PART 2. “Beati mortui qui in Domino moriuntur.” Apoc. cap. 14:13. [91] Like a true Christian and obedient son of the Church, the good Doctor did patiently undergo all the persecutions, reproaches, and clamorous speeches, both of Papists and Puritans; not regarding what the height of their malice could speak, or their virulent pens could write, against him — because he was able to defend himself. But that which drew all the odium and inveterate malice upon him from the several factions then prevalent, was his loyalty, learning, and conscience, that he constantly asserted the King’s prerogative [and] the Church’s rights, (not infringing the people’s privileges.) In the defense of which he was continually employed until his Majesty’s most happy restoration, which was the longed hope and earnest desire of this poor distracted nation — Quia non aliud discordantis patrioe remedium fuisse, quam ut ab uno regeretur, as the historian said; which cannot be Englished better than in the words of his Majesty’s late gracious declaration — “ That religion, liberty, and property were all lost and gone when the monarchy was shaken off, and could never be revived till that was restored.” Therefore the people’s representatives in Parliament, induced by necessity as well as duty, did unanimously vote, like the elders of Judah, to bring home their lord the King to his native kingdom; of whose wished return we did then all sing, as the poet of Augustus — Custos gentis, abes jam nimium diu Maturum reditum pollicitus Patrum Sancto concilio [redi.] Lucem redde tuae, Dux bone, patriae Instar veris enim vultus ubi tuus Affulsit populo, gratior it dies Et soles melius nitent.

That is to say, Most Sovereign Guardian of this nation, Thy absence all lament; Return to joy the expectation Of thy whole Parliament.

Good Prince, the glory of our land, Shine with thy beams of majesty.

Thy countenance, like the Spring at hand, Cheers up thy people merrily.

Our days now more delightfully are spent, The Sun looks brighter in the firmament. 92. And now the sun shone more gloriously in our hemisphere than ever; the tyrannical powers being dissolved, as the historian said, Non Cinnoe, non Sylloe dominatio, et Pompei Grassique potentia in Caesarem; — the kingdom ruled by its own natural Prince and only lawful Sovereign; the Church restored to her ancient rights, and true religion established among us; every man sitting under his own vine with joy, who had been a good subject and a sufferer — the Doctor was restored to all his former preferments, of which he had been deprived for seventeen years. After his re-entrance into his prebendary of Westminster, he had the honor to attend his sacred Majesty at the time of his coronation, in the solemnity of which, according to his office and place as Subdean of the church, he presented upon his knees the royal scepter unto his Majesty, in whose exile to the utmost of his power he had exercised his pen in the defense both of the crown, scepter, and miter: his soul then transported with joy, that he should survive the usurped powers, and see with his old bad eyes the King settled upon his father’s throne, and ,peace upon Israel. In the evening, after the ceremonies of the coronation were over, while the ordinance was playing from the Tower, it happened to thunder violently, at which some persons who were at supper with him seemed much affrighted. I very well remember an expression of his upon the same, according to the poet’s word, Intonuit lowvum , that the ordinance of heaven answered those of the Tower, rejoicing at the solemnity; with which the company being exceedingly pleased, there followed much joy and mirth. 94. Thus being settled in Westminster, he fell upon the old work of building again and repairing, which is the costly pleasure of Clergymen, for the next generation; because building is like planting, the chief benefit of which accrues to their successors that live in another age; as Cicero said of them who took delight in planting oak trees, Serunt arbores, quoe prosint alteri soeculo. He enlarged his prebend’s house by making some convenient additions to it; particularly, he erected a new dining-room, and beautified the other rooms; all which he enjoyed but for a little time, of which he made the best use while he lived, to serve his God, and seek after the Church’s good; in which work he was as industrious after his Majesty’s happy restoration as he was before, to testify his religious zeal and care that all things might run on in the old right channel: for which reason he writ a fervent letter to a great statesman of that time, earnestly pressing him to advise the King that a convocation might be called with the present parliament, which was a thing then under question. His letter is as followeth: “RIGHT HONOURABLE AND MY VERY GOOD LORD, “I cannot tell how welcome or unwelcome this address may prove, in regard of the greatness of the cause and the low condition of the party who negotiates in it. But I am apt enough to persuade myself, that the honest zeal which moves me to it not only will excuse, but endear the boldness. “There is (my Lord) a general speech, but a more general fear withal amongst some of the Clergy, that there will be no convocation called with the following parliament; which, if it should be so resolved on, cannot but raise sad thoughts in the hearts of those who wish the peace and happiness of this our English Sion. But, being [the] Bishops are excluded from their votes in parliament, there is no other way to keep up their honor and esteem in the eyes of the people than the retaining of their places in convocation. Nor have the lower Clergy any other means to show their duty to the King, and keep that little freedom which is left unto them, than by assembling in such meetings, where they may exercise the power of a convocation in granting subsidies to his Majesty, though in nothing else. And should that power be taken from them, according to the constant (but unprecedented) practice of the late long parliament; and that they must be taxed and rated with the rest of the subjects without their liking and consent — I cannot see what will become of the first Article of Magna Charta, so solemnly, so frequently confirmed in parliament; or what can possibly be left unto them of either the rights or liberties belonging to an English subject. “I know it is conceived by some, that the distrust which his Majesty hath in some of the Clergy, and the diffidence which the Clergy have one of another, is looked on as the principal cause of the innovation: . (for I must needs behold it as an innovation, that any parliament should be called without a meeting of the Clergy at the same time with it). The first year of King Edward the Sixth, Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth were times of greater diffidence and distraction than this present conjuncture: and yet no parliament was called in the beginning of their several reigns without the company and attendance of a convocation, though the intendments of the state aimed then at greater alterations in the face of the Church than are now pretended or desired. And to say truth, there was no danger to be feared from a convocation, though the times were ticklish and unsettled, and the Clergy was divided into sides and factions, as the case then stood, and so stands with us at this present time. For, since the Clergy in their convocations are in no authority to propound, treat, or conclude any thing, (more than the passing of a bill of subsidies for his Majesty’s use), until they are empowered by the King’s commission, the King may tie them up for what time he pleaseth, and give them nothing but the opportunity of entertaining one another with the news of the day.

But if it be objected, that the commission now on foot for altering and explaining certain passages in the public Liturgy shall either pass instead of a convocation, or else is thought to be neither competable nor consistent with it, — I hope far better in the one, and must profess that I can see no reason in the other. For, first, I hope that the selecting of some few Bishops, and other learned men, of the lower Clergy, to debate on certain points contained in the Common Prayer Book, is not intended for a representation of the Church of England, which is a body more diffused, and cannot legally stand [bound] by their acts and counsels. And if this conference be for no other purpose but only to prepare matter for a convocation, . (as some say it is not), — why may not such a conference and convocation be held both at once? For neither the selecting of some learned men out of both the orders for the composing and reviewing of the two Liturgies digested in the reign of King Edward the Sixth proved any hindrance in the calling of those convocations which were held both in the second and third and in the fifth and sixth years of the said King’s reign; nor was it found that the holding of a convocation together with the first parliament under Queen Elizabeth proved any hindrance to that conference in disputation which was designed between the Bishops and some learned men of the opposite parties. All which considered, I do most humbly beg your Lordship to put his Majesty in mind of sending out his mandates to the two Archbishops for summoning a convocation, according to the usual form, in their several provinces; that this poor Church may be held with some degree of veneration both at home and abroad. And in the next place, I do no less humbly beseech your Lordship to excuse this freedom, which nothing but my zeal to God’s glory and my affection to this Church could have forced from me. I know how ill this present office doth become me, and how much better it had been for such as shine in a more eminent sphere in the holy hierarchy to have tendered these particulars to consideration; which since they either have not done, or that no visible effect hath appeared thereof, I could not choose but east my poor mite into the treasury; which if it may conduce to the Church’s good, I shall have my wish; and howsoever shall be satisfied in point of conscience, that I have not failed in doing my duty to this Church, according to the light of my understanding: and then what happens to me shall not be material. And thus again most humbly craving pardon for this great presumption, I subscribe myself, “My Lord, “Your Lordship’s most humble servant “To be commanded, “PETER HEYLYN.” 95. Soon after, a convocation was called by his Majesty’s writ; and during the time of their sitting (while the Doctor lived) he seldom was without visitors from them, who constantly upon occasion came to him for his advice and direction in matters relating to the Church; because he had been himself an ancient clerk in the old convocations. Many persons of quality, besides the Clergy, for the reverence they had to his learning and the delight they took in his company, paid him several visits, which he never repaid, being still so devoted to his studies, that, except going to church, it was a rare thing to find him from home. I happened to be there when the good Bishop of Durham, Dr Cousins, came to see him; who, after a great deal of familiar discourse between them, said, “I wonder, brother Heylyn, thou art not a Bishop; for we all know thou hast deserved it.” To which he answered, “Much good may it do the new Bishops: I do not envy them, but wish they may do more than I have done.” Although he was but a Presbyter, I believe their Lordships thought him worthy of their holy order. I am sure he was reverenced by some of them as St Jerome was by St Augustine — (Quamvis Episcopus major est Presbytero, Augustinus tamen minor est Jeronymo) — the one of which was an old Presbyter, the other a young Bishop, but both of incomparable learning and virtues.

The old Presbyter writeth thus to St Austin, the great Bishop of his time — In scripturarum campo juvenis, non provoces senem. Nos nostra habuimus tempora, [et cucurrimus quantum possumus]; nunc to currente, et longa spatia transmeante, nobis debetur otium . For the good Doctor’s indefatigable pains and continued industry, he was second to none. For his writings and sufferings in the cause of monarchy and episcopacy, he did spend himself and was spent. For the sad persecutions he suffered in the time of war, — his enemies hunting after his life, as Ahaziah’s captains did for the man of God, — the woeful shifts and straits he was put to, to secure himself from violence, — how many times he narrowly escaped death from the hands of his enemies, as a bird out of the snare of the fowler! What fears and distractions were often upon him, that he might say, O si nescissem literas ! “I would to God I had not known a letter of the book!” for his learning and loyalty were the cause of all his calamities, yet notwithstanding he lived in an ungrateful age, that no respect was showed to him or his, but he returned only to his own in peace, which he enjoyed a little while before the war, and less time after the Church’s settlement. It hath been the lot many times of great scholars to be neglected, which made his enemies rejoice, and not a little insult over him, to see him only passed by, and of all others remain in statu quo , “in the same condition he was in before,” which, after the happy revolution of public affairs, neither law nor justice could hinder him of. I will not say of him as the Cardinal did of Melanchthon, that most learned divine of the Reformation — O ingratam Germaniam, quoe tanti viri tantos labores non pluris oestimet . It fared also ill with Luther’s memory after his death; whose widow, hoping some favors would be showed to her for his merits, was shamefully disappointed — Proeter viduitatis incommoda, quoe multiplicia, experta est magnam ingratitudinem multorum pro quibus sperans beneficia ob ingentia mariti in Ecclesiam merita turpiter frustrata est . So ordinary it is for men of admired worth, who have done public service either in Church or state, to be soonest forgotten. 96. Now having run through the principal circumstances of this reverend man’s life, it behooves us to say something of his person, conversation, qualities, and the memorable accidents happening before the time of his death, and so leave his memory among worthy men.

For his person, — he was of a middle stature; a slender, spare man; his face oval, of fresh complexion, looking rather young than old; his hair, short and curled, had few or no gray hairs; his eyes quick and sparkling, before he had the ill fortune to lose his sight. His natural constitution being hot and dry, it was conceived by skillful oculists his brain, heated with immoderate study, burnt up the crystalline humor of his eyes: and this was most probable; he being continually engaged in writing either for Church or state, his brain was like a laboratory kept hot with study, decayed his eyes, if there be any truth in the naturalist’s observation, Magna cogitatio obcoecat, abducto intus visu. And this he looked upon as the saddest affliction that ever befell him in his whole life; yet no doubt he was comforted with the words (which he had often read in Socrates) of Anthony the good monk unto Didymus, that learned man of Alexandria, — “ Let it not grieve thee at all,” saith he, “O noble Didymus, that thou art bereaved of thy corporal eyes and carnal sight; for, though you want such eyes as commonly are given to flies and gnats, yet hast thou greatly to rejoice that the eyes wherewith the angels do behold their Maker, wherewith God is seen of men, are not taken from thee.” 97. Our blessed Savior said, “The light of the body is the eye;” for without these two luminaries which God hath placed in the microcosm of man, none can be said in this world to live a true happy day, who are under such a continual night of darkness; but that the intellectual light of the soul, the candle of the Lord within us, supplies that miserable defect with a far greater felicity by extraordinary endowments of the mind, which Seneca calls melior pars nostri . And it is the best part of man indeed, though all the members and parts of our bodies are so excellently compacted together by the wisdom of the Creator, and have such a necessary dependence upon one another for the exercise of their several offices, that the compositum of man cannot be complete without them; and chiefly the eye, being the guide of the whole body, hath pre-eminence over the rest of the members, saith the philosopher, o[ti ma>lista poiei~ gnwri>zein ti hJma~v au[th tw~n aijsqh>sewn “because by it we receive the greatest share of knowledge and understanding,” it being the principal organ of sense for that use. 98. But the loss of his eyes, considering the cause, was no blemish to his person, but rather a mark of honor, as the Caeci among the Romans, a noble family, were so called, because of the notable service they did for the public good, Claros et illustres viros militioe domique, ex oculorum vitio cognomenta invenere , saith Alex[ander] ab Alexand[ro]. Thus Constantine the Great, in honor of Paphnutius’ sufferings for Christian religion, kissed the hole in his face out of which the tyrant Maximinus had bored his eye: “the good Emperor making much of the socket,” saith Mr Fuller, “when the candle was put out.” These outward windows being shut, the Doctor enjoyed more perfectly the sweet and seraphical contemplations of his own mind, without a disturbance from other objects; which being removed, he did take a complacency and delight only in himself, as Tully saith, Habet animus quo se delectet, etiam occlusis sensibus. I may say truly of him thus, (though he was my father-in-law), that he was the Venerable Bede of our age; for many excellent tractares he published which he never saw with his own eyes, and they were done in as exact a manner as when he had his faculty of sight at the best. The like Socrates saith of Didymus, when he was blind; he not only interpreted Origen’s writings, and made commentaries upon them, but set forth excellent treatises to defend the orthodox faith against the Arians.

The Doctor’s “Cosmography” was the last book he writ with his own hand; after which voluminous work his eyes failed him, that he could neither see to write nor read without the help of an amanuensis, whom he kept to his dying day: yet he was not so totally deprived of his sight, (as some imagine), but he could discern a body or substance near hand, (though not the physiognomy of a face), so as to follow his leader, when he walked abroad. 99. He macerated his body with the immoderate exercises of his mind, often fasting, and taking little or nothing for the space of two or three days when he was upon painful studies, which made him look at times like a skeleton; yet then he was also of a cheerful spirit. He followed no exercise for his health, but walking in his garden, and then he used a kind of low whistling with himself, either to recreate his spirits, or else (as it were) to sound an alarm against his enemies; like the old Germans, who affected a such-like tone, asperitas soni, et fractum murmur, when they went to war. All this while he was in deep meditation, preparing for an encounter with his adversary in some polemical discourse; the pen being his only weapon, in which he was as fortunate as Alexander with his sword; of whom it’s said, Cum nullo hostium unquam congressus est, quem non vicerit, “He fought with none of his enemies, but he overcame them.”

So the Doctor had the same good fortune, in all his pencombats to be conqueror: for which cause he was ordinarily called the Primipilus and chief defender of prelacy; by Smectymnuus, “the Bishops’ darling,” by others, “the Puritan episcopal man.” For his zeal and courage, I may truly say of him, he was a right Peter, of whom Casaubon observes, out of the Greek fathers, Petrum fuisse qermohot temper and disposition,” that set him forward on all occasions, more than the other disciples. So the Doctor was of the like disposition naturally, and inclined the more by study, much watching, and sitting up late at nights, that threw him often into fevers, to which he was very subject. Notwithstanding his hot temper and constitution, he did so wisely correct and govern it, that he never fell into those paroxysms as to suffer his reason to be extinguished with passion; but his most fervent zeal was ever attended with deep knowledge; for he had an acute wit, a solid judgment, and exuberant fancy, to which was adjoined (that which is rare to be found in all these excellences together) a most prodigious and yet faithful memory; that he did not usually take notes, or make collections of readings out of authors, (as most scholars do), but committed what he read to his own memory, which, I believe, never failed him, in whatsoever he treasured up to make use of hereafter. Therefore it was a pitiful charge of Mr H. L’Estrange against him, that he misreported the words of Pareus, in putting down quomodo for quando; to which the Doctor answers thus for himself, whereby we may see what a true repository of things his memory was — “I must tell you,” saith he, “for him, that, being plundered of his books, and keeping no remembrances and collections of his studies by him, he cannot readily resolve what edition he followed in his consulting with that author. He always thought that tenure in Capite was a nobler and more honorable tenure than to hold by Copy; and therefore carelessly neglected to commit any part of his readings unto notes and papers, of which he never found such want as in this particular which you so boldly charge upon him.” 100. When the Esquire taxed him again for having many helpers, as if he were beholden to other men’s studies and pains about the composing of his books, — (that was such a notorious scandal that every one who knew him could confute), — he in modest and most pious manner replied thus: “Though I cannot say that I have many helpers, yet I cannot but confess in all humble gratitude that I have one great Helper, which is instar omnium, even the Lord my God; auxilium meum a Domino, ‘my help cometh even from the Lord, which hath made heaven and earth,’ as the Psalmist hath it. And I can say, with the like humble acknowledgments of God’s mercies to me, as Jacob did, when he was asked about the quick dispatch which he had made in preparing savory meat for his aged father — Voluntas Dei fuit, ut tam cito occurreret mihi quod volebam, ( Genesis 27:20): ‘It is God’s goodness, and his only, that I am able to do what I do.’ And as for any human helpers, as the French courtiers use to say of King Lewis the Eleventh, ‘that all his council rid upon one horse,’ because he relied upon his own judgment and abilities only, — so I may very truly say, that one poor hackney horse will carry all my helpers used, be they never so numerous. The greatest help which I have had (since it pleased God to make my own sight unuseful to me), as to writing and reading, hath come from one whom I had entertained for my clerk or amanuensis, who, though he reasonably well understood both Greek and Latin, yet had he no further education in the way of learning than what he brought with him from the school, and a poor country school.” 101. His adversaries accused him sometimes for severity in his writings, but they never could for virulency, — no, not the strict Sabbatarians, who were chiefly offended with him for his History of the Sabbath. The Ministers of Surrey and Buckinghamshire returned him thanks in the name of themselves and their party, for dealing so candidly with them by all meek and loving persuasions, when he writ upon that subject, and especially for his Preface before the History. He once met with some rude usages in court, though that is the place ordinarily of best breeding and most civility; no other reason could be imagined but because he was envied by his fellow Chaplains, who saw him then a rising man, and most likely to be an ascendant over them if the old King and Archbishop had lived. As to the Earl of E.’s speech, calling him a begging scholar, — such great persons do take the liberty to say what they please of their inferiors, and none must control them: however the young scholar came not to his Lordship as a mendicant; for he asked nothing at his hands but to accept the Vindication of his Order, which the Earl was bound to defend for his honor sake, but could not with that learning as the historian had done. In the height of his prosperity, he abated nothing of his wonted studies, but rather increased them, as it was said of him, Ego quo major fuero, tanto plus laborabo. His whole life, (I may say), was a continued study, unto death; for all his delight, time, thoughts, and business was taken up in his books, that he lived no longer than he could be an author, and that at the last a most profitable one to his King and country, as in his History of the Presbyterians, which was his farewell book to the world; which no sooner he had prepared for the press but he died, like the ancient Romans, of whom Tacitus saith, Cecidere omnes versi in hostem, “They fell with their faces turned towards the enemy.” Finally, he worthily deserved that character of praise and thanks which the good Emperor A.

Severus bestowed on them who discharged their office well, saying, Gratias tibi agit respublica; but it was his ill fortune to live in such ungrateful times, that, according to the French proverb, Qui serf commun nul ne le paye, Et sil defaut chacun labbaye: “He that serves the good of the community, is controlled by every one, and rewarded by none.” Yet, however, to his perpetual honor, it may be said of him truly, as was of the famous Scaliger, and whosoever reads his Life will confess the same, viz.: Clarissimi et illustrissimi sumus. [Regibus], Principibus et Proceribus noti sumus. Literatum amantissimi sumus. Ab omni ambitione et invidia remoti sumus…. Inimici nostri virtutem, non vitium, in nobis hactenus insectati sunt: “We are descended of an illustrious family; to Princes and Nobles we are well known; most lovers also of learning, far from ambition in ourselves and the envy of others. Our enemies may rail at our virtues, but they cannot reprove us for vice.” 102. Therefore in the next place we shall speak of his conversation, that was free from all scandal or common immoralities, which none of his most inveterate enemies could tax him with, but only for his religion and loyalty, in which they thought he was too forward, and more zealous than many others; but that was no crime, but conscience. He was strict in the education of his children, to train them up in religious exercises, especially to get the Scripture by heart; that one of them, having a singular memory like her father, could give an account of all the historical passages methodically, from chapter to chapter, through most of the Bible: which an old Presbyterian Minister in Lincolnshire desiring to hear from her, she performed accordingly; at which the good man stood amazed, saying — “I did not think episcopal men brought up their children in this manner; for Doctor Heylyn’s sake I shall have a better opinion of them than ever I had.” So strangely is that party prepossessed with prejudice and unchristian thoughts, as if the episcopal Clergy did not educate their children in the fear of God; whose care and conscience is, and hath always been, to instruct them in this lesson, into fear God, and honor the King: which whole sentence, and sometimes only the latter clause of it, for fear of Popery and arbitrary power, some zealous Presbyters have caused to be razed out of their Church’s painting. At last this man had the good luck to meet with Dr Heylyn at his own parish of Laceby, in Lincolnshire; where, after some discourses, the Doctor so well settled him in all points, that he lived and died a true Conformist to the Church of England. His chief pleasure was to converse with scholars and divines, from whose company his house seldom cooled; and they were as much delighted with his learned society, for their own improvements, that any one might say of him in this case, who familiarly communed with him, Nunquam accedo ad to, quin abs to abeam doctior. If he had no such company, his ordinary conversation was very pleasant at meals with his own family: but if he was disturbed out of them times, by them or strangers (excepting scholars), whereby he was taken off from his usual studies, indeed he was morose and somewhat peevish for a while, till he diverted his thoughts from his book, and then no man could be more complaisant, and very jocular; yet withal keeping up the gravity that became his degree. For an hour after dinner he would stay with ordinary guests, and then no more to be seen of him till night; but, like Diogenes in dolio, he was musing in his study. He made seldom visits to his friends, but loved to be visited himself; at which they took no exception, knowing his infirmity of sight rendered him unable to stir abroad, or otherwise he could have repaid the like ceremonies. I have known several reverend persons, who were old Bishops before the war, have honored him with visits in Abingdon, and some new Bishops now living, as the Right Reverend Fathers the Bishop of Durham, the Bishop of Lincoln, and the Bishop of Exeter. And he wanted not good company amongst his own neighbors in Abingdon, particularly Doctor Tucker, a civilian; Mr Jennings, an ingenious person, and ejected Fellow of St John’s College in Oxon; and Mr Blower, a witty lawyer; who were his constant visitors, and in whose company he was extremely delighted at all times. 103. For his generosity on all occasions, (as well as free hospitality), — to help the public concerns at the time of any royal aid or benevolence, to serve his Prince and his country, no man could show himself more active and forward to contribute according to his power, and sometimes above it, when he was scarce warm in his ecclesiastical preferments; soon after which the sad wars broke forth, that despoiled him and the regular Clergy.

In the year 1639, when his Majesty began his journey against the Scots, upon the liberal contribution of the Clergy, he gave fifty pounds out of his parsonage in Alresford, and for Southwarnborough thirteen pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence, at the same time when he had not paid off his first-fruits for this living. He was the first of M1 the Clergy that subscribed in Hampshire: being a leading man, his good example so moved others, that the Clergy of that county exceeded their other brethren; they raised for the King’s use the sum of 1348 pounds 2s. 4d. After his Majesty King Charles the Second’s most happy restoration, towards the royal benevolence he gave fifty pounds for his parsonage of Alresford, besides his share of a thousand pound, as he was prebendary of Westminster. I should have added also, (which I had almost forgotten) — in the beginning of the war he gave to the old King money and plate to the value of an hundred pounds; by all which, freely parted out of his purse, and more than his estate could well bear, having many children to provide for, he sufficiently confuted the calumny of L’Strange, who said, according to his gentile and new mode of writing hard words, the Doctor was philargurous; when, poor man, what he parted with, and what he was plundered of, he had scarce enough left to “insconce his person from frigidity,” according to the good squire’s language. 104. For his charity to the poor, he had always a liberal heart to cast his bread upon the waters, when he had bread to east, that is, when he was in a condition to relieve others; at which time he gave alms to his enemies, as well as to the honest poor of the King’s party; for being asked the question when he lived in Abingdon, whether he would serve St Ellen’s poor, being of the adverse party against the royalists-he answered, “No exception ought to be made in the case of charity.” Wherein he followed the example of our blessed Lord, who had compassion on the poor Samaritans as well as upon the Jews; to whom he showed many acts of pity and goodness, besides the cure of their bodily infirmities: it’s probable he gave them an alms-penny, for which reason Judas carried the bag, that had a common stock in it for the poor, to be used as occasion served. The good Doctor hath sent meat from his own table to the prisoners in gaol; and at Abingdon, such as were condemned to die, he took pains to instruct and prepare them for death, and to administer the holy Sacrament unto them before their execution, particularly to one Captain Francis and his company, condemned with him at Abingdon assizes; the Captain being a known royalist, for which reason it was thought the judge was so severe against him upon his trial, and plainly partial in the examination of witnesses of both sides. The Doctor, after the sentence of condemnation, went to prison to pray with him, and administered the Sacrament to him and the other prisoners who were penitent; provided bread and wine for them at his own charge; all which certainly was the most Christian act of piety and charity that could be showed to those miserable souls. I could instance many other particulars which manifested his goodness, wherein he ought to be followed as a worthy example, but that it’s time now to draw near to his end.

For “Do the prophets live for ever?” as the good prophet himself said.

No, ‘tis the deplored condition of mankind, to live a while for to die; after the holy men of God had served God in their generation, they must fulfill the end of their prophecy with their lives — as God said to Daniel, Tu autem abi ad terminum, — “Go thou thy way till the end be; for thou shalt rest and stand in thy lot at the end of the days:” on which Geierus and Junius comment thus — Compara to ad mortem, disposita domo tua, et contentus hac revelatione, non [nec] ultra labores [curiosius de prophetiarum istarum interpretatione]; et requiesces a [molestiis et] laboribus; corpore in sepulcro, anima vero in sinu Abrahor. Stabis in hoereditate tua coelesti et oeterna, vel illa ejus parte quoe tibi ex decreto Dei continget — “Prepare thyself for death, set thy house in order, be content with this revelation; thou shalt labor no more, but rest from all thy labors and troubles, with thy body in the grave, but thy soul in Abraham’s bosom; thou shalt abide for ever in thy celestial inheritance, and in that degree of glory which God hath decreed for thee.” 105. So all these things happened to this good man; and I may call him prophetical, because he strangely foresaw his own death, set his house in order, and prepared himself accordingly, and an end was soon put after to his days, and of making many books: because “much study,” as Solomon saith, “is a weariness of the flesh,” though the mind or spirit of a man is never tired out or can be satisfied, because knowledge is no burden. By the Almighty’s good pleasure and providence, he was now removed from his house in Abingdon to his house in Westminster, (where he lived not long), and from thence to the house of darkness, where all must take up their last lodging. “The grave is mine house,” saith Job: “I have made my bed in the darkness.” “What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? Shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?” Is not this “the house appointed for all living?” According to the French proverb, three things carry away all with them — L’Eglise, la court et la mort:

L’Eglise prend de vif et mort, La court prend le droict et le tort, La mort prend le foible et le fort.

The Church, the court, and death take all; The Church both living and the dead install, To court all causes come, either right or wrong, But death destroys all mortals, weak or strong. 106. Therefore we shall speak of the circumstances foregoing his death, and the memorable accidents happening to him about the same time. He had before been grievously afflicted with a quartan ague, that deadly enemy unto old age, and seldom cured by the physician — Febris quartana opprobrium medici. The poor Doctor had wrestled with the disease a long time, and seemingly got the victory of it; for the paroxysms or usual fits of this sore distemper had departed from him, but withal so violently shaken him, and left such a weakness behind them, so exhausted his strength and vital spirits, that any one might perceive what strange alterations his sickness had wrought in him: for he was before of a fresh lively complexion, a man vigorous in action; but now grown feeble and weak, of a pale discolored countenance, the forerunner of death, his cheeks fallen, his eyes a little sunk within his temples, and leanness of face and whole body that showed he was hastening on fast to the end of his pilgrimage.

Yet I dare not say there is such a predetermined term of every man’s life, which is immutable, but the great God of heaven, from whom we derive our being, can lengthen or shorten our days, as his wisdom pleaseth; and on the other side, this is a decree most absolute and irrevocable, Statutum est omnibus ut semel moriantur — “It is appointed for all men once to die.” In reverence of which decree, such a heavenly man as the Doctor was could not but be prepared (as every religious soul is) for to die, or put off his mortal body. 107. Before which time two accidents happened to him, one suddenly after the other, which he looked upon as presaging providences of his death; for he was a man very critical in his observation of unusual things, and, I may say in this particular, prophetical. For on the Saturday night before he sickened, he dreamed that he was in an extraordinary pleasant and delightful place; where standing and admiring the beauty and glory of it, he saw the late King, his master, who said to him, “Peter, I will have you buried under your seat at church, for you are rarely seen but there or at your study:” which dream he told his wife the next morning, saying, it was a significant one; giving her charge, when he died, there to bury him. A few hours after, his maid holding his surplice against the fire to air it, one of the billets upon the fire tumbled down, the flame of which catched hold of the surplice and burned it; at which accident, so soon following his dream, he said, “That was ominous, and he should never wear surplice more,” as indeed he did not; like Aaron the high priest, when he was stripped of his priestly garments by God’s own appointment, he must certainly die. These two accidents, falling out together, made such a strong impression upon his mind, that on the same day, (though he was seemingly well as he used to be), he did not go to church; but on the Monday following went forth in the morning, [and] staid out all the day: in which time he bought a house of one Mrs Floyd in the Almonry, paid his money for it, renewed the lease of it, and brought home the writings; and then told his wife the reason of his being from home all that time, (which was an unusual thing with him), was because “he had bought her a house to live in, near the abbey, that she might serve God in that church, as he had done.” All which, she not knowing before, seemed strange and terrifying to her. Not thinking the precedent accidents of the dream and surplice could have wrought such an indelible impression on his fancy, she urged all the arguments and persuasions she possibly could to drive away this melancholy humor; but all in vain: for he still persisted in his opinion, (which proved too sad a truth), because he was a man who rarely dreamed in his life, and when he did, he could remember no circumstances of it; which puts me in mind what Pliny hath written to this purpose, that there be some persons of so curious and excellent temper who are seldom or never disturbed with dreams, but if it so happen to them at any time, it is a deadly sign — Quibus mor-tiferum fuisse signum , (saith he), contra consuetudinem somnium, invenimus exempla . 108. That there is a truth in some dreams I do not question; though I would not have men too credulous of them, because this is not now God’s economy or his ordinary way of dispensation under the Gospel, to manifest his mind to us, as he did to the patriarchs before the law, and afterward to the holy prophets, to whom he made known himself polumerw~v kai< polutro>pwv “at sundry times and in divers manners,” and particularly in this way and manner of dreams. Yet as God cannot be limited in his will and power at any time, when he hath a mind to do an extraordinary thing, I would therefore not too rigidly condemn all dreams for delusions, that are ascertained to us by the testimony of wise and credible persons, whom we know are no way inclined to be either fanciful or fanatic. Omitting what Artemidorus hath written in his Oneirocritics, I take Coelius Rhodiginus for a most learned and faithful author; who reports of himself, that, when he could not explain a hard passage he met with in Pliny, that puzzled his brain, it was made known and revealed to him in a dream, if he did look in such a book he should find it. Librum arripui (saith he), stout somniaveram sic cornperi — “I took up the book, and found the same accordingly as I dreamed.” Neither was that less wonderful which Joseph Scaliger tells us of his father’s dream, who in his sleep read an epitaph which he never saw with his eyes or ever heard of before, yet proved most true; whence he inferreth by this example the prodigy and yet certainty of some dreams — Prodigiosa etiam usque ad miraculum ex somnits vaticinatio. We may believe his relation; for he was a man of that integrity and great spirit as he would scorn to tell a lie. I cannot omit what Dr Heylyn himself hath written of Archbishop Laud, — that “he was much given to take notice of dreams, and commit them to writing. Amongst which I find this for one; that on Friday night, the twenty-fourth of January, 1639, his father (who died six and forty years before) came to him, and that, to his thinking, he was as well and as cheerful as ever he saw him; that his father asked him what he did there; and that after some speech, he demanded of his father, how long he would stay there? And his father made this answer, that he should stay till he had him along with him. A dream which made such impression on him, as to add this note to it in his breviate, ‘that though he was not moved with dreams, yet he thought [fit] to remember this.’” 109. I know many impute those dreams in our sleep to a melancholy temper, which the Doctor was never subject to, either in time of sickness or health, but was a man always of most cheerful spirit. I confess that black humor presenteth strange things to the imagination and phantasy of some persons, that Aristotle in his Problems ascribes the prophecy of the Sibyl women thereto, and Cardanus, the revelations of hermits, because living in solitude and on bad diet. Quantum poterat (saith he) in illis humor melancholicus. The old philosophers also were of opinion that all prophecy did proceed from the strength of imagination, by the conjunction of the understanding, which they call intellectus passibilis, with the other faculty of the intellectus agens; whereby they concluded, (contrary to the holy Scripture), that old men were not capable of prophesying, by reason of the weakness of their imagination and other natural faculties, decayed in them through age. But the quite contrary appeareth in scripture examples, that they were generally aged men, or well stricken in years, who had the gift of prophecy. Though their eye-sight failed them, as [it] did with Jacob, yet they were called seers, because they foresaw future things. They were so old, that for their age and gravity they were sometimes upbraided; so Elisha by the children was mocked, who undoubtedly were so taught by their ungodly fathers, to say of him, “Go up, thou bald-head.” Neither doth a melancholy constitution, (as some have imagined), make men prophetical, either in sleeping or waking, but on the contrary renders them uncapable; as it is evident by the examples of Jacob and Elisha; the first of whom, being in deep sadness, (which is the inseparable companion of melancholy), for the loss of his son Joseph, was at the same disabled from prophecy, or otherwise he could have told what fortune had befallen his son, who was not dead, but sold by his brethren.

Hence Mercer tells us it was an ordinary saying among the Rabbins, Moeror prophetiam impedit. In like manner the Prophet Elisha, for the sorrow of Elijah his master taken away from him, and the anger he had conceived against Jehoram, that wicked prince, whilst these two passions were predominant over him, he could not prophesy, till the minstrel played with her musical instrument, to drive away his melancholy sadness, and then “the hand of the Lord,” (it’s said), “came upon him, and he prophesied, saying, Thus saith the Lord,” etc. 110. By all which I hope it is evident that hypochondriacal persons, who are grievously afflicted with melancholy, are not thereby disposed to prophesy; and then by necessary consequence it followeth that dreams arising from the same natural cause cannot be said prophetical, no more than that of Albertus Magnus, who dreamed that hot scalding pitch was poured upon his breast, and so soon as he awakened from his sleep, he vomited up abundance of adust choler. Such dreams certainly arise from the ill habitude of the body, through fullness of bad humors. 111. But there is another sort of dreams which may be called divine or supernatural, which are imprinted on the mind of man either by God himself or his holy angels, from which necessarily follows prophecy; because such extraordinary impressions are usual for those ends. And this I take to be the reverend Doctor’s dream, who was a man of so great piety, as well as study, that I cannot think otherwise but that he was able to discern the different motions of his soul, whether they were natural or supernatural; of which last he was so firmly assured by his own reason and great learning, that no arguments could dissuade him to the contrary. St Austine saith, Animam habere quandam vim divinationis in seipsa, “That the soul of man hath a certain power of divination in itself,” when it is abstracted from bodily actions. I confess then it must needs be drawn up to higher communion with God than ordinary; but more immediately, I rather think with Tertullian, a little before death, about the time of its separation from the body, because many dying persons have wonderfully foretold things which afterward came to pass; the reason of which that good father giveth — (and therein I judge he was no Montanist) — when he saith, Quia anima in ipso divortio penitus agitari enunciet quoe vidit, quoe audit, quoe incipit nosse — “Because the soul then acts most vigorously at the last breath, declares what things it seeth, it heareth, and what it begins to know, now entering into eternity.” 112. So the heavenly and pious Doctor, according to the prenotions of his death, foreseeing his time was short, gave his wife strict charge again, (that very night, as he was going to bed, and in appearance well), that she should bury him according to his dream. She, affrighted with this dreadful charge, sat by him, while he fell into a sleep, out of which he soon awaked in a feverish distemper and violent hiccough, which she taking notice of, said, “I fear, Mr Heylyn, you have got cold with going abroad to-day;” but he answered very readily, “No, it was death’s hiccough;” and so it proved, for he grew worse and worse till he died. Now some, I hear, impute the cause of his sickness to the eating of a tansey; but this is false, for I heard the contrary relation from her own mouth. His dream was on the Saturday night, his surplice happened to be burnt on Sunday morning, all which day he passed in private meditation in his study; and on the Monday, what time he had to spare he spent in providing a settlement for his wife, as aforesaid. 113. But to return again to this good man’s sickness, of which the true cause, as his physician said, was the reliques of his long quartan ague, not purged out by physic, to which he was always averse, . [it] threw him into a malignant fever, in which he remained insensible till some few hours before he died; but when it pleased God to restore unto him his senses again, he most zealously glorified his name with praises and thanksgivings for his mercies towards himself and family, — earnestly praying for them, and often commending them to God’s heavenly care and protection. At the same time he left a little book of prayers with his dear wife for her devotion, which she showed afterward to me, being a collection of many collects out of the Common Prayer, to every one of which he had added a most fervent prayer of his own composure: that little book she said should be the prayer-book of her devotion while she lived. Finally, as his time grew shorter and shorter, he prayed with more vehemeney of spirit, sometimes to God, sometimes to his Savior, and to the blessed Comforter of his soul, rejoicing exceedingly that he should live to Ascension-day, uttering forth most heavenly expressions, to the sweet comfort of others and principally of his own soul, with a plhrofori>a or full assurance of his salvation through Christ Jesus; which last unspeakable joy and consolation, above all other, God is pleased to bestow upon the faithful, and seal it to them with the earnest of his Spirit at the hour of death. At which time, his soul now ready to depart and be with Christ his Savior, one Mr Merrol, a verger of the church, coming into his chamber to see him, he presently called him to his bed-side, saying to him — “I know it is churchtime with you, and I know this is Ascension-day; I am ascending to the Church triumphant, I go to my God and Savior, unto joys celestial and to hallelujahs eternal:” with which and other like expressions he died upon Holy Thursday, anno Dom. 1662, in the climacterial year of his life, three score and three, in which number the sevenths and ninths do often fatally concur. He was afterward buried under his Subdean’s seat, according to his dream and desire. His death lamented by all good men, because there was a pillar, though not a Bishop, fallen in the Church: of whom I may say in the poet’s words — Quando ullum invenient parem?

Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit, Nulli flebilior quam milli. When will they find another such? his fall Was most by me lamented, much by all. 114. God Almighty had blessed him with eleven children, four of which are still living. His monument is erected on the north side of the abbey in Wests-minster, over against the Subdean’s seat, with this following epitaph, which the reverend Dean of the church then, Dr Earl, did himself compose in honor of his memory: [Hic jacet e propinquo] depositum mortale PETRI HEYLYN, S.T.P. Hujus Ecclesiae Prebendarii et Subdecani, Viri plane memorabilis, Egregiis dotibus instructissimi, Ingenio acri et foecundo, Judicio subacto.

Memoria ad prodigium tenaci; Cui adjunxit incredibilem in studiis patientiam, Quae cessantibus oculis non cessarunt.

Scripsit varia et plurima Quae jam manibus hominum teruntur; Et argumentis non vulgaribus Stylo non vulgari suffecit. Constans ubique Ecclesiae Et Majestatis Regiae assertor, Nec florentis magis utriusque Quam affiictae:

Idemque perduellium et schismaticae factionis Impugnator acerrimus:

Contemptor invidiae Et animo infracto.

Phra ejusmodi meditanti Mors indixit silentium; Ut sileatur Efficere non potest.

Obiit anno AEtat. 63, [Et 8 die Mail, A.D. 1662. Posuit hoc illi moestissima Conjux.-] IN ENGLISH.

A monument of mortality of Peter Heylyn, Doctor of Divinity. Prebendary and Subdean of this church, A man truly worthy of remembrance, Endowed with excellent parts, Of sharp and pregnant wit, A solid and clear judgment, A memory tenacious to a miracle, Whereunto he added an incredible patience in study, And therein still persisted, when his eye-sight ceased. He writ many books upon various subjects (that are now in men’s hands), containing in them nothing that’s vulgar either for style or argument. On all occasions he was a constant assertor of the Church’s right and the King’s prerogative, as well in their afflicted as prosperous estate. Also he was a severe and vigorous opposer of rebels and schismatics, A despiser of envy, and a man of undaunted spirit. While he was seriously intent on these, and many more like. studies, Death commanded him to be silent, but could not silence his fame.

He died in the sixty-third year of his age.

A CATALOGUE OF SUCH BOOKS AS WERE WRITTEN BY THE LEARNED DOCTOR. FA322 1. Spurins, a Tragedy, MS., 1616. 2. Theomachia, a Comedy, MS., 1619. 3. Geography [Microcosmus, a Description of the Great World] printed at Oxon twice, A.D. 1621 [1622. W.] and 1624 in quarto, and afterwards in A.D. 1652 enlarged into folio, under the title of Cosmography. 4. The History of St George, Lond. 1631, reprinted 1633. 5. An Essay, called Augustus, 1631 [1632. W.] since inserted into his Cosmography. 6. The History of the Sabbath, 1635, reprinted 1636. 7. [A Coal from the Altar, or] An Answer to the Bishop of Lincoln’s Letter to the Vicar of Grantham, 1636, twice reprinted. 8. A short Treatise concerning a Form of Prayer to be used according to what is enjoined in the Fifty fifth Canon: written at the request of the Bishop of Winchester, [Curle] 1637 [printed in Ecclesia Vindicata, and, as part of it, in the Tracts.] 9. An Answer to Mr Burton’s two Seditious Sermons, A.D. 1637. 10. Antidotum Lincolniense, or an Answer to the Bishop of Lincoln’s Book, entitled Holy Table, Name, and Thing, 1637, reprinted 1638. 11. An uniform Book of Articles,.fitted for Bishops and Archdeacons in their Visitations, 1640. 12. De Jure paritatis Episcoporum, or concerning the Peerage of Bishops, 1640, MS. [afterwards printed in the Tracts, 1681.] 13. A Reply to Dr Hackwel, concerning the Sacrifice of the Eucharist, MS., 1641. 14. A Help to English History, containing a succession of all the Kings, Dukes, Marquesses, Earls, Bishops, etc. of England and Wales; first written in the year 1641, under the name of Robert Hall; enlarged and [set forth’] in Dr Heylyn’s name, [1661.] 15. The History of Episcopacy, first under the name of Theoph.

Churchman, [‘1642-], afterwards in his own name, reprinted 1657 [in the Ecclesia Vindicata]. 16. The History of Liturgies, written 1649 [printed in the Eccl.

Vindicata, 1657]. 17. A Relation of the Lord Hopton’s Victory at Bodmin [on the 19th of Jan. 1642. Oxf. 1642-3. Wood also mentions a pamphlet on a later victory of Lord Hopton, 1643, which bears the title of The Roundheads Remembrancer; and “is generally said to have been written by Heylyn.”] 18. A Relation of the Queen’s Return from Holland, and the Siege of Newark [1642]. 19. A View of the Proceedings in the West for a Pacification. 20. A Letter to a Gentleman in Leicestershire about the Treaty. 21. A Relation of the Proceedings of Sir John Gell [1643]. 22. The Black Cross, showing that the Londoners were the cause of the Rebellion. 23. The Rebel’s Catechism: all these [17 to 23] printed at Oxon, [1642-3]. 24. An Answer to the Papists’ groundless clamor, who nickname the Religion of the Church of England by the name of a Parliamentary Religion, [written] 1644, [published 1645, with the title of Parliament’s Power in Laws for Religion; or an Answer to that old and groundless Calumny of the Papists, nicknaming, etc.; reprinted 1653, with the title of The way of Reformation of the Church of England declared and justified, etc.; and included in the Ecclesia Vindicata.] 25. A Relation of the Death and Suffrings of William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1644. 26. Bibliotheca Regia, or the Royal Library, 8vo. [.Lond. 1649, 50, 59]. 27. The Stumbling-block of Disobedience Removed, written 1644, printed 1658, [reprinted in the Tracts.] 28. The Promised Seed, in English Verse. 29. The Undeceiving of the People in the Point of Tithes. Lond. 1648- 51. Included in the Ecclesia Vindicata.] 30. Theologia Veterum, or an Exposition of the Creed, folio, [1673.] 31. Survey of France, with an account of the Isles of Guernsey and Jersey, 1656, quarto. 32. Observations on Mr Hamon L’Estrange’s History of King Charles the First, 1656. 33. Extraneus Vapulans, or [-the Observator rescued from the violent but vain assaults of H. L’Estrange, Esq., and the Back-blows of Dr Nich. Bernard, an Irish Dean] — a defense of those Observations.

Lond. 1656. 34. Ecclesia Vindicata, or the Church of England Justified, etc., quarto, 1657. [Including Nos. 8, 15, 16, 24, 29.] 35. Respondet Petrus, or the Answer of Peter Heylyn, D.D., to Dr Bernard’s book, entitled The Judgment of the late Primate, etc., quarto, Lond. 1658 [with an Appendix in answer to certain Passages in Mr Sandersoh’s History of the Life and Reign of King Charles.] 36. A short History of King Charles the First, from his Cradle to his Grave, 1658. 37. Examen Historicum, or a Discovery and Examination of the Mistakes, Falsities, and Defects in some Modern Histories. [viz.