Sacred to God and the King,
An altar is here to be erected before the porch;
and thanksgivings to be offered on it,
for this leisure granted to the studies of learning;
for the muses preserved,
for me and mine snatched from imminent ruin,--
To Jehovah the Deliverer,
and to Caesar the Preserver:
To Caesar the things which are Caesar's,
and to God the things which are God's.
Come hither, stranger, [viator],
and stand by me, while I am sacrificing; and when you hear me relating
my own story, help my prayers with yours; assist me in this holy
office, and worship the same deities with me.
I sing the mercy of God, and the
clemency of the king, by which I was preserved from suffering
shipwreck, when I had been already shipwrecked; and from being driven
out of doors, when I had been already driven out.
This rectory of Great Mundon, which I
have now enjoyed for almost twenty years, belongs to the royal
donation and grant, pleno jure, as they use to speak. By which
right two rectors were placed here heretofore by two kings: persons
they were of eminent name, of no ordinary worth, and the like to whom
their times produced not many. One was the very famous George Downham,
STD, presented by king James, who was promoted hence, and sent over to
the bishopric of Derry in Ireland. And he leaving it, that excellent
person Samuel Ward, STD, master of Sidney Sussex College, in the
university of Cambridge, and also the most grave and learned professor
of the lady Margaret in the same university, was made his successor by
king Charles. Upon his decease I succeeded here; far unequal (alas!)
to so great men: and as unhappy, that I was not admitted by the same
right, but by that power that then, while the wars prevailed,
possessed all. The brittleness of this my weak title lay not
concealed; but when the king's majesty, in which we now rejoice, by a
happy turn of Providence returned to his own rights, it was presently
discovered; and this rectory was granted to one who was a suitor for
it, by the royal donation.
Thus I and my fortunes are
shipwrecked, and my affairs are come to that last extremity, that
nothing now remains for me but to leave my house and these quiet
retirements wherein for so many years I followed my studies with the
highest satisfaction and the sweetest leisure. But another thing there
was that stuck more close, namely, that I seemed to see royal majesty
offended with me, and that brow that shined on others with a most
sweet serenity, sad, clouded, bended on me; and certainly to perish
under the displeasure of a king is twice to perish.
Under these straits what should I do?
There was no place for hope, when the fatal instrument was now signed
against me: but to despair is to subscribe to one's own misfortune, is
to derogate from the king's mercy, is to submit to certain ruin under
uncertain suspicion. Perhaps the most merciful king is not angry with
me at all, for eagles do not use to be angry with flies. Nor, perhaps,
is it too late, nor altogether to no purpose, to seek after a remedy
for my wound, not yet incurable; for as yet the fatal decree was not
gone out without repeal. Perhaps my case is altogether unknown to the
best king, or disguised by some unjust complaint; and it is a comfort
that my business lies before a king, not before a common
man.
To the altar, therefore, of his mercy
I humbly fly in a lowly supplication, begging and entreating him to
consider my case, to revoke the destructive decree, and to vouchsafe
to continue and establish my station in this place. Take now, O
England, a measure of thy king; and, even from this one example, learn
what a prince thou hast to boast of. The royal father of his country
received my supplication cheerfully, complied with my desires, and
granted me his donation,--established it with his great seal, and
(which I desire might be written in letters of gold to last for ever)
by a particular, and, as it were, paternal care, took order that
hereafter none, by any means whatsoever, should proceed to do any
thing that tended either to my danger or ruin.
O! how would I commemorate thee, thou
best of princes, greatest Charles, how would I commemorate thee! What
praises or what expressions shall I use to celebrate or set forth so
great clemency, commiseration, and goodness? Those are light
obligations that speak, these my obligations stand amazed, are
speechless, and swallowed up in admiration. It is for common men to do
benefits that may be expressed in words, it is for Charles to oblige
beyond all that can be spoken.
I will add another thing also, O
stranger, which the same mercy and goodness also added. For when I
feared the same fortune in the university as I had felt in the
country, and fled again to the same altar, the royal bounty heard me,
granted my petition, ratified my desires, and confirmed and
strengthened my station there also.
To comprise all in a word, which
indeed exceeds all words. Although I were an obscure person and of no
note, altogether unworthy and of no merit, wholly unknown to the
king's majesty, and lying possibly under some kind of accusations,
(for it wanted not an accusation that I was put into these places by
that authority that I was,) yet twice within two weeks by the royal
favour I obtained his grant, confirmed by his hand, and the great seal
of England. And thus rooted out here he replanted me; and ready to be
rooted out elsewhere he preserved me, rescued me from danger, freed me
of my fear: so that now I, as well as my worthy predecessors, have
this to boast of, that I have a king to my patron.
But far be it, far be it, from me,
most unworthy man, to boast: all this, most great, most merciful
prince, redounds to your praise alone; and let it do so: rather let
England glory in such a prince, and let the prince glory in such
mercy. Triumph, Caesar, triumph in that brave spirit of yours, as you
well may. You are Charles, and you conquer; you subdue all by pitying,
delivering, giving, and forgiving all.
That conquest I shall always
acknowledge with all humility and thankfulness: and thou, little book,
and you, trifling sheets, wheresoever ye shall fly, tell this abroad
in my name everywhere, and to every man, that although there be
nothing else in you worthy to be read, yet that this my sincere
profession may be read and heard; that, next after the divine mercy, I
owe to the mercy of the king, that I enjoy this sweet leisure for
learning, that I enjoy these quiet retirements, that I enjoy a house,
that I enjoy myself.
So, O father of the country, may the
Father of mercies reward you sevenfold, and seventy times sevenfold
into your bosom; and may you feel every day the benefit and sweetness
of doing good by the recompenses that are made you by Heaven. Thus may
your mercy ever triumph, and ever reap as the fruit of it the eternal
favour of the Divine mercy. Thus may England be crowned for a long
time with her king; and may the king be crowned for ever with the love
of God, with his protection, his blessing, his grace, his glory.
Made these vows, Jan. 1, 1661.
To the Right Reverend Father in
Christ, Gilbert,
By the Divine Providence, Lord Bishop of London.
The sacrifice by the law was to be
delivered into the hands of the priest, and to be offered by him: and
since your hands, reverend prelate, vouchsafed to offer my
petitions, to the king's majesty, I now become an humble
petitioner that those hands would please to offer also these
testimonials of my thanks.
I bring the firstfruits of my
replantation which the royal favour indulged me by the intercession of
your honour, when I had been rooted up. For since by that favour I am
restored to these seats, to peace, and my studies, there is nothing I
now desire besides, nothing more than that that most excellent prince
may perceive, that he hath not been a benefactor to an ungrateful
person, however unworthy, however obscure: and that your honour may
see that you have not interceded for a forgetful person, howsoever
undeserving.
I shall never forget, great sir,
with how much kindness and candour your honour received me in my
straits, altogether unknown to you, and whose face you had never
before seen: with how great concern you pleaded my cause before the
king's majesty, before the most honourable the lord chancellor of
England, and before the right reverend my diocesan: how your honour
consulted for me, wrote letters, laid stops, that my ruin might not
proceed beyond a possibility of restoration. All which while I reflect
upon, which I ever do, and while, together with that reflection, I
consider what ever do, and while, together with that reflection, I
consider what obligation lays upon me on one hand, and my own meanness
on the other; on one hand how unworthy I am of so great favour, and
how altogether unable to make any recompense on the other; what else
is left me but to fly again to the same kindness, humbly imploring it,
that as it at first so obligingly received me, a person unknown and
unworthy; so it would now entertain me, known and bound by so great
obligation, and approaching with all the thanks I can give. Those
thanks so due to your honour I have committed to these papers;
unlearned indeed they are, and undressed [impolitis]; but such
as carry sincerity with them, though not learning, thankfulness,
though not eloquence. And I have intrusted this charge with them the
rather, because I suppose they may disperse themselves far and near,
and perhaps may live to posterity: and that which I desire of them is,
that they would declare to all how indebted he is to your honour, and
to your great humanity, with how great obligations he is bound to you,
and with how grateful a mind and inward affection he professeth all
this, and will acknowledge it for ever, who is,
My Lord,
Your Honour's most obliged servant,
John Lightfoot
