Chapter XXIV (1)

When I heard of any new Kingdom beyond the seas the light and glory
of it entered into me, it rose up within me, and I was enlarged
wonderfully. I entered into it, I saw its commodities, springs,
meadows, riches, inhabitants, and became possessor of that new
room as if it had been prepared for me, so much was I magnified
and delighted in it. When the Bible was read my spirit was present
in other ages. I saw the light and splendour of them, the Land of
Canaan, the Israelites entering into it, the ancient glory of the
Amorites, their peace and riches, their cities, houses, vines,
and fig-trees, the long prosperity of their Kings, their milk and
honey, their slaughter and destruction, with the joys and triumphs
of God's people. All which entered into me, and God among them. I
saw all and felt all in such a lively manner as if there had been
no other way to those places but in spirit only. This shewed me
the liveliness of interior presence, and that all ages were for
most glorious ends accessible to my understanding, yea with it, yea
within it. For without changing place in myself I could behold and
enjoy all those. Anything, when it was proposed, though it was a
thousand ages ago being always before me.

Some few other passages relating to Traherne's boyhood might be quoted; but as I hope soon to publish the "Centuries of Meditations" in complete form, it is hardly necessary to give further extracts here. I have quoted enough, I trust, to create a desire in the reader's mind to see the whole work in print. I have found the narrative so interesting myself that I would fain hope it will be not less so to others. It displays with a vividness seldom equalled the eager, enthusiastic, thoughtful, affectionate, and, above all, poetic character of its author. It was doubtless because he retained in his manhood so much of the fresh, unspoiled, and uncorrupted spirit of his youth that he was able to give such an engaging picture of his early years. It bears the stamp of veracity and sincerity in every line; and leaves no room in the reader's mind (as so many autobiographies do) for the suspicion that the author was posing himself in the most favourable light, and suppressing the darker shades of his portraiture. I do not think there is anything resembling it in English literature; nor could more than one or two other English poets have written such a narrative. It is fortunate indeed that the "Centuries of Meditations," which so narrowly escaped destruction or oblivion, should have been preserved to afford us this valuable record of the inner life of a spirit touched to such fine issues as was that of Thomas Traherne.

Turning from the brilliant illumination of our author's own account of his youthful experiences it is very disappointing to find that no information about him from external sources can be discovered before the time when he became an Oxford undergraduate. But we may, I think, conclude with little chance of error that the course of his early life was somewhat as follows: His parents, seeing the precocity and unusual promise of their child, determined to give him the best education within their power, and therefore sent him to the local Grammar School. This was founded by Bishop Gilbert in 1386. While there he must have distinguished himself so much by his good conduct and aptitude for learning that some patron--or perhaps some of his relatives who were in a better position than his father--furnished the means to enable him to proceed to Oxford and become a student there. His course at the University is thus related in the _Athenæ Oxonienses_:

Thomas Traherne, a shoemaker's son of Hereford, was entered a
Commoner of Brasen-nose College on the first day of March, 1652,
took one degree in Arts, left the House for a time, entered into the
sacred function, and in 1661 he was actually created Master of Arts.
About that time he became Rector of Credinhill, commonly called
Crednell, near to the city of Hereford ... and in 1669 Bachelor of
Divinity.

To the above it may perhaps be as well to add the exact dates of the degrees bestowed upon him at the University. He was made Bachelor of Arts on October 13, 1656; Master of Arts on November 6, 1661; and Bachelor of Divinity on December 11, 1669. Why or when he "left the House for a time" does not appear; possibly it was on account of the political troubles of the period.

When at the University we may be certain that Traherne's inclination and natural genius would lead him to study for the ministry; and he was undoubtedly an earnest and diligent student of the history and doctrines of the Christian faith, and more especially of those of the Church of England. He found in that communion his ideal Church. We have seen that Philip Traherne, the Mayor of Hereford, was noted for his "fervent zeal for the Established Church and clergy"--and probably we shall not be wrong in thinking that the Trahernes generally were members of the English Church. That circumstance doubtless had its influence in determining the faith of Thomas Traherne; but his own deeply fervent and religious nature found in the national faith, as George Herbert had found before him, the peace and satisfaction which he could find nowhere else. That the Anglican Church can boast of having attracted to its service such fine spirits as those of Herbert, Vaughan, Traherne, and the many others that might be mentioned, is surely one of its greatest honours.

We have the evidence of Antony à Wood and that of Traherne's book entitled "Roman Forgeries" to prove that he was an unwearied student of the antiquities of the Church, of its Fathers, Councils, and Doctrines. But the best evidence on this point is to be found in the "Advertisement to the Reader" prefixed to "Roman Forgeries." Herein the author gives us a lively account of a discussion which took place between himself and a Roman Catholic gentleman on the questions in dispute between the two Churches. This passage must be quoted in full, for the story is so vividly told that the reader becomes almost a spectator of the scene:

Before I stir further I shall add one passage which befell me in the
_Schools_ as I was studying these things, and searching the most
old and authentic records in pursuance of them. One evening as I
came out of the Bodleian Library, which is the glory of Oxford,
and this nation, at the stairs-foot I was saluted by a person that
has deserved well of scholars and learning, who being an intimate
friend of mine, told me there was a gentleman, his cousin, pointing
to a grave person, in the quadrangle, a man that had spent many
thousand pounds in promoting Popery, and that he had a desire to
speak with me. The gentleman came up to us of his own accord: we
agreed, for the greater liberty and privacy, to walk abroad into
the New Parks. He was a notable man, of an eloquent tongue, and
competent reading, bold, forward, talkative enough; he told me,
that the Church of Rome had eleven millions of martyrs, seventeen
Oecumenical Councils, above one hundred Provincial Councils, all the
Doctors, all the Fathers, Unity, Antiquity, Consent, &c. I desired
him to name _one_ of his eleven millions of martyrs, excepting
those that died for treason in Queen Elizabeth's and King James his
days: for the martyrs of the primitive times, were martyrs of the
_Catholic_, but not of the _Roman_ Church: they only being martyrs
of the Roman Church, that die for _transubstantiation_, the _Pope's
Supremacy_, the doctrine of _Merits_, _Purgatory_, and the like.
So many he told me they had, but I could not get him to name one.
As for his Councils, Antiquities and Fathers, I asked him what he
would say, if I could clearly prove that the Church of Rome was
guilty of _forging_ them, so far that they had published _Canons_
in the _Apostles_ names, and invented _Councils_ that never were,
forged _letters_ of Fathers, and _Decretal Epistles_, in the name of
the first Bishops and Martyrs of Rome, made 5, 6, 700 years after
they were dead, to the utter disguising and defacing of antiquity,
for the first 480 years next after our Saviour? "Tush, these are
nothing but lies," quoth he, "whereby the Protestants endeavour to
disgrace the Papists." Sir, answered I, you are a scholar, and have
heard of Isidore, Mercator, James Merlin, Peter Crabbe, Laurentius
Surius, Severinus Binius Labbè, Cossartius, and the Collectio Regia,
books of vast bulk and price, as well as of great majesty and
magnificence: you met me this evening at the Library door; if you
please to meet me there to-morrow morning at eight of the clock,
I will take you in; and we will go from class to class, from book
to book, and there I will first shew in your own authors, that you
publish such instruments for good _Records_: and then prove, that
those instruments are downright frauds and forgeries? "What hurt is
that to the Church of Rome?" said he. No! (cried I, amazed) Is it no
hurt to the Church of Rome, to be found guilty of _forging Canons_
in the _Apostles_ names, and _Epistles_ in the _Fathers'_ names,
which they never made? Is it nothing in _Rome_ to be guilty of
counterfeiting _Decrees_ and _Councils_, and _Records of Antiquity_?
_I have done with you!_ whereupon I turned from him as an obdurate
person. And with this I thought it meet to acquaint the Reader.

No other particulars of Traherne's University career are now available, but those which I have related are sufficient to show that it was not an unsuccessful one. It is plain that he made his way entirely by his own ability, for he could have had no other means of advancing himself.

It appears from a passage in our author's "Centuries of Meditations" that there was at one time a conflict in his mind as to his future course in life. He debated with himself as to whether he should pursue the path that might lead to worldly prosperity, at the cost of sacrificing or suppressing his higher aspirations, or whether he should, at the risk of poverty and obscurity, follow out the promptings of his better self. Such a conflict, in his case, could have only one result:

When I came into the country, and being seated among silent trees
and woods and hills, had all my time in mine own hands, I resolved
to spend it all, whatever it cost me, in the search of Happiness,
and to satiate the burning thirst which Nature had enkindled in me
from my youth. In which I was so resolute that I chose rather to
live upon ten pounds a year, and to go in leather clothes and to
feed upon bread and water, so that I might have all my time clearly
to myself, than to keep many thousands per annum in an estate of
life where my time would be devoured in care and labour. And God was
so pleased to accept of that desire that from that time to this I
have had all things plentifully provided for me without any care at
all, my very study of Felicity making me more to prosper than all
the care in the whole world. So that through His blessing I live a
free and a kingly life, as if the world were turned again into Eden,
or, much more, as it is at this day.

Truly a memorable resolution! which has had not too many parallels, though the failure to make it has caused many a man of fine abilities to fall into the ranks of those whom the world has conquered and subdued to its own purposes. One remembers the similar resolution of the great founder of Quakerism, which Traherne might possibly have heard of. One thinks also of Thoreau and of his life in the woods; and of the few others who have dared to live out their own lives in their own way, regardless of the disdain or censure of the worldly-minded. That nothing but good came to Traherne from his resolution we might have been sure even if he had not himself told us so; for what harm can come to those who are animated with such a spirit as his? The spiritually minded derive their sustenance from the spirit, and are the richer on the ten pounds a year which Traherne speaks of than are the masters of untold wealth who are spiritually destitute.

At what period Traherne came to the decision which he has thus recorded does not appear; but it seems probable it was at the time when, as Wood tells us, he left the University for a time. Wood places the commencement of his ministry at Credenhill at about 1661, when he was made Master of Arts. This, however, seems to be an error. Mr. E. H. W. Dunkin has kindly informed me that he has in his possession a copy of a manuscript preserved at Lambeth Library (MS. 998) containing particulars of admissions to Benefices _temp._ Commonwealth, in which the following entry appears:

Thomas Traherne, clerk, admitted 30 Dec., 1657, by the Commissioners
for the Approbation of Public Preachers to the Rectory of Crednell,
alias Creddenhill, Co. Hereford: patron Amabella, Countess Dowager
of Kent.

In 1657 Traherne could not have been more than 21 or 22 years of age--hardly old enough, one would think, to assume entire charge of the parish. Possibly at first he only acted as assistant to the minister whom he afterwards succeeded.

Of the course of Traherne's life at Credenhill nothing is now known, but, as far as outward events were concerned, it was doubtless quiet and uneventful. He remained there, it would appear, for rather more than nine and a half years. Then he was summoned to London to become private chaplain to Sir Orlando Bridgman, who, on August 30, 1667, was created Lord Keeper of the Seals. Whether he owed his promotion to a friend's recommendation, or whether he had, before this time, become personally acquainted with Sir Orlando, we do not know, but it is certain that he must henceforth have been highly esteemed and valued by his patron. When Bridgman was, in 1672, deprived of the Seals, and went into retirement, he still retained Traherne in his service, and it was in his patron's house at Teddington, about three months after the latter's decease, that he died. We may indeed feel certain that a mutual regard and even affection existed between them; and perhaps it is not too great a stretch of imagination to think that the death of Traherne may have been hastened by his grief at the loss of his patron.

Sir Orlando Bridgman was not only a very able lawyer, but also an honourable, conscientious, and upright statesman. He was, perhaps, a little wanting in strength of character, and therefore appeared to his contemporaries to be something of a trimmer. He was a royalist, and remained such all through the Civil War and the Commonwealth; though it appears that during the last years of Cromwell's reign he had in some degree made his peace with the Protector. But he was not disposed to be a mere tool in the hands of the Court party. He was made Keeper of the Seals because it was supposed that he would have been subservient to the designs of the ministry then in power; but when it was found that he was not disposed to be a compliant tool in their hands he was dismissed from his office. He had nothing in him of a Scroggs or a Jeffries, and was therefore no fit instrument of the crew of unscrupulous and corrupt intriguers who then misruled the country. That he was of a most charitable disposition--though he has not hitherto, I believe, received credit for the fact--we have sufficient evidence. In Traherne's "Christian Ethicks" we find the following passage (p. 471): "My Lord Bridgman, late Lord Keeper, confessed himself in his Will to be but a Steward of his Estate, and prayed God to forgive all his offences in getting, mis-spending, or not spending it as he ought to do. And that after many Charitable and Pious Works, perhaps surmounting his estate tho concealed from the notice or knowledge of the world."

It has been seen from one of the extracts quoted from "Centuries of Meditations" that Traherne esteemed himself fortunate in having "all things plentifully provided for me without any care at all, my very study of Felicity making me more to prosper than all the care in the whole world." That he was perfectly sincere in this statement, and that he had all the riches and advancement he required, is certain; but very few men, and certainly no ambitious man, under the same circumstances would have made such a declaration. To the worldly-minded his destiny must have seemed a poor, if not mean one. To be the parson of two small and obscure parishes, and the private chaplain of the Keeper of the Seals, while possessing abilities which would have adorned the highest possible station, must have seemed, to a less happily constituted temperament, a fate which would have justified much repining and discontent. That Traherne was not merely contented but happy under such circumstances is but one more proof that

Happiness to no outward cause we owe,
From inward sources only doth it flow.

The position of chaplain to Lord Bridgman must have brought Traherne into contact with many distinguished persons of the time; but no trace of his intercourse with them seems now to be discoverable, save in one instance. John Aubrey, the famous gossip, to whose undiscriminating industry we are indebted for the preservation of much chaff indeed, but also for not a little precious wheat, in his "Miscellanies," under the heading "Apparitions," gives us a remarkable reference to our author. I quote the passage in full:

Mr. Trahern, B.D. (chaplain to Sir Orlando Bridgman, Lord Keeper),
a learned and sober person, was son of a shoemaker in Hereford:
one night as he lay in bed, the moon shining very bright, he saw
the phantom of one of the apprentices, sitting in a chair in his
red waistcoat, and head-band about his head, and strap upon his
knee; which apprentice was really in bed and asleep with another
fellow-apprentice, in the same chamber, and saw him. The fellow was
living, 1671. Another time, as he was in bed, he saw a basket come
sailing in the air, along by the valence of his bed; I think he
said there was fruit in the basket: it was a phantom. From himself.

It is highly probable that it was Aubrey who furnished Wood with the account of Traherne which appears in the _Athenæ Oxonienses_, and doubtless he could have given us much more information about him had he chosen to do so. But he was incapable of appreciating so fine a spirit as Traherne's; nor was the latter likely to reveal to him the profounder depths of his nature. It is much to be regretted that Aubrey gives us such a confused account of what he was told. The stories were doubtless related to him at his own direct request, he being ever eager to collect accounts of the marvellous and the supernatural. It seems evident that Traherne attached little importance to these two visions, purposeless as they apparently were, and as visions of the kind usually are. No one nowadays would attribute such phantoms of the brain to any supernatural cause, nor does it appear that Traherne himself did. I find no trace in his writings of a belief in the common superstitions of his time as to ghosts, witches, or evil spirits.

The date of the interview in which Traherne related these things to 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.

Strange is the vigour in a brave man's soul. The strength of his
spirit and his irresistible power, the greatness of his heart and
the height of his condition, his mighty confidence and contempt
of dangers, his true security and repose in himself, his liberty
to dare and do what he pleaseth, his alacrity in the midst of
fears, his invincible temper, are advantages which make him master
of fortune. His courage fits him for all attempts, makes him
serviceable to God and man, and makes him the bulwark and defence of
his being and country.

Let those debauched and unreasonable men that deny the existence
of virtue contemplate the reality of its excellency here, and be
confounded with shame at their prodigious blindness. Their impiety
designs the abolishment of Religion, and the utter extirpation of
all faith, and piety, while they pretend the distinction between
virtue and vice to be merely feigned for the aweing of the world,
and that their names have no foundation in Nature but the craft of
politicians and the traditions of their nurses. Are there no base
fellows, nor brave men in the world? Is there no difference between
a Lion and a Hare? a faint-hearted Coward and a glorious Hero? Is
there nothing brave nor vile in the world? What is become of these
Rodomontadoes wits? Where is the boasted glory of their personal
valour, if there be no difference, but courage and cowardice be the
same thing?

I have marked, I find, at least twenty other passages for quotation; and indeed it would be easy to extract from the book enough notable sayings to form a pocket volume of religious and moral philosophy; but I must content myself with only one other quotation. It is from the chapter "Of Knowledge":

The sun is a glorious creature, and its beams extend to the utmost
stars; by shining on them it clothes them with light, and by its
rays exciteth all their influences. It enlightens the eyes of all
the creatures: it shineth on forty kingdoms at the same time, on
seas and continents in a general manner; yet so particularly
regardeth all, that every mote in the air, every grain of dust,
every spire of grass is wholly illuminated thereby as if it did
entirely shine upon that alone. Nor does it only illuminate all
these objects in an idle manner; its beams are operative, enter in,
fill the pores of things with spirits, and impregnate them with
powers, cause all their emanations, odors, virtues, and operations;
springs, rivers, minerals and vegetables are all perfected by the
sun; all the motion, life and sense of birds, beasts and fishes
dependeth on the same. Yet the sun is but a little spark among all
the creatures that are made for the Soul; the Soul, being the most
high and noble of all, is capable of far higher perfections, far
more full of life and vigour in its uses. The sphere of its activity
is illimited, its energy is endless upon all its objects. It can
exceed the heavens in its operations, and run out into infinite
spaces. Such is the extent of knowledge that it seemeth to be the
Light of all Eternity. All objects are equally near to the splendour
of its beams: As innumerable millions may be conceived in its
Light, with a ready capacity for millions more; so can it penetrate
all abysses, reach to the centre of all Nature, converse with all
beings, visible and invisible, corporeal and spiritual, temporal and
eternal, created and increated, finite and infinite, substantial
and accidental, actual and possible, imaginary and real; all the
mysteries of bliss and misery, all the secrets of heaven and hell
are objects of the Soul's capacity, and shall be actually seen and
known here.

It seems strange indeed that no compiler in search of material for a book of selections, no student in search of forgotten excellence, no seeker for wisdom conjoined with piety, has ever lighted in his search upon "Christian Ethicks." But it came into the world in a time of general dissoluteness of manners, and amid the jarrings of contending sects and the venomous contests of political parties. Probably very few copies of the book were sold, and its rarity in after times has prevented it from becoming known to any one who had the will and the power to proclaim its merits.

"Poetry," says Milton, if he be indeed the author of "Nova Solyma," "is the impetuous rush of a mind full to overflowing, strained, exalted to its utmost powers, yea, rather, lifted into ecstacy beyond itself."[C] Could we accept this (as we cannot) as a complete definition of the poetic faculty, we might then place Traherne in the very front rank of inspired singers. It would be impossible to give a better description of the leading characteristics of his poetry than that which we find in the words of Milton. Not Milton himself, nor even Shelley, has more of the impetuous rush of a mind lifted into ecstacy beyond itself than Traherne. No poet writes with more absolute spontaneity than he. Whatever may be wanting in him, however he may occasionally fail in expression, he has always this impetuous rush, this ecstacy that rises beyond itself. A glowing ardour of conviction, a passionate spirit of love and devotion, a profound sense of the beauty and sublimity which he saw everywhere around him, a never-failing aspiration towards that Goodness which he believed to be the Fountain and the Ocean, the Beginning and the End of Things, were the sources of his inspiration, the impelling forces of his genius. Where these qualities are present their possessor can never altogether fail in expressing them, however deficient he may be in the technical accomplishments of the poet's art. These things indeed are the root, if not the flower, of all poetry worthy of the name. That Traherne was essentially a poet we might be certain even if none of his lyrical work had remained to prove it. The man who could say, "You never enjoy the world aright till the sea itself floweth in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens, and crowned with the stars"--a sentence which contains the essence of everything that has been said by the poets who have sung of the relation between the soul of man and the spirit of Nature--did not need to write in verse in order to prove that he was beyond all question a poet. There is enough of the spirit of poetry in "Christian Ethicks" and "Centuries of Meditations" to set up a dozen versifiers. It was as impossible for Traherne to see things as a Jeremy Bentham or a Cobbett saw them, as it was for either or the latter to have written the sentence I have just quoted. And who shall say that the light of imagination through which Traherne and those who resemble him behold the universe is a light which misleads them? Why should we assume that those who view it with eyes that are blind to all but its prosaic aspects are its true interpreters? Whatever else it may be, the universe, it is certain, is a marvellous and stupendous poem; and it is singular indeed if those who are insensible to this truth are able to see it in a clearer light than those who are alive to all its beauty, to all its magnificence, and to all its mystery.