero consentiens, whatsoever is true in it
selfe agrees with every other truth. Because that which lob says, and that
which Saint Paul says, agree with the truth, they agree with one another.
For, as Saint Paul says, Non omnis caro eadem caw, there is one flesh of
man, another of beasts, so there is one flesh of fob, another of Saint Paul;
And Jobs flesh can see God, and Pauls cannot; because the flesh that fob
speakes of hath overcome the destruction of skin and body by wormes in
the grave, and so is mellowed and prepared for the sight of God in heaven;
And Pauls flesh is overcome by the w o r l d . . . . Jobs argument is but this,
some flesh shall see God, (Mortified men here, Glorified men there shall)
Pauls argument is this, All flesh shall not see God, (Carnall men here,
Impenitent men there, shall not.)"
15
Vol. II, p. 325.
16
In Vol. II, Introduction, p. 41, we unwisely stated, "If he [Donne]
did actually go on to preach such a series, the other sermons in it are lost
to us." We had read these present sermons, but had not then realized the
full implications of the evidence given below.
" Pp- 132-133-
 Introduction 7
It is therefore a fair conclusion that these two sermons were
preached not many weeks later than the two earlier ones, which we
know to have been preached one in the morning and one in the eve-
ning of January 30, 1619/20. Since these present sermons deal with
death and resurrection, the season of Easter is the most likely period
for them, though we do not exclude the possibility that they may
have been preached during Lent.18
Sermon 3 shows Donne's obsession with the physical aspects of
death—the disintegration, the corruption, the skeleton, the worms.
W e are familiar with these in his poems, but here in prose they are
more distasteful. From the contemplation of these horrors Donne
passes on to the lessons of resurrection which can be learnt from
Nature.
And yet as Solomon sends us to creatures, and to creatures of a low rank
and station, to Ants and Spiders, for instruction, so Saint Gregory sends us
to creatures, to learne the Resurrection That glorious creature, that
first creature, the light, dyes every day, and every day hath a resurrec-
tion . . . ; from the Cedar of Libanus, to the Hyssop upon the wall, every
leafe dyes every yeare, and every yeare hath a Resurrection Doe all
kindes of earth regenerate, and shall onely the Churchyard degenerate?
Is there a yearely Resurrection of every other thing, and never of men? . . .
All other things are preserved, and continued by d y i n g ; . . . And canst
thou, O man, suspect of thy selfe, that the end of thy dying is an end of
thee? Fall as low as thou canst, corrupt and putrefie as desperately as thou
canst,... thinke thy selfe nothing;... even that nothing is as much in his
power, as the world which he made of nothing; And, as he called thee
when thou wast not, as if thou hadst been, so will he call thee againe,
when thou art ignorant of that being which thou hast in the grave, and
give thee againe thy former, and glorifie it with a better being.18

This, however, is only an analogy, not an argument, and Donne

turns to Scripture for stronger proof. Even the Old Testament bears
witness to "a generall, though not an explicite knowledge of the
resurrection." Christ referred the Sadducees to the words of God to
Moses, / am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of
18
We have here followed our usual practice of assigning to the later
rather than the earlier probable date those sermons for the date of which
we have only conjectural evidence. We know from Donne's own state-
ment (Vol. II, p. 325) that his courses of sermons did not necessarily end
with the term, but might be extended over a longer period.
18
Pp. 97-98.
8 Introduction
Jacob. And Donne takes his stand with the majority of expositors of
his day in interpreting the words of Job, in the text which he had
chosen, as a reference to the resurrection. He interrupts his sermon,
however, with an interesting aside, to arrest his hearers' attention:

I am not all here, I am here now preaching upon this text, and I am at
home in my Library considering whether S. Gregory, or S. Hierome, have
said best of this text, before. I am here speaking to you, and yet I consider
by the way, in the same instant, what it is likely you will say to one an-
other, when I have done. You are not all here neither; you are here now,
hearing me, and yet you are thinking that you have heard a better Sermon
somewhere else, of this text before; you are here, and yet you think you
could have heard some other doctrine of down-right Predestination, and
Reprobation roundly delivered somewhere else with more edification to
you; you are here, and you remember your selves that now yee think of it,
this had been the fittest time, now, when every body else is at Church, to
have made such and such a private visit; and because you would bee there,
you are there."

Donne continues in a loftier strain to deal with the concluding

words of the text—"I shall see God":
Ego, I, the same person; Ego videbo, I shall see; I have had no looking-
glasse in my grave, to see how my body looks in the dissolution; I know
not how. I have had no houre-glasse in my grave to see how my time
passes; I know not when: for, when my eylids are closed in my death-bed,
the Angel hath said to me, That time shall be no more; Till I see eternity,
the ancient of days, I shall see no more; but then I s h a l l . . . .
No man ever saw God and liv'd; and yet, I shall not live till I see God;
and when I have seen him I shall never d y e . . . . As he that fears God,
fears nothing else, so, he that sees God, sees every thing else: when we
shall see God, Sicuti est, as he is, we shall see all things Sicuti sunt, as they
are; for that's their Essence, as they conduce to his glory. We shall be no
more deluded with outward appearances: for, when this sight, which we
intend here comes, there will be no delusory thing to be seen. All that we
have made as though we saw, in this world, will be vanished, and I shall
see nothing but God, and what is in h i m ; . . -21

Sermon 4 is less interesting than its predecessor. Donne gives us a

long discussion, first of what various heretical sects had conjectured
about the resurrection of the body, and secondly, of what St. Jerome,
Melanchthon, Musculus, and the Schoolmen had said of the Trans-
20
P. 110.
21
Pp. 110-112.
 Introduction 9
figuration of Christ, which was a préfiguration of the resurrection
body. After this second discussion Donne gives his own summary of
the points in which the Transfiguration may be taken to anticipate
the future glory of the saints:

Let us modestly take that which is expressed in it, and not search over-
curiously farther into that which is signifyed, and represented by it; which
is, the state of glory in the Resurrection. First, his face shin'd as the
Sunne, says that Gospell, he could not take a higher comparison, for our
Information, and for our admiration in this world, then the Sunne. And
then, the Saints of God in their glorifyed state are admitted to the same
comparison. The righteous shall shine out as the Sunne in the Kingdome
of the Father; the Sunne of the firmament which should be their compari-
son, will be gone; But the Sun of grace and of glory, the Son of God shall
remain;22 and they shall shine as he; that is, in his righteousnesse.
In this transfiguration, his clothes were white, says the text; ...As white
as snow, and as white as light, says that Gospel. Light implies an active
power, Light is operative, and works upon others. The bodies of the Saints
of God, shall receive all impressions of glory in themselves, and they shall
doe all that is to bee done, for the glory of God there. There, they shall
stand in his service, and they shall kneel in his worship, and they shall fall
in his reverence, and they shall sing in his glory, they shall glorifie him in
all positions of the body; They shall be glorified in themselves passively,
and they shall glorify God actively, sicut Nix, sicut Lux, their beeing,
their doing shall be all for him . .

After some controversial matter against the Church of Rome,

Donne goes on to interpret his text in a secondary sense, that is, of the
kingdom of G o d in this world. In this interpretation he is following
the example of Tertullian, whom he quotes on the subject. It enables
him to preach at some length on the claim of the Church to represent
the divine kingdom :
You see then, what this Kingdome of God is; It is, when he comes, and
is welcome, when he comes in his Sacraments, and speaks in his Word;
when he speaks and is answered; knocks and is received, (he knocks in
his Ordinances, and is received in our Obedience to them, he knocks in his
example, and most holy conversation, and is received in our conformity,
and imitation.) So have you seen what the Inheritance of this Kingdome
22
Here we have the pun on Sun and Son which Donne makes in the
Hymne to God the Father, lines 15-16, and in his Christmas sermon on
Isaiah 7.14 (Vol. V I of the present edition, p. 173, lines 199-200).
23
Pp. 120-121.
io Introduction
is, it is a Having, and Holding of the Gospel, a present, and a permanent
possession, a holding fast, lest another (another Nation, another Church)
take our C r o w n / '

Sermon 5 was preached at Lincoln's Inn on Trinity Sunday, 1620.

Like all Donne's sermons it is worthy of study, and it is clearly and
carefully planned. From the story of the appearance of three men to
Abraham before the destruction of Sodom, Donne drew many prac-
tical lessons. Abraham showed hospitality and charity to these strang-
ers, whom he took to be ordinary wayfarers though they proved to
be the messengers of God.

N o w here is our copie, but who writes after this copie? Abraham is
pater multitudinis, A father of large posterity, but he is dead without issue,
or his race is failed; for, who hath this hospitall care of relieving distressed
persons now? T h o u seest a needy person, and thou turnest away thine
eye; but it is the Prince of Darknesse that casts this mist upon thee; Thou
stoppest thy nose at his sores, but they are thine own incompassionate
bowels that stinke within thee; T h o u tellest him, he troubles thee, and
thinkest thou hast chidden him into a silence; but he whispers still to God,
and he shall trouble thee worse at last, when he shall tell thee, in the
mouth of Christ Jesus, I was hungry and ye fed me not:... Give really,
and give gently; Doe kindly, and speake kindly too, for that is Bread, and
Hony. 25

On the whole, however, the sermon is somewhat disappointing. It

has little of Donne's peculiar power of showing us truth by lightning
flashes of insight.
Sermons 6 and 7, which were preached at Lincoln's Inn, are closely
connected, for they both take as their text Matthew 18.7, and No. 7
is evidently a continuation of No. 6. They cannot belong to the course
preached during the first half of 1620, for which we have already had
four sermons, in which the second of each pair is preached on a text
which had to be reconciled with the text of the first sermon. The gen-
eral tone of these two sermons indicates that they were preached in
the winter of 1620, probably soon after November 24, 1620, when the
first news of the defeat of the Elector Palatine reached London. There
was great agitation in the city, and soon there arose a demand that
King James should intervene in support of the Protestant cause on
M
P. 130.
" P . 137.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gold and glory;
or, Wild ways of other days, a tale of early
American discovery
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Gold and glory; or, Wild ways of other days, a tale of early
American discovery

Author: Grace Stebbing

Release date: May 31, 2022 [eBook #68211]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Thomas Whittaker, 1885

Credits: Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOLD AND

GLORY; OR, WILD WAYS OF OTHER DAYS, A TALE OF EARLY
AMERICAN DISCOVERY ***
GOLD AND GLORY
OR,
WILD WAYS OF OTHER DAYS

A TALE OF EARLY AMERICAN DISCOVERY

 BY GRACE STEBBING

Author of "Silverdale Rectory," "Only a Tramp," etc.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

New York
THOMAS WHITTAKER
2 AND 3, BIBLE HOUSE.
 INTRODUCTION.
Only an apology for having written this historical tale.
My private opinion is, that all writers of historical tales should return
me thanks if I apologize for them with myself, all in a body, the truer
the tale the ampler being the spirit of the apology.
While I have been writing this tale, sometimes in its most important
or serious portions, I have been startled by detecting my own mouth
widening with an absurd smile, or by hearing a ridiculous chuckle
issuing from my own lips, and have suddenly discovered that I was
quite unconsciously repeating to myself the famous old Scotch
anecdote of the old woman and the Scotch preacher—"That's good,
and that's Robertson; and that's good, and that's Chalmers; ... and
that's bad, and that's himsel'."
Turning the old woman into the more learned among my possible
readers, and the Scotch preacher into myself, I read the anecdote
—"That's good, and that's Prescott; that's good, and that's
Robertson; that's good, and that's guide-book; that's good, and that's
Arthur Helps; and that's bad, and that's hersel'."
I can only wind up my apology by pleading, that at least my badness
has not gone the length of distorting a single fact, nor of giving to this
wonderful page of history any touch of false colouring.
G. S.
 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. A POISON-FLY FOR THE HEART OF ARAGON
CHAPTER II. CONSPIRATORS
CHAPTER III. RIVALS AT DON PHILIP'S HOUSE
CHAPTER IV. THINKING OF EXILE
CHAPTER V. DEATH FOR ARBUES DE EPILA
CHAPTER VI. SANCHO'S BROKEN VICTUALS
CHAPTER VII. CONSULTING A SWEET TOOTH
CHAPTER VIII. A POWERFUL FRIEND
CHAPTER IX. FROM THE NEW PRINTING PRESS
CHAPTER X. A JACK IN OFFICE
CHAPTER XI. THE FIRST FIND
CHAPTER XII. SURGEON TO THE REDSKINS
CHAPTER XIII. FOR LIFE OR DEATH
CHAPTER XIV. MASTER PEDRO'S DOGS IN DANGER
CHAPTER XV. NOISE TO THE RESCUE
CHAPTER XVI. I AM 'DON ALONZO'
CHAPTER XVII. GOOD OLD DON
CHAPTER
DEATH FOR DON
XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX. THE WAY TO TREAT THE REDSKINS
CHAPTER XX. THE MASSACRE AT CAONAO
CHAPTER XXI. THE PATRIOT CACIQUE HATUEY
CHAPTER XXII. ANOTHER STORM FOR THE PILOT ALAMINOS
CHAPTER
A SYMBOL WITH TWO MEANINGS
XXIII.
CHAPTER
KINDRED FEELING
XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV. MONTORO DE DIEGO TURNS HANGMAN
CHAPTER
CORTES BURNS HIS SHIPS
XXVI.
CHAPTER
MONTORO LEADS A CHANT
XXVII.
CHAPTER
THE GODS MUST AVENGE THEMSELVES
XXVIII.
CHAPTER MONTORO AND CABRERA RESCUE A HUMAN
XXIX. SACRIFICE
CHAPTER
TOO USEFUL TO BE KILLED
XXX.
CHAPTER
ONCE FOR ALL—THEY SHALL CEASE
XXXI.
CHAPTER
ON THE ROAD TO MEXICO
XXXII.
CHAPTER
THE CAUSE ONCE MORE IN JEOPARDY
XXXIII.
CHAPTER
AN INDIAN GIRL-CHAMPION
XXXIV.
CHAPTER
THE TLASCALAN KNIGHT'S PROBATION
XXXV.
CHAPTER
ACROSS THE CAUSEWAY
XXXVI.
CHAPTER
ESCALANTE'S FATE DECIDES IT
XXXVII.
CHAPTER
THE DOWNFALL OF AN EMPIRE
XXXVIII.
CHAPTER
HOMEWARD BOUND
XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL. REINSTATED
GOLD AND GLORY,
OR
Wild Ways of other Days.
 CHAPTER I.
A POISON-FLY FOR THE HEART OF ARAGON.
In an apartment, gorgeous with a magnificence that owed something
of its style to Moorish influence, were gathered, one evening, a
number of stern-browed companions.
A group of men, whose dark eyes and olive complexions proclaimed
their Spanish nationality, as their haughty mien and the splendour of
their attire bore evidence to their noble rank.
The year was 1485: a sad year for Aragon was that of 1485, and
above all terrible for Saragossa. But as yet only the half, indeed not
quite the half, of the year had gone by, when those Spanish
grandees were gathered together, and when one of them muttered
beneath his breath, fiercely:
"It is not the horror of it only, that sets one's brain on fire. It is the
shame!"
And those around him echoed—"It is the shame."
During the past year, 1484, his Most Catholic Majesty, King
Ferdinand of the lately-united kingdoms of Castile and Aragon, had
forced upon his proud, independent-spirited Aragonese a new-
modelled form of the Inquisition. The Inquisition had, indeed, been
one of the institutions of the noble little kingdom for over two hundred
years already, but in the free air of Aragon it had been rather an
admonisher to orderliness and good manners than a deadly foe to
liberty. Now, all this was changed. The stern and bitter-spirited
Torquemada took care of that. The new Inquisition was fierce,
relentless, suspicious, grasping, avaricious, deadly. And in their
hearts the haughty, freedom-loving Aragonese loathed its imperious
domination even more than they dreaded its cruelty.
"It was not the horror of it only," said Montoro de Diego truly, "that
made their eyes burn, and sent the tingling blood quivering into their
hands. It was the shame."
And those others around him, even to Don James of Navarre, the
King Ferdinand's own nephew, echoed the words with clenched
hands, and between clenched teeth—
"It is the shame!"
But what cared Torquemada, the Grand Inquisitor, that mortal
wounds should be inflicted on the noblest instincts of human nature?
or what cared his tools in Aragon? Crushed, broken-spirited men
would be all the easier to handle—all the easier to plunder or
destroy.
Montoro de Diego had been one of the deputation sent by the Cortes
to the fountain-head, as it was then believed, of all truth and mercy
and justice, to implore release from the new infliction; for whilst one
deputation had gone to the king himself, to implore him to abolish his
recent innovation, another, headed by Diego, had gone to the pope.
But the embassy was fruitless. The pope wanted money, and
burning rich Jews, and wealthy Aragonese suspected of heretical
tendencies, put their property into the papal coffers. The pope very
decidedly refused to give up this new and easy way of making
himself and his friends rich. The king's refusal was equally
peremptory, and the deputations returned with dark brows and heavy
hearts to those anxiously awaiting them.
The burnings and confiscations had already begun.
Soon after Diego and his companions entered the city of Saragossa
they encountered a great procession, evidently one of importance
judging from the sumptuousness of the ecclesiastics' dresses, their
numbers, and the crowds of attendants surrounding them, crucifix-
bearers, candle-bearers, incense-bearers, and others. There was no
especial Saint's Day or Festival named in the Calendar for that date,
and for a few moments the returning travellers were puzzled. But the
procession advanced, and the mystery was solved.
In the centre of the gorgeous train moved a group so dismal, so
heart-rending to look upon, that it must have rained tears down the
cheeks of the Inquisitors themselves, had they not steeled their
hearts with the impenetrable armour of a cold, utter selfishness.
Deadly pale, emaciated, unwashed, uncombed, with wrists and
fingers twisted and broken, and limping feet, came the members of
this group clad in coarse yellow garments embroidered with scarlet
crosses, and a hideous adornment of red flames and devils. Some
few of the tortured victims of base or bigoted cruelty were on their
way to receive such a pardon as consisted in the fine of their entire
fortunes, or life-long imprisonment; the others—they were to afford
illuminations for the day's ceremonies with their own burning bodies.
For each member of the wretched group there was the added
burden of knowing that they were leaving behind them names that
were to be loaded with infamy, and families reduced to the lowest
depths of beggary.
"And all," muttered a voice beside Diego's elbow, "for the crime, real
or suspected, or imputed, of having Jewish blood in their veins."
"Say rather," fiercely muttered back the noble—"say rather, for the
crime of having gold and lands, which will so stick to the hands of the
Inquisitors, that the king's troops in Granada will keep the Lenten
fast the year through, before a sack of grain is bought for them out of
those new funds."
"Ay," answered the unknown voice, "the Señor saith truth, unless
there shall be hearts stout enough, and hands daring enough, to rid
our Aragon of yon fiend Arbues de Epila."
Montoro de Diego turned with an involuntary start to look at the
speaker of such daring words. For even though they had been
uttered in low cautious tones they betokened an almost mad
audacity, during those late spring days when the very breath of the
warm air seemed laden with accusations, bringing death and ruin to
the worthiest of the land, at the mandate of that very Arbues.
But Diego's eyes encountered nothing more important than the
wondering brown orbs of a little beggar child, who was taking the
whole imposing spectacle in with artistic delight, unmixed with any
idea of horror, and who was evidently astonished at the agitated
aspect of his tall companion, and irritated too, that the Señor should
thus stand barring the way, instead of passing on with the rest of the
rabble-rout trailing after the procession.
Whoever had ventured to express his fury against the new Inquisitor
of Saragossa, it was evidently not this curly-headed little urchin, and
with a somewhat impatient gesture of disappointment the noble
turned away in search of his companions. But they also had
disappeared. Carried away by the excitement or curiosity of the
moment, they also had joined in the dread procession of the Auto da
Fé.
 CHAPTER II.
CONSPIRATORS.
"It is the shame," that was the burden of the low and emphatic
consultation that was being held by the group of men, gathered
privately in the palace of one of the indignant nobles of Aragon. Little
more than twenty-four hours had passed since the disappointed
deputation to Rome had returned, in time to witness the full horrors
of the cruel tribunal they had so vainly tried to abolish, and the
feeling of humiliation was keen.
And shame, indeed, there was for the brave, proud Aragonese, that
the despotic tyranny of the Inquisition should hold sway amidst their
boasted freedom and high culture.
"We are not alone in our indignation," added Montoro de Diego after
a pause, and with a keen, swift glance around at the faces of his
companions to satisfy a lurking doubt whether the muffled voice at
his elbow, yesterday, had not indeed belonged to one of them.
But every face present was turned to his suddenly, with such vivid,
evident curiosity at the changed and significant tone of his voice, that
the shadowy supposition quickly faded, and with a second cautious
but sharp glance, this time directed at doors and windows instead of
at the room's occupants, the young nobleman replied to the
questioning looks by a sign which gathered them all closer about him
as he repeated:
"No; we are not alone in our just resentment. The spirit of
disaffection is rife in Saragossa."
"The Virgin be praised that it is so," muttered one of the grandees
moodily, while another asked hastily:
"But how know you this? What secret intelligence have you
received?"
"And when?" put in a third questioner somewhat jealously.
The new system was already beginning to grow its natural fruit of
general suspicion and distrust. But Diego speedily disarmed them as
regarded himself on this occasion. His voice had been low before, it
sank now to a scarcely audible whisper as he answered:
"One, I know not who—even the voice was a disguised one I believe
—spoke to me yesterday in the crowded streets; one who must have
marked the anger and mortification of my countenance I judge, and
thence dared act the tempter."
"But how?" "In what way?" came the eager, impatient queries.
"In the intimation that the world were well rid of Arbues de Epila."
As those few weighty words were rather breathed than spoken,
those self-controlled, impassible grandees of Spain started
involuntarily, and stifled exclamations escaped their lips.
Arbues de Epila! The day was hot with brilliant sunshine. Even in
that carefully-shaded room the air was heavy with warmth, and yet—
as Montoro de Diego muttered the hinted threat against Arbues de
Epila, the crafty, cruel, unsparing Inquisitor—those brave, dauntless,
self-reliant men felt chill. They were in a close group before, but
involuntarily they drew into a still closer circle, and looked over their
shoulders. In open fight with the impetuous Italians or with the
desperate Moors of Granada, no more fearless warriors could be
found than those grandees of Spain, but against this new, secret,
lurking, unaccustomed foe their haughty courage provided them no
weapons. To be snatched at in the dark, torn secretly from home,
fame, and family, buried in oblivion until brought forth to be burnt;
and branded, unheard with the blackest infamy—these were agonies
to fill even those stout hearts with horror.
Stealthy glances, of which until the present time they would have
been altogether disdainful, were cast by each and all of them at one
another. Who should say that even in their own midst there might not
be standing a creature of the Inquisition, bribed to the hideous work
by promises of titles, lands, position, or Paradise without Purgatory?
Quailing beneath these strangely unaccustomed fears all maintained
a constrained silence for some time. But meanwhile the suggestion
thrown out yesterday, and now repeated, worked in those fevered
brains, and at length the fiercest of the number threw back his head,
folded his arms across his breast, and spoke. Not loudly indeed, but
with a concentrated passion that sent each syllable with the force of
an alarum into the hearts of his hearers.
"The stranger was right. We have been cravens—children kissing
the rod, with our petitions. Now we will be men once more, judges in
our own cause, and Arbues shall die."
As he pronounced that last dread word he held out his hand, and his
companions crowded together to clasp it, in tacit acceptance of the
declaration. But there was one exception. One member of the group
drew back. Montoro de Diego stretched forth no consenting hand,
but stood, pale and sorrowful, gazing at his friends. They in turn
gazed back at him with mingled astonishment, fear, and fury. But he
never blenched. His lip indeed curled for a moment with something
of scorn as he detected the expression of terror in some of the
gleaming eyes turned on him. But scorn died away again in sadness
as he said slowly:
"Is it so then, truly, that we nobles of Aragon have already yielded
ourselves voluntarily for slaves, accepting the despicable sins of
slaves—cowardice and assassination! Now verily it is time then to
weep for the past of Aragon, to mourn over its decay."
But bravely and nobly as Montoro de Diego spoke, he could not
undo the harm of his incautious repetition of the stranger's fatal hint.
Some of his companions had already their affections lacerated by
the loss of friends, torn from their families to undergo the most
horrible of deaths, the others were full of dark apprehensions for
themselves, or for those whose lives were more precious to them
than their own. And the thought of getting quit of the cruel tormentor
took all too swift and fast hold of the minds of that assembled group.