CHAPTER XL.

•
THE SAINT CONTINUES THE SAME DISCOURSE, AND RELATES SOME MORE OF THE GREAT FAVORS OUR LORD SHOWED HER; SHE THEN FINISHES THE ACCOUNT OP HER LIFE.
BEING once in prayer, the delight which I felt was so great, that knowing myself to be unworthy of such a favor, I began to consider how much I deserved that place in hell, which I had seen prepared for me, and which (as I said then) I shall never forget. By means of this consideration, my soul began to be much more inflamed, and there came a rap ture on me, but in such a manner that I know not how to explain it : for I seemed to be plunged in that Majesty which at other times I only understood. In this Majesty I was allowed to comprehend a certain truth, which is the accom plishment of all truth. I know not how to relate it, for I saw nothing ; but these words were said to me, though yet I saw not any one who spoke them : but I knew well it was the same truth : — " That which I do for thee is no small matter, but it is one of those things for which thou owest Me much • because all the evil which happens to the world proceeds from not clearly knowing the truths of Scripture : one tittle thereof shall not fail." As regards myself, I thought that I had always believed this, and that all the faithful likewise believed it. He then said to me again, " Ah, daughter ! how few truly love Me ! If they did, I would not conceal my secrets from them. Dost thou know what it is to love Me according to truth ? It is to know that all is a lie which is not pleasing to Me. Thou shalt see this clearly, which now thou dost not understand, by the profit which thy soul shall obtain." And so it has been done, our Lord bs praised : for from that time everything which is not referred to the service of God does seem to me to be so great a vanity and a lie, that I am in no way able to express it as
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I understand it : neither can I express the pity I feel to see men live in such great darkness respecting this truth. By these words I was benefited in many ways, of which I will here relate some, for many others I cannot. Our Lord spoke a particular word to me of the greatest favor. I know not how this was, for I saw nothing; but I remained afterwards (in a manner which I cannot explain, with exceeding great fortitude, and* a firm resolution of accomplishing even the least article of the divine Scripture with all my power. And nothing, it seems to me, could present itself to me through which I would not pass for this purpose.
There also remained a truth of this divine truth, which was here represented to me, though without my knowing how or what, and so deeply engraven in my heart that it inspires me with a new kind of reverence for God, because it imparts such a knowledge of His majesty and power, and this in such a manner as cannot be expressed. I can only understand it is a wonderful thing. I had also a very great desire only to speak of things that were really true, and which are above whatever is spoken of here in this world, and so I began to find it painful to live in it. This vision left me with great tenderness, delight, and humility ; and I had no suspicion whatever that it was a delusion. I saw nothing, but yet I understood the great benefit there is in not making account of anything which does not bring us nearer to God : I also understood how important it is for souls to walk in the truth, in presence of this same truth, for our Lord gave me to understand that He is the very Truth itself.
All that I have mentioned here I sometimes understood by their being spoken to me, and at other times without my being spoken to ; but yet these I understood more clearly than those others which were imparted to me by words. I learnt very high truths respecting this Truth, and better than many learned men could have taught me. It seems to me, that in no way could they have imprinted them on my mind, nor so clearly have made me understand the vanity of this world. This Truth of which I speak is the Truth in itself, and is without beginning or end ; and all other truths depend upon this Truth, and all other loves on this Love,
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and all other greatness upon this Greatness : though what I say is said so dimly, in comparison with that clearness with which our Lord was pleased to make me understand it. And how does the power of His Majesty appear, in giving so great a gaju in so short a time, and other such things as are imprinted on the soul ! 0 greatness and majesty of my God! What wonders dost Thou not do, my all-powerful God ! Consider who it is to whom Thou showest such high favors. Dost Thou not remember how this soul has been a very abyss of lies — an ocean of vanities 1 And all this was through my own fault ; for though Thou didst give me an inclination which naturally abhorred lying, yet I was apt iu many things to act in a deceitful way. How can this be endured, 0 my God ! And how can such goodness and love on Thy part be shown to one who has so ill deserved them "?
As I was once reciting the hours of the Divine Office, with all the rest of the nuns, my soul immediately began to be recollected ; and there seemed to be something like a clear looking-glass, without having anything either on the back, or on the sides, or above, or below, which was not all ex ceeding clear. In the very centre of this Christ our Lord was represented to me, just as I am accustomed to see Him. It seemed as if I saw Him clearly in all the parts of my soul, as in a looking-glass ; and this glass was engraven all over (though I know not how), and our Lord Himself was represented in such a very enamored way that I cannot ex press it. I know this vision has been of great benefit to me, every time I remember it, especially after receiving the most Blessed Sacrament. Hereby I was given to understand, that when a soul is in mortal sin, it is like covering this glass with a great cloud, and making it become very dark ; so that though our Lord be ever present with us, thereby giv ing us our very being, yet then He is not so represented or seen in us; and that when any persons become heretics, then the looking-glass is, as it were, broken, which is far worse than to be obscured. But there is a great difference be tween my seeing this and relating it, for it is difficult to make it understood. But the vision has done much good, and has filled me with great grief for those times wherein I 32*
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myself obscured my soul, so as not to be able to behold my Lord.
This vision seems very useful to persons of recollection, to teach them a way of thinking of our Lord as if in the most interior part of their soul : and this is a consideration which keeps the closest to them, and is much more beneficial than if He were considered as out of the soul, according to what I have said elsewhere : it is also contained in some books written on prayer, by which we are to seek God. The glori ous St. Austin especially speaks of it, for he tells us, that neither in the streets, nor in pleasures, nor in public places, where he sought God, did he find Him so well as in himself; and this is evidently the best way. And there is no need for us to go to heaven, nor any further off than ourselves, for this would only weary and distract the soul, and not do us near so much good.
I wish to mention one circumstance here, if any one has such a thing, and it happens in a great rapture. When the time is past wherein the soul remains in union, so that her faculties are wholly absorbed (and this lasts, as I have said, but a short time), the soul remains still recollected, and is not able, as to the exterior, to return to herself. But those two faculties, the memory and the understanding, remain in a kind of phrenzy, and quite foolish. This, I say, happens sometimes, especially in the beginnings. I have been think ing whether it may not proceed from this, that our natural weakness cannot bear such strength of spirit, by which the imagination is much weakened : I know this happens to some. Now, in such cases, I think it would be good to force them selves to leave off their prayers for that time, and recover afterwards what they lose then, so that all come not together, for it might be an occasion of much harm. I have experi ence of this, and also how secure a thing it is to consider how much our health can bear.
In all things there will be need of experience and a master, for when once a soul has come so far, many things will occur which will require us to have some one to consult ; and if any such cannot be found, when sought for, our Lord will not be wanting to them, since He would not be wanting to me, though I am such a wicked creature, for I believe there
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are few who have attained to the experience of so many things ; and if there be not experience, it is in vain to pre scribe any remedy which will not rather serve to afflict and disquiet the soul. But our Lord will take even this also for a payment, and therefore it will be the best to consult some one on the subject (as I have mentioned before, and also on all those things of which I am now speaking) ; this I see is of great importance, especially if there be women, to consult with their confessor. There are many more women than men to whom our Lord imparts these favors ; this I heard from that holy man, Peter cf Alcantara (and I have seen it also myself ), that they profited more in this way than men do. He gave excellent reasons for his opinion, which need not be mentioned here : all were in favor of women.
Another time, when I was in prayer, there was suddenly represented to me, with very great clearness, though without my seeing anything formed, how all things are seen in God, and how He holds them all in Himself. I know not how to describe this, but it remained deeply imprinted on my soul ; and it is one of the great favors which our Lord has shown me, and one of those too which has put me to the greatest shame arid confusion, when I considered the sins I had com mitted against Him. I believe that if our Lord had been pleased to let me see this vision at some other time, or if they could see it who offend Him, they would never dare to act as they do. I say, it appeared to me so, but in such a way, that I cannot affirm I saw anything; something, however, must have been seen by me, since I am able to make this comparison ; but this was in so subtle and delicate a way, that the understanding is not able to reach it, or else, that I have no experience in those visions, which do not seem to be imaginary : in some of these there may be something of the imaginary ; only, as the powers of the soul are then in a rap ture, they are not able afterwards to describe, how our Lord represents Himself to them therein, and how He is pleased that they should enjoy Him. Let us suppo.se the Divinity to be like some very bright diamond, much larger than the whole universe : or else, like some looking-glass, after the manner that I spoke before of the soul in that other vision {except that this is in so sublime a manner that I cannot
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express it), and that whatever we do is seen in this diamond; for it is so great as to comprise all things within it, and nothing is able to escape from that greatness. It was a very amazing sight to see, in so very short a time, so many things all united together in this bright diamond ; but it was also a subject of extreme grief to me, and it is so every time I re member it, to see that monsters so ugly and foul as my sins were, should be represented with such great clearness of light. The truth is, that whenever I remember it, I know not how to endure it ; and, at that time, I was so much con founded and ashamed, that it seemed I could not tell where to hide my head. Oh ! that some one could make this truth well understood by those who commit filthy sins, that so they might remember those sins are not hidden, and that God has reason to be very sensible of those wrongs, since they are so truly committed in the presence of His Majesty, and that we behave ourselves with such base irreverence before Him. I saw also how justly hell is deserved by one mortal sin, because we cannot understand what a most heinous thing it is to com mit any such crime in the presence of so great a Majesty ; and what a difference there is between what He is, and what our sins are. His mercy, likewise, appears hereby so much the more, since, notwithstanding we know all this, He still bears with us. It also made me consider, that if such a vision as this can leave the soul so extremely astonished and confounded, what will the day of judgment be, when this Majesty will show itself clearly to us, and when we shall see the oifences we have committed. 0 my God ! what blind ness is this which has seized me ! I have often been amazed when I reflect on what I have written ; and your Reverence may wonder how I am able to live when I see these things, and consider myself. May He be eternally blessed, who has borne with me so long !
Being once in prayer, in very great recollection, with much sweetness and quiet, I thought I was entirely sur rounded with angels, and was very near to God. I began to beseech His Majesty for the welfare of the Church, and I was given to understand the great good a certain Order*
* The Saint evidently alludes to the Society of Jesus.
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would do in the world, in these latter times, and the great courage with which the member! thereof would uphold the faith. Being once in prayer, near the most Blessed Sacra ment, a certain saint appeared to me, whose Order was in some decay. He had a great book in his hand, which he opened, and bade me read certain words in it, which were very large and legible ; they were these : " In future times this Order shall flourish, and have many martyrs."
Another time, being at matins in the choir, six or seven persons were represented to me, who appeared to be of the same Order, with swords in their hands. I thought, that by this I was given to understand they were to defend the faith ; for, being in prayer, at another time, I was rapt in spirit, and I seemed to be in a very spacious field, where many were fighting, and they who belonged to this Order fought with great courage. Their faces were beautiful, and very inflamed ; and they threw multitudes down upon the ground, quite beaten, and others they killed : this battle seemed to be carried on against heretics. I have seen this glorious saint many times, and he has told me some things, and has given me thanks for the prayers I offered up for his Order, and he promised to recommend me to our Lord. I do not specify the different Orders here, lest others might take offence at it, though, if our Lord please to have them known, he may mention them. But every Order, or every member thereof, should endeavor, that by this means our Lord may make his Order so happy, that as the Church is now in such great trouble, they may be able to serve it. Happy are the lives which are spent in such a cause.
A certain person once desired me to pray to God, that he might understand whether it would be for His glory if he accepted a bishopric ? I did so ; and, after I had received the Holy Communion, our Lord gave me this answer : " When he shall understand, with all truth and clearness, that true dominion consists in possessing nothing, then he may accept it." These words give us to understand, that whoever is to be a bishop, must be far from desiring or seeking such a dignity, or, at least, he must not seek to procure it. These favors, and many others also, have been, and are still, very often shown to this poor sinner ; which, I think, it is net
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necessary to relate, since, by those which I have already mentioned, my soul may be known, and the spirit our Lord has given me may be understood. May He be blessed for ever, who has taken such great care of me ! He told me once, to comfort ine, "that I should not afflict myself (and this he spoke with the most tender love), for that in this life we could not possibly be always in the same state, but that sometimes I should be fervent, and sometimes not ; some times I should have trouble and temptations, and at other times quietness and peace ; but that I must always trust in Him, and fear nothing."
T was one day thinking, whether it was not an attachment to creatures, to take pleasure in being with those persons to whom I mentioned the affairs of my soul, and to love them ; and with others also, who I find are such great servants of God, that I comforted myself with them, our Lord said to me : " That if a sick man who is in danger of death, thinks a physician has restored him to health, it would not be a virtue to neglect to thank him, and to love him ; and what should I have done, had it not been for such as they ? That the conversation of the good never did any harm, but that my words must ever be well weighed and holy, and therefore I should not omit treating with them, for it would prove rather beneficial than hurtful." These words comforted me much ; for, sometimes as I seemed to be too addicted to crea tures, I desired to give up entirely all converse with them. Our Lord always gave me advice in everything, so far as to tell me how I should act towards the weak, and some others also ; and He never forgets to take care of me. But some times I am troubled to see how little I can do in His service, and also to see that I am forced to spend more time than I would, upon so weak and sinful a body as mine is.
I was once in prayer, and when the time for retiring to rest had come, I found myself in great pain, and expected to have my usual fit of vomiting. Observing myself, there fore, so tied up, while the soul, on the other hand, desired to have some time for herself, I began to be greatly afflicted, and to weep much. And this has happened,, not only once, but, as I mention, very often ; and it caused such an indig nation against myself, that I heartily abhor myself at the
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time, though it is true I do not abhor myself as I ought ; nor yet am 1 wanting in what I see is necessary for me ; and God grant that I may not take more care of myself than I should, for so I fear 1 do. While I was in this affliction, our Lord appeared to me, and told me, " that I must go through these things, and endure all for the love of Him, for my life was necessary yet." And so, methinks, I never see myself now in any great pain which I care about, since I have re solved to serve this Lord and Comforter of mine with all my power ; for, though He has permitted me to suffer a little, yet He has comforted me in such a manner, that I do not consider myself to do much in desiring afflictions ; and thus there seems no reason why I should live, except only to suffer : this is what I beg with most affection from God. Sometimes I say to Him, with my whole heart : " 0 Lord ! either to die or to suffer. I beg nothing else of Thee for myself. It comforts me to hear the clock strike, for then 1 think I draw a little nearer to my seeing God, since one hour more of my life is past.
At other times, I find myself in such a way, that I neither relish my life, nor yet, methinks, desire death ; but I remain with a kind of tepidity and darkness in all things, for (as I have said) I have often great troubles. And since our Lord was pleased that these favors should be publicly known, which His Majesty has bestowed upon me (as He himself some years ago told me they should be, which greatly afflicted me ; for every one understands them as he likes), I comfort myself that it has not been my fault ; because I never spoke of any such thing, except either to my confessors, or those others, who, as I knew by them, had been informed thereof; for of this I was very cautious, even to extremity, not so much out of humility, as on account of the difficulty that I had to speak even to my confessors about these matters. Now, glory be to God, though there may be some who blame me much, and with good intentions : and others who are afraid to speak to me, or even hear my confessions ; and others who say many things about me : yet, since I un derstand that our Lord has been pleased, by this means, to bring many souls to His service (as I have seen very clearly, and I remember how much He himself would endure for
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gaining une soul)) I am very little troubled about it. I am not sure whether this may not be, because His Majesty has put me in this little corner, where I am in such strict enclosure, and where I hoped there would be no more remembrance of me than if I had been dead. But people's forgetfulness is not so great as I wished ; and since then I have been some times obliged to speak with persons. But as I am not now where I can be seen, it seems our Lord has been pleased to drive me to a port, which, I trust in His Majesty, will be a secure one. And since I am now out of the world, and in the company of a few and holy persons, I look down upcn things, as if from a mountain, and I care very little about what people say or think of me. I should feel more, if any one soul should have profited (though ever so little) in God's service by my means, than I shall ever do at all that can be said of me ; for now, since I have been here, our Lord has been pleased that all my desires should terminate in this (the salvation of souls). He has given me a kind of sleep in this life, which makes it seem to me, that what I see here is a dream ; nor am I able to say, that I perceive in myself either much pleasure or trouble from the things of this world. If sometimes I feel any pleasure, it passes away with such speed that I am astonished ; and it leaves rto other impres sion than a dream does. It is qui'.e true, that although I should afterwards have a mind, either to rejoice at any plea sure, or to be sorry at any affliction, it is not in n;y power to do so ; just as a sensible person would not be glad or sorry about what he had dreamed ; for now our Lord has been pleased to awaken me, and free my soul from all that which before made me to have such feelings, because then I was not truly mortified, nor dead to the things of this world. May His Majesty grant that I may become blind no im re.
In this way, my Reverend Father, do I live now ;. and I trust your Reverence will beg of God, that He will cither take me to Himself, or give me means to serve Him. May His Majesty grant, that what I have written here may be of some advantage to your Reverence ! I have not written this account without trouble, on account of the little leisure I have had. But happy will this trouble be, if I have said anything to the purpose, and if our Lord shall have received
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thereby only one act of praise ; I should then consider my labor fully repaid, even though your Reverence were to burn all I have written immediately. I would not wish, however, this to happen, till those three persons had seen it, whom your Reverence knows, since they are and have been my confessors ; for, if what I have written be bad, it is proper they should lose the good opinion they have of me ; and if what I have said be good, they are holy and learned men, and I know they will perceive whence it comes, and they will praise Him who has spoken by iny mouth. May His Majesty always protect your Reverence, and make you so great a saint, that you may with your spirit and zeal enlighten this miserable creature, who has such little humility and so much boldness, in having presumed to write about such high sub jects. Grod grant that I may not have fallen into any error, for my desire and intention were to do my best, and to obey, and also, that our Lord might receive some praise through my means ; and this is what I have begged of Him these many years. But, since I have had no good works of my own for this purpose, 1 have presumed to put in order this irregu lar life of mine, though without bestowing on it any more attention or time than was necessary for writing it. Thus, mentioning those things which have happened to me, I have spoken with all the truth and plainness I was able. Since our Lord is powerful, may He be pleased, (for if He will He can), that in all things I may be able to do His will ; and not allow this soul to be lost, which His Majesty has been pleased, by so many ways and means, and so often, to deliver from hell, and to draw so near to Himself. Amen.
LAUS DEO.
33 FINIS,
APPENDIX.
No. I.
THE following short historical notice of Sir Tobie Mathews, is taken from the " Catholic Miscellany" for March, 1825. It is more circumstantial than the account given by Dodd. At the end is appended a catalogue of the works this illus trious convert published : —
SIR TOBIE MATHEWS, KNIGHT.
This gentleman, who became equally eminent for his vir tues and for his polite acquirements, was the eldest son of Doctor Tobie Mathews, Archbishop of York, and was born at Oxford at the time his father was dean of Christchurch, in 1578.* At the early age of eleven years, he was matricu lated a member of that house, and in the following year, namely, in 1590, he obtained a student's place. His talents for oratory and disputation were of the first class, and he per mitted no opportunity of improvement to escape him, so that after he had taken his degrees in arts, he was considered an accomplished scholar. " He was one of considerable learn ing," says A. Wood, " good memory, and sharp wit, mixed with a pleasant affability, and a seeming sweetness of mind." He obtained a seat in parliament when very young, and be came so favorite a speaker that his rapid preferment was confidently anticipated. An earnest desire to visit Italy, which he had long indulged, prompted him, in his twenty- seventh year, to request his parents' permission to travel abroad. They were both shocked at his proposal, for they loved him tenderly, and could not endure the thought of
* See Dodd, vol. iii., folio ed.
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being long separated from him ; they also feared that his intercourse with Roman Catholics might induce him to change his religion. Perceiving the strong opposition which would be raised to his plan, he appeared to submit to the wishes of his parents, and only solicited their consent that he might spend six months in France, until the parliament, of which he was a member, should assemble : they reluctantly com plied with his request, but with the special condition that he should visit neither Spain nor Italy. He readily gave his promise that he would not, — although at the time he had no intention of keeping it, if he could but once set his foct on the continent: in after-life he deeply regretted this deliberate falsehood. Having thus obtained the consent of his parents, he hurried off to France ; and, determined to indulge his inclination, he continued his route without intermission until he arrived at Florence. After an absence of about six months, his father discovered that he was in this town, and wrote to him, but in terms of great affection, requesting him to return to his own country after he should have taken a reasonable time to gratify his curiosity, and conjuring him, above all things, to remain firm in the Protestant religion. Mr. Mathews felt great pleasure on the perusal of his father's letter, for he now considered that he had his tacit consent to prosecute his travels, and as he had no thoughts about chang ing his religion, the latter part of the letter gave him no un easiness. An incident of no seeming importance brought the first serious thought to his mind. Happening one day to take a walk into the country with Sir George Petre and Mr. Robert Cansfield, two Catholic gentlemen, they entered a poor little church on the road-side, — they to offer up a short prayer before the blessed sacrament, and he to satisfy his curiosity. la a small and dark chapel behind the altar, they chanced to discover a countryman bathed in tears and in fervent prayer. One of the gentlemen, turning to Mr. Mathews, said with a smile, " That a man might have walked long enough in England among the Protestants, especially in re tired country churches and on a working day in the afternoon, before he could find a poor countryman so heartily praying with so many tears." As he well knew that there was much truth in this observation, he felt hurt, and made the best
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answer he could, but this circumstance made a deep impres sion upon him. Not long after, Mr. Partradge, an English Protestant, who had just returned from Naples, gave him an account of the liquefaction of St. Januarius's blood, and stated that he himself had been an eye-witness of the fact : the same thing he heard from other gentlemen, who attributed so extraordinary a circumstance to the power of the devil. Mr. Mathews was perplexed, and knew not what opinion to form of the matter. About this time he removed to Sienna, that he might avoid the company of the English, whose con versation he thought was an obstacle to his perfecting himself in the Italian language. He afterwards visited Naples himself, and having satisfied his curiosity, went to Rome, with an intention of residing there for some time. Upon his arrival in this city, he waited upon Father Parsons, as he had a desire to see one of whom he had heard so much ; besides, he thought it prudent to be upon terms with a man who had been represented to him in England as an intriguing, bad character, lest he might otherwise do him some serious injury. The politeness with which he was received surprised him, and he was induced to call upon him a second time : an observation which the good father casually made, concerning the pains and trouble that men take for this world, and how little they do for the next, struck him, and he could not help reflecting upon it. He paid also, from motives of prudence, a visit to Cardinal Pi- nelli, the grand inquisitor, who received him with much kindness. The reception he met with made him frequently reflect how differently he had been treated by these great men, to what a Roman Catholic foreigner would have been in England, even by a country justice of the peace. Amuse ment, however, and examining the curiosities with which Rome abounded, engrossed the whole of his time, and a serious thought upon the affair of his salvation seldom or never crossed his mind, until a short time before his return to Florence. When at the request of Father Parsons, with whom he was upon very friendly terms, he read Renolda's "Reprehension" of Dr. Whitaker- this brought on several conversations concerning religion, and Father Parsons soon convinced him that he had formed very erroneous ideas upon 33*
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that subject. The doctrine of purgatory did not in the least accord with his system of belief; nevertheless, the father brought so many proofs from the works of St. Augustine in favor of this doctrine, that he was obliged to yield, and con sequently became in his belief neither Catholic nor Protest ant. In this state of mind he returned to Florence, and again gave himself up to amusement, and to the study of the Italian language. When Lent arrived, however, he took a pleasure in hearing sermons ; some of which made so deep an impression upon him, that he began to think seriously witli himself upon the affair of religion, and to examine into the works of the fathers, St. Augustine, &c. His conversion followed ; but before he could prevail upon himself to em brace the Catholic faith, he had to overcome many violent temptations, and to set at defiance what appeared to be at first view insurmountable obstacles. The grace of God, how ever, at length prevailed, and he applied to Father Lelio Ptolomes, an Italian Jesuit, as he had been more particu larly affected by the sermons of this father. Some little time was necessary to complete his instruction, after which he was received into the church by the inquisitor. He then entered into a spiritual exercise for ten days, and made a general confession of his whole life to Father Ptolomes, who advised him to frequent the Sacraments of penance and com munion every week, which he faithfully observed to the end of his life. He had endeavored, even in Italy, to keep the change of his religion from becoming publicly known, arid returning to France, he was still more secret upon this point. He, however, knew that in England it would be impossible to prevent the emissaries of Secretary Cecil from making the discovery; therefore upon his return to this country, about six months after his conversion, he first took lodgings near the Tower, and wrote to his old friend Sir Francis Ba con, a letter so worded that it might be with propriety shown to the minister whose displeasure he principally feared. This letter had the effect he desired ; Cecil was pleased with it, and promised not to molest him. Mr. Mathews then ven tured into public, he changed his lodgings into Fleet-street, and paid a visit to Sir Francis Bacon, to thank him for the kind service he had rendered him with the secretary. After
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this he waited upon Dr. Bancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, who received him with some harshness, and appointed a time to see him again, when he would confer with him upon the subject of religion. Mr. Mathews had afterwards several interviews with the archbishop, who giving way at last to passion, when he could not prevail by argument, committed him a close prisoner to the Fleet, where he was confined during six months, and frequently treated with great severity. In prison he was visited by many persons, several of whom were his friends ; but the greater number came to dispute with him — among these were some friends of his father, who hoped through their means to induce his son to return to the Protestant faith ; among others was Dr. Andrews, Bishop of Chichester. When they discovered that he was immov able in his religious creed, they varied the attack, and pressed him to take the oath of allegiance, which at that time was so worded, that it could not be taken with a safe conscience ; but Mr. Mathews was proof against all their sophistry. While he was thus confined, the plague began to rage with great violence, he therefore petitioned to be removed from a prison situated in the very centre of contagion, and offered to find bail to any amount. Nevertheless, his petition was disregarded. At last Sir Francis Bacon, who interested himself by every means in his power to obtain his release from confinement, so far succeeded that he obtained permis sion for him to visit him at his own house, attended by a proper guard, and after a time his discharge was granted, when he was allowed to remain during two months at the house of a friend, under the care of a messenger, to settle his affairs, and then the king gave him permission to travel abroad. This was understood to be a peremptory command, and he immediately obeyed ; twelve years, however, elapsed before leave could be obtained for his return to England, for which leave he was indebted to Mr. Villiers, who was after wards Duke of Buckingham, with whom be had contracted a friendship in France. He had not long returned to his native land, when the oath was again tendered to him : this obliged him once more to pass over to the continent, where he remained until the following year, when Lord Bristol suc ceeded in obtaining from the king an order for his uncondi-
392 APPENDIX.
tional return in January, 1021. His majesty soon after thought fit to take him into favor, and to send him to Spain to his son the prince, who was in that kingdom upon a chiv alrous expedition relating to his projected marriage. Some of Mr. Mathews's letters are extant in print, which he wrote while attending upon his royal highness, and they show that he was a discreet negotiator and prudent councillor : these may be found in the " Cabala," &c. Upon his return to England, his reception at Court was very flattering : the king, at the request of the prince, treated him with particu lar kindness, and on the 10th of October, 1623, bestowed upon him the honor of knighthood ; and his father, the Archbishop of York, seeing how high he stood at court, ven tured to receive him publicly into his favor, and invited him to his palace, where he continued to reside until that pre late's death, which occurred in the year 1628. Sir Tobie never after lost the favor of the court ; he was particularly esteemed by Thomas. Earl of Stratford', whom he accompa nied to Ireland in 1633, when that nobleman was appointed lord-lieutenant. When the civil wars broke out, Sir Tobie, being far advanced in years, retired from the world, and ended his days among the Jesuits at Ghent, on the 13th of October. 1655. He had previously taken priest's orders, but the time of his ordination is uncertain. For many years of his life he had been an object of attack to the Puritans, who sincerely hated him, and many of their writers abused him without mercy, styling him a crafty politician, spy, &c. He was the author of several works, and many of his letters are to be met with in ' he also collected together a small volume of letters, which was published in 1660, to which his portrait was prefixed. The titles of his works are the following :
1. A rich Cabinet of Precious Jewels.
2. A Collection of Letters to several Persons. London, 1660.
3. Several Letters in the " Cabala," 1654 ; also in the " Scrinia Sacra." London, 1663.
4. The Benefit of washing the Head with cold Water every Morning.
6. The History of the Times. (Not published.)
APPENDIX. 393
6. St. Augustine's Confessions. Translated from the Latin, 1624.
7. The Life of St. Teresa. Translated, 1623.
8. The Penitent Banditto. 1625, 1663.
9. Essays of Sir Francis Bacon. Translated into Italian.
Dodd gives this list, but I cannot be certain of its accu racy ; indeed the Kev. Mr. Tierney, in a kind letter lately received from him, proves that Dodd has made two mistakes respecting the dates of the publication of " St. Augustine's Confessions" and the "Life of St. Teresa." The former was printed in 1620, not 1623 ; and the latter in 1642, at Antwerp, under the title of the " Flaming Hart." ( J. Dalton.)
394 APPENDIX.
No. II.
THE following notice of Mr. Woodhead is taken from th« * Catholic Miscellany," January, 1825.
ABRAHAM WOODHEAD.
This gentleman, who was one of the most able contro- vertists of his time, was born in the year 1608, at Meltham, in the parish of Abbesbury, or, as it is generally called Ambury, in Yorkshire. His father was John Woodhead, of Thornhill, in the same county. At the age of sixteen years, he was sent to Oxford, and was admitted into Uni versity College. His first tutor was John Ratcliff, and after his death he was placed under the care of Thomas Ratcliff, both of whom were fellows of the same house. He soon be came distinguished in the university as a logician, and as a good philosopher. In 1632, or in the following year, he took his degree of Master of Arts, and was afterwards elected Freestone Scholar, then Walter Skirland's Fellow, and there is reason to suppose that he was also elected Free stone Fellow. The honor of pronouncing the Latin oration, when the west side of the University College was built, was conferred upon him at the time when he was a Walter Skir land's Fellow, and the discourse which he then delivered is still preserved in the college library. W'hen he had finished his course of divinity, and had taken orders according to the rites of the Church of England, he was elected one of the proctors of the university: this occurred in 1(141. In the following year, Mr. Woodhead was summoned to answer at the bar of the House of Commons, various charges which were brought against him in consequence of his courage in opposing an overbearing faction, and of his attach ment to the privileges of that university, of which he had the honor to be a member ; for when the parliament attempted by every means to gain it over to the republican party, and had proposed a convocation in ordoc to introduce the Solemn
APPENDIX. 395
League and Covenant, the firmness of Mr. Woodhead pre vented in a great measure the innovation ; and at the bar he made so able a defence, that he was dismissed without fur ther molestation, and returned to the university, where he remained until the expiration of his proctorship, and then procured the college license to travel with Messrs. Harlack- enden and Culpepper, two of his own pupils, up m condition that he should quit the care of these gentlemen, when Mr. Radcliff, the son of Sir George Radcliff, should be sent over to him ; and probably this event soon occurred, for by the college register it appears, that on the 22d of June, 1645, he and Mr. Radcliff had both leave of absence for four terms. About this time he began to entertain doubts with regard to the truth of the Protestant faith, and felt some inclination towards the Catholic religion : this was occasioned, as he writes in one of his letters to his intimate friend Dr. Witby, by reading the saints' lives, and the learned and pious works of the great St. Augustine, by way of index. " To read the Fathers," says he, " would be the business of a man's life ; but in a quarter of a year, by consulting the heads and in dexes of the best Fathers about all controversial points, one may be plentifully satisfied concerning their opinions, and what way the Fathers incline." He examined also and com pared Harding and Jewell ; a book written by Dean Cressy pleased him in part, although he disliked the strong and severe expressions with which it abounded. The fame of the virtues and extraordinary piety of St. Charles Borromeo, of St. Philip Neri, St. Francis de Sales, of St. Teresa, and other devout servants of God, had also reached Mr. Wood- head, and he had been induced to commence an inquiry into their lives, and into that religion which had taught them such principles of sanctity, and this inquiry had in a great measure dissipated his errors and prejudices. Still, however, in an affair of such consequence, where the eternal salvation of his soul was concerned, he thought it proper to proceed with the utmost caution. Some years therefore elapsed be fore he declared himself a Catholic. It was about this time, when he began to entertain doubts of the orthrdoxy of the Protestant faith, that Mr. Ailsbury, afterwards Sir Thomas
396 APPENDIX.
Ailsbury, governor to the Duke of Buckingham, and his hrother Lord Francis, prevailed upon him to undertake the instruction of these young nobleman in the mathematics, and other liberal sciences. Mr. Woodhead spent some time on the continent with his noble pupils, and when they returned to England, apartments were provided for him at York- house, and a handsome salary allowed him. But this was of short duration, for at the unhappy defeat at Kingston, which occurred in 1648, Lord Francis was killed, and the duke was in danger of utter ruin. As he knew himself to be particularly obnoxious to the republican party, he con cealed himself for a short time, until he was received into the family of Lord Cape], with whom he resided at least until the close of the year 1652. Doctor Fern, who became after the Restoration Bishop of Chester, was during most part of this time chaplain in the same family, and he and Mr. Woodhead were in the constant habit of arguing upon the controverted points in religion : the doctor was a stanch Protestant, while the latter inclined towards the Catholic side ; and it is probable that these discussions finally com pleted his conversion, and induced him to quit Lord Capel, and also to resign a pension of sixty pounds per annum which had been settled upon him for life. He now retired to the house of his friend Dr. Witby, who resided in the city, where he had leisure and opportunity to examine the best Protestant writers upon controversy, of consulting the Fathers and Councils, and of more attentively perusing the Holy Scriptures, and of examining with particular care those passages which Protestants and sectarians generally cite in support of their various innovations and novelties. After some time, being desirous of secluding himself as much as possible from the world, and of giving himself up entirely to controversial reading, he united with a few select friends in the purchase of a house and garden at Hoxton, whore they lived in common, uniting into one fund the wreck of their property which had escaped the sanctimonious grasp of the Puritanic faction, and devoting themselves to prayer and study until 1660, the period of the Restoration, when the king's commissioners deputed to restore the banished mem-
APPENDIX. 397
bers of the university to their respective posts, called Mr. Woodhead from his solitude to reinstate him in his fellowship. " He accepted of it again rather as a mark of justice due to the cause for which he was deprived of it, than as a design to retain it as a Protestant, and never communicated with the Church of England, then or afterwards. He remained in the college for a short time ; but finding residence there in consistent with his religious principles, which now were so well known, that not long after one of the beadles accused him of Popery to the vice-chancellor, he laid hold of the occasion, and without any contestation generously chose to retire to his dear solitude at Hoxton." — " Here he employed his time in praying, meditating, and writing in defence of his faith, and for the good of his neighbor, with some small exercise to enable him to return to his labors with greater alacrity. As to the interior perfections of his soul, and what passed in the pious moments of his retirement, it is only known to the Searcher of hearts, for whom, and to whom his life and labors were chiefly dedicated ; with only some select and pious associates joining in the same views, and assisting him in his labors, that is, helping him to find places in authors, collate his citations, or transcribe his learned works and the like. For it was here, and that, too, without any other assistance but what was just now mentioned, this learned champion of the Church wrote those elaborate trea tises of controversy, particularly that of ' Ancient Church Government,' in five parts ; ' The Rational Account of the Doctrine of Catholics, concerning an Ecclesiastical Guide in Controversy,' — having in view two of the most learned writers of the Protestant side, Archbishop Laud and Dr. Stillingfloet." — " In this retirement he perfected those last ing monuments of his pious soul ; that is, his works of de votion, chiefly wrote in his latter days, in which we see, not withstanding his humility, how much his soul was elevated towards God. This appears almost through every page of that excellent treatise of the ' Motives to Holy Living,' by way of heads for meditation, through which the spirit of the Gospel and the most Christian virtues shine in the most de lightful colors ; as also in his tract of ' Catholic Devotions
34
598 APPENDIX.
Vindicated ;' and in two large prefaces of his composing, before ' St. Teresa's Life ;' and in one to his translation of ' Gregory Lopez's Life.' The same spirit shows itself in ' The Life of Christ : that of the Benefits of our Sa viour.' ':
" But to return to the last scene of this holy man's life ; though his thoughts in this retirement were chiefly taken up in the choice of the better part, still preparing and purifying his soul the nigher he approached his end; nevertheless, as a prudent economy and management is a moral virtue, he so discreetly ordered his temporal concerns, and the little stock God had blessed him with, as not only to secure a moderate maintenance, agreeable to his choice, but something also to be disposed of at his death, to such uses as he thought most proper ; leaving good part of what he had to the mainte nance of a school in the country ; believing that learning and a careful education were proper steps to attain the best religion, since it was his own learning, next to God's grace, that brought him to the knowledge of the true church, of which he died an humble and holy member, as well as a very great sufferer for it." The praiseworthy intentions, and charitable bequests of Mr. Woodhead, were however frus trated by the storm which was raised against the whole body of English Catholics, in consequence of " Oates's Plot," and had he lived but a very short time longer, it is probable that his name also would have occurred in the list of victims of persecution and perjury, which blots the annals of Charles the Second's reign. " However, the providence of God thought proper to take his faithful servant to himself, just before these dismal times happened. He had run through a great many trials before ; he had been prepared for the king dom of heaven by many tribulations; he had employed the talents entrusted to him by his Divine Master to the best advantage, having spent the chief part of his time from his youth in improving himself in what he thought might be for the good of his neighbor. And though the stream ran in a wrong channel at first, he soon rectified its course, and made amends for it, to the best of his power afterwards. We don't find he ever took any orders in the Catholic Church.
APPENDIX. 399
though he had in the Church of England, but behaved as a layman after his conversion. However, it is supposed he thought celibacy to be the properest state for persons in holy orders, not only as approaching nigher that of Christ his Master, but as a state less distracted with family cares, and worldly solicitude, allowing more leisure for the great duties of their calling. But by all accounts of him, he lived with an unblemished character, with respect to his morals and chastity; all sides agree in his character as a Christian. He was now drawing towards the end of his career, and pre paring his soul in a greater degree of sanctification and re signation to the will of his Creator, when that dreadful storm of persecution against the professors of his religion was just going to rise ; but the goodness of God snatched him from it, to place him in the tabernacles of the just ; and being seized with a fever, which proved his last, he rendered • his pious soul to God in a good old age, May 4th, 1678, aged 70." — " He was privately interred in the church-yard of St. Pancras, near London, under an ordinary monument raised altar-wise, built a little height with bricks, and covered with a slab of blue marble, on which was this hum ble inscription : ' Elegi abjectus esse in domo Domini, 8>" mnnsi in solitudine, non qu&rens quod mihi utile, se.d quod multis.' "
" Afterwards, in the year 1732, the grave was opened, and after digging about a foot from the surface of the earth, a small but firm cemented arch was found, just sufficient to encompass the coffin, which being quite laid open, the coffin was found to be decayed, and the bones, bare of flesh, were carefully gathered together, and preserved decently till a new coffin was brought, wherein they were deposited ; and a handsome marble monument was erected to his memory, and to that of a young lady of great merit." This lady was " the first and most beloved wife of Cuthbert Constable, of Burton, Esq., Amatia, or Amcy, daughter of Lord Clifford ; she died 25th July, 1731, aetat. 26. Her widower caused her to be buried by Mr. Woodhcad, and erected this new monument jointly for her and also for that pious great man, with the following epitaph :
400 APPENDIX.
Hie jacet Qui elegit abjectus esse in domo Dei,
Et mansit in solitudine, Non quaerens quod sibi esset utile, sed quod multis,
Abraham Woodhead ; Maximum Collegii Universitatis Oxonii, ut &
totius saeculi ornamentum ; Vivumque virtutetn omnium exemplar.
Vir
Versus Deum ardentissima pietate, Versus Ecclesiam Catholicam humilisimo obsequio,
Studiorum indefessa assiduitate mirabilis, Honoribus, divitiis, saeculiq ; voluptatibus omnibus Vitam humileni, obscuram & laboriosam praetulit :
Neque Libris Quos per-multos & utilissimos & piissimos doctissimosque
edidit,
Nomen suum inscribi passus est.
Obiit fere septuagenarius Mali 4to,
Anno Dom. 1678.
P. V. Cuthbertus Constable, &c.
" On the same monument which covers both bodies, on the opposite side to this epitaph of Mr. Woodhead, is in scribed on a like slab of fine white marble, an epitaph of like length in memory of Mrs. Amey Constable, daughter of Hugh Lord Clifford, of Chudleigh, in which is drawn an admirable portraiture of her most amiable virtues.
"Cuthbert Constable, Esq., died 25th March, 1757, and was buried at Burton, near Hull, in Holderness."
We are aware that many of the circumstances related in this sketch of Mr. Woodhead's life, do not accord with what Mr. Wood has written in his " Ath. Oxon. ;" but we have preferred the authority of Mr. Simon Berington, who wrote his life at the request of Mr. Constable, and who has always given his reasons when he has dissented from Mr. Wood ; we have had also the advantage of consulting some notes written by the late esteemed, learned, and accurate Reve rend Alban Butler. In our next number, we intend to give
APPENDIX. 401
some account of the numerous works composed by the inde fatigable and pious subject of this memoir.
The writings of Mr. Woodhead are so numerous, and con tain such a fund of erudition, of solid piety, and of sound argument, that they form a complete devotional and contro versial library, and have not only been highly commended by many succeeding Catholic authors, but several learned Protestant writers have borne testimony to their merit. — " His works," says A. Wood, the Protestant Oxford histo rian, " show him to have been a person of sound arid solid judgment; well read in the Fathers, and in the polemical writings of the most eminent and renowned defenders of the Church of England." The celebrated antiquary Hearue writes in one of his letters : " I always looked upon Mr. Abraham Woodhead to be one of the greatest men that ever this nation produced." And one of his antagonists, Dr. Witby, allows, in his " Preface to his Appendix of Idolatry and Host- worship," that " the author of the 'Guide to Con troversy' is a person most highly famed among the Roman Catholics ; and he is the most ingenious and solid writer of the Roman party." These gentlemen were all Protestants. It will be unnecessary to quote more than one Catholic writer. Mr. Simon Bcrington, in his brief account of the writings and life of the author of " Ancient Church Govern ment," &c., has this passage : " But what is particularly to be admired in Mr. Woodhead is, that in all his disputes with his learned adversaries, one may say, the most learned the Church of England ever had, he never exceeds the bounds of modesty and fair language ; never using any personal, or even party reflections ; free from passion or invidious zeal, he calmly, but with the more solidity, shows the weakness of his adversaries' cause, the strength of his own, and leads them insensibly to the truth, by a certain force of reasoning peculiar to himself." He however admits, that " his method and style is wholly peculiar to himself; and indeed so very uncommon, that if there can be any objection against them, that i.s the chiefest ; nothing can be objected against his learn ing or judgment, and very few come up to it ; his intermixing so many paratheses and parentheses, runs through all his 34*
402 APPENDIX.
works, and sometimes hinders the sense from being carried on so smoothly as it might be otherwise, but makes fully amends by the solidity of his judgment, and vast stock of learning ; he almost crowds in his paragraphs. This is another pecu liar mark of his writings, so that sometimes, by an over- cautiousness, endeavoring to express his sentiments more fully, and to leave nothing without reflection, he is a little hard to be understood in some places. It is also customary with him to refer the reader to what he had wrote in some former treatises." With these acknowledged peculiarities, his works were nevertheless greatly esteemed by the late learned and pious author of " The Saints' Lives," who pos sessed many of his manuscripts. The following catalogue of Mr. Woodhead's writings, which we trust will prove more correct than any hitherto published, has been formed in » great measure from the manuscript notes of Mr. Cuthbert Constable ; like him, we have not attended to the exact chronology of dates, but have in this respect followed Mr- S. Berington.
While he resided at the university, he composed a book of logic, another of philosophy, and one of the form and use of a common place-book, besides some other tracts ; none of these were ever printed, and the manuscripts are lost.
When he was tutor to the Duke of Buckingham and his brother, he wrote a paraphrase on St. Paul's Epistles, to the end of the Hebrews, in 222 pages, octavo, printed at Oxford, 1675 ; it was afterwards, in 1702, reprinted by Dr. Fell, at London, in octavo, in 419 pages, and was perfectly con formable to the MS. as far as it went.
During the time he was with Lord Capel, he published his " Instructions for Oratory," and a small tract " Of Perspec tive Glasses."
After he had retired to Hoxton, the following numerous list was the work of his indefatigable pen : —
" An Historical Narration of the Life and Death of Christ," in two parts, printed at the Theatre, Oxford, 1685 ; many exceptions were made in the university against this book, particularly by Doctor George Reynall, of Caius College.
" The Benefits of our Saviour." Quarto, Oxford, 1680, pp. 237.
APPENDIX. 403
" Ancient Church Government," in five parts : the first