I. CHAPTER. The time and Circumstances of his birth.

THe Church of God since the primitiue times of Christianity scarce euer flourish'd vnder a happyer Constellation of Saints then in the thirteenth Age, when conversa­tion with heauen was not confin'd to caues and deserts, but found admittance both in Cittyes and Courts. When Christian humility sate as well upon the thrones of Kings as in Cells of Ermites; and true pouerty of spirit knew how to vest it selfe as in sackcloath so in purple. This was the age (and it was a golden one in this respect) when Virginity was preseru'd and florishd not onely in the Sanctuaryes and en­closd gardens of Religious Cloysters, but, like a lilly among thornes, [Page 12] in the very midst of word'y delights & Salo­mea Cune gun­dis, Kin­ga, & Bzou. An­nal. 1234. greatnes, euen in the state of wedlock and highest fortune. Then it was when Princes had no other interest of state but the Glory of God, nor any other ambi­tion but to dilate his Kingdome, which they endeauourd at the expenses of theyr Crownes and liues, and were more employd in fortifying theyr coun­try with Religious Conuents then forts and Cittadells. When they held it a greater strength and honour to theyr Royall Familyes to espouse theyr daugh­ters to Christ Crucifyd, in the greatest rigour of Pennance and pouerty, then to see them seated on the highest Thrones of Monarchs. When infine those two great Patriarchs, S. Dominick and S. Francis, peopled the world with so many quires of Angells, and brought Euangelicall perfection out of vn­knowne retyrements and solitudes to the Common habitation of men.

Our country of England, though separated by nature from the rest of the world was not excluded from that vniuersall influence of deuine grace wherwith it please'd God to bless those times. The blood of the glorious Martyr S. Thomas of Canterbury, as the true seed of the Catholique Church, was not spilt in vayne; and being in this age yet fresh and warm, brought forth speciall fruit both in Lay and Clergy. But in all none more eminent then another S. Thomas, another Chancellor of England, another Prelate, another Champion of Ecclesiasticall libertyes and though not slayne by the sworde, yet lost his life in the cause. Thus the mercy of God powr'd downe sweet showers of deuine blessings upon that Kingdome by the mirits of his H. Mar­tyr: yet his iustice layd not downe the sword of due reuenge for that bloody sacriledge, nor was it yet satisfyed [Page 14] with the personall disasters of that vnfortunate King, Henry the second, who hauing found as many Absoloms as he had Sonns, ready to teare the Crowne from his gray hayres, and to bury him aliue, who had giuen them life; after he had seen two of them lead him the way to his graue, followd not long after, and left the other two his Curse for in­heritance, of which they had each one theyr share by succession.

The former of whome was Richard the first, third Sonn of the aforesayd King, who though otherwise a valiant and great Prince and therfore surnam'd Coeur de Lion; yet for that curse entayld vpon him by his father, (and much more if there were true cause of deseruing it) had his Crowne torne from his head by a violent and vntimely death. And that it might not fall to a more innocent hand, left no child, but a brother farr worse then himselfe; who, that his [Page 15] royall purple might be of a more lasting tincture, gaue it the second dye with the blood of his Nephew Arthur, next heyre by birth to the Crowne of Eng­land, as Sonn of Geffrey Earle or Duke of little Britannie in France, which Geffrey was fourth Sonn of Henry the second King of England. And though it is not certaine that Arthur, was mur­derd by his Vncles owne hands, as the French do tell vs; yet all agree, that Ar­thur was put in prison in Rouen by his vncle King John, and neuer appeard af­ter: the manner of his death is best knowne to God alone, before whose in­visible eyes all things lye visible. How­euer King John fift Sonn of Henry the second and surnam'd Sans terre, makes the land his owne, and on this wrong builds all his right, which he euer man­nag'd withan equall tenour, as weakly as wickedly. Till at last calld to an ac­count by a stranger for oppressing his [Page 16] country, left the world like an Outlaw, and a poore child to pay his forfeyt. Who, though otherwise most innocent, could not altogeather plead not guilty, being he claymd all his right from so great injustice.

In the midst of this dismall and dark cloud our morning starr first appeard: in the hight of this horrid storme which threatned no less then a totall destruc­tion of the nation, it pleasd God to giue a pledg of attonement between heauen and earth, to bless the world with our glorious S. THOMAS CANTILUPE, as a Rayn-bow after a deluge of blood and misery: whose birth not like ano­ther Benjamin purchasd his life with his Mothers death, but finding his country in Agony restord life. Neyther was he onely a Common benefitt and happy presage to the plublique, but a speciall blessing and reward of his fathers loyal­ty; who when the greatest part and [Page 17] power, of the kingdome, eyther out of personall offence, and hatred, of the de­ceased king would yett pursue him in his image, or led by interest, the common Idoll of the world, thought sitt to com­bine with the stronger party, and rather adore the preualent might and fortune of an a inuading forraigner, then to support the weaknes both in yeares, and forces of theyr natiue Prince. Yett William lord Cantilupe, father of our glorious Saint, lookd vpon the present state of things with another eye, and was resolu'd to lay downe his life and fortune at the feet of iustice leauing the euent to the diuine ballance; whether he stood or fell being secure of victory, which euer crownes them who sacri­fice them selues to truth and loyalty. Wherfore as a person of eminent ability and honour, he giues strength to the better but lesser party; and as he euer maintaynd his fayth inuiolable to the [Page 18] fa [...]her, though a Prince of most odi­ous and lawless gouerment, he could neuer forgett the respect of soueraignty so he continu'd the same vnto the sonn with all the disaduantage of humane interest.

The Barons with theyr French Protectour were not only masters of the field both in strength and number, but also many months possess'd of the head Citty of the Kingdom; a thing euer held of highest consequence, as being the ordinary residence and Court of Kings, & whosoeuer winns it seems to weare the Crowne. The little king at nine yeares of age, being sollemnly Crownd at Glocester, was in a manner Confind to that Citty and other two, Bustow and Worcester: though some other particular places and Castles in seuerall parts of the kingdome stood firmly to him. And chiefly Lincolne which was our Orleans, where a lady, [Page 19] not inferiour to the french sheepardess in Courage, as she was farr aboue her in birth and quality, defended the Cas­tle of Lincolne the space of a whole yeare against Gilbert de Gant, a prime Commander of the french forces, though he had possessd himselfe of the Towne, and pressd the Castle with a vigorous siege. The kings honour, Besydes his interest was Conceiu'd to be not a little Concern'd in the reliefe of so much fidelity, especially of so rare and vnusuall example in the weaker sexe. The Lord Cantilupe therfore with other Nobles of the Royall party, accompany'd likewise by the legate of the see Apostolique, with what power they could make, marchd forth vpon this designe. Being arriu'd within 8. miles of Lincolne, they all Confessd and receiud the holy Eucharist, with a plenary Indulgence which the Legate granted them, and sollemnly declard the [Page 20] aduerse faction separated from the Communion of the holy Catholique Church.

Thus armd and encouragd from heauen they fall on with such irresisti­ble violence, that though the defendants exceeded the assaillants farr in number, besydes the aduantage of theyr walls and trenches, the Towne was soon ground with a totall defeat of the Enemy. THOMAS Earle of Perche, a person of highest nobility and Command in the Barons army, allyd to both the Crownes of England and France, being with many others slaine vpon the place, besydes 14. Earles and Ba­rons, and 400. knights with theyr ser­uan [...]s, horse and foot, taken presoners. This victory cutt the sinewes of the Barons confederacy, and blew off all forraigne stormes from our English Coast: the french Prince thinking fitt at last to look back vpon a safe retreat, [Page 21] and to quitt anothers right not to lose his owne. In fine our young king was so settled heerby in his throne, that from this day no rebellion durst presu­me vpon the minority of his yeares, nor attempt his Fortune. And for the space of 34. yeares as long as William Lord Cantilupe, S. THOMAS his father liu'd, no man had the power or Coura­ge to make head against him.

These happy tidings well-comd S. THOMAS into the world, or rather he brought them with him: these Lau­rells of victory crownd the Cradle of our holy Infant; or rather he was giuen from heauen as a Crowne of his fathers loyalty and as a pledge of the diuine protection ouer the little king, who though a child was better read then most men in that maxime of wisdome, that crownes and kingdomes are dis­posd and swayd by the hand of God. Prou. 8 19. And therfore seeing himselfe at the [Page 22] first stepp into his throne, so strongly opposd or rather thrust out by the vio­lence of a forraigne Aduersary, and faction of his natiue people, Could think of no other refuge but God. And Henr. K [...]ig­hten de euen­ [...]ib. Angli­a. as an Authour of creditt writing of those times, recounts, he betook himselfe to little Iesus in his Virgin Mothers lapp, and with as innocent as sweet a confidence, presents his Petition in these words: ‘Rogo te puerum Regem, vt me Regem puerum de caetero regas & defendas. I beseech thee who art a king and child, gouerne and defend me henceforth who am a king and Child.’ That this petition was not in vayne, is sufficiently manifest by the euent and strange ouerthrow of such powerfull designes, which could be onely con­trould by the hand of God. Neyther did the diuine mercy make a stopp heer, but gaue a further assurance of his holy protection by the happy birth of S. [Page 23] THOMAS Cantilupe, who was not onely a presage of better times, but in a particular manner designd for a maine support and strength both to king and kingdome in the highest seat of gouer­ment, and to be a mirrour of iustice in both Tribunalls of church and state.

II. CHAPTER. Of the Parents and descent of S. THOMAS.

NObility, hough in the most ciuilizd Nations it hath euer had a speciall prerogatiue in the generall conceyt of men, yett with this abatement and re­striction, that the wiser sort neuer lookd vpon it otherwise then an ex­trinsecall and boriowd light, shining more by the reflexion of others deserts, then any worth in it selfe. Which well interprets that ancient custome of the [Page 24] Romane Nobility, who wore the sigu­re of a Moone vpon theyr shoe, as a distinctiue mark of theyr rank and qua­lity. Neyther had that golden Grass­hopper any other meaning, which the Gentlemen of Athens wore vpon theyr garments as a badg of honour, but to admonish them that Nobility though it seemd a specious and glittering thing, yett was but a meer ayry and idle fancy, if, like the silly grasshopper, they con­tented themselfes to sing and chant theyr Ancestres renowne and greatnes, and would not take the paynes to lay vpp store, and make themselues a stock of true worth and honour by theyr owne industrious and noble actions. Vertue like the sunn shines with its owne light, and needs no supply from any other: it liues not with the breath of other; fame, nor rakes vpp honour out of dead mens ashes.

It may seem therfore a very vnne­cessary [Page 25] if not preposterous diligence, to be inquisitiue of the pedigrees of Saints, whose purity and holynes of life hath raisd them aboue all the hight of flesh and blood, and by a strange adoption made them brothers and sisters and mothers of God himselfe. Neuer­theless if the wisdome of God allowes of a mutuall reference and Communi­cation between the Parent and the child, so as the shame and honour of the one reflects vpon the other: if the eternall Prouidence hath a speciall and Mysterious designe, euen in that lineall succession of nature, as it appeares by the stile of holy scripture, and remar­kably in the Genealogy of the Word Incarnate, where the fingar of God poynts out all particulars with such exactnes, name by name both good and bad: Infine if the excellency of vertue doth not seldome more appeare by a parallel of former times, eyther in si­militude [Page 26] and imitation of worthy ac­tions or a generous renouncing and de­testation of the contrary; it cannot but conduce to the better knowledg and esteem of Saints, to be informd of what stock and cōdition they are. If noble and of high extraction, like a diamond bred in a mine of gold, worthy to be obser­ued, that by theyr owne vertue they surpass the glory of theyr birth and Ancestres, and not by idolizing and adoring, but treading vpon worldly greatnes, they make it an ascent to raise themselues from earth to heauen. If of a meane and low degree, like an orien­tall pearle in a course and rugged shell, the workmanship of diuine grace is the more to be admir'd that can raise children of Abraham from stones, and frame such pretious rarityes of gross materialls: As the happynes and glory of the Saints themselues is likewise more remarkable, being they owe nothing [Page 27] of theyr greatnes to earth, but receiue all from heauen. In a word it cannot be deny'd but that nobility and renowne of Ancestres (as an impartiall wittnes well expressd it) is a visible light which Mar [...]. us in Salust. makes the actions of posterity more Conspicuous, be they good or bad.

Hauing vpon this occasion digressd thus farr, giue me leaue to add one word more, and let our nobility know that this busynes of descent, be it ne­uer so noble, is a meer ayry thing un­les it be supported and illustrated with uertue and piety. When it is thus mat­ed it both giues and receiues great ad­uantages, and the one sets off the other extreamly. True it is that euery-wher, euen alone, it ought to haue its due respect, and none that I know denys it besydes the Quaker: but when any bragg of it they boast of what's not theyr owne, and shew therby rather theyr owne emptynes then its worth, and [Page 28] themselues to haue more of the man then Christian. ‘For Christian Nobi­lity deriues not its pedegree from flesh and blood but grace and sanctity, accor­ding to the saying of S. Ambrose, the linage of a just man is vertue and per­fection; for by it soules are ennobled and dignify'd, as familyes are by anti­quity of blood; nor onely ennobled, but deify'd to a participation of the diuine nature.’ This is true nobility indeed, and worth standing on, and adds great lustre to the other, as the mixture of a nobler mettall doth to another of an inferiour allay: yett still we must so commend this, as to leaue the other in its due reuerence and esteem.

To come now to our B. S. THO­MAS; his father was William Lord CANTILVPE, a person for his worth and greatnes often mentioned in the English History and Records of He­ralds. The father of this Lord was also [Page 29] another william, who ioyntly with his Sonn stood euer firme in the Ba­rons Warrs to both the Kings, whose fauovr in employments of highest trust and honour they well deserued. Though, as a knowne Historian of those Matt. Paris times affirmes, theyr family receiud not so iust a measure as theyr meritt re­quird. Yett the father of our Saint bore no less a charge in court then that of great Master or Lord steward of the kings house. Which, as in other king­doms, so in this of England, was euer esteemd of chief fauour and dignity, being the eye and hand of the king, not onely at a distance and in absence, but commanding all in his very presence, and in a manner seated vpon the same throne. Neyther was this honour or whatsoeuer else they receiud from theyr soueraigns aboue the rank of theyr birth and quality.

The Cantilupes or Cantelowes (vul­garly [Page 30] so calld from the originall Champ de Loup, or Campus Lup [...]) were a noble family of speciall note and eminency among those braue Aduenturers who-followd the Norman conquerour in his enterprize of our English Monarchy, and purchasd him that crowne with the hazard of theyr liues and fortunes. And as they brought with them a fayre inheritance of estate and honour, so still continud theyr course with successiue increase, as great riuers the further they goe, the more they dilate themselues with the reception of other streames. The Heyres generall of the Strong-bo­wes and Marshalls, Earles of Pembroke, of the Fitz Walters Earles of Hereford, of the Breoses or Breuses Lords of Abergauenny left theyr estates and greatnes by right of marriage vnto the Cantelupes. Such being the Paternall line of S. THOMAS, and his father a person of so high command and creditt, [Page 31] the king vpon an exigence being to make a voyage into france, could not think of a more powerfull and faythfull hand, beyond all exception and enuy, to intrust with his crowne and kingdome then VVilliam Cantelupe: it was an equall and happy match between this Lord and the Lady Millescenta countess of Eureux and Glocester, Mother of our Saint.

She was daughter of Hugh lord Gournay and the Lady Iuliana sister to Reginald Earle of Dammartin and Bou­logne. The Gournay's were of the prime nobility of Normandy, neerly allyd to the soueraigne Dukes of that country; and as neer to our gloirous and blessed King Edward the Confes­sour. The counts of Dammartin were of an inllustrious family in france, matchd with the greatest Princes of Europe. And this Reginald vncle to the Lady Millescent in right of his wife [Page 32] lda, grandchild to Stephen king of Eng­land became Earle of Boulogne, which title he trāsferrd againe with his daugh­ter Matilde marry'd vnto Philipp Earle of Clermont, onely brother to Lewis the 8. king of france, and vncle to S. Lewis. This the allyance and desent of that noble Lady: She was first marry'd to Almerick Montfort Earle of Eureux in Normandy, as also of Glocester in right of his mother Mabelle, eldest daughter, & heyre to william Earle of Glocester, Grandchild to Henry the first king of England. This Almerick being head of that illustrious family of the Mōt­forts descended from Robert surnam'd the Pious, king of france: and dying without issue, was the last of that race in Normandy; leauing his noble and ver­tuous Confort the Lady Millescente to be blessd with a happyer and more fruit­full marriage, especially in this her sonn, who alone illustrated that renownd fa­mily [Page 33] with more honour, then all the greatnes and titles of theyr fa­mous Ancestres.

III. CHAPTER Of his Childhood and domesti­que Education.

TO looke into the infancy or Child­hood of Saints may seeme as little pertinent to theyr meritt, as to the glory of God: that part of the life of man being Commonly held for a meer Pro­logue or dumb show before a tragedy of miseryes; a dreame or slumber be­fore the soule awake to the light of reason; a state of Neutrality betwixt man and beast, as vncapable of prayse as blame, and onely happy in this, that it is vnsensible of all vnhappynes. Yett experience and reason teaches vs [Page 34] that this twylight of life is not so dark, but that we may read sundry charac­ters, though written in a small letter, by the hand of God: This mute part of the age of man is not so speech­less, but that it fore-tells vs much of what will follow. In fine euen child­hood it self hath not so little of the man, but that it is capable of deep impressions both of grace and reason: as the louely and sweet variety of colours in many flowers receiue theyr first tincture in the very root; and the value of Pear­les depends much vpon the first dropps of dewe which falls into the shell when thy are newly engendred. That the divine Prouidence hath a speciall eye vpon the infancy of man is an vn­denyable truth both in humane and diuine history: neyther doth this onely consist in certaine prodigyes and de­demonstrations of a power aboue the reach of nature, but also, and that [Page 35] most vsually, in a particular fauour and protection of the diuine hand by connaturall meanes of Education and other circumstances, to with draw from euill and lead to vertue.

The whole sequele of our S. THO­MAS his life clearly shewes how high­ly he was priuiledg'd with both these blessings from heauen. A nature he had eleuated aboue the Common strayn; a minde full of generous heat and vigour, euer tending to a higher sphere, like a fire without smoke or mix­ture of grosser elements: which mett with soe noble a temperature of body, that though of a prosperous and liuely habitude, he neuer knew in his whole life what any thing meant which was not agreeable with the purity of Angells. He, the first fruit of that happy marriage, was borne at a Mannour of his fathers in Lincolnshyre. Hameldone by name, [Page 36] where he alsoe receiud the Sacrament of Baptisme, regenerated therby to the pretious adoption of the Chil­dren of God. In memory wherof Edmund Earle of Cornwall, sonn to Richard once king of the Romans, and a great admirer of out saints per­fections, built there an Oratory to the honour of God and his; in the which Oratory our Lord is sayd te haue wrought frequent Miracles by the intercession of the same saint. Besydes him his Parents were blessd with a nu­merous offspring of 3. Sonns and 3. daughters, which like so many young Oliues enuironnd theyr table to theyr great loy; and the latter were all bestowd in an honorable wed-lock.

To cultiuate duely these hopefull endowments both of nature and gra­ce by a Good education was the care and endeauour of his pious Parents: who as in his infancy they had pro­uided [Page 37] him of vertuous Nurse (the Process of his Canonization calls her deuout, noble, and holy, insomuch that euen togeather with his milk he suckd in Sanctity) so in his childhood they were no less wanting to furnish him with fitt Masters for his instruction in these first rudiments; and this was to be done vnder theyr owne eyes, that they might be wittnesses of all. Thy knew right well how important the first impressions are in Children, and consequently how choyse they ought to be, since that tincture is re­taynd a long time, and giues ordina­rily a rellish to theyr proceedings. His Parents were so chary in this poynt, and sollicitous to haue the blessing of heauen second theyr industry, that we may say they imitated dayly the anciente Illyrians, who, when they gatherd theyr sweet Flower-de-luces lifted them vpp as an offering to hea­uen [Page 38] from whence they had receiud them: so these noble Personages look­ing vpon this theyr first fruit as a guift of God, and acknowledging it to be more his then theyrs, endeauour'd with all gratitude to make him a fitt pre­sent for the diuine hand, and to raise him from earth to heauen by carefull and vertuous breeding.

Theyr vsuall habitation was at court by reason of the charge which the father of our saint bore, and the obli­gation he had of personall attendance for the dayly seruice of the king. The reputation of Courts hath euer bin as of a place where vertue is laugh'd out of countenance, and denyd admittance, as too Coursly cladd for such fine company. Infamy is no where more in credit, nor vice so Canoniz'd: it is a Schoole of Aegyptian Hieroglyphicks where beasts and Monsters are supposd to signify heroique vertues. What [Page 39] care therfore and vigilancy were these pious and noble Parents to vse in preseruing this sweet flower from blasting vnder so malignant a climate? What caution and preuention to ban­nish all folly and vanity from the sight of those innocent eyes? to stopp his eares from the least whisper of charm­ing plasures? What a perpetuall watch and ward, not to lett a word fall, not the least action or gesture appeare be­fore this little one which might leaue any noxious impression in his tender soule? Though to say the truth, and to guie those happy times theyr due (which is also to be obserud as a spe­ciall prouidence of God towards the aduancement of our Saint in all per­fection) the stile of that Court was farr different from the vsuall Course of others, and might well be tearmd a Sanctuary of Piety and schoole of vertue.

Such an influence hath the exam­ple of Princes ouer the harts of men, drawing them whither they list with a kind of magnetique force eyther to good or euill. We had then a king who thought it no vnderualuing of Majesty to visitt spittles and Almes houses, to serue and feed the poore with his owne hands, to embrace and kiss lepres. Insteed of reuells and masques; his chief pleasure was in his Chappell, where he heard euery day three Masses with sollemne Musique, and neuer omitted to be present at the rest, as long as there was a Priest at the Aultar; where he euer vsd this Ceremony, in honour to the king of heauen, to support the Priests arme whilst he eleuated the Sacred Host; then with reuerence kissd his hand. Insomuch as his neer kinsman and bro­ther in Law S. Lewis, then king of France, obseruing that out of his de­uotion [Page 41] to the holy Sacrifice of Mass, he left no Considerable time for Ser­mons, aduisd him to allow some part of his pious Exercises to the word of God: to which he answerd, that for his part he had rather see his friend then heare him spoken of. Our Queen, as long as this king her husband liud, agreed with him as well in piety as in Coniugall loue: and as soon as his death left her free to her liberty, she retyrd to a Cloyster of Consecrated Virgins, where the world might see her hart had euer bin.

The Consort of our Prince; Sonn of Henry the 3. now king, and after successour by the name of Edward the 1. was a daughter of Spayne, who was so little read in the Platonique of our dayes, that she knew not how to loue any thing but Christ and her husband; whome she followd through all hazards and terrours to the holy [Page 42] land: where the Prince being trea­cherously stabbd by a Saracen with a poyson'd knife, when no skill of Sur­gery could preuaile, the inuincible loue of this lady vndertook the cure, and gaue her the courage to suck out the poyson and putrifaction of the wound with her owne mouth, to make it good that loue is as strong as death. Cant. 8 6. The piety of the whole court was answerable to theyr Souveraign's ex­ample: which appeares euidently in that so many of the prime nobility deuo­ted theyr liues and fortunes to the seruice of the holy land, and the great­est ladyes ended theyr dayes in holy monasteryes.

Neuertheless though that court then was such a Paradise, the pious and prudent Parents of our saint knew well that serpents might lurk euen there: Vipers creep into gardens of balso­me; poysons and antidotes often grow [Page 43] in the same bed. They were not stran­gers to the infirmity of humane nature especially in youth, which like a dis­temperd Stomack longs for that which is most hurtfull, and in such variety of obiects, as at a full table, seldome or neuer feeds without a surfett. They re­solud therfore to place this pretious treasure, which god had giuen them in a safe retreat; as nature or rather the Authour of nature teaches the little Pearles, when they are soft and tender in the shell, to retyre under shady & hollow rocks, being otherwise not on­ly exposd to violence of waues and weather, but alsoe subiect to change colour and be truly sun-burnt if they float in the open sea. They follow'd therfore the aduise of the holy Ghost giuen to all Parents, if they loue the safety of theyr children, to put them under the shade and protection of wis­dome, „Statuet filios suos sub tegmine [Page 44] „illius„; with a promise not only of se­curity but also of glory: „Protegetur sub tegmine illius a feruore, et in glo­ria eius requiescet. „This holy and Ibid. 27. prudent resolution of theyrs, was it seems much furtherd by a neer kinsmā & frind Walter Cantilupe Bishop of wor­cester, a person of mind and courage equall to his birth, and of such zeale that to aduance the heroicall designe of Christian Princes in the holy land, he went himselfe thither accompany'd with one of the greatest men of that age for piety and valour William Lon­guespee Earle of Salisbury, whose hap­py death in that quarrell was sollemnizd with a triumph in heauen, as it was re­ueal'd at that uery instant to his Mother in England who then led a Religious life in a Monastery of her owne found­ing.

The sayd noble Prelate Walter Canti­ [...]ilupe being in familiar conuersation [Page 45] with William Lord Cantelupe father of S. THOMAS, and the child being present, the Bishop askd him what course of life he would chuse, what pleasd him best? The child freely an­swerd him, that he would be a Souldier: Well sayd, sweet hart, quoth the Bishop, thou shalt be a souldier to serue the highest of Kings, and figh vnder the colours of his glorious Martyr S. THO­MAS. These words prou'd not onely propheticall by the euent but also had such efficacy, that the Parents, as in obedience to a diuine decree, directed the whole education of the child to pie­ty and learning. And the Child him­selfe, as if he had learn'd a new lesson from heauen, thought no more of those glorious fancyes, to which his owne generous nature carry'd him, and the examples of his illustrious progenitours incited him; but with the same courage betook himselfe wholly to his book, and [Page 46] with the little Salomon preferrd it be­fore thrones and kingdomes. This re­solution was truly to be admird in the child and no less in his parents, consi­dering not onely the vehement inclina­tion of men to liue after death in theyr image by posterity, but much more the hight of theyr fortune, with so rich a stock of antiquity and honour, preserud and amplifyd for soe many descents: wheras if he took a course of retyremēt from a worldly life and not compatible with succession, as his education seemd to dispose him, all must dye with him and lye buryed in the same graue.

None of these respects could euer perswade the Parents of our Saint to let him runn the common race of the world in liberty, in plenty, in wanton­nes, in excess of vanity and pleasure, without restraint of any thing that flat­ters the sensuall appetite, foments self loue, and reiects all command of reason. [Page 47] These generally being esteemd in the deprau'd iudgmēt of men as propper at­tributes of greatnes, and on the contrary discipline, learning, and piety laughd at as a debasement of noble spiritts and meer precisianisme. But these pious & prudent Parents weigh'd things in ano­ther ballance; they were fully satisfy'd of this truth, that nothing suites better with honour then uertue, and that no­bility cannot liue in a more immortall Monument upon earth thē in the shrine of sanctity. They knew that the nobler the mind, the more need of cultiuat­ing, otherwise, like a rich soyle, more subiect to grow wild and degenerate. They were not so sollicitous to propa­gate as to illustrate theyr family; the happiness wherof they plac'd not in long continuance but a good conclusi­on. And since familyes are mortall, and haue theyr tearme of life, as well as each particular man, they cannot come [Page 48] to a better end then to dye in the bed of honour with integrity of fame and vertue.

IV. CHAPTER. His first Studyes in Oxford.

OUr little S. THOMAS hauing now receiud the first tincture & elements of learning at home, both the autority of his Parents and his owne propension ledd him to a place of higher improuement, the vniuersity of Oxford: which was at that time in the primitiue vigour, and esteemd by all as great a schoole of uertue as learning, and therfore the common Nursery of our chiefe nobility of En­geland: a thing continu'd euen to our dayes, though with different suc­cess, as but too true experience teaches [Page 49] vs. It was hard to say whether Oxford in that age (though it euer bore the pree­minence of antiquity) or Paris had the greater repute and fame of learning. Yet this noble strife bred nothing of that malignity to which the emulous nature of man is but too prone: yea rather main­taynd a friendly Commerce, and, as it were, free trade beweene these two great Marts of wisdome and sanctity. And as those times were fertill of great persons in all perfections, neyther of these two renownd Academyes did ingross any aduantage to themselues, nor enuye the others benefitt; but mu­tually imparted to each other what was rare and eminent.

The two glorious lights of the Catholi­que Church S. Dominick, and S. Frācis his Orders illustrated the world at that time with theyr primitiue splēdour, and reuiu'd Christianity with new vigour of learn­ing and piety. S. THOMAS of Aquine S. Bo­ne, [Page 50] S. Bonauenture, & Doctour of Doc­tours Alexander of Hales borne in Glo­cestershyre, master of both these Saints, with many others of the foresayd holy Institutes, were the Oracles of that age; and particularly enrich'd and cultiuated the French and English Vniuersities with theyr admirable doctrine. Among the rest that famous & learned Prelate Robert Kilwarby was highly eminent; who bred and borne in England, was one of the first of that nation who Con­secrated him selfe to God in the holy habit of S. Dominick.

But his great abilityes and learning gaue him not leaue to enioy the sweet retyrement of a Religious life. He was first calld by the Sea Apostolique to the Primacy of England; in which charge he gaue such testimonyes of his incom­parable worth, that, Nicolas the 3. who then sate in S. PETERS Chayre, a great admirer of learning, and vertue [Page 51] (which he onely regarded in all pre­ferments) to haue his neerer assistance in the generall gouerment of the whole Church, thought fitt to create him Car­dinall and Bishop of Porto neer Rome, which is the second dignity among those Princes of the Church. The holy Prelat hauing receiud this new addition of honour was so farr from that Common disease and dropsy of Soules, who the more they haue of greatnes, the more they thirst; that the first thing he did was to disburden himselfe of his Metropolitan charge of Canterbury, not without resentment and repugnance of the king and all the nobility of Eng­land, who extremely affected and re­uerened him for his great learning and holynes of life. He left behind him a perpetuall Monument of his piety and loue to his Order, which is yett ex ant, though applyd to a different vse, Com­monly knowne by the name of Black-Fryars [Page 52] in London. This place when he was Arch Bishop of Canterbury he purchasd, and built both Church and Conuent for his Religious, whome he transferrd thither from a less Conue­nient Residence in the suburbs. The mo­desty and humble Carriage of this great Prelat was no less admird in the Court of Rome then his eminent parts and ex­celling knowledg. He would not chāge his poore Religious habitt for the purple of Princes, and was the first Cardinall that retaynd his habitt in that dignity; as euer synce his example was followd by those who were promoted to that degree of honour from Religious Orders of Mo­nastique discipline. He neuer appeard in publick but on foot, and neuer had other trayne but two of his owne Re­ligious to accompany him, and two other attendants in the nature of seruants. In fine though he was admird and honourd as the Oracle of those times, and mouth [Page 53] of the See Apostolique, as appeard in that famous treaty and letters written by him in the Popes name to the king of Tartary about the Conuersion of that nation to the Christian fayth; yett no­thing could euer lift him the least thought aboue himselfe out of the pro­found humility and pouerty of a Reli­gious man.

It was a speciall prouidence of God that this great person was chosen to be the Spiritual guide and Gouernour of our holy Saint from his tender yeares, which we may esteem a mutuall happy­nes and honour to them both: being the wise child is the fathers ioy, as the fa­thers worth is the Childrens glory. The learned and wise Prelat seeing how pure and generous a soule he had to mannage, omitted no care and industry to sett him forward to the highest per­fection. Wherin finding his Angelicall pupill so ready and pliable, and euen to [Page 54] out-runn his wishes, he conceiud such vnspeakable ioy and comfort, that all the dayes of his life he could neuer name him with out excessiue admiration and praise. He neuer mett with stone or bramble in that soule to choak or hinder the full fruit of the heauenly seed; he neuer found weed in that bed of Lillyes; he neuer saw spott in that vir­gin stole which he had receiud in bap­risme: Noe flashes of leuity, froward­nes, or vnconstant giddynes so inci­dent to that age. All his soule in fine Apoc. 4. 6. like that chrystall sea of the Apocalipse, without waue or wind, not disturbd with the least blast of disorderd passi­ons; yett still in motion, abhorring nothing more then that canker and bayne of vertue, sloath and idlenes.

He neuer omitted to be dayly present at the holy Sacrifice of Mass with all reuerence and attention, which he took for a common duty of all pious Christi­ans: [Page 55] and therfore would oblige him­selfe to a greater task, reciting dayly, as young as he was, the Canonicall houres or Priests Office, which in him was a remarkable act of piety, and not onely a presage of his future intentions, but also a token not improbable, that euen then as much as lay in him he deuoted himselfe to a Clergy life: hauing other­wise no tye at all eyther of Benefice or Orders; his yeares being vncapable of the one, and the discipline of those better times not allowing Ecclesiasticall fruits and titles to any other but such as for ability and age could worthily per­forme the functions. In this manner did our B. Saint pass his first course of lit­terature, with such success and profitt in the Latine tongue, that it gaue him new appetite and courage to apply him­selfe to the study of higher sciences. As they who discouer the first veynes of a rich myne work on with more alacrity [Page 56] to attaine the mayne treasure. Wherfore though at that time Oxford florish'd with all aduantage of learning both for know­ledg and discipline, and could furnish other nations with choyse masters in all sciences: yett considerable motiues drew S. THOMAS out of his natiue contry into France, and inducd him to chuse Paris for his schoole of Philo­sophy.

V. CHAPTER. S. Thomas his Study of Philo­sophy.

THat Antiquity plac'd the Temples of theyr goddess of learning and wis­dome in forts and Castles, seated vpon a higher ground, and at a cōpetent distance from the common habitation of theyr Townes and cittyes, did not onely signi­fy, that wisdome and knowledg is the [Page 57] chiefe protection and safeguard of men, and a thing highly eleuate a boue the vulgar reach; but also that the proper seat of learned Exercises is to be at a conuenient distance from the throng and tumult of the world: this being no less an enemy to speculatiue and studious mindes then smoak and dust to the eye, and a confusd and iarring noyse to a delicate and harmonious eare. This considerd, the most populous Citty of Europe, and the greatest court, might seem very impropper for the improue­ment of S. THOMAS in his stu­dyes: especially for his particular, hauing more occasion of distraction then any other by reason of his neer relation and allyance with the greatest Princes of that Court, namely Reginald Count of Dammartin and Boulogne, great vncle to our Saint, and Matilde Coun­tesse of Clermont daughter of the fore­sayd Reginald, marry'd to Philipp onely [Page 58] brother to Lewis the 8. and vncle to S Lewis who raignd at that present time. These circumstances might well haue putt a youthfull Spiritt vpon other thoughts then serious and paynfull studys, and forcd him euen against his will to spend the greatest part of his time in receiuing and paying courtly visitts. But the generous resolution of the Saint, and the great light which he receiu'd from heauen to make a true estimate of things, gaue him strength and vigour to prosecute his course without diuersion.

And such were those happy times, that he found rather helpe then preiu­dice in court, where the king a Saint taught the world this truth, that the disorder of courts is not the fault of the place but men, and that vertue is euer at hand where it finds admittance. Neyther did the court and Army, the two propper spheres of this great [Page 59] Prince and Soldier of Christ, onely partake of his holy influences; he was as great a Patron of learning as Armes; and as piety and discipline is the chiefe support and aduancement of both, his powerfull example and in­dustry, and the concourse of so many great persons renownd for learning and Sanctity, inuited thither by the fame of that happy raigne, gaue such life and vigour to the vniuersity of Paris, that it neuer flourishd more then in those holy times. The famous Colledg of Sorbone, so esteemd euen till this day, that it is a speciall mark of honour to be a member therof, was then first founded, and owes the glory of so prosperous a continuance to that happy beginning which made them heyres not onely of the name and patrimony, butt also of the eminent learning of theyr worthy Founder Robert de Sor­bona. The persons also who then ey­ther [Page 60] taught or study'd in that vniuer­sity are a sufficient testimony of the flourishing state of these times which bred them whome the Schooles euer since haue reuerencd and admird as chiefe Masters and mirrours of humane and diuine sciences, and observe con­tinually theyr method and forme of teaching, as the ready and onely way to attaine solid and perfect knowledg.

That S. THOMAS made the best vse of these aduantages appears eui­dently by the effect, and that publick testimony of his singular ability and learning, when hauing finishd that course of studyes he proceeded Master of Arts, which honour in those im­partiall times was not to be bought with fauour, nor vpon any other ac­count then desert. Neyther did he satisfy himselfe with that specious or­nament of his youth, as commonly persons of his ranke and quality are [Page 61] wont to doe, and then apply the rest of theyr life to the designments of am­bition and pleasure. As after his returne into England he changd not his mind with the place, but still continu'd, like a faythfull louer, his constant affec­tion to wisdome, whose amiable beauty had so possesst his hart, that it wip'd away all other impressions. And that he might enioy his happynes without disturbance he retyrd from court and the restles noyse of the world to his knowne repose and first nursery of his youth, the vniuersity of Oxford.

But before he leaue Paris and we conclude this Chapter, it will not be impertinent to our purpose to shew what a lilly he was at that time amidst those thrones of Philosophy, able enough to choake all spiritt and sen­timents of piety and deuotion, if great care be not taken; that is, how pure and nice a conscience he keept, how [Page 62] sensible of the least blemmish of im­perfection; and this will appeare by an example which stands on record, and happend in this interim. While he stu­dy'd his Philosophy at Paris, the win­dow of his closett was a little at fault, and to sett it right without trouble or the help of a workman, he serud him­selfe of a stick or propp of a vine out of the next vineyard. The matter, God wott, so very inconsiderable, to an ordinary conscience would not haue created any scruple at all; yett he, though otherwise not scrupulous, in his tendernes, apprehended the trans­gression so deeply, that euen then for its expiation he enioynd him selfe a 7. yeares pennance, and each of them with great remorse confessd the same. From whence we may gather how Angelically pure that blessed soule was which checkd so ressentiuely at so minute a thing, and how farr it was [Page 63] from harbouring any great offense which deemd the least to be so hey­nous. A tender conscience is like a tender eye, which the least moat dis­turbs and annoyes, making it water to wash of the stayne, and express regrett that euer it came there.

VI. CHAPTER His study of the Canon-law at Oxford.

THe resolution which S. THO­MAS took after he had ended his Philosophy with such success and ap­plause, sufficiently declares, that his intention was not to make vse of those studyes as an additionall ornament of his other eminent parts and quality, that as his birth and fortune raisd him aboue the vulgar sort, so he might also ex­cell them in perfection of mind and [Page 64] knowledg. Which could not but be esteemd a motiue worthy of a generous Spiritt, in setting so true a value vpon the better part of man, and not suffer­ing the flower and vigour of his age to vannish and wither away without fruit. In prosecution of such happy beginnings, to carry all on before him, and perfect him selfe in each kind and for all Callings, he resolud for his next task to apply his thoughts to the Ciuill law: which, though a hard and knotty knowledg, yett he hopd to draw some honey out of these flints for his im­prouement. He took it as the Israelites did the spoyles of the Aegyptians, to apply it to the seruice of the true God: and hearing that there was a famous Professour at Orleans who read that lecture with much applause, he betook himself thither and frequented his Schoole with such esteem of progress, that he farr outstript his fellow students [Page 65] being iudgd not onely fitt but fittest to supply the chayr in his Masters absence. This knowledg enabled him much as to the mannagement of secular busy­nes, which though it were not the thing he aymd at, yett did good seruice therby, and especially in the discharge of his double Chancelour-ship.

Having possessd himselfe of this study he vndertook another of some affinity but more sacred, with the former, and that was the Canon-law. This suited more with his inclination and intentions, besydes the speciall prouidence of God which ledd this Saint by the hand from his first in­fancy, and guided him stepp by stepp to that hight of greatnes to which he had designd him both in Spirituall and temporall gouerment; for it seems eui­dent that our Saint had euen then de­uoted himselfe entyrely to the seruice of the Church and a Clergy life; otherwise [Page 66] what pretension could a person of his condition haue to apply himselfe to that sad and laborious study of Ca­non-law, as voyd of pleasure as pro­fitt, or any other ambitious interest, for his particular, being nature and fortune had raysd him to such a pitch, that he had little need of skill and industry to aduance him further. The motiue then of lodging his thoughts vpon this se­rious and learned study was to enable himselfe for that holy function to which God had calld him from his very Child­hood. He knew that a Clergy life ought to be a shining light not onely in it selfe, but to illustrate others as well by doctrine as example. He was assurd that ignorance in such a state was blindnes in the eye, deaffnes in the eare, a palsey in the limms, and a whole priuation of life and vigour through all the body. That it was to play the Pilot without Card or Com­pass: [Page 67] to Command in warr without practise of armes or Discipline; to un­dertake the cure of others without knowledg eyiher of the euills or re­medyes. Neyther was the circum­stance of time unseasonable to under­take that Study in the prime and vi­gour of his Yeares, when he had im­prou'd himselfe in the perfect know­ledg of Philosophy, which quickens the mind with a new life, teaches men to speak and call things by theyr true names, giues them eyes to see what is invisible, and makes the senses owne, what they neuer knew, upon the word of reason.

Much about this time while he was delibirating to leaue Paris, a Generall Councell indicted at Lions in the same kingdome by Innocent the 4. was to take its beginning on the ensuing feast of S. John Baptist; it being summond not onely upon the score of the holy [Page 68] land, but also for redress of other Ec­cleasticall abuses. The emulous Spiritt of our Saint, desyrous to benefitt him­selfe in each degree, repayrd thither togeather with his younger brother Hugh; knowing well that such As­semblyes summon, as to a generall Mu­ster what is valiant, so to this what is wise, learned, and in vertue eminent. He knew that a generall Councell is like a Constellation where many pro­pitious lights Combine in one to the illuminating of the Christian world, as the great interpreters of Gods will; as an Oracle giuing to know undoub­tedly what we are to belieue and doe in the great practises of Christianity, and whither can one recurr with more aduantage and satisfaction then hither in doubtes of this nature? These two lesser lights euen then darted forth such conspicuous beames, that notice being taken of them they were both made [Page 69] Chaplans of the sayd Pope; and the rather for that besydes theyr owne Me­ritts, the presence of theyr father, sent thiter by the King of England, Con­tributed not a little to this dignity. The Councell ended, our B. Saint return'd full fraught with what he had heard and seen, and taking Paris in his way has­ten'd ouer to his Mother Uniuersity of Oxford, towards the accomplishment of his fore mentiond task of canon­law; designing when he had Maisterd it to proceed forth with to his diuinity. But we may say that in this he reckond without his host, and while we pro­pose, God disposes much otherwise: for about 14. yeares interuen'd eer he could beginn the latter and in the inte­rim he was to undergoe a double Chancelourship both of Uniuersity and Realme; of both these we shall treat in the ensuing Chapters.

Coming to this famous Uniuersity, [Page 70] he mett to his great comfort, and as great benefitt of spiritt, with his former Ghostly father Dr. Robert Kilwarby: who as he had before not only knowne him from his childhood, but also layd in him the first foundations, of a spirituall life, so now resumd againe to the same charge, he willingly lent his best endeavours to a further advance. The spirituall aduises of this good man were to our Saint as so many Oracles, and as such he receiue them; animated therby to a serious progress in both his vndertakings of learning and ver­tue. For we are to aduert that it was his settled maxime to make these two allwayes individuall companions, kee­ping them in an equall ballance, so that both learning adorne piety and piety learning, each giuing other a mutuall assistance; in so much that no applica­tion to studyes could diuert his mind, or lessen his feruour to devotion and [Page 71] vertue. He knew what the Apostle sayd to be most true, „scientia inflat, 1. Cor. 5. 2. that knowledg is a swelling vapour, and puffs upp to danger of bursting if it be not keept downe by the waight of piety, and bounded with a profound humility. Want of this wholsome ca­ueat makes many great witts miscarry while they will be more witty then wise, and learned then vertuous.

As for the effect and success of these his present Studyes, by consent of all both friends and foes, that is, enemyes of God and themselves, (for on the saints part he neuer bad any, nor oppo­sition at all, but in the behalfe of God and his right, which he was obligd to maintaine) by common consent, I say he proceded Doctour of Canon-law; and so became incorporated into that noble and ancient Uniuersity, as a principall and Conspicuous member with a mutuall honour to them both: [Page 72] from whome he was not to part, till by a speciall prouidence of God not onely, with common consent but vniuersall ioy both of King and Uniuersity he was made theyr head.

VII. CHAPTER. He is made Chancellour of Oxford.

SOme space of time elapsd heer in preparing for this Graduation; some also affirme, that he presided for some time in that study: howeuer that interuening space gaue the learned A­cademy a sufficient knowledg of his singular worth and abilityes, letting them know what a treasure they had gott among them. In the meane time the Uniuersity is depriu'd of its head or Chancellour, and was to be fur­nish'd: nothing seemd wanting in our [Page 73] saint towards a most satisfactory dis­charge theroff, eyther as to morall parts of learning, prudence, or what is also requisite for the support and counte­nancing of the same autority, splen­dour of byrth, and great allyance. Hauing thus cast theyr eye upon him, by the ioynt vote and concurrence of that illustrious Body, the King is peti­tiond for his consent, and all partyes concernd most readily yeald to the choyse besydes himselfe, who neuer was ambitious of any preferrment.

What a Chancelour of an Uniuersi­ty is can hardly be defind, being his power and office wholy depends upon the nationall customes and propper in­stitution of the founders. Buh this is generaly receiud by all, that the Chan­cellour is truly head of the Uniuersity, not onely in poynts of doctrine, but also in morall discipline and comport­ment both of Masters and Students. [Page 74] For England, as this office was euer of high esteem and honour, so euen in these later times, it is for the most part borne by persons great eyther by birth and dignity, or of eminent power and fouour in court: this being held ne­cessary to support and protect that lear­ned and united Body from all distur­bance and disquiett. Which that vali­ant and great Prince King Edward the 3. took so to hart, that though hee seemd wholly employd in Armes and warrfare, yett vpon an abuse & affront offerd by the Citty to the Students of that Uniuisity, he Deuested the Major and Magistrates of theyr power they had before, and gaue the Chancellour Stow. anno Regis 29. 1355. of Oxford the onely view of the excise of bread, ale, and wine, and other Victualls, excluding the Major utterly from that office. This king though he was deeply engagd in warrs abroad with such victorious success and con­quests [Page 75] as none before or after him per­haps had the like; yett was so present in the gouerment of his kingdome at home (especially what concernd the nobler and most important part of the Common wealth) that is, the educa­tion of youth both Clergy and Laity in learning and vertue, that it might seem the finall mark he aymd at; and for all his successfull prowesse abroad, that he took it for the greatest honor to be a feudatary to the supreme Dominion of wisdome, and in reall effect did profess that infallible and euerlasting truth, per „me Reges regnant, by mee Kings rule and raigne, from mee they receiue all Prou. 8. 15. theyr power.

In this Chayre of autority was S. THOMAS Sett, and it was his singular integrity and vpright demea­nour which purchasd him this great and generall esteem. The truth is, there is no such purchaser of true worth and [Page 76] ascent to honour as vertue; and this is confessd both by friend and foe, euen the latter wher off deemes it praise worthy though he can not imitate it, but beholds it as the Owle doth the light with disdaigne. Of his demea­nour in this office the Record testifyes thus: In quo officio Cancellariae, & in omni statu suo, quem ante & post habuit, justè & sanctè se gessit, & vi­am veritatis quam prius inchoaverat non dimisit, sed semper de bono in melius profecit. In which Office of Chancellour as also in each other which he bore, he demeand himselfe with such vprightnes and integrity, that he neuer swaru'd from the path of truth which he once trodd, but went on allwayes aduancing from good to better. This aduance was made by ex­alting vettue and learning and depres­sing vice, and idlenes its nurse; by an impartiall administration of justice to all, [Page 77] giuing euery one theyr due, by main­tayning Discipline in its vigour with­out slackning the raynes to a noxious liberty. And as his autority extended both to Masters and Schollars, and euen to the Citizens themselues so farr as to impede any abuse towards the former, so he carryd an equall hand ouer all, and fayld not therby to please all. How resolute and actiue he was in this his proceeding is wittnessd by a scuffle or Riott which happend at that time betwixt the Southern and Nor­thern Schollars vpon some quarrell of emulation: in which the disorder grew so high that to part them he was faine to hazard his owne person and to throw himselfe in to the middle of the throng, out of which he came though with a whole skinn yett not with a whole Coat, his gowne being torne and he beaten: yett he Maisterd the multitu­de, reduc'd them to order, and made [Page 78] them doe pennance for theyr inso­lency.

This of Chancellour was the First publick office which S. THOMAS bore; this that Candlestick of gold which first shewd that burning and shining light to the world; this that Hill, where that well built Citty by the hand of God himselfe first appeard and where there neuer was heard any other note but of ioy and Comfort. And happy would that University haue deemd it selfe, if it might still haue bin exhilarated with these sweet notes, en­lightend with his knowledg, and re­freshd with the streames of his wis­dome; of which they drunk with much gust, and he no churle in Communicat­ing them. But they like the fountaine of paradise were not to be confind to so narrow a current, fitt to water the surface of the whole kingdome; to which they were both sufficient, and [Page 79] the King at the lowd report, which sounded euen to the Court, designd them. He thought that famous Uniuer­sity to little a sphere for so great abi­lityes, and that it was an injury to the whole Realme to confine such a per­son to any particular place though neuer so honorable, and therfore resolu'd to make the whole pertake of this vniver­sall benefitt.

VIII. CHAPTER. He is made Lord high Chancel­lor of England.

KIng Henry the 3. a pious and gra­tious Prince, as you haue heard be­fore, lou'd te employ and preferr the vertuous to great Offices, as knowing that weighty affayres were neuer better mannagd, and consequently thriue bet­ter, then in the hands of such. For [Page 80] besydes the peculiar blessing and light which they receiue from Almighty God, vertue giues them both industry and application, and remoues many impediments which lye in the others way towards a due discharge of theyr trust. And therfore synce our holy saint car­ry'd in the opinion of all such a Com­mendatory of sanctity of life and inte­grity of conuersation, and withall his naturall abilityes corresponded to his supernaturall, compleating him in both; I wonder not at all that the good King cast his eyes vpon him, and entrusted him with the great office of Lord Chan­cellor. As to the Saint himselfe, as he neuet sought the employment, nay re­sisted what he could, so he came with a disinteress'd hart, disburdend of all re­spects but what he ought to God and his King: but seeing himselfe in the eyes of the court and kingdome, he thought it stood him vpon to be more [Page 81] circumspect in his actions and beha­uiour; and therfore the Authour of his life sayes, ‘Eo honore decoratus mo­res actionesque arctiori virtutis prae­scripto deuinxit;’ raysd to that digni­ty he endeauourd to square his actions and proceedings according to a straight­er line of perfection. He had learnd to be so farr Master of himselfe, that no exaltation could rayse him aboue him­selfe: Psal. 130. ‘so that his hart and eyes were the same, nor did he now walk in mira­bilibus super se, in the cloudes of won­ders aboue himselfe.’ He knew he was made the vice-gerent of diuine wisdome as to this pittance of trust, and therfore he sayd as it taught him, ‘arrogantiam, & superbiam, & viam prauam & os belingue detestor, ’ arrogancy, and pride, and wicked way, and a double tongu'd mouth I doe detest: and I wish Prou. 8. 13. all that beare the place would say the same; and especially the last of a double [Page 82] tongue, fitt onely for a double hart, destroying all syncerity and playne dealing. He ownd and practisd that which followes,‘Meum est Conci­lium & aequitas, mea est prudentia & fortitudo’; Myne is Counsell and equity, prudence is myne, strength is mine: and how he behau'd himselfe in these particulars shall be shewd in the end of this Narratrue.

To giue now a small hynt at the na­ture of this office, it may be obserud that the word Cancellarius or Chan­cellor signifyes not onely now but many ages agoe, an employment or trust of highest concern and honour, next the King himselfe, most eminent for power and autority; and till Sr. Thomas More's time, when worse changes and innouations followd, the dignity of Chancellour was conferrd vpon single or not marry'd persons, though Laymen, as not to be vnca­pable [Page 83] of Ecclesiasticall Prelacy, eyther Arch-Bishops or Bishops, as the ordi­nary stile of England was. As to the etymology of this word, Cassiodorus, that learned and graue person, deriues it from Cancelli, that is, the grated en­closure wherin the Chancellour sate, separated from the common throng, not to be disturbd in his office, accessi­ble onely to mens eyes; and therfore the same Authour calls these barrs or Cancells lightsome doores, open Cloysters, gates with windowes. This was a friendly admonition or caueat giuen by Cassiodorus to a Chancellour newly exalted to that eminent office: to putt him in mind, that though he was raysd and separated from the com­mon rank of men, yet he was exposd to the common view of all, and ther­fore must proceed accordingly; not please himselfe as if he were to dance in a nett, but to assure himselfe that he [Page 84] was like to haue as many censures and sharp judgments of him, as men had eyes. Others say, he is so calld because the Chancellour is, as it were, the mouth, the eye, and eare of the Prince or Soueraigne, and hath the reuie wing of all Memorialls or Petitions presented to the Prince, and euen decrees of the Prince himselfe; what he finds not conuenient to Law, or prejudiciall to the Prince's or publick good, it is his Office to cancell or cross out as voyd and wholly illegall, and not to signe it. From this Cancelling or crossing out with such vncontrould autority, they will haue the name of Cancellarius or Chancellor deriu'd.

As for the Chancellor of England's office, it is a dignity that makes him esteemd in the kingdome aboue all, and next to the King himselfe. In so much that on the other part of the Kings Seale (wheroff the custody belongs [Page 85] to the Chancellor) he signes his owne Orders: that the Kings Chappel be in his disposall and care; that vacant Arch. Bishopricks, Bishopricks, Abbeys, and Baronyes, falling into the Kings hands be receiud and kept by him that is the Chancellor: who likewise is to be present when soeuer the King sitts in Counsell; euen when he is not calld: that all things of the Clark or Clergy man who carryes the Kings Seale, be signd by the Chancellors hand; that all things be disposd of by the aduise and Counsell of the Chancellor: in fine that by the grace of God, his desert and meritt concurring, he neuer ends his dayes but in the See of an Arch Bishop or Bishop, if he will accept of it. And for this reason the office of Chancellor is neuer to be bought, as hauing so much connexion and Relation to a Clergy state, for danger of incurring Simony. The manner or ceremony of [Page 86] creating Chancellors in the Raigne of Henry the 2. Grandfather to King Henry the 3., who enstalld S. THO­MAS in that dignity, was to hang the great Seale about the chosen Chan­cello'rs neck. But afterwards both the ceremonyes of enstallment and his court of Chancery was augmented, three seales, one of gold, two of syluer a great one and a lesser; and for the Lawyers abuses and quirkes in the Common law the Chancello'rs court or Chancery erected to moderate all as Vmpire, meerly out of equity and ju­stice, independent of sophisticall tricks and verball cauills. This was the office of the Lord Chancellor of England synce the Norman conquest for the most part with some ceremoniall chan­ges, rather accidentall then in sub­stance, as the Kings who raignd thought fitt.

In the administration of this office [Page 87] as our Saint shewd great wisdome, so did he also great integrity, and these two compleated his justice; so that the former securd him against mistakes and ignorance, the latter against bribes and extorsions; neyther of which eyther was or euer could be justly layd to his charge. Nay he was so scrupulously nice in the latter, that he would not haue so much as the shadow of it to ap­proach him. It is recorded particularly that certaine Religious men who had a suite depending at Law applyd them­selues to him for his fauour and further­ance in the dispatch of the same, and therto presented him with a jewell of value: which he rejected not without indignation, asking them whether they thought him to be wonn with guifts. Nor was his courage inferiour eyther to his wisdome or integrity; vpon which account when reason and equity dictated that such a thing was to be [Page 88] done, he was vndaunted as to the exe­cution, euen though the king himselfe stood in the way, yett none more ob­seruant of his Majesty then he. This may be confirmd by what happend at the councill table and was driuen on by many great ones who perswaded the king to conferr an office vpon a new conuerted Iew wherby he was im­powerd ouer the liues and persons of such subjects as were found to be coy­ners of false money. He opposd it with much earnestnes, saying, it was too unlimited a power ouer Christians to be committed to a new conuerted Iew, who might easily be tempted according to his former ill habitts to abuse it: and therfore besought his Majesty with teares eyther to reuoke it, or giue him leaue to absent himselfe, for he could not approue it. The king mou'd with his teares and candour as well as the force of his reasons bidding [Page 89] him sit still, changd ther vpon his de­termination. I shall say more relating to this in the last Chapter. Now how satisfactory his mannagement of affay­res in this ticklish charge was both to Prince and people is euidenc'd by this, that the King vpon urgent occasions being calld into France, left to him, during his absence, the trust and charge of the whole kingdome.

IX. CHAPTER. King Henry dyes, his Sonn suc­ceeds, S. Thomas with License giues vpp his Seale and retyres.

IN this equall track of justice, decli­ning neyther to the right hand nor the left, did our Saint walk all the respitt of King Henry's life. Full often during this space of time did he sigh [Page 90] after his former Retyrement, and ceasd not vpon fitt occasions to importune the same: but the good King who had found his assistance and dexterity so seruiceable in the dispatch of affayres would by noe meanes harken to that request, giuing him leaue to groane vnder his burden: and he in comply­ance with his will submitted to it, mak­ing the best of the worst and a vertue of necessity. At last, hauing finishd the course of nature as well as of a vertuous life, he payd the common tribute of mortality to death, and Edward his eldest Sonn, calld the first of that name immediately succeded in the throne: of whome it will not be amiss to giue some short account, as also how things went in the course of affayres.

This Edward was not onely a warr-like but wise Prince, and as he had re­ceiud both Crowne and life from his father, so he restord both againe, by [Page 91] cutting off with his owne hand the last and most dangerous Rebellion of all. This was raisd by Simon Montfort a great souldier, and of a high Spiritt, otherwise a pious and gracious person to most men, by reason of his forward zeale to engage in what he conceiud did concerne the common good: which cost him first expulsion out of France, and after his being receiud in England, and made Earle of Lecester, noe less then his life. This great War­riour obseruing the march and ap­proach of Prince Edward to giue him battaile, turnd to his Commanders and thus aduisd them; let vs commend our soules to God, for our bodyes are theyrs; as it fell out and he dy'd with the rest. The same great Prince Ed­ward the first, after he had brought the kingdome of Scotland to the vtmost extremity, but preuented by death could not compleat the full conquest, he [Page 92] chargd his Sonn Edward the 2. or of Caernaruan (calld so from his birth in that castle) not to enterre his body till he finishd the work begunn by him, of which little remayn'd to be atchieu'd. But those court Parasites, the young Kings fauorites, hating as death the life of a Souldier, drew him of from that noble designe to court againe, to the shame and infamy of the English Na­tion, and wretched end of that vnfor­tunate Prince. A sad example of dis­obedience to the last words of a dying father, and such a father as England had scarse his like for valour, conduct, and wisdome.

In the very beginning of whose Raigne and first stepp into the throne S. THOMAS as his place and office requird brought him the great Seale of England, with most humble acknow­ledgment of his obligation to his Ma­jesty's father for honouring him aboue [Page 93] all desert with that eminent charge, which he resignd into his Majestyes hands with this humble petition, that with his Majestyes approbation and leaue, he may retyre to that knowne mother of learning and wisdome Ox­ford, where he may more enable him­selfe for the seruice of God and of his Majesty, and the assistance of his coun­try. To which the King answerd first with thanks, as the manner is, for the great seruice done to the King and kingdome; and for his petition, that he assented to it, and for the pre­sent gaue him full liberty to dispose of himselfe as he thought fitting. This was it which our Saint, much more ad­dicted to the Schooles then the court, so earnestly breathd after, and as cheer­fully hastend to them as a stone to its Center or fyre to its element; „trahit sua quemque voluptas.

And heer I cannot but pawse a while [Page 94] vpon this noble and heroicall act of S. THOMAS; which if we mea­sure by a humane ell and mans naturall inclination to greatnes, was perchance one of the noblest of his life. For where in the world shall one find euen vertuous and holy men who make not preferrments a part of theyr ayme and reward of theyr studyes, much less who will diuest themselues willingly of it especially the highest, when they haue it in possession. Honour is calld the Nurse of Arts, and suites much with the propension of man, who na­turally loues precedency and preemi­nency, as the milk he suckd from his Mother Eue, and few part with [...] but against theyr wills. It is mo [...] [...]hen probable for diuers reasons, that S. THOMAS might haue continu'd his Office had he not sollicited a release from the same; and such a sollicitation vpon the prudentiall motiues of a ver­tuous [Page 95] humility argues a profound sanctity, and contempt both of him­selfe and worldly things. Had he con­tinued in his charge the ordinary course of such proceedings would haue enstalld him in the Sea of somegreat Pre­lacy: of which if he had bin more am­bitious then of a priuate Retyrement, he would haue made it his busynes as he did this. But Saints see with other eyes then these of nature, they are guided by better lights, which partake more of truth and less of uanity: they see honour to be nothing else but a buble and a burden, and on both scores worthy of despisement, synce the for­mer [...] as empty as the latter trouble­some, [...] say no worse. Honour, sayth the Philosoper, is in him that conferrs it, the burden onely passes to the Re­ceiuer or honored: what is burdensom ought to be reiected. To discouer the emptynes of honour is a poynt of wis­dome; [Page 96] to contemne that which all do [...] on, a poynt of sanctity: true wisdome makes them know it is but a shadow, and that they ought not to content themselues with shadowes but solid substances; nor play the dog in the fable, who while he more greedily then prudently s'natchd at the shadow lost the bone. True sanctity tells them that the truest honour is to contemme all honour besydes the honour of God; which while they labour to aduance they honour both him and themselues, not with an empty ayry honour but per­manent and eternall, whose shadow the other is.

Such good solid principles made our Saint doe what he did, that is, pray the Saint, that is, despise and trample vpon that Idol of the world for the loue of heauen and a vertuous life. But though the King lisenc'd him at his request from the Chancellorship, yett he still [Page 97] retaynd him, during life, of his Priuy Councill, as I find vpon Record in the Process of his Canonization, where his aduise prou'd many times aduantageous aboue others, as I shall heer after haue occasion to relate: and things were so orderd at present that no lett or stopp was putt to the actuall designe of pro­secuting his studyes.

X. CHAPTER. S. Thomas returns to Oxford, proceeds Doctour of Diui­nity, the testimony giuen of him.

OUr Saint, as we sayd, being with licence and approbation of the King free from Court and Chancellors office, so much admir'd and wishd for by the rest of the world, sung with the [Page 98] Royall Prophet ‘laqueus contritus est Psal. 123. [...]. 7. & nos liberati sumus,’ the snare is broken, and wee sett at liberty;and like a doue or pigeon with eyes seald to the lower world soares vpwards, as farr as his wings can beare him, to enioy God and what leads neerest to him, that is, true knowledg of him, which from the things it treats of, as propperly, as Commonly, is calld Diui­nity. In which study, hauing exercisd himselfe with his wonted application free from all other distraction and ad­hesion to terrene things, he made such progress, that by the votes of all in due time, he proceeded Doctour, of that highest of sciences, which, as the An­gelicall S. THOMAS explicates it out of the Prouerbs chap. 9. v. 3. sitts like a Queen in Court, and all other in­tellectuall Arts serue her as hand mayds. And what wonder if his flight were so soaring, synce he had the wings of a [Page 99] doue, I may say of an Angell or bird of Paradise, by reason of his purest soule, cleanest hart, and Angelicall conuer­sation; and as the cleane of hart see God best, and he so attractiuely amiable, why should they not make great aduan­ce towards him. As wisdome doth not enter into a maleuolous soule, nor dwell in a body subject to sinn, so when it finds one symbolizing with its humour in poynt of sanctity, and Capacitated therto, it Communicates light as plen­tifully, as the Sunn his beames to the Chrystall.

How Ioyfully he was receiud in that Uniuersity, and what wellcomes he had from all the degrees of the same, as a thing of course is needles heer to be expressd. He Coming now in the qua­lity not of a publick person but priuate Student to gaine more time and sett clo­ser to his task, wau'd what he could all such diuersions: his entertainment was [Page 100] among his books, and his content in his deuotions; and there he neuer found himselfe less alone then when most. He knew what a pretious treasure time is, and esteeming it as such, was loath to loose the least parcell therof: this he did both for his owne benefitt and the example of others, to make them less wastfull of what the most part are lauish. To this good mannagement of time and his other deuotions he ioynd works of mercy, and especially relief to poore schollars, to many wherof he gaue a dayly maintinance, enabling them therby to goe through with theyr studyes; and to this kind of charity he was much addicted, as we shall further shew in the 13. Chapter.

His thoughts thus diuided betwixt his studyes and deuotions gaue him the fruits of the formers industry, and the blessings of the latters light. Amidst these he prepar'd himselfe for his great [Page 101] Act or Commencement, at which his ancient friend and Master in spiritt, who had taught him many a good les­son in that kind, would be present, I meane Robert Kilwarby, who though at the time of his Presentment he were Doctour of the Chayre, yett before the time he was to stand in the Act, his great knowledg and eminent vertue had receiud a condigne reward of both, from the hands of Pope and Prince, the See of Canterburry. This made the new Prelate not stand vpon his poynts, but as the truly humble, the more they are exalted the humbler they are, so this preferrment rather furtherd then retarded him in the respect and honour he intended his friend. Friendship is neuer better grounded or supported then with piety; none knowing the lawes of that better then this, or keeping them more inuiolably, as least swayd by interest. Though the meritts of our [Page 102] Saint were such that they needed no commendatoryes, yett to obserue forme and the vsuall custome, after his exa­men he is bid to withdraw: that done the Arch-Bishop who came dow­ne purposely to performe the Ceremo­nyes of his Creation, gaue an ample testimony of him, and that upon oath to the present Auditory, at what time the saint was no less then 54. jeares of age. He commended him first from the 4. Cardinall vertues and his eminent perfection in each; next from his sin­gular purity both of body and mind, as pure as to both, as he was the firstday he came into the world. And if, sayd he, you demand of me how I come to haue such a confident assurance ther­of; I answere in the presence of God, that I haue read it all along as clearly in his life and conscience by hearing his Confessions euen ftom his youth, as any of you in a book legibly writt can [Page 103] read characters layd open to your eyes: nor doe I feare but God, a louer of pu­rity, who has thus long preserud him without spott, will keep him spottles euen till death.

This was a rare Elogium of the vir­gin integrity of our Saint, well worth our admiration and veneration, I may also add imitation; it falling especially from the mouth of one who might be accounted an Oracle as to truth, and as free from flattery as interest by it. Why then should any one suspect such a disinteress'd testimony of a sacred per­sonage farr aboue censure, and not ra­ther censure those that censure him? Euery thing is as it is taken: I read this Elogium of a venerable Prelate, and I think I doe prudently in framing ther vpon a most high conceyt of the Saints purity: why doe I not? he being one of vnquestionable credit: another comes and he censures all both Primate [Page 104] and Saint, both the testimony of this and the integrity of the other. I hold this discourse because Doctour God­win once pretended Bishop of Here­ford, and Recorder of all the English Bishops liues, vpon the rehearsall of this very passage makes this reflexion by way of a prudentiall note; „Omnis homo, sayth he, mendax; eyther Con­fessor or Confessed, or the reporter ly'd I doubt not. Whence may be seen what gloss this Historian putts vpon so graue an asseueration, and how easily he waues any autority besides his owne. What meanes the man by ‘omnis homo mendax?’ doth he ayme at the Saint or at the Primate or at himselfe; for if all be lyars, by consequence he too; and how non-sensically is this thrust in? What need he doubt but such a poynt of perfection may be asserted, and neyther Confessour nor Confessed, nor Reporter a Lyar? by what Diuinity [Page 105] doth Doctour Godwin conclude this? It may be a wonder beyond beliefe in the Protestant church, that any one keep his baptismall purity in an integrity of body and mind, but in the Catho­lique it is not at all; and I doubt as little of this as he of the other. How should we know the gestes of Saints, synce we haue them not by Reuelation, but by the Relation of creditable men? No more Certainly is requird heer then suffises to ground a prudent beliefe: if euery graue historian pretend to this, euen Doctor Godwin himselfe, how much more a Prelate a Primate? But enough of such stuff; he would onely haue shewd a piece of his Diuinity, and confirmd it with an I DOUBT NOT, and it suffises to haue taken notice of its strength. I doubt not for all his doubt but the Primates testimony will stand good, synce so many great vertues giue force and warrant to his veracity, and [Page 106] vpon the same, that our Saint, as he deserues, will be thought to haue preserud his vnblemmish'd integrity in the candour of its first innocency.

About this time it was while S. THOMAS was attending his Stu­dyes that Gregory the to. gaue a begin­ning to the 2. Councill of Lions, and that, an interruption to him from the sayd studyes. The improuement which he found by the former would not let him slipp the opportunity of redoubling the same by the latter. A Generall Councill is the Schoole of the age in which it is held; the great mart of knowledg where one may buy wis­dome at an easy rate, and become ac­quainted with all the worthyes of all Nations. An obseruant bee comes hither as into a garden of choysest flowers, where it may pick and chuse the honey of all good improuement at pleasure; whether it be in poynt of vertue, or [Page 107] whether it be in poynt of science; heer he may find patterns of the former, and no less of the latter: heer he may heare the Oratour perorate, the Philosopher discourse, the Diuine dispute, the In­terpreter expound, the Antiquary im­part his hiddenest treasures of rites, cu­stomes, traditions and the like. In the yeare 1274. vpon the Summons of the chiefe Pastour of Gods church Grego­ry the 10. there mett 700. Prelats in the Citty of Lions, Latine and Greek, ga­therd togeather from all the parts of the Christian world to Consider vpon the State of the Church; not onely to seek a second time reliefe for the H. Land and its oppressions by infidells, but also to Ciment vpp the breaches of the same church, causd by that vn­fortunate schisme of the Greeks about the Procession of the H. Ghost. 13. ti­mes had that perfidious Nation sworne and subscribd in full Councell to an [Page 108] open Reuokement and disclayme of that schisme, and as often had it re­lapsd to vomitt; nor dit it now any whitt less as to both, submission and reuolt.

Further account of this our Saints Iourney then meerley of his going I find none: he went, I suppose, in the quality of a priuate person, because the Record which mentions it specifyes no more: and going as such (Saints do not vse to carry any great noyse or clutter along with them) he returnd when he thought good as silently as he went. And this must probably haue happend after the time of his Studyes and Graduation; because that past and he commenc'd, I find he was immedia­tely calld to a chayre in the same Vni­uersity where hauing read and presi­ded 16. months the fame of the in­dicted Councill calld him away not by any other Summons then those of his [Page 109] owne improuement. For pretensions of aduancement were as farr from his thoughts as they were from his desyres or hart: yett honours are like shadowes following those that fly from them, and so they did him. For shortly after this his returne from the councill he was chosen to shine in the Ecclesiasti­call Magistracy, as he had before in the Schooles and secular Tribunalls: and how this came to pass must be the sub­ject of the next Chapter.

XI. CHAPTER. He is made Bishop of Hereford.

VVE haue hitherto accompanyd our Saint through the priuate passages of his life, and beheld him for the most part immur'd as it were, within the walls of the Schooles attending chiefly to the perfecting himselfe not [Page 110] others. Not but that he hath appeard, and very illustrious too, in the eyes of the world and gloryes of the Court, when made Lord Chancellor of Eng­land he diuided justice with such an equall and satisfactory ballance to the whole kingdome that none besydes himselfe was glad at the resignment. This was but a forc'd lending himselfe to what he could not with stand; or a voluntary admittance of what was putt vpon him whether he would or noe: otherwise if it had bin as much ac­cording to his gust, as that of the rest of the world, he would neyther haue so earnestly sought his owne release, nor ioyd so much in obtaining it, as he did.

Those great talents and abilityes which renderd him so recommendable to this, did the same to Ecclesiasticall promotions. It is a prerogratiue which God hath annexd to vertue, that it [Page 111] meets, though not allwayes, with many euen temporall rewards when it looks the least after them; and indeed who deserues them better, or when they haue them can vse them with more in­tegrity? His nobility also and great allyance gaue no small furtherance: whence it was, that he enioyd at the same time by dispensation many and fatt benifices, all which according to the Collatours intention he turnd not so much to his owne interest as to the maintaining and recouering of theyr rights, vpholding priuiledges, con­seruing buildings, and relieuing the poore of the respectiue neighbour­hood. He was at the same time Canon and Chanter of York, Archdeacon and Canon of lichfield, Archdeacon of Stafford, Canon of London and Here­ford: all which I rehearse not as soe many Certificates of his Sanctity but as rewards of his meritts, and pledges [Page 112] of respect and honour from such Chapters, ambitious to haue him a member of the same; and it were to be wishd that such were allwayes in theyr hands who would vse them to theyr improuement.

While things were in this course, John de Breton a worthey Prelate grouernd the See of Hereford, one well seen both into the Canon and Common-Law of the Land which lat­ter he illustrated with his writings. This man dying in this interim left his chayre vacant to a successour, and the care of prouiding a fitt one to the vigi lancy of the Chapter: the carriage of things as to the Election (as we find recorded in the Process of his Canoni­zation) was after this tenour. It chanc'd while the Chapter was deliberating about that poynt, S. THOMAS, a canon of the same, though his ordinary Residence were at Londen, was acci­dentally [Page 113] calld downe thither vpon the score of other affayres. The day pre­fixd for the election before his coming, happend while he was there, and he as a member theroff, and of great regard both for his vertue learning, and nobi­lity, was desyrd to preach before the Chapter, and so giue a happy entrance to the work. All proceeded Canonically according to method, but yett the re­sult of the votes was not so cleare and absolute that day as to decide the que­stion; and tell them positiuely this is the man. The next meeting did it; and all the Chapter by ioynt decree, sayth the Process, did conclude first that the party to be elected should be a THO­MAS, and next that the ambiguity of that name should be resolu'd to the in­diuiduall THOMAS Cantelupe: whence follow'd an vnanimous accla­mation of all, desyring and accepting and voycing him theyr Bishop. Hence [Page 114] he was carry'd to the high Aultar, and a TE DEUM solemnly enton'd by way of thanksgiuing with the Uniuer­sall applause and good liking of all be­sydes himselfe. For he like one sur­prizd at vnawares, and expecting nothing less then what happend, broke forth into teares, bemoand his condi­tion, deprecated the burden, alledg'd his owne insufficiency, and usd all the arguments he could diuise to reuerse the Election. He did as Saints vse to doe, who measuring themselues by the ell of theyr owne mean-conceyted­nes, and poyzing the burden which such a charge drawes after it, the eyes of theyr humility makes them deem themselues weaklings, and the burden like an Aetna insupportable, well knowing what it is to be accountable for so many soules. He did like an humble Saint, and they like a wise and and Sage Chapter, who knowes those [Page 115] to be fittest for Prelacy, that are least ambitious of it; and them ablest to answere for others who are most care­full ouer themselues: for he that is knowne to neglect his owne soule, how can it be presumd that he will be vigilant ouer those of others, synce charity beginns at home.

Farr was our Saint from those ambi­tious motiues of preferrment which possess euen good soules: and though Tim. C. 3 [...] the Apostle sayes, he that desyres a Bishoprick desyres a good work, yett great Saints find good reasons why to waue, yea suppress such desyres, espe­cially when they find them to arise mo­re from selfseeking then Gods honour or the good of soules. No body ought Hebr. 5. 4. to emulate this honour but he that is calld by God as Aaron: it is want of interiour light that makes many more forward then considerate in this kind; who seeing onely by the glimmerings [Page 116] of selfloue, (a false light issuing from an ignis fatuus) think that often gay, which has nothing suchbut what it bor­rowes from false reflexions. Wher as Saints who are of a more refind sight, as seeing things by true lights, and measuring them accordingly by the Weights of the Sanctuary, make a farr different estimate, and proceed quite contrary. As we ought not to censure the former vnles theyr Sinister inten­tion and self endednes condemne them first for Mercenaryes, so we cannot but admire those others who preferr an humble security before a splendid dan­ger, and dread the honour by reason of the burden.

As the H. Ghost, the great President of the Church and its affayres, presides influentially in all its Canonicall Electi­ons, so we cannot doubt but that Fin­gar digitus pat. dexte­ra. of the Fathers right hand, did heer as it is his office, inspiringly poynt out [Page 117] this Sheapard whome he designd to gouerne that flock, and sett vpp as a light in the Candlestick of the Church of Hereford to shine to all in learning and vertue. That this was an assured Decree of heauen, not onely as all Ca­nonicall Elections are, but also pecu­liarly preordaynd by a speciall proui­dence may be shewd both by the whole steerage of his life, whose actions and behauiour seemd to be squard and moul­ded for such a course, as also by seuerall predictions and prognosticons which intimated the same. The saying of Walter Cantilupe Bishop of Worcester and his kinsman, vtterd in our Saints childhood concerning his future state of life, cited in the 3. Chapter, seemes by the euent to haue bin Prophetique, and as such was receuid by his Parents, who ther vpon directed the whole edu­cation of theyr child to a perpetuall ad­uance in knowledg and piety, the two [Page 118] ornaments and supports of Prelacy. It was no less remarkable what passd while he study'd the Law at Orleans, and for his excellency in that science sup­plyd the absence of his Professor. When the night before he was to read, one of his fellow Students beheld him by way of dreame not onely in the Chayre or Pulpitt, but also Carrying a Bishops Mytre on his head, the circum­ference or border wherof was full of Crosses, as ominating that he was to walk by the way of the Cross full of hardship and contradiction. We may add to these a third prediction of his imme­diate Predecessour, who, two yeares before his owne death and the others election, fore-told he should succeed him in his charge.

The choyse being made and ratify'd to the satisfaction of all, the day and place of his inauguration was pitchd on. The day was to be the 8. of Sept. [Page 119] sacred to the Natiuity of the Virgin Mother of God, nor could any other haue fallen more suitable to his desyres, and the deuotion he had for that glo­rious Queen: whose Natiuity as it brought a deluge of ioy and happynes to all mankind, so he might hope it would betyde no ill presage to him, who was now to be borne as it were a new man; and most willingly did he come into this new world under her patronage, vnder which he was to liue and dye, as all they doe who liue and dye happily. When he had resolu'd who was to consecrate him, it was easy to conclude on the place of Con­fecration: the former resolue was easi­ly made according to his owne inclina­tion; for connaturally speaking on whome would he sooner pitch then on him to whome he was most beholding after God for what he had both in lite­rature and piety: who as he had ho­nourd [Page 120] him in his commencement of Doctour of Diuinity, so also Crowne and compleat all with the Character of Episcopacy. This was Robert Kil­warby whome we mentiond in the pre­cedent Chapter, installd now Arch-Bishop of Canterbury and Primate of England; who though so great, shewd an humble readynes to comply with the desyres of his friend in order to a consecration, what soeuer they were, or wher soeuer to be performd: sealing vpp, as it were, with this concluding act (for shortly after he was calld to Rome) all his former endeauors for the Saints aduance in spiritt and piety, specifyd in the 4. Chapter: onely it is to be noted in a word that the Conse­cration was made in Christ church Canterbury in the yeare 1275. and of his age about 56.

In testimony of the common con­tent receiu'd by this Election, and the [Page 121] happynes as well as honour accrewing thence to his See of Hereford, it was agreed by all concernd, both Chapter and succssours, and for an attestation of the generall Sentiment, that thence for­ward all the Bishops of Hereford should giue his coat of Armes as the coat of theyr See, to witt, G. 3. leopards heads jeasant, 3. flouwer de luces Or. So true it is, that honour like a shadow fol­lowes those that fly it, and that no pur­suit besydes contempt is the ready way to its purchase.

XII. CHAPTER. His Retyrement and Union with God.

THis new Character made him a new man, nor did he look on him­selfe with the same eyes as before: not puffd vpp like many, with the fumes [Page 122] of a swelling exaltation, but purely on the score of his new Character, behol­ding himselfe as one consignd ouer therby to the seruice of God. They are worse then purblind who look onely on a man as a meer man, and make no distinction at all of states and callings, being able to penetrate no further then the exteriour lineaments, nor distin­guish in theyr leuelling humour be­twixt a man and a Priest, one with a crosyer and a Sword. Euen such them­selues, when qualifyd and raysd to ho­nours, look on themselues as some body, and will not bate an ace of State; why should not the same be done when raysd to a state of Sanctity? Bis­hops are in a state of perfection, and sett vpp as lights in the candlestick of the church to shine to others, you are, sayd Christ of them, the light of the Mat. 5. 14. world, nothing not squaring with per­fection is expected from them. This [Page 123] consideration makes them reflect on theyr duty, attend to your selues and your whole flock, and so did it our Act. 20. 28. B. Saint, giuing him subject enough to busy his thoughts on, in order to a due discharge of his trust. Which the better to performe he recalls all his thoughts home, and as he had now contracted a new Espousalle, so he wedded all his endeauours to its inte­rest. A sheapard till he haue a flock of his owne may diuert himselfe more freely among his neighbours and spend some houres in visiting theyrs; but when he himselfe is once Master of one he attends onely to that, and may say, as did the man in the Ghospell on another occasion, ‘uxorem duxi & I [...]c. 14. 20. ideo non possum, &c.’

When God calls one to a state he furnishes him with thoughts, desyres, affections sutable therto; he giues him light to consider it, to ponder its weigh­tynes, [Page 124] to see for what he must be ans­werable when „redde rationem villica­tionis Luc. 16. 2. tuae„ calls vpon him; All these employ his mind sufficiently, and make him retyre with in himselfe, and conse­quently with draw from less necessary exteriour affayres. He neuer was in loue with the world nor taken with its fooleryes, and therfore easily retyrd from it as from what he little car'd for: he was long agoe like one glutted and surfeyting with its dilights euen the choysest of the court, and saw too cle­arly its vanityes to be deluded by them. The more he retyrd into himselfe, the more he lou'd Retyrement, its sweetnes being not knowne but by tasting it; and one truth he discouerd therby, that a gadding Spiritt wil neuer make a Saint, nor wandering thoughts which goe all day on wool-gathering bring home much sanctity. He found all in God and contented himselfe with him alone, [Page 125] as well he might; who to a holy Soule is all in all: and it is in solitude that he speaks to such a hart, where the choy­ser sort of vertues dwell, not vpon Roads or marketplaces; as Lions and Eagles and such generous Creatures are not found in common woods and fields but solitary Wildernesses, where they may rule and enioy themselues vncon­troulld by the vulgar of inferiour Crea­tures. Heer vpon a great change was obserud in him and his conuersation; he was, and was esteemd a Saint before, but now more noys'dly; he had long agoe the world in contempt, now in hatred.

What lay not a little heauy on his hart, and was, as I may say, the burden of his thoughts, was his new charge, or the sollicitude of its good discharge. To comply duly with this was all his care, and to doe it well, a great supply he knew, of vertues was requisite, and [Page 126] those chiefly which attend such a function. Those he conceiu'd to be in the first place and aboue others Vigi­lancy, he being now a Sheapard that was to keep watch and stand Sentinell ouer his Flock: a vertue so propper to one thus entrusted, that on it the whole wellfare and safety of the same Flock seems in a manner to depend as to its preseruation and integrity, both for the preuenting of mischiefes and giuing redress when incurrd. A vigilant Pa­stour withstands the incursions of wolues and other beasts of prey, not onely when they appeare in theyr prop­per shape, but also disguisd in the dress of sheep; nor is it his duty onely to preuent and repell euill but also to im­plant good: It happend when men were a sleep that the enemy man found opportunity to sow tares vpon the good wheat and spoyle the haruest. To re­commend this vertue rhe high Priest in [Page 127] the old law carryd an Amythist en­chac'd in his Rationall as a symbol of watchfullnes, the nature of that pre­cious stone disposing much therto: and nature inculcates the necessity of it both by the lions sleeping with open eyes, and the crane with a stone in her ta­lon, not to ouer sleep themselues, as the foolish virgins did, but be ready for the least alarme; which lesson is taught vs by the spouse and may serue for a Motto to all, ‘Ego dormio & cormeum Cant. 5. 2. vigilat.’ Vpon the same score he considerd himselfe not onely as the Master of a great family, which he was to feed with the bread of the word of God, and keep in good order as be­seemd the House of God; but also (which touchd him neerer to the hart) a Common farher of so many children, whome, as such, he was to embrace with the armes of a fatherly charity, and tender theyr Spirituall wellfare as [Page 128] much as any parent, for each one wheroff he was to be accountable to him who entrusted them in his hands. This made him putt on the bowells of Colos. 3. 12. mercy, benignity, humility, modesty, patience, and beare with the faults and frailtyes of others, becoming all to all that he might winn all to Christ. This humble condescendence gaue him a powerfull ascendant vpon the harts of the good to incline them much towards vertue and piety, and gaind him so much esteem in theyr affections, that his words were, ‘tanquam potestatem Matt. 7. habentis,’ as of one that spoke with an awefull autority. Yett he lou'd them as his Children and was so be­lou'd by them, and feard accordingly; for that feare is best and most effectuall to good which is grounded on and ari­ses from loue; when it is otherwise it is not so much filiall as seruile, that is, propper to seruants rather then children.

This Retyrement as it sequesterd his hart and thoughts from the world and its affayres, so it gaue him a fayrer prospect of vertue and its anduantages to Christian perfection, and the necessi­ty therof towards the due ordering both of body and soule. To haue all well, there must be a right vnderstan­ding and subordination betwixt these two: the soule must be Mistress, and good reason why? the body handmayd and subseruient. Reason must com­mand, sense obey; this will not be done but by a true subjection of the inferiour man to the Superiour; nor that, but by frequent pennance and mortification interiour and exteriour, both in mace­rating the flesh, and subduing our pas­sions and appetites. To effect this the seruants of God make warr vpon them 1 Cor. 9. 17. selues by chastizing theyr bodyes, least while they preach to others, themselues become reprobate, and to this purpose [Page 130] embrace the hardshipps of fasting, watching, hayr cloath, and the like to further and compleat the conquest of themselues. And this was the practise of our H. Saint as the Recorders of his life and gests doe testify, and had also bin through his former age, wearing a rough hayr cloath next his body for many yeares togeather, pennancing his innocent flesh with frequent fasts and watchings. But now he frequented all these in so much greater perfection, as he conceiu'd the need he had of theyr present support to be more pressing, though not to suppress any rebellious mutinyes, yett to obtaine greater sup­plyes of grace. Yea euen in the houre of his death and amidst the incum­brances of a long and tedious iourny he was found shrowded in one of these, as in a coat of male against the stings of death: as if he intended, according to the Prouerbe, „clavum clauo pellere, [Page 131] to driue out one nayle with another, or make a cordiall for his sicknes of that which seemd as ill as the sicknes it selfe: But Saints esteem those cordialls, which we doe Corrosiues. And his feruour in this kind was such, that by these and other the like austerityes he incurrd great infirmityes of body, and was much pesterd with most sharp fitts of the cholique, and paynes of the Sto­mack, which with other sicknesses gaue him a full exercise of his patience for many yeares with no small increase of meritt.

But the vigour of his mind Masterd all these, which seru'd onely to render his body or inferiour part more pliant and supple in a due subjection, wher by his Soule, perfect Mistress of the fami­ly, yealded a rationall obsequiousnes to God its Creatour, by dilating it selfe in prayer, and meditating the diuine perfections with the repose of so much [Page 132] deuotion and sweetnes, that he seemd to be there as in his Center. And it is recorded of him peculiarly, that his ex­teriour Cap­graue, Composure and recollection in the same was such that the very sight of him was sufficient to stirr vpp both fayth and feruour in the beholders: as also that in celebrating the H. Sacrifice of Masse, his hart and eyes were so dissolu'd into teares, as if he had actually beheld the bloody Mystery of the Cross represented to them, so liuely was his fayth so ardent his deuotion. He car­ry'd a great loue to this exercise of prayer, and deseruedly, for by it all spi­rituall enterprizes are atchieu'd, that being the Source from whence we de­riue both light to discouer, and strength to act, and courage to attaque, and per­seuerance to Crowne our vnderta­kings. By this a soule conuerseth with God and he with it; Conuersation we know, breeds familiarity, and this [Page 133] friendship or vnion of harts; and when one is arriu'd to that, „amicorum om­nia Communia, what needs he more by way of supply then the store-house of God himselfe. Vnion is the result of loue, that making the louer and be­loued one, and loue consists in a ma­tuall Communication of goods and ta­lents; if we giue, we need not doubt but we shall receiue, his very essence being goodnes and bounty. All these are the effects of Prayer, and chiefly this vnion which who soeuer has at­taynd, what wants he of perfection? Perfection consist's in charity, which is consummated in vnity; for then euery thing is deemd perfect when it attaynes its end, and unites it selfe to that which is its vltimate Consumma­tion; the Consummation of a rationall Creature is God, and God is in vs and wee in him by charity. Being thus vni­ted to God by charity, or as S. Bernard [Page 134] calls it, marry'd to his Word, ‘Chari­tas maritat animam Verbo’the se­quele is, that as two Spouses are two in one flesh by Corporall Espousalls, so God and a soule become two in one Spiritt by a spirituall: and all the con­sequences, aduantages, participations of honours, riches, ennoblement, ally­ance, &c. which are Communicated by the other, are after a much more diuine manner participated by this. What wonder then if our B. Saint endea­uourd so earnestly an vnion with God, and took prayer so much to hart as the begetter of this vnion.

To maintaine and highten the same was all his endeauour; and he endea­uourd it by employing to that purpose the 3. powers of his soule memory, vn­derstanding and will in a perpetuall presence of him. His memory by re­counting his great and dayly benefitts in a thankfullnes of hart; his vnder­standing [Page 135] by meditating his diuine tru­thes, perfections, and attributes; his will by louing him in all, and confor­ming his to the diuine: and this is the noblest employment of a rationall soule and an imitation of what the Saints doe in heauen. The more straitly he vnited himselfe to God the more he did partake of his bountyes, who scornes to be out-vy'd by any body in this kind; and this participation increasd the flame of his charity, which dilated it selfe both towards God and his Neighbour, louing God for himselfe and his neigh­bour in, and for God, and as himselfe; and this is the fullnes of the Law and Prophetts. Hence he became soo Zea­lous both of the honour and House of God, which is his Church, and so sen­sible of the concerns of his neighbour both spirituall and temporall, that he seemd to be borne for theyr reliefe, and especially of the poore and needy: of [Page 136] both which parts of charity we shall treat more amply in the ensuing Chap­ters; and first

XIII. CHAPTER. Of his Loue to the Poore.

TO think that one so groundedly maximd in perfection and the practise of all solid vertue as he was, would rather impayre then improue by his Exaltation, is a paradoxe. ‘Qui Apoc. 22. 11. sanctus est sanctificetur adhuc,’ who is holy let him aduance in holynes, sayd S. John, and so sayes euery truly ver­tuous soule, whose glory is to be all­wayes mounting with the sunn to the topp of his Meridian. All our Saints am­bition and satisfaction was in a happy progress towards perfection, knowing that as to its pursuit we are, as it were, in a streame where there is no standing [Page 137] still for the Rower, not to ascend is to descend, and to goe backward not to goe forward. Euen while he was yett a Churchman or Canon he was very much deuoted to almes deeds and the reliefe of the poore; how much was this pious practise aduancd when by the imposition of hands he had receiu'd the H. Ghost who is Father of the Veni Pater pati­perum poore, and made him such: but whe­ther before or after matters not, the vertue being equally commendable in both states, and we wil speak promis­cuously of it in both.

Though good words giue but barren comfort to an empty stomack yett still it is true, that out of the abundance of the hart the mouth speaks, and then they are onely expressions of a willing mind: and howeuer euen a Compassio­nate answer is in some sort satisfactory. The poore were sure at least of that from him, if nothing else, though he [Page 138] seldome stinted his charity there: and as he esteemd them the Patrimony of Christ so he spoke with all humility and respect to them, as he would to Christ himselfe, knowing that to be done to him which was done to the least of his members. Vpon this account the esteem he had of them was such that he commonly calld them his Breethren (a name of greatest loue) and with his good will would haue had all his do­mestiques to haue calld them so too, and chidd them that they did not. Whence it is recorded that being sett at table with halfe a dozen such guests, and finding yet place for more, he sent one of the waiters to the Pallace gate te see whether any of his Breethren were there or no; if there were, that he should bring a couple of them along with him. He returning told his Lord there were no Brothers of any Order what soeuer; No, sayd the Bishop, [Page 139] not of this that sitts heer by me, poyn­ting to the beggars: yes, my Lord, replyd he, there are at least a dozen such; goe then, sayd he, and bring 5. of the number along with you, which was forth with done, ‘& impletae sunt Matt. 22. 10. Nuptiae discumbentium.’

But words be they neuer so good are still inferiour to deeds, these latter being a better proof of charity as costing more, and aftording more reliefe. This was the substantiall part of his loue to the poore, and he was not sparing of it: he had, to witt, learnd the great lesson of his Lord and Master ‘beatius est Act. 20. 35. magis dare quam accipere,’ it is a more blessed thing to giue then to take; and he was resolu'd to practise it in this be­halfe. The recommendation of his owne meritts and noble discent had fur­nishd him with a large proportion of Church Reuenues euen before the ac­cesse of his Bishoprick, which, besy­des [Page 140] a competency of maintenance be­seeming his quality, and the discharge of other incumbencyes, he knew not how to bestow better then on the poore. He knew that the goods of the Church are the Patrimony of Christ, and where could he spend them better then on the liuing members of Christ, eyther to his owne content of mind or satisfaction of conscience. This is the way to grow rich in heauen, and make friends of the Mammon of iniquity, Luc. 16. 9. that, when other meanes fayle, these may receiue vs into the eternall taber­nacles: nay euen procure vs temporall Commodityes, synce almes deeds layd vpp in the bosome of the poore (this is the best way of honouring our Lord by Prou. 2. 10. them) fill both the press with wine, and barnes with Corne, and the almes-giuer with other blessings. He in deed had no great sinns of his owne to redeem by them, as hauing probably [Page 141] neuer lost his baptismall innocence, but he aymd at a treasure of meritts due to such works of Corporall mercy, and was to be layd vpp in heanen against his reception there, out of the reach of rust or moth. Hence he took this vertue so to hart that it was very resplendent in his practise, and the poore resorted to him as to a common parent from whome they neuer departed empty handed. He found it no bad medium to work by the body vpon the Soule; and true, that to gaine this, charity must be shewd to that: an indisposd body is like an indisposd mind, hard to be wrought vpon while necessitous; fill the hand and you gaine the hart, now flexible to any good impressions. Our corrupt nature is more sensible of hun­gar then of deuotion, and ressents want of sustenance more then want of ver­tue or grace. It is as hard to hammer it to good as a piece of iron to a good [Page 142] shape vnles it be first made supple by the fire of a subuentiue charity, this done you may forme it as you please: Works of Corporall mercy must dispose for the spirituall. Therfore his custome was to seek admittance to the mind by re­lieuing the body, and made it a part of his care to order things so, that while he refreshd this, that should not also want its food, partly by pious discour­ses and godly instructions, partly by causing some good book to be read sui­table to the present exigence.

To this so laudable and holy practise of his former life, he seems to haue supe­radded this Circumstance after his Epis­copall installment, that what he did be­fore in this kind by others, he would now doe by himselfe, and with his owne hands. This is particularly recor­ded of him, and deseruedly worth no­ting, as a great super additionall to the former vertue; for how could he em­ploy [Page 143] his hands now Consecrated to God more piously then by consecrating them to such an exercise of charity? What is laudably done by another is more laudably by our selues: God does Psal. 144. 16. it by himselfe as the Psalmist tells vs ‘aperis tu manum tuam & imples omne animal benedictione’ thou opens they hand and fills each Creature with benedictions; the sunn sends not a ser­uant, nor the heauens also, to diuide theyr influences to this sublunary world: besydes that thus not onely an act of charity but also of humility, and no meane one, is exercisd. Its good to giue almes by others, but much better to doe it by himselfe as more merito­rious: one has the meritt both of the almes, and of the manner of giuing it, and the manner in some respect euen doubles it: for who thinks not him­selfe more grac'd by receiuing a gra­tuity immediately from the Prince's [Page 144] owne hand then from his seruant: the more immediate the influence, the more it is prizd. For these reasons it is ac­counted a praise worthy practise in pa­rents, when they doe it not themselues, to inure theyr children, a part of them­selues, to be the Conueyers of theyr al­mes, vnles other motiues impede: it has not onely a more Comfortable ac­ceptance both from God and man, but also it habituates or rather seasons these new vessells, capable as yett of any tincture, with such a flauour of charity, that many times it sticks by them theyr whole life long. And perchance our B. Saint took his from such a ryse of deuotion, or document of his pious Pa­rents, and grew vpp with him so pal­pably that of him it might be-sayd without rashnes, ‘ab infantiâ crevit Job. 31. 18. mecum miseratio.’

How euer certain enough it is that the practise is very Christian, and [Page 145] much to be recommended, due circum­stances being obseru'd: and euen while I am reuiewing these papers a fresh ex­ample for its Confirmation comes from the Emperours Court at Vienna with the acclamation, approbation and also edification of all that heare it. The little daughter of the present Emperour Leopold (piety being allwayes heredi­tary to that Imperiall family, which God long preserue) feasted a competent number of poore children of her owne age and sexe, nor content with this, to compleat the charity, would serue them with her owne hands. To witt, she and her noble Parents deemd it nothing vnworthy eyther of themsel­ues or her, to serue God in his meanest members; as being ascertaind of the truth of these words Matt. 25. what you doe to one of these little ones you doe to mee. This I alledg to shew that parents need not be shye or nice in [Page 146] poynt of apprehending it a disparage­ment, synce they see it practisd by one of the most illustrious of the world: But it suffices to haue hynted this.

While he was in the Uniuersityes (and in them he spent the greatest part of his yeares) his charity vented it selfe in a particular manner vpon the reliefe of poore Students, therby to enable them to a prosecution of theyr Studyes. This was seen chiefly in relieuing the hungry, cloathing the naked, and pro­uiding necessaryes for those in distress, who must otherwise haue interrupted theyr course both to theyr owne and the vndoeing of many. Its most chari­ty to help them who probably are like to be most beneficiall to the publique good, and consequently greatest pro­moters of charity: who hauing bin sustaynd by it haue learnd by experi­ence and theyr owne wants what it is to be charitable to others, ‘non aliena [Page 147] mali miseris succurrere disco.’ And what fayrer way towards this enable­ment then a good foundation of lear­ning vpon which the superstructures of preferrment may be built both in Church and Common-welth by em­ployments Spirituall and temporall: whence he might say, I by my chari­tyes haue enabled so many, and putt them in a Capacity to doe the same to others: and I think euery one will ap­plaude his placing them so well. Vpon this score of loue to the poore he was more ready at all times to heare theyr Confessions then those of the better sort, who could neuer want Ghostly Fathers, and those that would be for­ward to assist them, while those of a meaner condition were easily putt by, though not by him who equally beheld Christ in all, and knew not what ac­ception of persons signify'd. This was so remarkable in him, that a person of [Page 148] quality, who measurd all by a worldly ell, objected it as a discredit to his byrth and calling; but receiu'd no other answere then this: I must be ac­countable to Alm. God the great Judge, as well for the poore as the rich, igno­ble as noble.

To this he added another but in ano­ther kind, yett still to the poore; and with as much or more demonstration of loue and deuotion as the former. For who more poore then those who are deeply in distress, and cannot help themselues in the very least; those whome the H. Ghost calls by the Psal­mist Psal. 40 2. antonomastically THE POORE and needy, and giues not one but many blessings to those that are sensible of theyr necessitous condition. I meane the soules in Purgatory, who are a great object of charity, and begg compassion with a „miseremini mei„ and they must be hard harted that are not mou'd, [Page 149] synce it will be one day theyrowne case. It is recorded of him, that euen while Bishop if in trauelling he mett with a coarse, he presently lighted from his horse and togeather with all his trayne sayd on his knees a „de profundis„ for the soule departed. So true it is that he was a louer of the poore both liuing and dead.

XIV. CHAPTER. His Charity to all, and Detesta­tion of Detraction.

THe former Chapter gaue vs a scant­ling of his loue and Charity to the Poore; this, indifferently to all. Ver­tues as well as causes, the more Uniuer­sall, they are also the more perfect, as most resembling those of the Saints in heauen. Charity is a fyre whose acti­uity is still dilating it selfe where it finds [Page 150] fuell to feed on: it knowes no bound but discretion, and many times scarse that, though it ought allwayes to be or­derly; but it uses as little to keep a mea­ne, as it is of its owne nature much Communicatiue. S. THOMAS his hart was a heauen, and the Sunn of this heauen was charity, as influentiall as any heauen, and as pure and simple as free from all self ended composition: like the Sunn it regarded all equally without acception of persons, hauing latitude of hart to embrace all, and each one in theyr propper quality both noble and ignoble, rich and poore. This Sunn like our Materiall one rise equally to the good and bad, iust and uniust: to the former for theyr improuement; to the latter for theyr amendment, benefi­ciall to all, affording both light and heat by word and example: and as he lou'd all, so was he belou'd gene­rally by all, loue as naturally exci­ting [Page 151] loue as benefitts doe gratitude.

It might truly be verifyd of him what 1. Cor. 16. 14. the Apostle so earnestly recommended to the Corinthians, „Omnia vestra in charitate fiant„ that all theyr deuoyrs should be done in charity, and so were all his actions, all his words and pro­ceedings: as issuing from a hart all made of charity they carry'd its rellish and parfume, like the plants of Arabia faelix, because rooted in that parfum'd soyle, they did partake thence of the same fragrant odours. And to this pur­pose it was deposd in the Process of his Canonization that his dayly conuersa­tion was such, that not the least excesse eyther in word or gesture, yea though highly prouokd therto, could be disco­uerd or forcd from him contrary to cha­rity. Causes are knowne by theyr ef­fects and trees by theyr fruites: the fruits of charity and the H. Ghost, Gal. 5. 2 [...]. whose prime issue it is, are recoun­ted [Page 152] by the Apostle among others to be patience, benignity, meeknes, a peace­full disposition; and that he was emi­nently practisd in all these, we shall make euident by examples. He lookd on patience as the vertue in which he was to possess his soule, and for that reason was so deeply rooted in it, that no wind or weather by word or deed could shake its Constancy, or render him the least impatient: yea all the re­taliation Rom. 12. 20. he vsd to make was to pray for them, heaping thus the hott coules of charity vpon theyr head and ouerco­ming euill in good, as most beseeming a Christian. He had diuers controver­syes relating to his Church with Friar John Peccham then Arch-Bishopp of Canterbury which cost our Saint after­wards a journey to Rome; and what euer passd in fact, he had but hard measu­re in words, being treated with contu­melious language and in a high degree: [Page 153] yett he did not so much as repine therat, nor suffer any of his to recrimi­nate in the least. These 3. proppertyes of charity, patience, meeknes, and be­nignity, are so neerly ally'd and linkd togeather, that for breuityes sake we may treat them all vnder one, they being as it were twinns of the same Mother, most like as in nature so infea­tures, and consequently what Com­mends the one Commends the other.

I haue already exemplifyd in the 7. Chapter how patiently, while yett Chancellour of the Uniuersity he carry'd himselfe in that bussle betwixt the Southerne and Northerne Schollars in an affront as contemptuous as could be putt vpon him; yett he neuer com­playnd of the insolency, much less sought reuenge, contenting himselfe with the meritt of his patience: and this not out of any pusillanimity or want of courage, for he, as being of a vigo­rous [Page 154] spiritt, had enough of that, but meerly ouerswayd with motiues of ver­tue he putt all vpp, fullfilling what God bid him, ‘mihi vindictam & ego retri­buam’ Heb. 10 30. leaue reuenge to mee and I will see it repayd. He had a great suite at law with the Earle of Glocester and his Officers, from whome in the open Court he receiu'd many vnhandsome and reuiling speeches little beseeming eyther him or them: all he sayd by way of reply was this, and he did it with much meeknes; My Lord, say what you please of mee, you shall neuer pro­uoke me to say any thing against you misbeseeming; that's not the thing I come for, but to recouer the rights of my Church. Yea this vertue of a pa­tient meeknes was so remarkable in him, that if any of his seruants, no iust cause being giuen, fretted impatiently at his commands, his custome was to humble himselfe first to them towards a [Page 155] reconcilement, as if he, not they, had bin in fault, giuing them sweet and mollify­ing words, to shew therby that all was forgott and forgiuen, as not proceeding from passion or spleen. While he liu'd at Paris, 4. jeares before he was Bishop, he had a Clark in his Retinue who had this custome that, taking his after noon napp, whoeuer awakd him out of it, he would, halfe a sleep as he yett was, thank him with his fist and that very li­berally with many a blow. It chanc'd one day, no other being at hand, that his Maister, vnacquainted with this ill habit, went himselfe to be his Caller; nor did he fare better then others vsd to doe: to witt, the man not fully him­selfe fell on his Master, and among others gaue him a shrow'd blow on the syde. The Saint nothing mou'd or of­fended heer with made onely this short reply; take heed Child, what you doe, it is a Priest whome you beat. Other [Page 156] examples of this nature might be al­ledgd to shew the absolute Mastry he had ouer his passions, standing Lord pa­ramount to theyr Controwle when euer there was danger of ouer lashing, and what greater signe of an eminent sanctity?

Charity is allwayes as peacefull, so a peacemaker, in as much as it Ciments vpp all breaches, and concludes all in vnity: and he took this much to hart as knowing that a beatitude was an­nexd to it, Blessed are the Peacemakers. Matt. 5. 9. He not onely had no enmity with any one liuing, but made it his endeauour to piece vpp all discordes whereuer he found them, and reconcile partyes to a true understanding of mutuall charity. As to himselfe or his owne person it was impossible to fixe a quarrell vpon him, he esteeming no loss greater then that of charity, and would part with any thing rather then infringe it. He [Page 157] knew not what it was to beare hatred or ill will; and to preuent all grounds of mistake in this kind which might be occasiond by ill mannagement of affay­res, he vsd allwayes to haue able Lawy­ers and discreet Councellours about him, by whose prudence and skill he so regulated his exteriour judiciall actions, that no place by such a preuention was left for Controuersyes. Nor was he content to haue them about him, but euery day as soon as diuine Office was ended he calld them to Consult and scannd euery cause which was to be de­cided. This must needs contribute much to peace, and such an vpright prudentiall proceeding to the maintai­ning of charity: nor was he content with this care but ouer and aboue he burden'd theyr Consciences, and taxd them with it if he found any false dea­ling among them. All the Controuer­syes he had with others were not on [Page 158] his owne score but on the behalfe of his Church, and consequently not to be deemd his owne but hers: though in other respects he were a lamb, yett in her defence he was a Lion, and feard no colours or opposition what soeuer, nor refusd eyther labour or danger for the preseruation of her immunityes. Vpon this account he vndertook a iour­ney to Rome which cost him his life, nor could any temporall power, how formidable soeuer, appale him when he found justice his a bettour: in this a true imitatour of his glorious Patrone S. THOMAS of Canterbury; which his magnanimity synce it is to be the subject of the next Chapter, I will say no more heer then onely to referr the reader to it.

Now as charity had made him her victime, and as such a perfect holocaust of loue, no wonder if louing it so enty­rely he hated as hartily its opposite and [Page 159] Riuall detraction. The horrour he bore to that vice was so signall that all the Writers of his life take notice of it, and in such expressions of auersion that greater can hardly be inuented. And indeed how could these bowells all made of loue doe other wise then ab­horre its destructiue, a compound made vpp of malice and enuy? It is a mur­therer of its neighbours good name, a Robber of his meritt and prayse, a thiefe thats allwayes pilfering som­thing, a poysonous breath that seeks to blast whats not its owne, a meer lump of selfe loue repining at anothers pros­perity: He learnd this lesson of the great S. AVSTIN, who as he was charitably hospitable so he excluded none from his table besydes the detrac­tour, as the noted distick which he putt vpp to that purpose doth testify. Our B. Saint as he perfectly detested this vice in him selfe, so he could not endure it [Page 160] in any of his domestiques; nor did he omitt, when he found them faulty, to giue a seuere reprehension. One of his Chaplans hauing bin present at a passage betwixt the Arch-Bishop Peccham and him, wher in the Saint seemd to receiue hard dealing both as to words and deeds, the Chaplain in time of table Complaining of it begann to inueigh against the court of Rome for its negli­gence in prouiding able and fitt Prelates to gouerne thyer flocks, with much more then needed to that purpose. His Lord was presently mou'd therat, and giuing him a check wishd him to speak more reuerendly and charitably of all, and chiefly of his Superiours and bet­ters.

It may be expected that treating of his charity to all, som thing should be sayd of it in order to God, whome it regards in the first place. It is this loue chiefly which is the fullfilling of the [Page 161] Law and Prophetts, by which we loue God aboue all, and our Neighbour as our selfe in and for God; so that this latter part of the Law Cannot subsist without the former on which it de­pends. As his whole life was, as I may say, one continued or vninterrupted act of charity towards God, by which he was incessantly not onely tending towards him but alsoe vnited to him in his deuine grace as will appeare by the reuiew of his vertves; soe an am­ple scope of matter Cannot fayle him that would dilate himselfe on this sub­ject (for what are all morall vertues but so many issues or shoots of charity theyr root?) yett at present we will rather suppose this vertue of vertues then goe about to prove it, and leaue it to be drawen by the reader rather from his other perfections then make a formall draught of it; praising it per­chance as much or more by an admiring [Page 162] silence then extenuating expressions: for what are the Commendatoryes of our words, to the liuely colours of his vertues? Besydes we shall haue occa­sion to say somthing of it when we treat of his piety and deuotion, true gen­nuine children of this Mother.

XV. CHAPTER. His Courage in defence of Eccle­siasticall Libertyes.

THe Church is the Bride of Christ espousd at the expense of his pre­tious blood, dearer to him then his life, and who euer touches her to wrong her touches the apple of his eye. For her defence and propagation he settled a Hierarchy, in which he gaue some Apostles, some Doctours, others Pa­stours; for the work of the Ministery and edification of this his Mysticall bo­dy. [Page 163] In this Hierarchy, Ministery, edi­fication, Bishops as the immediate suc­cessours of the Apostles Carry the first rank both in gouerning and feeding: in feeding is regarded the wholsomnes of the fodder and pasturage, in gouerning, direction and protection; and both these require that he be a true Sheapard not a hyreling, and seek the good of his flock, not himselfe. If the hyreling see a wolfe Coming, sayth the best of Shea­pards, Joan. 10. 12. he runns away because he is a hy­reling; while the good Sheapard ex­poses his life for his sheep, shunning neyther paynes nor danger for theyr safety and behoof; and so did our B. Saint, prouing himselfe a good Shea­pard indeed. His loue to his espousd Church was as tender as ought to be to his owne Spouse, now a Spirituall part of himselfe and the Spouse of Christ, and he embracd her as such, and togea­ther with her espousd all her Concerns [Page 164] whatsoeuer; and this is no more then is ordinarily done euen in Corporall Marriages. It was his deuoir to proue himselfe a faithfull Menager of the fa­mily he was entrusted with all, and a valiant maintainer of all its possessions, priuiledges, Libertyes, immunityes, that in none of them it might suffer preju­dice. This he took to hart exceedingly, as deeming it the prime part of his charge, resolu'd to expose and oppose himselfe as a wall for the House of God: and what we are to relate will shew that he fayld not in his resolution, sea­ling it euen with the loss of his life; and what greater pledg of his fidelity?

It had bin the deplorable misfortune of our poore Country, that for many yeares, successiuely and by fitts, it had bin inuolu'd in an vnnaturall intestine warr, which as it causd great Confu­sion in the ciuill state, so did it no little in the Ecclesiasticall. In such times of [Page 165] liberty, abuses easily creep in, an vniust inuasion being much sooner committed then redressd; for when the sword giues Law, its in vayne for the Crosyer to plead Conscience, or preach Resti­tution, a language little vnderstood in in ciuill garboyles. The weakest, they say, goe allwayes to the walls, and so does the Church as least able in such occasions to defend it selfe, synce it cannot nor must not repell force by force; and so to redeem vexation is compelld to part with her right especi­ally when the inuaders are powerfull. This was the case of the See of Here­ford when our Saint enterd vpon it: it had bin vniustly outed of diuers large possessions, and, what made the Reco­uery harder, the possessours had quiett­ly enioyd them diuers yeares, euen in time of peace, when the lawes had theyr Course; his two predecessours knowing well the equity of theyr [Page 166] cause, but dispayring to preuayle against such potent aduerfaryes; One wheroff was the Kings Sonn-in-law Gilbert Earle of Glocester, another Lewellin Prince of Wales, and a third Roger Lord Clifford, besydes the Arch-Bi­shop of Canterbury and others.

Our H. Saint hauing maturely consi­derd all this, though he found the task very hard, yett relying on the equity of his plea, deemd himselfe bound, vnles he would betray his trust, to attempt the recouery of these Lands. His courage was such that in Gods cause he feard no colour of greatnes, nor multitude of opposers; and why should he, synce he was armd with the armour of the just, a true armour of prooff? hauing justice or a good Conscience for his Sap. 5. 20. breast plate piece, syncer judgment for his helmett, and equity for an inuincible shield. Courage and magnanimity is neuer better seconded then by vertue [Page 167] and sanctity, and a good cause; when these make the onsett, be the opposi­tion what it will, they Carry all before them. Of his owne nature he was so auerse from suites or contrasts, that he would sooner haue yealded vpp his pri­uate right to an aduersary then sought to regaine it by Law; in what belongd to his Church he could not, it being not his owne but Gods who requird it at his hands. But to moderate and faci­litate all, the best he could, the first essay he made was a modest and peace­full clayme of his right proposing an agreement on reasonable tearmes, and in case it were refusd, a ready offer of a Reference; if that were rejected too, then he left the matter to a tryall at law, in which he playd the Sollicitour so well, and was so diligently watchfull, that he would be present at the decision though he were carry'd in a litter. This conscientious proceeding groun­ded [Page 168] on an equitable right, driuen on by a studious attendance, made him neuer fayle to winn his plea.

Hence such was the opinion which euery one conceiu'd of his zeale and courage in behalfe of his Spouse or Church, that, during the time of 7. yea­res which he sate in its Chayre, no body durst presume to offer the least en­croachment on its immunityes, know­ing well that to offer such a thing were to awake a sleeping Lion. But this was not enough, his loue and magnani­mity aymd at a recouery of what was vnjustly invaded and detaynd: in which behalfe though the endeauours of his immediate predecessours Peter and John, had bin little successfull, being ouer powerd with might, he also would try his chance, and began with the greatest first. Wherfore after a legall clayme layd to Malbume Chase and other lands and woods ther to adioyn­ing, [Page 169] wrongfully withheld by Gilbert de Clare Earle of Glocester, nor recei­uing any satisfactory answere towards a restitution, he commenc'd a suite against him, and followd it so close, that notw ithstanding all his greatnes and countenance from the King, cleare justice was ready to giue verdict on his behalfe. The Court was held neer or vpon the place controuerted, and the Earle had armd men togeather with his Forresters, in case of being cast, to keep possession by force: and seeing things brought to this pass besought the King for a suspension of the finall Sentence, which was granted. All this nothing abashd the H. Bishop; who going a syde to geather with his Clergy into the wood, putt himselfe in his Episco­pall Robes, and them in theyrs with lighted tapers; thus going before them he came to the place where the Judges togeather with the Earle made theyr [Page 170] a bode; where the Candles being putt out, he solemnly pronouned a sentence of Excommunication against all and euery one who that day hinderd and molested his and the Church of Here­fords right in the sayd woods and for­rest. This done, the Earle perceiu'd who he had to deale withall, and pre­sently, taking horse departed: nor was he sooner gone then the Judges pro­ceeded to giue sentence, and that gi­uen, the Bishopp causd his seruants to hunt as in his owne libertyes through the same Chase to Regaine possession; and he himselfe for the same purpose walkd ouer the bounds, vnarmd as he was, though it were not done without danger of his life. For diuers of the Earles men obstinately persisting to maintaine the quarrell, shott at random very neer his person without any re­spect or reuerence had therto: one of whome more injurious then the rest [Page 171] he threatned with the diuine reuenge; and the same person shortly after, sayth the Record, was miserably drownd, the Common voyce of all going that it was a just punishment for his contemptuous carriage towards the Saint, and well for him if onely a temporall.

He proceeded much after the same fashon with Lewellin Prince of Wales, and to excommunication also, for vni­ustly detayning 3. villages situated neer Montgomery belonging to the sayd his See. Who lying thus vnder the Cen­sure came with the King, as fearing no­thing vnder his shaddow, into a Church where the Saint was going to Say Mass. He espyd the Excommunicated person, and without further comple­ment warnd him as such out of the Church: the King himselfe interpossd for his stay; but all would not doe, nor he beginn till the other had absented himselfe, nor could he be admitted into [Page 172] Communion before due satisfaction was performd. He was in like manner forc'd to vse the same rigour both spiri­tuall and temporall against some Welsh­men who had vsurpt 3. villages of his Territory and defended them by strong hand, till proceeding to the like cen­sures he frighted them into a restitution. Roger Lord Clifford a Neighbourer vpon his Diocess had trenchd so farr vpon the same in time of warr as to driue bootyes of cattle and vse extor­sions vpon some of the diocesans. He was too noble minded to denye the fact or putt the H. Bishop to the prooff of it, but now willing to restore, all his endeauour was to make satisfaction in priuate by some Composition without vndergoing the confusion of a publi­que, and to obtayne this he offerd vn­derhand no small summe of money. He knew not with whome he had to doe, nor the principle, it seems, that a publi­que [Page 173] fault must haue a publique penn­ance: the offence being notorious, a priuate attonement could not be ad­mitted, nor the scandall taken away till he in person in the Church of Here­ford appearing in a penitentiall weed, barehead and barefoot, went in pro­cession vpp to the high Aultar it selfe, the Bishop following with a rodd in his hand and according to the canons stri­king him.

XVI. CHAPTER. His iourney to Rome and enter­tainment there.

THe last contest he had and which cost him dearer then the rest, as going more against the hayre, (for he lou'd not debates with superiours) was with his Metropolitane Iohn Pec­cham, Arch-Bishop of Canterbury; a [Page 174] man of great learning and ability and a worthy Prelate, as graue Authors doe testify of him. Nor is eyther he or our Saint to be the worse thought off for this theyr variance, synce good and wise men may be of a different judg­ment, as to matters of right or fact, vn­till a just umpyre decide the controuer­sy; till then both the Plaintiff and De­fendant may inculpably by course of law seek theyr right.

This Iohn Peccham succeeded Ro­bert Kilwarby in the Chayre of Canter­bury; with whome he carry'd this refe­rence, that as the other had bin Prouin­tiall of the H. Order of S. Dominick and thence chosen to that See, so this of S. Franciss; both signally eminent in knowledg and vertue, both great lights of theyr respectiue bodyes. This Iohn, his yeares of Gouerment being expyrd, trauelld through the Uniuersi­tyes of Italy to his great improuement, [Page 175] and lastly to Rome, where the forerun­ning fame hauing giuen a large cha­racter of his eminent parts he was in short time made by the Pope then sitting Auditour or chiefe Iudge of his Pal­lace: in which employment he con­tinu'd till vpon the Promotion of Robert to his Cardinallship, he succeded him in his Arch-Bishoprick.

No Record that I could meet with­all giue vs any further account of this controuersy, then that it was Ecclesi­asticall, and relating to the priuiledges and immunityes of priuate Sees, on which the Arch-Bishop was thought to trench. A Councill was held by him at Pedding; in the which he is sayd to haue layd some injunctions on the par­ticular Sees vnder his jurisdiction pre­judiciall to theyr libertyes and beyond the verge of his power, as was con­ceiu'd; nor were they peculiar to that of Hereford, but ioyntly common to all [Page 176] that acknowledg'd him theyr Metropo­litane. And though they were equally concernd, yett no one besydes our Saint had the courage to vndergoe borh the labour and expenses and hazards that were annexd to such an vndertaking. They were sure to haue a very power­full aduersary, the cause was to be tryd in the court of Rome, for that end a journey thither was necessary, and a good purse to defray its charges; all which considerd and the doubtfullnes of the success, made the rest of the Bis­hops hold off and rather be content to sitt still loosers in what they deemd theyr right, then to incurr such incumbran­ces in seeking redress. This was the state of the question, and in this posture things stood when S. THOMAS weighing maturely the encroachment on theyr priuiledges and its consequen­ces on one syde, and the justice of the cause, of which he was throughly sa­tisfyd, [Page 177] on the other, resolu'd to lend his best endeauours, and spare neyther paynes nor cost for rectifying what was a miss, though it should cost him a jour­ney to Rome.

Those very motiues which daunted the other Bishops were to him so many incentiues; he vnderualu'd all labours, he contemnd all dangers, and for what end were the Reuenues of the Church allowd him, but for his owne and the maintenance of the Church and her prerogatiues? All this arose from the Zealous loue he had for his spouse, much dearer to him then Rachel to Jacob; for whose preseruation he neyther feard to dye nor refussd to liue and serue through heats and colds night and day another 7. yeares if so it pleasd Alm. God. And finding that for the good mannagement of his suite a journey to Rome was necessary, synce it could neyther be determind els where, nor [Page 178] there well without a personall atten­dance, which is the life and vigour of such dependences, he resolu'd vpon the fame, though now well struck into yeares, and often incumberd with great fitts of sicknes; both the one and other wheroff might justly haue pleaded his excuse, could his charity haue admitted any. As in this he dischargd his owne conscience, so was his resolution ac­companyd with the acclamations of all sorts of people, extolling his courage and zeale now, as afterwards they doubted not to ascribe to it all the mira­cles which God was pleasd to work by him, stiling him a Martyr like S. THO­MAS of Canterbury, as loosing his life in defence of his Church, as shall be more fully shewd in the next Chapter.

He took his journey from England through Normandy, and making some stay in the Abbey of Lira in the Diocess of Eureux, this which I am to recount [Page 179] happend during that interim, nor must be ommitted as being a testimony of his present sanctity. A child of 3. yeares old wont to play with other children before the Abbey gates, falling into a brook which rann therby, was drownd; the Childs Parents well knowne to the Saint gaue him to vnderstand the mis­fortune befallen them, to whome he sayd no more then these few words, the child by Gods assistance will liue; and streching forth his hand towards the place, made ther on the signe of the Cross. In the meane while the father of the Child taking it out of the brook found it stark dead, full of water and sand, no signe eyther of life or motion remayning in it: he opend the mouth with a knife and letting the water out to a great quantity, to omitt no endea­uour he chaf'd the body though hopeles of life before the fyre. His endeauour found effect; life returnd and motion [Page 180] appeard, and in a competency of time all came to its naturall pass to the great asto­nishment of all present. The recouery was held euen then miraculous, but to whome to ascribe the Miracle they knew not, and to S. THOMAS they durst not, though euen then venerable for his Sanctity, yett his humility could not brook such extraordinaryes. But after­wards when the fame and number of his wonders was divulgd through France it selfe, the father of the child before the Lords Commissioners vpon the Saints making the signe of the Cross, and vtte­ring the aforesayd words, deposd, that he verily belieud life was restord by his meritts and intercession.

He begann his journey in or about the 60. yeare of his age, and not with standing his bodily infirmityes arriu'd there safe and well, Nicolas the 4. sit­ting then in the Chayre of S. Peter. How wellcome both the quality of his [Page 181] person, and character of degree made him is needles to insist vpon, besydes the fame of sanctity as well as knowledg which accompanyd him; nor must we omitt the supperadditionall of being Chaplain to his Holynes conferrd heer­tofore vpon him in the Councell of Lions. Saints carry allwayes with them Letter-Patents of a gratefull Reception, and it is one of the temporall rewards of sanctity, especially where it is in vogue and has its due respect; which if it be not regardable in the holy citty where will it? The court of Rome is the great Patronizer and promoter of Sanctity, where it is as in its center; which though trampled vpon els where, heer finds redress, where it has as many assertours as it has persons of eminency, such as haue an ayme to rise by its Commendatoryes. Vertue is praise worthy euen in an enemy, its owne natiue beames and intrinsecall worth [Page 182] rendring it so, how much more when it shynes in its propper hemysphere enuironnd with lights to sett it off, not as foyles but like the Moone among her starres. No body prizes vertue more highly then the vertuous, its worth being best knowne to such, and none Commends it more then those that practise it, its commendation consisting not so much in words as in deeds. It is ignorance that makes the world con­temne it, who if they knew its prizeles value would sell all to purchase it. This present Pope was a Frenchman by birth, who besydes other great parts wher with Nature had endowd him, was so farr fauourd by grace, as to be eminent in sanctity of life; in attestation wheroff after death his sepulcher was gracd with many Miracles, the blind, lame, and dumb finding there a present cure. Now what wonder if one Saint giue another an honorable reception? this [Page 183] is no more then to giue vertue its due; and from whome may that be more just­ly expected then from Saints?

The legality of Appeales to Rome in Church affayres when a decision can­not be had in an inferiour court, is rati­fyd by the custome and practise of all nations and ages: to her all fly as to a common and disinteressd Mother who holds the weights of the Sanctuary, and without byass and partiality diuides a distributiue justice according to equity. This is no more then to appeale from an inferiour court to a superiour, which the course of justice deemes lawfull; nor indeed in our present controuersy which was betwixt a Bishop and his Primate could any other court giue a finall verdict. To it therfore our Saint appeald, and in prosecution of it made his long journey; and as he was all­wayes happy in this that he undertook nothing but vpon mature aduise and cir­cumspection, [Page 184] grounded on the sound judgment of wise Councellors so he seldome or neuer miscarry'd in any cause, but all being well digested the very laying it open prou'd its decision. Yett a legall course of law was to be obseru'd, and things by degrees brought to an issue; and his was such as he desyrd, that is, an enioyment of the rights he was inuested in by the decrees of former Popes, without suffering any infringment therin by his Metropoli­tane, who had not power to explicate Papall Constitutions, as our Saint ob­jected to him in the fore mentiond Councell of Redding, and vpon his owne explication to lay a clayme. Where all proceeds according to rigour of justice, fauour pretends no place, nor did it heer further, then to obtaine a quick dispatch and remouall of those delayes, which render law-suites both costly and tedious. This was all the [Page 185] fauour that was or could be shewd him, and he took it for no meane one; lon­ging as he did after a speedy returne, his hart being at home, where was also the chiefest of his concerns, while the rest of his body was at Rome. He did, tis true, by an interiour vnion of mind enioy God euery where hauing long habituated himselfe in the same, but yett his content was in Recollection: he lou'd not the Ceremonious visitts of courts nor the loss of time that's made in them, they being toylsomly fruitles and fruitlesly toylsome; while he was Lord Chancellor he felt the smart of that, and the surfeyt causd then, made him less able to disgest them all his life after. Yett to omitt them would haue bin deemd a solecisme against ciuility, and argu'd at the best a stoicall sanctity; therfore who can blame a seruant of God if he indeauour to withdraw himselfe out [Page 186] of the concourse of such courtshipps: He that touches pitch shall be defild by it.

XVII. CHAPTER. Of his Returne homewards, and death on the Way.

HAuing thus obtaynd a fauorable dispatch and taken leaue of that great court, he putt himselfe with ioy vpon the way as to himselfe, though he left it in a kind of regrett for his depar­ture, and the priuation of the sweet odour of his sanctity causd therby: What is admird as present is regretted as absent, nor doe we ordinarily know the worth of things better then by theyr priuation. It cannot be prudently doub­ted but that according to his settled practise of piety, during the space of his abode there, he left many monuments [Page 187] both of his Wisdome and Sanctity most richly worth recounting had they come to our knowledg. But synce they doe not we must rather content our selues with a patient silence, then discourse vpon less groundles conjectures, con­tenting our selues that all is registerd in the book of life or Annalls of heauen to be publishd at the day of judgment. Nor can I doubt but according to the vsuall strayne of sanctity, which has for its motto, „ama nesciri, loue Con­cealment, he playd the silent Eagle, not the talkatiue parrot, and that the course of his vertuous actions the more pro­found they were the more silent like deep riuers and with less noyse did they imperceptibly flow, and ther­fore no wonder if they escapd the re­cord.

Hauing putt himselfe on his journey as soon as the heats would permitt, all his endeauours now, after Alm. God, [Page 188] were to render it as speedy as he could; much reioycing in the success of his negotiation, and longing earnestly to make the concernd neighbouring Churches at home, as well as his owne, partake of the same. Thus doe the Wis­est many times project according to humane reasons and motiues, while reckning, as I may say, without theyr host, they propose and God disposes. Little did he dreame that his journey was destin'd to a better home, and him­selfe design'd not for new labours but a fruition of the past, the euening being at hand when the Master of the Vine­yard was to call his Workman to receyue his hyre, and inuite him into the ioyes of our Lord; a thing if not sought for yett alwayes wellcome as being the much better home. He was resignd for life and death putting both in the hands of God; and hauing learnd to possess his soule in patience, he was not [Page 189] sollicitous to dye soon or liue long, but to liue and dye well; which latter can be done but once, and giues the vpshott to all.

He was now in the Clymactericall yeare of his age 63. and his crazy body was worne out with former labours, and not onely what he now did but what he had done these diuers yeares was more by the vigour of his spiritt then Corporall strength. This is a thing propper to holy soules who mea­suring theyr ability, as indeed they ought, rather by the former then the latter, make this against its will keep pace with that, as hath bin obseru'd in S. Basil, S. Gregory and others, and eyther by Communicating a new force, or reiecting the sleeules excuses of self loue, or by a speciall blessing of God they doe wonders in this kind. This vigorous resolution had now brought him as farr as the state of Florence, and [Page 190] in it to a place knowne by the name of Monte Fiascone; but its stock or via­ticum being spent could carry him no further. Heer his debility destitute of vitalls for a reinforcement, causd a dis­temper, that was hightned to a feauer, this in its accesses, as a certaine fore runner of death by its symptomes, told him that the dayes and wayes of his pil­grimage would shortly be ended, and so they were, in not very many houres Compass, all its periods concluding in one poynt, to witt, Alm. God, in whose sight the death of Saints is pre­tious. Now we must look on him a while as deaths victime, and learne of him how to dye well, which is one of the most important arts in the world, for what auailes it if we gaine the whole uniuerse and suffer shipwrack of our owne Soules. This maxime was the study of his whole life, and on it all his principles were grounded, and so well, [Page 191] that he was not a frayd to look death in the face; he regarding it no otherwise then as a passage to a better life: and therfore amidst all its appalements he sate vpon its Couch as the Phenix on her pile of spices, expecting that the same flames which consumd his body should renew his soule to a better and immortall life.

Of this his passage I shall say no more then I find vpon authentique Record, the Process of his Canonization: re­flecting on two things; first, his prepa­ration to it, secondly the sequels of it. And as to the former, when he perceiu'd that the euening of life was in a great decline and its sunn neer vpon setting, though his whole life had bin nothing else but a preparation to death, or dispo­sition to the sleep of Saints, by which they rest in our Lord; yett the neerer it approachd, the more it awakd him to a discharge of his last dutyes. And [Page 192] therfore with hart and eyes fixd on hea­uen, the first of his desyres, according to the Rytes of H. Church, were the last Sacraments or Viaticum of that great journey, doing himselfe as he had taught others to doe in that passage. These are Confession, Communion, and Ex­treme Unction which as no good Christian doth omitt, so no good ser­uant of God, but has them in esteem and veneration, and the greater, the better insight they haue into the Concerns of theyr soule and its happy passage. Hauing thus prouided for the substan­tiall part, all the rest of his minutes were lett out at the highest exchange, and he, vnmindfull of all worldly things, inuokd the Spiritt both of life and light by a„ Veni Creator Spiritus, to be assi­stant to him in this last conflict against the Spiritts of Darknes, when both life and light lye at the Stake. This done he armd himselfe with the signe of the [Page 193] crosse or ensigne of Christianity as formidable to the infernall powers as confortable to a parting soule; who whilst he consignd himselfe by it o­uer to Alm. God he added these deuout expressions taught him probably in his child hood, „Per signum Crucis de ini­micis nostris libera nos Deus noster; and againe, ▪Per Crucis hoc signum fu­giat procul omne malignum; and lastly, „Per idem signum saluetur omne beni­gnum. All these are put downe verba­tim in the record, and teach vs how to arme our selues in our last Conflict towards a victory ouer our enemyes. This done he calld his retinue about him, and imparting to each, fayth the lessons of his office, the kiss of peace to­geather with wholsome instructions for a pious life, amidst these embracements he took and gaue the last adieu. And now by this time the stock of life being quite spent the pangs of death came [Page 194] stronger vpon him, and these increa­sing he betook himselfe more earnestly to his refuge of prayer making vse of that verse of the Psalmist propper in such a passage ‘in manus tuas Domine commendo Spiritum meum, Domine Deus veritatis Commendo Spiritum meum:’ which words whilst he repea­ted thrice with his hands eleuated to­wards heaven, he renderd his sweet Soule most acceptable to heauen, to be receiud according to its meritts into the eternall tabernacles. This was the setting of this sweet Sunn, shewing much not onely of the Christian but of the Saint, and verifying the old say­ing, „vt vixit sic morixit, teaching vs that generall rule without exception, he that liues well dyes well. Which Sunn though he went downe in a strange horizon yett found a wellcome in the Ocean of bliss or a blessed eter­nity: the true Christian deemes that [Page 195] his Hemisphere where God places him, we being all Cittizens of the world, and like beggars neuer out of our way while we are tending to Paradise. Hap­py they that can make a happy Con­clusion of so important an affayre, which when thus concluded our work is done; and if not happily alls vndone, and that without redress: that is a moment of greatest moment wheron depends eternity.

Though his festiuity were keept on the 2. of October, yett the day of his death happend on the 25. of August or the morrow to the Apostle S. Bartho­lomew. And synce all Authours that I can find vnanimously agree as to the place, to witt that it was neer Monte fiascone, one would wonder why Bp. God win in contradiction heer of with­out alledging any ground for his asser­tion, should maintaine that he dy'd at Ciuita Vecchi, and in his way to Rome; [Page 196] wheras there are vndenyable prooffs, both of his arriuall there and obtayning his pretentions, returne by land, and holy death at the place aforesayd. To say the least this cannot but argue a spiritt of contradiction propper to one of his coat, and little beseeming the name of a Bishop (nor had he more besydes the reuenues:) Onely it is a knowne trick of such (I can call it no better) to render the clearest truths disputable, and thence doubtfull, and so by degrees eneruate all fayth both hu­mane and diuine by vndermining the autority which is theyr basis.

It happend the night after his decease that one of his officers whome he had left behind him in England, his name was Robert of Glocester, then his Secre­tary, afterwards Chancellor of Here­ford; being at that time at London and Lodging in the Bishops owne Cham­ber, had this dreame or vision, call it as [Page 197] you please. He thought himselfe to be at Lions in France where in the great street of that Citty which leads to the Cathedrall, he seemd to behold his Lord and Master going towards that Church, whither himselfe was also bound. Both being enterd, his Lord, he thought, went into the Sacristy, where putting of the vpper garment which he wore, he vested himselfe with white Pontificall Robes and those most rich, and carrying in his hand the Body of our Lord or most B. Sacrament in forme of a Consecrated Host, he appeard suddainly in the midst of a most solemne and stately Procession both of Clergy and religious, and those likewise cladd all in white. The Procession seemd to moue towards the Cloyster of the Ca­thedrall, while others of that quire en­ton'd and prosecuted with delicate Mu­sique, that part of the Capitulum prop­per to the Office of S. Peter ad Vincula, [Page 198] ‘Occidit autem Jacobum fratrem Joan­nis gladio.’ But before all were enterd the gate which led into the sayd Cloy­ster, it on a suddain was shutt, and Ro­bert who with many others desyrd also to enter were excluded to theyr no small defeatment, and left to consider the dreame, of which he as the igno­rant of the Saints death could look vpon no otherwise then a dreame. But when immediately after certaine tydings both of his death and the precise time of it came to be knowne, and that it and his dreame iumpt so patt togeather, he could not but think it more then a fan­cy, and that Alm God would intimate therby that as he dy'd, though not in persecution, yett in prosecution of the rights of his Church, and in some sort lost his life for the same, the Saint had not onely deserud but receiud the re­ward of a Martyr.

This Relation I haue Coppy'd out of [Page 199] the Process of his Canonization where it was juridically deposd before the Examinants, and approu'd, as suiting well with what I sayd aboue of the Common apprehension of all, that God wrought Miracles by him for his actings and sufferings for his Church. And the same Relation adds yett further to let vs know it was more a vision then dreame, or rather a Vision by way of dreame, (as is not vnusuall in H. Scrip­ture both old and new) that after this first apparition the B. Saint was seen often to the same party, not indeed, sayth it, as one in glory, but yett such, as that his ioyfull contentednes spoke him to be in a must happy Con­dition.

XVIII. CHAPTER. The buriall of his H. Bowells there, and Returne of his sacred Bones into Engalnd.

THus much as to his sacred death and other Circumstances which accompanyd or related therto; now we must pass to the other part, to witt, the sequeles that followd thervpon. He dy'd a passinger in this lifes pilgri­mage, and in a Common Inn; and in­deed what other are all the lodgings in this world? we take them vpp, we bespeak supper, we forecast our future journey, we goe to bed and rest, pro­mising our selues, like the man in the Ghospell, many dayes of life, when, calld fooles for our paynes, we are sur­prizd with a feauer, and all the journey [Page 201] we make afterwards is onely to our graue. Our B. Saint was too watch­full to be stolne vpon by that ngiht­thiefe; they onely are so surprizd who are found vnprepard, that is, keep no watch and ward, and Consequently are vnprouided for the assault: and ther­fore we pray togeather with the Church to be deliuerd not from death, nor from suddain death, but from sud­dain and vnprouided death; for indeed to one that is prouided no death is prop­perly suddaine.

The Records tell vs that his sacred Corps lay exposd in the same place for 6. dayes togeather; and this is but sui­table to what is done to persons of his extraction and quality, according to the respect euery where giuen them. Though heer another reason occurrd which might more then probably auto­rize the same: for no sooner was the sweet soule departed like the extinct [Page 202] flame of a stick of parfume, but such a heauenly fragrancy filld the whole room, that it was most dilitious to the sent, and recreatiue to all that were present. This, to witt, was a blessing redounding to the body for the ioynt concurrence that copartner afforded it in his vertuous excercises in the seruice of God and his Church; and a testi­moniall of the odour of sanctity of that holy guest which lodgd therin. Such sensible wittnesses of an innocent inte­grity in his seruants doth Alm. God somtimes impart for theyr glory and our incitement, wee being not easily mou'd but by our sences eyther to con­ceiue highly of them, or be eggd on to imitation, though the odour of ver­tue and sanctity in it selfe farr surpass what euer is of sense. In the meane time the same heeroff together with his death being bruited abroad, as vertue and nobility is euer in esteem with the [Page 203] noble and vertuous, it made many great Personages resort thither and some Cardinalls among the rest, who ac­quainted with him during his abode at Rome, or the opinion that went of him, had bin no strangers eyther to him or his perfections. By theyr Concurrence chiefly an honorable funerall was pre­pard for his Enterrment the sunday following, when he was burryed in the Church of S. Seuerus belonging to an Abbey of that name situate neer the old Citty of Florence: at what time a funerall Sermon was preachd by one of the Cardinalls, who could not want matter to dilate vpon while he com­mended him for his noble discent, exquisite learning, and eminent sanc­tity.

All these particulars are thus farr mi­nutely specifyd in the Record; but its warrant carry's vs no farther, nor any other that I could meet with as to [Page 204] the sequeles of his Enterrment. And consequently we are at a loss both as to that present and future times how to know whether any or what publique Veneration was there giuen at any time to his sacred Corps: or whether gra­ces and Miracles were wrought there at, as in England at his Sacred Bones; what memory remaind of him and how long: all this must be left to Doomsday book and its Register, when all will be publishd to the glory of God and the Saint, and satisfaction of all. In the in­terim we may know, that in the Catho­lique Church not euery one that dyes with opinion of sanctity is forthwith honourd as a Saint, the publique Decla­ration of the Church, to preuent abuses and regulate all in an orderly way, is therto requisite, and nothing permitted but vnder this warrant. He dy'd, tis true, a Saint but his sanctity was not au­torizd: he dy'd a stranger and an alien, [Page 205] and how little notice is taken of such; 5. yeares elapsd before any Miracles were noysd abroad euen in England it selfe, and 25. before his Canonization: what wonder if the memory of him not preserud by any speciall graces or signes grew cold, and in that coldnes van­nishd to obliuion. Though God were pleasd at his mediation for the comfort of the people, incitement of theyr de­uotion, and other reasons best knowne to himselfe, to work such wonders at his Sacred bones; yett he does this when, and where, and how long he thinks good, and no body must presume to ask, why do you so? All these are the secretts of his Dispensations, and he says to vs as he did to the Apostles „Non est vestrum, &c. it is not for you Act. 1. 7. to know times or moments which the Father has putt in his owne power.

The newes of his death we may imagine brought heauy tydings to his [Page 206] flock at Hereford; who as it was most happy in his gouerment during life, so sustaynd an imcomparable loss by his death, the sorrow of the priuation an­swering proportionably to the ioy of the possession. But these are blowes which all must be content to suffer when God inflicts them; nor is there any redress besydes an humble acquiescence in his holy will: when we haue payd a little tribute to nature all the rest is a submis­siue resignation; who dare say to him why doe you soe? Yet though his people could not haue him aliue, it would haue bin some comfort to haue had him dead, that is, him in his Corps; to the end they might haue enioyd him in his Reliques, which euen then, for the great opinion they had of his sancti­ty, were esteemd for such. In the pre­sent circumstances that could not be conueniently done; but care was thus farr taken, that the bones being sepa­rated [Page 207] from the fleshy parts they togea­ther with his head and hart were trans­ported into England, and deposited as a most pretious treasure in the Church of Hereford. These were receiu'd with much Deuotion by the people who went forth togeather with the Chapter and Clergy to meet them, and were enshrynd in the Chapell of our B. Lady in the same Cathedrall that they might repose in her bosome after death to whome liuing and dying he was so sin­gularly deuoted, and where could his hart rest better then in her hands, to whose honour he had sacrific'd both hart and hands?

Among others whome eyther deuo­tion or curiosity mou'd to meet this wellcome pledge, one was Gilbert Lord Clare Earle of Glocester; betwixt whome and our Saint, as we insinuated heertofore there was no good vnder­standing vpon the account of some [Page 208] lands which the Earle detaynd, and the Saint claymd as due to his Church, and recouerd from him by force of law with much both cost and paynes. He now approaching to the sacred pledge it was very remarkable and lookd on as a Mi­racle by all the Company, that the dry Bones in his presence begann to bleed a fresh and in such a quantity, that he and all might see the Cask in which they were carryd imbru'd with the same. The Earle much amazd heerat was struck with compunction, and acknowledging his fault made a full restitution of all to the Church, expia­ting by pennance what he had rashly committed, as the onely way to make the best of an ill bargaine.

In the retinue of the deceasd Bishop the chief mannager of affayres was Richard Swinfield his Secretary, first in autority aboue the rest: he was a Priest of great parts and vertuous con­uersation [Page 209] for which he was afterwards promoted to succeed in that vacant See, and in process of time chief sollicitour and informer in order to the Saints Ca­nonization. To him as such belongd the charge of conueying the Sacred Depositum; and he tells vs in his depo­sition before the Commissaryes Aposto­licall what happend to himselfe the night before he with it arriu'd at Here­ford. To the end all things might be the next morning in a better readynes, he cast his journey so as to lodge with his Company that night in a village 2. miles distant from the Citty: where weary with journeying and going late to bed he ouersleept himselfe beyond his time the next morning. His cham­ber was remote from all Company, and so high that without a ladder there was no access to the windowes: and yett 3. knocks were giuen as with the knuckle of a bended fingar on the same, [Page 210] and soloud that they seru'd for an alarme to awake and tell him it was time to rise. And in that sense he vnderstood them, and ther vpon calld vpp his Com­pany; concluding with-in himselfe, that this was a fauour done him by the Saint towards the pursuit and further­ance of what they had in hand, to witt the solemne Reception and placing of the same bones. And what indeed could it be else; synce humanely speaking no body without a ladder could come there, and looking curiously about he saw there was none: therfore he ascribd it to the meritts of the Saint, and very thankfull for such an extraordinary fa­uour, to his honour he recorded it to posterity; making thence a conjecture that this piece of seruice, the conuey­ance of his bones, was acceptable to him, synce he had bin pleasd to giue it such an vnusuall concurrence.

While S. THOMAS was yett [Page 211] aliue no body seemd to carry a greater respect and Veneration for his sanctity then Edmund Earle of Cornwall, Sonn to Richard King of the Romans. He it was that inuited the Saint to keep his Whitsontyde with him at his Castle of Wallingford: where whilst he sung the„ Veni Creator Spriritus the strange Miracle of the birds happend, which we shall relate heer after in the 23. Chapter. Howeuer it was procurd, this great Deuotist made meanes to gett his Hart, a treasure he esteemd aboue any iewells; and to testify this esteem thought he could not honour it suffici­ently any other way then by enclosing it in a most costly shryne togeather with a parcell of our Bl. Sauiours Blood, and founding a Monastery of Bons-Hommes at Ashridg in Buckingham shyre to its honour, where it might be dayly and duely venerated to the praise and glory of Alm. God, who had raisd [Page 212] his Seruant to such an eminency of per­fection. This deuout Earle had such a Confidence in his patronage and inter­cession, that he was wont to profess he had not greater in those of our glorious Apostle S. Austin.

XIX. CHAPTER. The Translation of his H. Bones into a more eminent place.

THe neer approach of the most well­come Treasure being knowne at Hereford stirrd vpp the Cittizens both Ecclesiastiques and laymen to ioyne, as we sayd, in a solemne Procession to fetch it in; so shewing by theyr Vene­ration to the dead how much respect they had for him aliue, and how deeply they ressented theyr incomparable loss. It was done with as much splendour as the shortnes of the time would permitt; [Page 213] and so amidst all the festiualls of deuo­tion it was brought into the Cathedrall, a small parcell, God wott, of what they desyrd, yett euen as such most well­come. They wishd him such in his re­turne home as they sent him abroad, aliue and gouerning as theyr Pastour: they wishd, if dead, not onely his Bones but whole body; for a treasure the grea­ter it is the better and more pretious: but as it was, content with what ne­cessity imposd, they lent theyr concur­rence towards a solemne enterring it in the Chappell of our B. Lady, the place designd for its Reception. Heer it was layd in a Coffin of stone, and a fayre Grauestone, such as beseemd his quali­ty, plac'd for a Couer to the Orifice, ci­mented, on all sydes as close and hand­somely as art could make it.

Heer it lay 5. yeares amidst the pri­uate veneration of deuout persons par­taking of no more honour then theyr [Page 214] Deuotion gaue it, each one according to the opinion they had of his Sanctity. For though diuers things more then or­dinary, and such as begott much won­der and Veneration were related on se­uerall passages, as, the fragrant oudour it exhald, the blood it sweat, morning call, &c. Yett formall Miracles none were wrought nor pretended to; and the Catholique Church hath allwayes vsd a speciall warynes to preuent disorders of this nature, that nothing may be pu­bliquely ascribd before attested by legall autority; and we need not doubt but the Saint himselfe among so many de­crees as he made, had left this enacted. During this interuall of time the Vacant Chayre was prouided of a successour; the party elected was Richard Swinfeld of whome we sayd somthing in the pre­cedent Chapter; the same that accom­panyd our Saint to Rome, and by his good seruices there on his Churches [Page 215] behalfe, as also by the safe Conueyance of his Reliques had much improu'd him­selfe in the opinion and esteem of that Chapter. And the prouidence of God, as to this, seems remarkable in the Elec­tion, both that none could haue con­currd more to the glory and illustration of our Saint, none knowing him and his meritts better then he, and conse­quently could be more zealous in that behalfe; as also because he was both a great Preacher, truly vertuous, and throughly versd in the affayres of that Bishoprick, as bredd vpp vnder the Saint. The profound respect and zeale he had for his H. Predecessour took little content to see his bones so wor­thy of greater Veneration lye so ob­scurely beneath theyr desert euen as he was a Bishopp, not onely a Saint. Wher vpon he determind a solemne Transla­tion of the same to a more eminent and conspicuous place of the same Cathe­drall; [Page 216] where he resolu'd to erect a sta­tely Monument of Marble, and haue the action solemnizd with the greatest mag­nificence he possibly could.

The time pitchd on for this purpose was Mandate thursday in holy week; the report wheroff blazd abroad inuited both court and country to honour it with theyr presence, nor needed many motiues, the opinion they had of him was sufficient. It was made in the yeare 1287. the 6. of Aprill, the Bishopp and Chapter ioyntly concurring therto: and the place to which it was Transla­ted, sayth Godwin, was the east wall of the North-Cross-Ile where yett is to be seen, sayth he, a tomb of Marble. King Edward the 3. in whose Reigne it was made was then at Calais, which he had not long before taken from the French King; but purposely came ouer out of his deuotion to the Saint, and to grace the solemnity with his presence. [Page 217] He and his Nobles, sayth John Stow, were entertaind at the charges of Ni­colas Cantilupe, Baron, Cosen to S. THOMAS; Nor did the King miss of a due reward from the sayd Saint in re­compense of his Religiousnes. For while he was attending to that action he receiu'd priuate intelligence of a de­signe on foot for the deliuery of that Towne by a Genowayse, Emericus of Padua, who liu'd there and was a pri­uate Pensionayre of the French King, to him: he playd lack on both sydes being also in see to King Edward, who suspecting nothing less keept him and his men there for the defence of the Towne. Nor was heer an end of the blessing: for the King hastning to its succour, not onely forestalld the others treachery, but with a handfull of men repulsd the numeros enemy, took many prisoners, and putt all in a posture of sa­fety.

The sacred Depositum, as we hyn­ted before, was putt into a stone Coffin shutt vpp vnder a fayre great Graue­stone, which was to be remou'd eer the Coffin could be taken out, and how to remoue it so great and massy as it was, gaue no small difficulty naturally spea­king in that narrownes and situation of place. While theyr witts were thus contriuing, two of the Bishops Pages who stood by, putt theyr hands to it as it were in sport to try theyr strength, where 4. of the ablest could haue done nothing. And heer behold a strange accident: at the slender impulse of these two alone the massy stone yealded and gaue place as farr as was necessary for the present purpose, as if it had bin a thinn bord not what it was. All the Company cryd out a Miracle (for they could ascribe it to nothing else) wrought by the Saint to attest his Sanc­tity, and shew how gratefull the Trans­lation [Page 219] was to him. But heer was not an end of theyr amazement; yea it was much increasd, when after the Masse of Requiem and solemnity ended, tryall was made againe in the same manner to putt the sayd stone into its former po­sture; which now thought they had the aduantage of the ground much more then before, not these two but neyther teen more ioynd with them, endeauou­ring with all theyr might and mayne, were scarse able to sett in its place.

This was an essay or prelude to the manyfold Miracles which immediately followd: for such was the wonder­working power of Alm. God to eui­dence the glory of his Seruant S. THOMAS, that that very day of his Translation 5. Miracles were wrought at his Tomb, and as many each ensuing day for diuers togeather. Nay there was a perpetuall continu'd streame, the source being once opend, without sur­cease [Page 220] for many yeares, of which we shall speake more in the ensuing Chap­ter. Great was the Deuotion of the people in this solemnity, hightned we may imagine nott a little by these fresh foregoing wonders: and where there is Deuotion God is neuer sparing of his graces and mercyes; that his Soueraigne Oyle ceases not still to runn, so long as there are such fresh potts disposd to re­ceiue it. Why he reseru'd these extra­ordinary blessings for this feast let vs not curiously enquire of him in whose hands is the free disposall of times and moments; but let vs take his dispensa­tions when they come humbly and thankfully, being assurd that he knowes better what and when things are to be done then we can tell him.

In the Translation it selfe and time of Masse of Requiem sayd at the new Tombe for the dead (for as yett the Saint was neyther Beatifyd nor Cano­nizd) [Page 221] a man who had bin two yeares blind, and a Woman 8. both of them receiud theyr Sight in the presence of all the people who were spectatours, admirers, and wittnesses of the Miracle. To giue a particular account of all the rest that were wrought (though they be all vpon Record and attested) would be too tedious, and especially all that were wrought during the Octaue of the solemnity (40. in number;) but as Easter day by reason of its glorious fe­stiuall claymd to it selfe a peculiar splendour aboue the rest, so Alm. God seemes to haue keept a noted and par­ticular Cure for it, much redounding to the honour of our Saint, as wrought vpon one both noble of himselfe and well knowne to all the Nobility of the land, and consequently more fam'd abroad and divulgd then many others. This was one Milis a famous Warryer, renownd farr and neer for his exployt [...] [Page 222] in Tilting: with frequent falls and brui­ses and other misfortunes such a weak­nes came vpon him, that he became contracted in his limbs and they all vse­les to him. And thus he remaynd 6. whole yeares, all art of Physitians la­bouring in vayne, now an obiect of compassion as much as he had bin be­fore of Congratulation. This man fa­miliarly knowne to Bishop Richard was by name inuited to the Translation and particularly on Easter day when cele­brated with greater Solemnity: the good Bishop intimating with all that diuers great Miracles were then dayly wrought at the Saints Tombe, and who knew but he might haue a blessing in store for him. He like one in misery harkend willingly to any aduise that rellishd of redress: he made himselfe be carryd to the Tomb on Easter Eeue he prayd there deuoutly the whole night, beseeching the Saint that as he [Page 223] was noble himselfe he would be propi­tious to a noble knight commiserating his present pittifull condition, and vouchsafing him the gracious fauour of a Cure. To render himselfe better dis­posd like a good Christian he frequen­ted the H. Sacraments of Confession and Communion, and at the time when in the sayd Church the Mystery of the Resurrection sayth the Record, was that morning represented, he found himselfe so perfectly cur'd at the sayd Tomb, that the same day, exulting in our Lord, whole and sound, he playd the Seruingman at the Bishops table, wayting on him and his other guests.

For a conclusion of this Chapter I must insert a remarkable Cure which was wrought while the sacred Reliques remaynd yett in our Ladyes Chappell, sixe dayes before the Translation, that is, the day before Palmsunday, and ther­fore may deseruedly clayme to be heer [Page 224] inserted: it is thus recorded in the fore­mentiond Process. One Edith wife to a Cittizen of Hereford in the beginning of that same lent was seizd with a furi­ous phrenzey, and all humane meanes falling short, so she continu'd till the day before Palmsunday. The recourse to S. THOMAS not being as then famd by any Miracles, her husband causd her to be measurd to a Relique of the H. Cross much venerated in that Cathe­drall, at whose Aultar she was keept night and day bound, and attended by two of her sexe: though at the same time she were aduisd by a Priest of the Church to haue recourse to S. THO­MAS and to be measurd to him, giuing her great hopes of a recouery by his in­tercession. All this was done at his suggestion, and a Candle was made of the thread that measurd her, and sett at her head as she lay bound hand and foot, her ordinary Station being all this [Page 225] while at the Aultar of the H. Cross. The friday before Palme sunday as she was there hearing Mass, not onely the candles on the Aultar but all through the Church were on a suddain putt out, no body knew how, and a great noyse like the murmure of a great ri­uer was heard at the same time: this lasting the space of ten Paters and Aue's, visibly before them all fire came from heauen and lighted the Candle standing at her head whose week was made of the thread that measurd her to the Saint. At the lighting of this she recouerd her senses and became well, the Saint at that instant appearing to her and bidding her be well: at the same time also the Cords which bound her of themselues became loose, and she in the presence and hearing of all, re­peating it ouer and ouer againe sayd aloud where is this S. THOMAS that bids me be well. She went to our [Page 226] lady's Chappell, prayd before his Reli­ques, a „Te Deum„ was sung in thanks­giuing for the cure, she continu'd as well and sensible as euer before; and this was the first miracle which the Saint wrought in the Church of He­reford.

Upon the Relation of this Miracle it occurrs to mee that some peruser of the same may check perchance (as it is all­wayes easy to find fault) at one or two passages mentiond therin: the which to cleare vpp by way of preuention will happily not be vnacceptable. One may be, her leauing the H. Cross and its Aul­tar to betake herselfe to S. THOMAS: in which if there were any fault, it was was the Priests who aduisd her to it; which could not be great, it being war­ranted by the good miraculous effect immediately ensuing. Neyther did he disswade her from the H. Cross whose efficacious vertue is venerable [Page 227] to all Christians, but onely perswaded her (whether by diuine instinct or the impulse of his deuotion matters not much) to make her recourse to God and it by the mediation of the Saint. His deuotion to S. THOMAS mou'd him to vrge this recourse, which, if vpon the opinion had of his Sanctity, he aduisd, where is the errour? Nay it's glorious to the H. Crosse, as it is also to honour God in his Saints, (so farr is it from disparagement to see its seruants honourd and inuokd: besydes that a new Starr may many times and without prejudice to the Sunn, draw more eyes to it then the Sunn it selfe, and haue its influences more cry'd vpp: both deuo­tions were compatible and good, nor doth the latter derogate from the former.

Another perhaps will be dissatisfyd, yea euen a little scandalizd at this mea­suring to the Saint, and ask what it [Page 228] meanes? Truly I do not remember to haue read it elswhere, nor is it any Ecclesiasticall Ceremony of any Church, much less of the Catholique: it seems to haue bin taken vpp by the de­uotion of the people therabouts, and, as an innocent harmles expression of theyr deuotion and recourse to the Saint, approu'd by custome; and though frequently us'd, yett not so of necessity, but that it was and with equall succes as frequently omitted, at least not men­tiond. This theyr recourse and appli­cation to the Saint was twofold; and the miraculous effects as to both shew its acceptablenes to him: eyther by bending a piece of siluercoyne ouer the patients head who sought redress to the honour of the Saint, appropriating the party by this expression to him and his peculiar patronage for redress: or else by measuring the sayd client by a thread or some such thing, that is, by taking [Page 229] his length and breadth with the same intention as in the former, and depo­siting them at his Aultar or to his ho­nour. The manifold miraculous effects ensuing heer vpon vindicate the fact from all suspition of irreligiosity and superstition: and if the Saint was pleasd to accept it, let not vs harbour a preju­dice against it. When we see the Candle whole week was made of this measure miraculously and before all the rest lighted from heauen, let vs take that Miracle for an approuement of its inno­cency; all's well when all's meant well: ‘alius quidem sic, alius autem 1, Co [...] ▪ 7. sic;’ thus much I thought good to premitt for the scandall of the weake.

XX. CHAPTER. The multitude of Miracles wrought by the Saint.

WE may indeed call them a multi­tude and of the greatest size, for few Saints perchance in Gods Church haue wrought more; and therfore he was not undeseruedly calld in the Pre­face, the Thaumaturgus of that age. And theyr quality is no less remarkable then theyr quantity, it being such as renders them vnquestionable in theyr kind, that is, euident and patent like those of the Ghospell, and such as our B. Sauiour both wrought and alledgd for testimonialls of his Reception as Messias, by giuing sight to the blind, healing the lame, raysing the dead &c. and these as well as others in great abundance. For the Readers satisfac­tion, [Page 321] and the Saint's greater glory I will summarily putt downe heer what the seuerall Authours of his life say in this behalfe; that the autority of his Mira­cles may remayne as questionles as they are numerous. Which Authours when they haue consignd his vertues ouer to vs with this seale of deeds and deliuerd them vnder such a Consignment, (they hauing before signalizd them with words;) it cannot be denyd but all le­gall formalityes are obserud, and that they ought to stand in force as a deed signd seald and deliuerd, according to the tenour of our Courts of justice: and why should not Saints in heauen par­take theroff as well as Sinners on earth? to deny it them were a great inconse­quence.

These Miracles took theyr ryse or source from his Translation, and con­tinu'd theyr streame some ages togea­ther: in treating of them we will not [Page 232] launch forth into theyr mayne of all particulars, for so we should loose our selues without end, but onely cruzing neer the Shoare pass as swiftly as safely through such an Ocean. The first I cite in this behalfe is Laurentius Surius a graue and exact Authour; who out of one Anonymus or Conceald ancient Writer but judicious, testifyes that among the Miracles which stand vpon record, our B. Saint is found to haue restord from death to life 66. sight to the blind 41. vse of theyr limbs to the Contracted or sinew-shrunk 52. Palsey­struck 21. and he recounts onely what came to his knowledg, not that he pro­fesses to know all. Doctour Nicolas Harpsfield Prebend of Canterbury and a diligent Collectour of the Gests of our Saints makes such a like Relation; who speaking of our glorious Saint and his eminent vertues tells vs they were re­commended to vs and future posterity [Page 233] vnder the attestation of frequent Mira­cles, 163 wheroff were wrought, sayth he, in the Compass of a few yeares, and renderd his meritts famous farr and neer for the same. John Capgraue expresses himselfe in this sort as to the Saint and this poynt of his Miracles, where he sayth: The Miracles which after his death Alm. God was pleasd to shew to vs Sinners in euidence of his sanctity and to the honour of his owne name, (for God is honourd in his Saints) I saw, sayth he, at his Tomb, registerd in diuers volumes, and they were in a manner infinite. In one wheroff, sayth the same, I counted 425. wrought by S. THOMAS at his Shryne, all mira­culous effects, many wheroff were in the cure of different deseases: and euen Bishop God win himselfe, a meer pick­pocket in this Kind filching away what euer he can, grants that many Miracles are sayd to haue bin wrought at the [Page 234] plare of his buriall, in regard wheroff it pleasd the Pope to make him a Saint. Thus doth he mince the matter which he dares not deny, not yett can Confess without a cleare condemnation of him­selfe and his breethren, who pulld downe a Church and fayth, so stord and confirmd with Miracles, to sett vpp a Chappell of theyr owne building, to verify the old Prouerb, where God has a Church the Diuell will haue a Chap­pell.

The last Confirmation which I bring of his miracles and theyr multitude is be yond all exception to any vnpreju­diced judgment, for I borrow it from the very authentique Acts and Records ju­ridically prou'd and approu'd in the Process of his Canonization. A coppy of these same Acts and Records taken by a friend of mine of vnquestionable syncerity out of the Originall which is keept in the Vatican Library I haue at [Page 235] this present lying by me; and whatso­euer I haue or shall say concerning his miracles is all or in greatest part bor­rowd from thence. There I find vpon Record in all 429. and them examind and approu'd partly by the Lords Com­missioners deputed by his Holynes then liuing, for that end; and partly by 4. au­toriz'd Notaryes. The Lords were the Bishop of London and Bishop of Mi­niat, who sate some times at S. Catha­rines London, som times at Hereford, to avoyd charges in the Citation of witt­nesses: they were commissiond onely for 4. months and in that time they could examine noe more then 39. miracles all which they subscribd. The 4. Nota­ryes were a kind of standing Committee for that purpose, whose power stood good without limitt of time or stint of autority; and all the force of approba­tion which the rest haue is deriud from them. And thus much in generall is suf­ficient [Page 236] to ascertaine vs both of the cre­ditablenes of what we alledg, and to shew how highly he was in fauour with Aim. God: for all these being things aboue the ordinary Course of na­ture they require a speciall and super­naturall concurrence, a thing meerly of grace, and not granted but vpon extra­ordinary exigencyes for the illustration of the power of God in his Saints and to lett the world know how wonderfull he is in them; „Mirabilis Deus in Sanc­tis Psal, 67. [...]6. suis.

Miracles when frequent are an eui­dent conuiction of true sanctity as being the Seale, not to be counterfeyted, which God himselfe setts vpon it for its manifestation and autorizement to the world; which seale whosoeuer can exhibite vnder test, his vertue needs no other touchstone to proue it Currant and genuine. Not that all that doth not carry them is spurious, or that all Saints [Page 237] to be such must work miracles, or that they are of the essence of sanctity, it being of it selfe too nobly diuine to need any such support besydes it selfe: and many great Saints, as the H. Bap­tist, S. Joseph and others, haue during life wrought none at all, and yett were held for such; vnles we will say the whole tenour of theyr life was a conti­nuall miracle. Yett still where found, they are deseruedly esteemd so many pled'ges of Gods fauour to the worker, and infallible attestations of his sancti­ty; it being against the diuine-goodnes to permitt hyprocrisy to be accompanyd and autorizd by those distinctiue marks with, which he has signalizd the true fayth and Sanctity. But it is not in poynt of fayth as it is in poynt of sancti­tity, as to this; that true sanctity may be C [...]l vident, claudi ambu­lant, &c. found without Miracles, though the true Church or fayth Cannot, Christ hauing entayld them vpon it: insomuch [Page 238] that that Church which cannot shew miracles Cannot be the Church of Christ. But he has not annexd miracles to true sanctity, nor are they of its es­sence, and consequently though they grace it extremely when present, yet it may be as perfect and gratefull to God when absent, because not an intrinse­secall Commendatory but meerly ex­trinsecall and as to vs by way of testi­moniall, a grace gratis giuen by Alm. God.

Now to satisfy the Deuotion of the Reader, or rather to enflame it the more, we will descend in particular to relate some few of so many miracles, and giue a little scantling theroff; which as they are particular pledges of Gods speciall fauour towards his seruant, so they can­not but be speciall incentiues to vs of a peculiar reuerence towards the same.

One Juliana liuing not farr from He­reford in her Childbed fell into such a [Page 239] Contraction of all her limbs, that she became wholly destitute of theyr vse, and this for the space of 9. yeares togea­ther. All humane remedyes prou'd vn­usefull to her cure, and how to obtayne diuine she knew not: the fame and name of S. THOMAS was then not blazd abroad, though it happend after his death, and while his sacred bones lay bury'd in our Ladyes Chappell. Yett the charitable Saint had a kindnes for the poore Creature, and appearing 6. seue­rall times to her, wishd her to goe to the Tomb of Bishop THOMAS which was in our Lady's Chappell at Hereford, and there she should be curd. She ney­ther knew what Bishop THOMAS nor Lady's Chappell meant, but vpon so many warnings resolu'd to send her hus­band to Hereford to learne by enquiry what they might meane. He went, he informd himselfe, he returnd, yett the disabled wretch lay languishing a [Page 240] whole yeare before she could resolue to be carryd thither. The bruit of the sol­lemne Translation quickned her deuo­tion a little, and being carryd in a bas­kett was plac'd in our Lady's Chappell at the Saints Reliques: there falling into a slumber he appeard to her againe bid­ding her rise and goe to the new Tombe; she made what shift she could to gett to it, nor had she sooner touchd it and sayd a few prayers, but by leaning on it she rose, found her selfe well, and walkd thrise about it, and the next day home without any help. The baskett in which she was brought she left be­hind her at the Tomb; but it being bor­rowd of a poore neighbour who de­manded her baskett againe, Iuliana the next morning sent for it and restord it to the owner. But what much hight­ned the Miracle was this; the baskett was no sooner taken away but the wo­man relapsd into her former Contrac­tion: [Page 241] it seems the Saint requird it for a monument of his charitable redress. What remedy now? she is carryd againe to his Tomb and in the same bas­kett, remayning so amidst teares and prayers a whole day and night: the next morning her good Benefactour mindfull of his patient restord her limms once more to a full and perfect vse of them, and least she might incurr a se­cond forfeyture she presumd no more to take away the baskett.

A publique Incendiary was taken in flagrante, and deseruedly by the Lord of the Mannour, who had legall power, sentencd to the gallowes which was executed, and he lay there a sad specta­cle of justice with all the certain signes of a dead man in so much that now they thought of nothing more but his bury­all. The lady of the Mannour a very vertuous matrone, and her daughter like herselfe, hauing theyr charity not ty'd to [Page 242] meritt, much beyond his deserts, had a great mind to haue him thus as he was measurd to S. THOMAS in hopes of a reuiuall; Confiding surely that the latter part of his life would be more edi­ficatiue then the former. In fine she did it and not once or twice but thrise with much deuotion seconded with the feruent prayers of all that were present. Her fayth was equall to her hope and charity, and all three so acceptable to the Saint that vpon this deuout petition, as a prelude to what would follow, the dead body mou'd first one foot, then be­gann to breath; the eyes which hung gastly vpon his cheeks fell back of them­selues to theyr propper place, and so did his tongue to its: in fine there was a perfect recouery from death to life; and he is sayd, (and no great wonder it should be so) to haue mended his man­ners very much, and behau'd himselfe through all like a good Christian. [Page 243] It is not granted euery one to dye twice.

The palpablest of miracles or raising the dead was so ordinary with our glo­rious Saint that 40. such like resuscita­tions stand vpon a juridicall record. Our Lord and sauiour has the sole Dominion of life and death, keeping in his owne hands the keyes of both without con­troule; yett so, as that he lends them somtimes to his seruants who, what they doe, is by his power and dispensa­tion, as are also all the miracles which they work, not done by theyr propper vertue but his Concurrence who com­municates it: and thus he wrought with our Saint, who will say, as did S. Peter to the Iewes, ‘Viri Israelitae quid ad­miramini, Act. 3. 12. aut quid nos intuemini, &c.’ Ye men of Israel why maruell you at this, or why look you vpon vs as though by our power or holynes we haue made this man to walk, the God of Abra­ham, [Page 244] &c. In this kind a little Child scarse 3. yeares old playing with another of the same age on the bank of a fish­pond, the other to frighten this, made as if he would thrust her in, and she out of feare fell in indeed, and was actually drownd before the mischance knowne or help could be giuen. This pond be­longd and was neer to an Alehouse where store of Company, was at the same time making merry, and among the rest the Parents of the child: so close many times and vnexpectedly doth sorrow follow myrth at the heeles, das­hing the wine of comfort with the wa­ter of teares, suitable to that of the wise­man, „Extrema gaudii luctus occupat; and thus many times is all the sport Prou. 14. 13. spoyld. The Child is taken out lifeles, and while they are all lamenting ouer it, the Father, who had heard much of the miracles wrought by S. THOMAS, togeather with all the company recom­mended [Page 245] the matter with much Deuo­tion to the Saint, and with his girdle measurd her to him according to cu­stome. Thus they all perseuerd praying, and on theyr bare knees, sayth the Re­cord, till next morning without any signe of life: in the morning naturall heat came into her body, motion of her limbs followd that, and speech motion, and so by degrees came perfectly to her selfe. This miracle was among the first which Alm. God wrough by his Saint, and it being noysd abroad people came farr and neer to behold the Child: it was also the first which was solemnly examind and approu'd by the Lords Commissioners. She liu'd till she came to womans estate, but could neuer be perswaded by her Parents to marry though much urgd therto; and therfore was Commonly calld by the name of S. THOMAS his Vingin.

A poore man by an vniust oppression [Page 246] of his Land-lord was cast into prison and so loaden with irons that the weight of them broke his left arme. In this sad Condition both of want and tor­ment, all humane meanes fayling him he sought diuine, and had recourse to our Saint; making a vow that if he cur'd his arme and restord him to liberty, himselfe would make a pilgrimage to his Tombe. He found a propitious Pa­trone; his arme was forth with Curd, and he eerlong releasd from hold. But alas! a good purpose is sooner made then keept; he that sayd VOUETE sayd also REDDITE, which latter part was wholly neglected by this vngrate­full Client, who now hauing obtaynd what he desyrd thought no more of what he promisd, and so it fares with a great many. The Saint sent him a Re­membrancer, and he fell into a grieuous fitt of sicknes, and in it into a phrensey, in a rauing transport wheroff his arme [Page 247] is broken againe and in the same place. Being fallen a-sleep he seemd to see the most glorious Mother of God, and heare her saying to S. THOMAS who stood by her, friend, help this poore Caytiff: help him? replyd he; he made a vow to visitt me before this, and has not bin so good as his word. Ah, sayd the sweet Mother of mercy, he will come to you, help him, I pray: Let him then come, replyd the Saint on Whit­sunday and he shall be curd in the name of our Lord. Which sayd they both dis­appeard: and the sick man relating the Vision to the bystanders was carryd by them on that day to the Saints Shryne where he found redress of both his maladyes by the intercession of the most glorious Virgin and the meritts of the Saint.

One of Staynes not farr from Lon­don became so infirme that all present judgd he could not liue one houre to an [Page 248] end. This extremity or infirmity was the least part of his misery: for he found himselfe haunted and obsess'd ouer and aboue with multitudes of Diuells in most hideous Shapes which not onely besett him, but some taking him by the head others by the feet they hal'd and pulld him almost to pieces. The poore sick­man halfe distracted had recourse as well as he could to Alm. God, beseech­ing him by the meritts of his deuout Seruant S. THOMAS of Hereford to afford some assistance in this dreadfull agony. And behold, while he silently thus recommended himselfe he saw the man of God forth with approaching him, and clasping his head betwixt his hands stood in his defence against these wicked Spiritts the greatest part of that night. About break of day putt to flight they all vannishd, the Saint still holding the Sickmans head as before; who sud­dainly awaking out of his sleep, and his [Page 249] ayde or helper withdrawing at the same instant, he found himselfe perfectly re­stord to health both of body and mind by the powerfull mediation of his hea­uenly Champion who came so seaso­nably to his rescue. To whose Tomb therfore by way of thanksgiuing he with his Neighbours vndertook bare­fout a long pilgrimage, and there in each ones hearing attested the cure.

To lett vs know how dangerous it is to meddle with edg tooles, that is, to jeast profanely with the proceedings of Saints, making a piece of drollery of what we ought humbly to venerate if we do not vnderstand; a youngman Flemming by nation and seruant to an English Lady of quality, (he was better fedd then taught) being in a Cittizens house in Hereford, among other Rail­lery, began to speak scurrilously of our B. Saint, saying, that while he hu'd he was certainly of a couetous humour, [Page 250] synce after his death he receiues so many pretious guifts refusing nothing that was offerd him. While he pre­sumd to goe thus on, one of his hands suddainly shrunk vpp with such vio­lence of payne, that acknowledging his fault he was forc'd before all present to inuoke the Saint for redress: which no sooner desyrd then obtaynd so cha­ritable was he towards him, the hand being presently restord, and all as well as before. But see the inueteratenes of an ill custome! shaken off, it recurrs againe and clings to vs like a second na­ture. The vngratefull wretch thus curd attributes both the payne and cure to a naturall cause, and neyther the latter to his benefactour nor the former to a pu­nishment of his profane scurrility. While he was vttering these words, so violent a payne and Contraction seizd the same hand a second time that no stroke but one from heauen could cause [Page 251] it. Affliction giues vnderstanding, and so did it him; he acknowledgd the hand of God vpon him for his ingrati­tude, and now hartily penitent calld vpon the Saint and desyrd all the stan­ders-by, to doe the same. Theyr pra­yers were presently heard, his hand restord, and he learnd more witt then to relapse the third time. Let vs learne hence to detest atheisticall drollery, and serue God and reuerence his Saints in whome he is so admirably admi­rable.

The next I will relate happend in the person of Bishop Richard the so often mentiond successour to our Saint: He in the first yeares of his Episcopacy was so ill of the stone that both Physitians and others lookd on him as a dyingman, nor for the space of 5. or 6. weeks did he stirr out of his Chamber. His Cham­berlane who deposd this cure, sleeping one night in his Lords Chamber to be [Page 252] ready on all exigences, seemd in his sleep to heare one say to him, arise, take the Relique which thou hast of S. THOMAS (it was the first ioynt of his right thumb, and no body besydes himselfe knew of it) wash it in the wine which in a siluer Cruett stands in the window, giue thy Master to drink of it, and he shall be curd. The Chamber­lane eyther mistrusting the call and its effect, or fearfull that the wine might not be good for his Lord, dissembled the matter nor took notice of it, chiefly indeed for feare of loosing his pretious Re [...]que, which he deemd to pretious for him to keep were it once knowne to others. The next night he heard the same call with a menace for his former neglect; yett he out of the precedent motiues forbore also the second time: the night following or 3. he seemd to behold our B. Lady accompanyd with many Virgins all which were clad in [Page 253] white and enuironnd with great bright­nes entring the Chamber in which the Bishop and his Chamberlane reposd, and coming neer to the latters bed, who for some dayes before had with much deuotion besought her attistance by the meritrs of S. THOMAS for his Masters Recouery; sayd to him in French, sayth the Process, Deynse (that was the Chamberlains name) art thou asleep? he answerd no: ryse then, sayd she, take the wine aboue mentiond, and if thou doest it not, at they perill be it. This last threat made a deeper impressi­on; and as soon as it was light he Com­municated the matter with the Bishops Confessour and Phisitian to know theyr judgment vpon the matter: with theyr approbation and in theyr presence he washd the foresayd Relique, and the Physitian gaue 3. spoonfulls of the sayd wine to the Bishop wishing him to drink it: he making the signe of the [Page 254] Cross did so, rise immediately, went downe to the Chappell which he could not doe for so many weeks, heard Masse, and remaynd all that ensuing yeare as free, as if he had neuer bin mo­lested ther with.

I will conclude this present Narra­tiue with another deposd juridically be­fore the Lords Commissioners by the party concernd then liuing, who in his younger dayes had once bin a meniall seruant of the Saint, but marrying after­wards liu'd at London and by trade was a Barber. This man vpon the suddain without any visible occasion lost first one eye then the other, and both with such excesse of payne that it made him seek all humane redress, though in vayne, and try the skill of Chirurgery, which not withstanding he remaynd 3. yeares stark blind, faine to be ledd whither euer he went and he dayly did to S. Paules Church to heare Mass. [Page 255] Much discomforted with this accident he calld to mind his old Patron and great well wisher S. THOMAS now Canonizd a Saint and working Mira­cles. He recommends himselfe most earnestly to him and our B. Lady; be­seeching her by the deuotion he had to her to obtayne of Alm. God a cure of his misery and restorement of sight that he might againe to his comfort be­hold her Sonn in the Consecrated Host, while it is eleuated for all to adore. For this end he causd himselfe to be measurd according to custome to S. THOMAS, and sent the measure and two Eyes of waxe with it to Ham­bleden in lincoln shyre, the place where our Saint was borne and Christend. Two dayes after he found some glim­merings of light so as to distinguish im­perfectly motion and colour, and ther vpon causd himselfe to be measurd the second time, and that measure he sent [Page 256] to Hereford to the Saints Shryne; and ther vpon found such help that with in 8. dayes space he could walk any whi­ther without a leader, and could dis­cerne, as he desyrd, the eleuated Host at a Competent distance. The cure he ascribd to the Saint, as also in this re­spect, the cause of his blindnes; for that he in his youth when he seru'd S. THOMAS being of a loose life and wanton behauiour, and chid therfore frequently by him for his amendment, the Saint obtaynd of Alm. God this temporall affliction (it many times giues vnsterstanding and such blindnes light to see our selues) towards an amend­ment of his spirituall: and he acknow­ledgd that he had reahd great benefitt therby, and hartely thankd Alm. God and the Saint for the same.

It were as easy for mee to cite some hundreds as these few, were it any part of my designe to swell this little Sum­mary [Page 257] into a great volume. It doth not ayme at a Rehearsall of his miracles but of his vertues which are the noblest kind of miracles: for in this corrupt na­ture of ours so prone to vice, I esteem euery soule eminent in sanctity so many miracles of Gods grace working in it. And these miracles are more for our purpose, that is, for our imitation, to which purpose if we do not apply them we swarue from the purpose; the grea­test honour and deuotion we can shew towards a Saint being to imitate his ver­tues, as also the most beneficiall to vs. Miracles are good wittnesses of Sancti­ty, ascertaning vs how high the Saint stands in the fauour of God, and they stirr vs vpp also to a due recourse to­wards him in our necessityes: but to profitt otherwise then by theyr imita­tion we cannot pretend, synce being aboue the course of nature they are ob­jects rather to be admird then imitated: [Page 258] sett your selfe to a generous imitation of theyr vertues and you may probably work miracles your selfe.

XXI. CHAPTER. His Canonization, and generall deuotion of all vnto him both Prince and people till this vn­happy breach.

THe multitude of extraordinary gra­ces and fauours which Alm. God imparted to all sorts of people by the meritts of his glorious Seruant an Bis­hop S. THOMAS was the reason why the whole Kingdome sollicited the then Pope for his Canonization. Now 25. yeares or ther abouts were elapsd synce the Translation of his Sa­cred Bones into his new Sepulcher, synce which time the current of mira­cles [Page 259] neuer ceasd; and the dayly Monu­ments theroff hanging at the same were so many Remembrancers minding them as much to glorify him, as he was bene­ficiall toward them. One good turne requires another; if Saints obtayne vs temporall blessings, let vs giue them the glory theroff: glory is a celebrious knowledg with praise; nor can this be better had in this world then from the mouth of the Church whose words in this; matter are Oracles, and her publi­que declaration in poynt of Sanctity a Canonization. Hence it was that Prince and people, Clergy, Religious, Secular, all intere [...]sd alike in his fauours, (yett aboue others the Bishopp and Chapter of Hereford) became joynt Sollicitours, that as heauen had ownd his piety by so many prodigyes, the Church would authentically declare it, autorizing them to honour him as a Saint, who had exhibited so many vn­denyable [Page 260] prooffs of Sanctity. The ge­neralitty of the Bishops of our Nation Concurrd to this, and I find a Trans­script in the Processe it selfe exhibited by the Procuratour of the Chapter of Hereford to the LL. Commissioners, which Transcript was subscribd by the LL. Bishops, John Arch-Bishop of York, Antony of Durham, Godfrey of Worcester, John of Landaff, Iohn of Winchester, Raph of Norwich, Walter of Bath, Aluian of Bangor, Iohn of Car­lile, Thomas of Excester, and was di­rected by them to his Holynes, contay­ning theyr esteem and sentiment both of his life and vertues, and the wonders dayly wrought at his Shryne.

Vpon this and other such Sollicita­tions it was that a publique Process of the Saints life and Miracles was institu­ted, and Commissaryes Apostolicall de­puted therto the two Bishopps and Arch Deacon specifyd in the precedent [Page 261] Chapter. Procuratour for the Chapter of Hereford was one Henricus a Schor­na, and Bishop Richard who best knew the Saint liuing and dying, as one that was bred vnder him, Conscious to all his secretts, was the first and chiefe Deponent. The Commission took date the 13. of Iuly 1307. and was to continue but 4. months: which limitation of time and multiplicity both of Wittnesses and Miracles was the reason why they could not insist vpon or pass through all: but as many as were examind by them eyther in order to his vertues or miracles, all Depositions passd vnder oath, the H. Ghospells lying open be­fore them, and they swearing to speak nothing but truth. Which depositions were duely Registerd by appoynted No­taryes, reuiewd by the Commissioners, and by them Consignd vpp to his Holy­nes and keept to posterity in the Vati­can Library: the perusall of an authen­ticall [Page 262] Coppy wheroff, by the fauour of a speciall friend and diligent Searcher into the gests and Legends of Saints was Communicated to mee, and ther­fore I can auerr much for the vndoubted truth of what I say. The information being taken as aboue, and a due returne made to the Congregation of Rites whome such matters concerne, all being adjusted according to forme, HIS HOLYNES Iohn the 22. at the in­stance of our King and Prelates, pro­ceeded to a Canonization, which was solemnizd both at Rome with vsuall fe­stiualls, and to the vniuersall ioy of the whole Kingdome, much more in Eng­land, and chiefly in the Church of He­reford. Though the day of its solemni­zation be not specifyd, yett we may cre­dibly think it was on the 2. of October, on which day the Church celebrates his yearly memory, though it be otherwise certainly knowne, as we sayd aboue, [Page 263] that the day of his deposition or death were on the 25. of August.

The fame of his sanctity attested so many yeares by a world of miraculous Cures of all Kinds to all sorts of people, did not bound it selfe with in our owne Iland, but working at Sea as well as at Land, and passing our streights it filld both France and Italy as well as Scot­land and Ireland: and as all receiu'd a new access of ioy by this new access of honour, so euery one striue to putt on a new feruour of deuotion suitable to his meritts and theyr obligation. A new declard Saint is like a new Starr in the Pirmament, he drawes as many harts as that doth eyes, and if the influ­ences of the latter be more visible the Communications of the former are more benigne and obliging. A flame of deuotion which is continually nourishd with the oyle and fuell of successiue blessings need not feare a decrease of [Page 264] heat, and such was the peoples towards our Saint. One King and two Queens haue. bin seen prostrate Pilgrims before his Tomb, nor was theyr Majesty euer more gloriously great, then when thus humble before Gods Seruant: ther's noe truer greatnes then that which ac­crues from a profound humility. All the Princes and Nobles of the Land imita­ted theyr example with votaryes in theyr hands: the greatest Prelates and theyr Clergy were the first in this Re­ligious Worship, nor was it then ac­counted superstition or idolatry to ho­nour God in his Saints. How happy was the people of this Kingdome in such a propitious Patrone where in theyr greatest plunges of necessity, they nee­ded onely as it were to ask and haue, if the grace were fitt to be imparted, and they disposd to receiue it: his Shrine alone being a Pharmacopaea or Dispen­satory of Receypts for the Cure of all [Page 265] maladys euen death it selfe. And thus it continud many yeares to the Com­mon Comfort of all, and doubtles would longer, had we remaynd still in the Vnion of Gods Church and Commu­nion of his Saints, members of that my­sticall body which onely partakes of the diuine Influences of itts head Christ IESUS. The breach of which vnion broke all our happynes, and vs into di­uision from our Mother the Church, from whome to be diuided is an vtter disinheriting from the birthright of the Children of God, synce he shall not haue God for his father who has not the Church for his Mother as wittness S. Austin and S. Cyprian. A most vn­fortunate breach, which as it vnsainted Saints and demolishd the Shrynes theyr Forefathers Deuotion had erected to theyr sacred memory, what wonder if it obstructed therby the streame of theyr fauours, it being not fitt to giue holy [Page 266] things to doggs, or Cast such pearles to swine to feed on.

Yett to sbew that the Saint is still in heauen and powerfull with Alm. God if we were but worthy to deserue his fauours, euen in our time not many yea­res agoe a furious plague sweeping all before it in the Towne of Hereford and threatning vtter distruction to the in­habitans, that pestilentiall Contagion receiu'd such a check from our Saints Reliques carryd in a priuate Procession, that it gaue a totall surcease to the same, and so suddainly, that it was ascribd to Miracle. Such reserues of his ancient bountyes Alm. God is now and then pleasd to Communicate, to keep our de­uotion on foot, and giue vs heerby a pledg that when he fees time he will restore both our distracted Country to vnity of fayth, and the current of his graces to theyr wonted channell.

The generality of deuotion had to [Page 267] this Saint may in part also be shewd by the numberles Number of Donaryes of­ferd at his Tombe: nor can I giue my Reader a more satisfactory account of them then by relating what I find spe­cifyd in the Register of the Lords Com­missioners. As they were exact in all so in this particular also; and what they found extant they causd to be listed in a schedule, and to giue heer a reuiew of it will perchance not be vngratefull: thus then it specifyes. Inprim: a hun­dred and 70. votiue Shipps in sil­uer; and in waxe 41. Item diuers ima­ges of siluer, some of the whole body others of seuerall parts, in all 129. Of the whole body in waxe 436. of seuerall parts very neer vpon a thousand; and among them figures of horses, other be­asts and birds 77. besydes innumerable of eyes, eares, teeth, breasts &c. Item Childrens coats some of silk, some of linnen to the number of 95. Three little [Page 268] carts of wood which the lame vpon theyr cure left for a monument of the same, and one of waxe. Crutches 108. Great Waxen Tapers 10. Webbs of silk and cloath of gold 38. They found also many Pendants, Earrings, Braceletts, and other Ornaments belonging to woemen many pearles and other jewells which were sayd to haue bin offerd out of de­uotion. among which there were 450. gold rings, 70. siluer rings, 65. necklaces of gold, 31. of siluer, and diuers pre­tious stones. Nor must we omitt other chaynes though of iron, anchors, pi­kes, arrowes, swords, fauchons, &c. in­struments of hurts receiu'd and now monuments of miraculous cures.

And all these with in the space of little more then the first 20. yeares after his Translation, and before his Ca­nonization. What may we conceiue of the whole age or two next ensuing? to what a mass would they probably [Page 269] swell in two Centinaryes, when by his Canonization, and consequently in­crease of deuotion, he came to be better knowne and more religously wor­shippd, and consequently more profuse of his graces. Those to whome the for­feyture of all did escheat, when of Ca­tholique worshipp all became Prote­stant profanation, those, I say, could haue informd vs more exactly if they pleasd: for though they loue not Saints nor theyr Shrynes; yett they can both fingar and deuoure all the Donaryes which hang at them of what mettall soe­uer they be, without the least scruple of Conscience or indigestion.

According to the drift of my first de­signe heer should my Narratiue make an end, it being no part of my intention to bulk it further with his Miracles; and we haue touchd vpon all the chief passa­ges of his life which haue come to our knowledg. But because diuers particu­lars [Page 270] relating to his vertues could not be inserted in the sayd former passages; and that part of his life, his vertues I meane, imports vs most for our instruc­tion and imitation (for why do we write or read the liues of Saints but that we many imitate them) therfore I will make a briefe but fuller reuiew of some of the sayd his vertues, and illustrate and confirme them with such examples as I find vpon Record, with which I am furnishd by the forementiond Process, it being great pitty to depriue them of light.

XXII. CHAPTER. His Humility and Abstinence.

I Will heginn with his humility as the foundation and preseruer of all vertue and sanctity; the ground work on which all spirituall edification, that is, [Page 271] the House of Perfection is to be raysd. Nor is it onely the foundation but also the ciment or mortar of this building which giues a combynement and both vnity and vnion to all the parts by ma­king it one House; and this vnion is both the order and beauty of the struc­ture or whole. And in this it squares very propperly; for as the mortar not onely combynes, but lyes conceald and is not seen, so humility though it giue lustre to other vertues yett it conceales it selfe, carrying for its motto, „ama nesciri„ loue to lye conceald. What charity is in Theologicalls the same is humility in Moralls: as that perfects the former, so this the latter; in so much that neyther the vertue of pennance, nor mortification, nor obedience, of which S. Leo sayth, that nothing is hard to the humble, nor pouerty, nor pati­ence, nay nor euen charity it selfe can subsist without humility, synce this [Page 272] alone can ciment vpp the breaches of that, according to S. Bernard, ‘Sola humilitas lae [...]ae charitatis est reparatio.’ To build without this foundation is to build to ruine, synce no other without this can sustaine the Stress of such a machine as is spirituall perfection: who builds not on it builds on the superfi­ciall sands of self conceypt or some such like; and Consequently when a storme Luc. 6. 49, comes, and the winds blow, and the ray­nes fall, great will be the ruines of that House, as our Sauiour sayd, because it is not built on this Rock or ground­work.

It is propper to this vertue to empty our selues of our selues, that is, of self loue and self ease, a lazy humour which sowes a pillow, to euery elbow, and is allwayes leaning homewards, that is, not to seek God and his greater glory, but it selfe, hating to take paynes and vse diligence which is calld the mother [Page 273] of good success, a good issue seldom fay­ling the diligent. And humility is all­wayes such, nor indeed can it be other­wise, synce the care and sollicitude of the humble man is not bent vpon him­selfe, whome he deems vnworthy of any good, but on God, whose benepla­citum is his sole ioy, and to be accoun­ted a good seruant his onely happynes. Pride on the contrary allwayes seeks it selfe, as prizing nothing but it selfe, it being a meer lump of self loue; and pro­ceeds towards God as did that man to­wards Iupiter, who, giuing him halfe of all he had, eat the kernells of his nutts, and gaue him the shells. As humility emtyes vs of our selues so doth it re­plenish vs with God and his graces: for when we putt off our selues we putt on Alm. God, and where the Creature cea­ses to be, there succeeds the Creatour by a sequele morally necessary in the order of grace; as in that of nature, the [Page 274] ayre connaturally succeeds the substrac­tion of another body to hinder a va­cuity. For God who is euery where by his immensity has his propper mansion house, sayth S. Austin, in the hart of the humble: but then he will haue no in­mate besydes himselfe, he will not share Lodgings with any one, no not euen with the Land Lord himselfe.

I make this short Elogium of humi­lity to giue the less acquainted Reader a little knowledg of its worth: it was one of the gloryes of our Saint rendring him as acceptable to men as gratefull to God, and it is expressly noted in his life, that it gott him the loue of all. And no wonder; for the humble man incurrs no body's displeasure, synce he trench­eth neyther on theyr profitt nor cre­ditt: he contents himselfe with what he is, and deeming himselfe a meer no­thing he rests in that, and consequently is beneath enuy: wher as the proud self [Page 275] louer is vngratefull as contemning all and caring for no body but himselfe, be­cause he loues no body but himselfe, while the humble all besydes himselfe; and to loue is the way to be beloued. All his Comportment was seasond with this ingredient and carryd a strong rel­lish of it in his words, his actions, and behauiour, so that it was a vertue, as it ought, transcendentall through all. This gaue him that Candour of an inge­nuous simplicity so propper to Christian Conuersation and the Spiritt of God, in Vir sim­pl [...] & rectus. Gen. Iob. 1. heritted from these ancient Patriarchs Jacob, Job, and the rest, praysd by God in the first place for this; a vertue so opposite to all duplicity or double dea­ling, and consequently the Mother of integrity and vprightnes as well as all happynes, making his tongue and his hart goe both togeather. There is great difference betwixt simplicity and sim­plenes as the world takes it, which is so [Page 276] ignorant of this vertue, that it cannot distinguish betwixt in and folly; wher as it doth not exclude prudence but craft and duplicity. Prudence is its indiuduall Companion, and therfore our B. Sa­uiour wishd his Apostles to ioyne the prudence of the Serpent with the Sim­plicity of the doue: and how eminent­ly prudent our Saint was shall be shewd in the last Chapter. This humble sim­plicity made him so obsequious to all just Commands; for what teaches obe­dience but tractability, and tractability but humility, the onely disposition to subjection and subordination, as pride on the contrary is its opponent. We haue shewd already in the 13 Chapter, what a loue and respect he had for the poore, how he calld them his breethren, heard theyr Confessions before the Rich, made his table so open and Com­mon to them that it entertaynd somtimes 30. somtimes 40. 50. yea a 100. togea­ther; [Page 277] who, as he was as poore of spiritt as the most, so he lou'd like byrds of a feather to sort with them: and all this was a result of his humility which natu­rally branches into charity, seeking others more then it selfe. From this al­so was sourc'd his singular contempt both of himselfe and all that is specious in poynt of employment or preferr­ment: hence he reioyced so much at his deposing the Office of Lord Chancellour, as much, to witt, as others at its attaynment; and was the cause that his promotion to the Bishoprick of Hereford cost him so many teares, desyrous rather to lye hidd vnder a bushell then be sett in the Candlestick of the Church. Hence he was euer ready to pardon any delinquent vpon poynt of due submission and pardon demanded; and many times though the fault were theyrs, he would preuent them by way [Page 278] of example seeking friendship when they had broken it: but to the stubborn and incorrigible he was not easily re­concild. This vertue taught him also patience, which is soon lost admidst the Crosses of this world if it be not suppor­ted by humility which fitts our shoul­ders for euery burden, and perswades vs we beare no more then our due: whence it was that without repining he readily receiu'd all the personall affronts aboue mentiond in the 14. Chapter, without so much as offering at a Retalia­tion euen in word.

To his humility we may ioyne his Mortification and these two suite well togeather, and lend a mutuall hand to each other. For it is the humble man that is mortifyd, and the mortifyd hum­ble; humility by self contempt making way for mortification, and mortifica­tion aduancing humility. No man that is a self louer will sett vpon mortifica­tion [Page 279] vnles it be to destroy selfe loue, and who aymes at that besydes the humble selfe denyer. The aduantages of this vertue in order to sanctity, as it makes one truly master of himselfe and all his passions, appetites, inclinations, &c. are very great: for it is this vnruly and mu­tinous populace which giues vs all our disturbances and conflicts betwixt the spiritt and the flesh, while these seruants will needs be masters, and domineer ouer and against reason, putting all into a combustion. The Royall Prophett Psal, 31. 9. bids vs bind fast theyr cheeks in bridle and bitt, and this bitt or curb is mortifi­cation, they must eyther be hamperd thus or there is no ruling them. They are like fire and water good seruants but ill masters; giue them an inch and they'l take an ell; but keep them short, close to theyr task with in theyr bounds, and they'l doe you good ser­uice. Our B. Saint in his light and ex­perience [Page 280] found all this true, and ther­fore resolu'd to keep a strict hand and watchfull eye ouer them and all theyr motions, ready to suppress any insur­rections in this kind. And by internall mortification, which is much the no­bler, he preseru'd his mind in such a peacefull calme that one could scarse discouer any commotion to the contra­ry; in so much that he might seem to liue in a Region aboue flesh and blood, where neyther winds nor tempests haue access. And this is a thing fecible enough to the Seruant of God, if he make it his busynes and take it to hart, grace willingly seconding such endea­uours; and our Saint profited so much in this Kind, that, considering the e­quall tenour of his Conuersation, one might say he eyther neuer had passions, which is impossible in such a liuelynes of nature, or else kept them in a per­fect subjection to reason and vertue, [Page 281] which is no more then truth.

To this interiour Mortification he ioynd exteriour, as much facilitating the former, and rendring the flesh due­ly subordinate to the Spiritt; a thing ne­cessary for those who ayme at a perfect conquest ouer them selues; and this he practisd in a triple kind. First by hayr cloath and other austerityes to which he accustomd himselfe many yeares, and euen at his death, not contenting him­selfe with the incident sufferances of so long a journey, he was found with a hayr shyrt next his body and that of the rougher size. 2. by watching and sub­traction of sleep euen necessary, stin­ting himselfe to a very short pittance, which was much felt by those about him as cutting theyrs too short also: yett he made this a dayly custome, spen­ding the remnant of the night in prayer and reading of H. Scripture, or other such like pious exercises. 3. by a [Page 282] wonderfull abstemiousnes and sobriety of dyett, the propper food of Sanctity and refection of vertuous soules, by which they gather more strength and vigour then by the choysest dayntyes. Experience teaches too truly what an enemy gluttony and fullfeeding is to deuotion; how it indisposes the mind while it ouercharges the body, and makes it think more on the fleshpotts of Aegypt then the manna of Angells. A refection is necessary for the recruit of our decaying forces; a repletion, which rather oppresses then refreshes, neuer: he must content himselfe with necessa­ryes, and euen retrench them a little, who will auoyd superfluityes; this was the prayer of the Wiseman and must be Tan­tum victui meo tribue neces­saria. Prou. 30, 8, ours.

S. THOMAS knew well all the aduantages of a sober abstinence, and therfore his dyett was so spare, that his familiars did wonder how it could giue [Page 283] a competent sustenance to maintaine life, and this vsually. And thus much Bishopp Richard deposd in his Process vpon oath, asseuering with all that his abstinence was such, that one might truly say his whole life was a continuall fast. He made but one meale the day, and that with these short Commons, not for want of an appetite but to curb and mortify it; for being askd that que­stion by the sayd his successour who then sate next him, he confess'd inge­nuously that his stomack seru'd him for much more, and taking a good piece of a loafe in his hand, sayd, he could eat all that and with gust. To this rigour of quantity he added another of quality: if he tasted of any curious or costly dish that was all, then made it be carryd ey­ther to the sick or poore: his ordinary fare was of the homelyer sort, such as would satisfy nature not please the pal­lat, and his drink suitable, to witt, small [Page 284] beare. He seldome drunk wine vnles in a very small quantity, or much temperd with water; he neuer willingly drunk betwixt meales, and when the quality of the persons was such that it requird such a ciuility from him, he vsd pretty sleights and artifices to euade it, by see­ming to drink when he scarse touchd the Cupp. In his younger dayes and better health he was wont to fast good Friday and all the Eues of our B. Lady with bread and water, but afterwards when his stock of strenght would not beare that rigour, by the prescript of his Physitian he was for▪bid that, and ap­poynted to take a little broth. In Con­firmation of this his temperance a pretty passage is related by the aforesayd Bis­hop Richard who then was present: A Kinsman of our Saint and his Compa­nion for 20. yeares and vppwards, Wil­liam of Albenack sitting once at table with him, when all had done and it was [Page 285] taking away S. THOMAS espy'd him still eating some bread; with which a little surprizd, he sayd merrily to him; Old man, what art thou doing? I am eating, quoth he; and why now? re­plyd the Saint. Because, sayd the other, I find an appetite. What, sayd S. THO­MAS, and are you wont to eat as long as you find an appetite? yes, I profess, sayd William, and all do so that I know. All do so? sayd the Saint in a chiding tone, Marry God forbid: I can assure you in very truth that for 30. yeares till this day I haue not rise from table with a less appetite then when I sate downe. But this latter part he wisperd in his eare forbidding him to speak of it while he liu'd: and another story much to the same purpose stands vpon authentique record, and both are a great testimoniall of his abstemiousnes and sobriety.

XXIII. CHAPTER. His discharge of duty towards God and his Neighbour.

HIs humility and abstemiousnes fit­ted and disposd him rightly to­wards this discharge; the former by withdrawing him from self-loue, the latter from wordly, and these are the great obstructers of the loue of God, and cause of our slacknes in his seruice, it being certainly certaine that no body can serue two Maisters. This Reli­gious discharge is the work of our whole life, and consequently of grea­test concerne, implying both parts of Christian duty, to decline from euill and doe good, and doe good not how euer but after a good manner and as be­seems such a Majesty: for God loues not slubberd seruices, but wil haue [Page 287] them done as well with the hart as hand and tongue, or else they'l find a cold ac­ceptance. By a due complyance in this Kind we shew our loue to him, and this complyance in our Spirituall functions is calld Deuotion which is esteemd grea­ter or less as our performance is more feruorous or remiss. Deuotion is an ef­fect of loue, and an issue of diuine grace, which, if not sourc'd from these two is not esteemd genuine and currant, but to want of its graines of weight; and this may be counterfeyted as well as other vertues.

The subject of his deuotion, or his spirituall exercises relating immediately to Alm. God were chiefly Prayer, the H. Sacrifice of Masse, his Canonicall Houres or diuine Office; and in the discharge of these, he was not onely, sayth the Record, deuout but most de­uout, performing them with a most pro­found attention and Reuerence. Prayer [Page 288] is calld an Incense, and this inconse he was, I may say, continually offering ac­cording to the aduise of S. Paule, ‘sine Thess. 5. 17. intermissione orate,’ be allwayes pray­ing, not onely as each good work in the opinion of S. Basil, is a good prayer, but also by a more neer, interiour and familiar Conuersation with Alm▪ God by the powers of our soule, employing them not onely in a Consideration of his attributes but an vnion of will. And what could a pious hart nursd vpp in its baptismall grace, and consequently the throne and Aultar of the H. Ghost, Sa­crifice to so diuine a guest besydes pray­ers and prayses? the former to begg new blessings, the latter in thanks giu­ing, for them receiu'd. To attend the more freely to this, was the chiefe rea­son why he cutt his sleep so short and rise by night that he might watch and pray, and offer early a morning oblation to God and his Saints in an odour of [Page 289] sweetness, killing, as the Royall Pro­phet did, in the feruor of his prayer all Psal. 100. 8. the sinners of the earth. He knew that in a spirituall life no great matter could be atchieu'd or aduance made without this; and therfore he made it his dayly bread, and was much more frequently feeding his soule with it then his body with Corporall, deeming it the life which was to animate all his actions. We treated in the 12. Chapter of his Re­tyrement and vnion with God, and this vnion was chiefly effected by Prayer, and intimates a frequent and constant practise of the same euen to an intimate familiarity, whose result it is.

Euen before he was Bishop he was particularly noted for his singular Reue­rence and Deuotion in reciting Diuine office, which argues a true feeling of Spiritt and the presence of Alm. God: in which his exteriour Composure of body and attention of mind was such, [Page 290] that it was of great edification to the be­holders. Thus he begunn, thus he per­seuerd vntill the end fullfilling exactly what our H. Mother the Church re­quires of vs for a due discharge of that great function, and it were to be wishd all those to whome this obligation is in­cumbent, were imitatours of the same. He was most exact in the administration of the Sacraments, and performance of Ecclesiasticall Ceremonyes, so mixing piety with a Majestick grauity, that both the one and other begott a Reue­rentiall esteem towards those Sacred Rytes in them that were present. But aboue all he was most singularly deuo­ted to the H. Sacrifice of Masse; heer his deuotion seemd to triumph and he at the Aultar to be in his Center, so full was his hart fraught with pious affec­tions, with such a spiritt of humility and Contrition did he approach it, such an ample testimony heeroff did he giue by [Page 291] his abundance of teares, that one would haue thought he had rather, sayth the Record, actually be held the bloody Sa­crifice it selfe, and his Lord and Sauiour therin immolated, then an vnbloody and Mysticall representation of the same; an argument both of his liuely fayth and ardent charity. To indulge the more to these pious affections he gaue heer ample scope to his deuotion much be­yond the ordinary stint of halfe an houre, letting his soule feed at leasure on these sweet Mysteryes; and Alm. God did so concurr, that he was fre­quently alienated from his senses and as it were in a rapture, so that it was ne­cessary for the seruer (who deposd this vpon oath) to cough and make a noyse to bring him to himselfe and make an end of his Mass: and this, sayth the same, happend frequently while he liu'd at Rouen, from the feast of S. Peter ad Vincula till the feast [Page 292] of S. Michael next ensuing.

To shew how acceptable this his piety in the H. Sacrifice and other spi­rituall deuoyrs was to Alm. God, it pleasd his diuine Majesty to grace him particularly at the same with a fauour which all that were present attributed to Miracle, and as such it was approu'd by the Lords Commissioners and those that beheld it. On the feast of Pente­cost or Whitsunday he was inuited by Edmund Earle of Cornwall, a great ad­mirer of his Sanctity, to Celebrate the feast and say Mass at his Castle of Wal­lingford, and it happend in the second or third yeare of his Pontificate. While he was preparing and disposing him­selfe therto by singing the Hymne „Veni Creator Spiritus; vpon the en­tonement of the first verse, a flock of byrds in the sight and hearing of all, with Musicall notes and beating theyr wings against the Chappell windowes [Page 293] seemd to applaud the Saint while he sung, and he hauing ended they retyrd while the Quire prosecuted what he had enton'd till the end of the strophe. But he entoning the first verse of the second they returnd againe, and while he sung, both with voyce and wing they accompanyd him and applauded as before; and soe strophe after strophe till the hymne was ended. This seemd a great Nouelty to the sayd Earle and all that beheld it which were many; and to satisfy themselues the better, they went out of the Chappell abroad, and had a full sight of them judging them to be about 40. and beheld them Coming and going as before, nor could inter­prett such an vnusuall thing neuer ob­seru'd before nor after, otherwise, then as orderd by God to wittnes the sanctity of our Saint and the acceptablenes of the great work he was about. Then it was that the Earle in the hearing of [Page 294] all, Bishop Richard then Chancellour of Hereford being present, made that expression cited in the end of the 18. Chapter of his singular Confidence in the prayers and patronage of S. THO­MAS, no less then in those of our great Apostle S. Austin.

The liuely fayth and high esteem he had of the dignity of this diuine Sacri­fice, as it made him recollect all his po­wers and attention for its better perfor­mance, so it made him waue all huma­ne respects when he was about it, not admitting any interruption whatsoeuer, not euen from the King himselfe, though otherwise most obseruant and submis­siue to his Commands. It happend once that while he was ready to vest, a Mes­singer came in all hast from the King to call him to Councell without delay vpon matters of great importance, (and it was his office to attend he being of the Priuy Councell:) What must he [Page 295] doe? after a short pause he calls the Messinger, who was a Priest, wishing him to tell his Majesty, if he pleasd, in these tearmes; That he was now en­gagd in the seruice of one greater then himselfe, who requird his present atten­dance; but when I haue, sayd he, dis­chargd my duty to him I will not fayle to wayt on his Majesty. After all done and his deuotions ended he repayrd im­mediately to Court then keept at the Pallace at Westminster; and receiuing a gentle rebuke for his delay, the matter was proposd and discus'd: in the hand­ling wheroff he deliuerd his aduise so pertinently, and suggested beyond the rest such expedients so patt and fecible, that all without reply embracd them as sent from heauen. And the King ouer­ioyd heer with, is sayd to haue spoken to him in these words: Many blessings, my Lord, light vpon you, and euer praysd and magnifyd be that highest [Page 296] master whome you serue, and long may you serue both him and vs. So true it is that if we seek in the first place the Kingdome of heauen and its justice, not fayling of our duty in that, all these se­condaryes will be cast into the bargaine.

I will conclude the loue he shewd to God by the religious performance of these his Spirituall obligations, with the deuotion he carry'd to his Saints, and chiefly to the Queen of Saints the Vir­gin Mother. The Prouerb sayth, loue me and loue my friend; and God sayth, loue me and loue my Saints, my dearest friends; and deseruedly: for how can they be sayd to loue him who loue not those that are one with him? In his loue to our B. Lady I will comprize all the rest, and although this were notedly great, that is, so great, that he was pu­bliquely noted for it, yett we haue not much left vpon Record wherby to il­lustrate and amplify it. This not with­standing, [Page 297] if we may measure the Lion by his Clawe, and guess at Hercules by his foot, we haue sufficient hynts or grounds both to informe and inflame vs to his imitation in this particular. I haue shewd aboue out of authentique Re­cords, that in his younger dayes he was wont to fast the Vigills of her feasts with bread and water, which custome he continu'd till want of health disabled him therto: and what greater expres­sion of a tender deuotion could he exhibite? The expression is as extra­ordinary as is the fast, and the fast speakes as much deuotion as a fast can doe, and ranks it with the tenderest. He chuse her Natiuity, as I noted aboue, for his Episcopall Consecration, recei­uing that sacred Character vnder her patronage; and diuers apparitions of her with him after death in a ioynt Concur­rence of both to the cure of many, shew how deare he was to her during life. [Page 298] And I find that abroad he carry'd the Common esteem of one singularly de­uoted to her, and was poynted at as her particular client; and this perswasion wrought so farr with some, that they vsd it for motiue of mediation to ob­tayne what they desyrd, beseeching him for the loue and deuotion he bore her to grant theyr request. And to this pur­pose it is recounted of one who before had bin of his houshold, and falling into a great fitt of sicknes for ten weeks space, 3. wheroff he passd sleeples, tur­ning himselfe to the Saint, he earnestly besought him for the loue he bore to the Mother of God, that he would obtaine for him the benifitt of sleeping. This sayd, he fell into a slumber, and in it thought he saw two men bring into his Chamber a very fine bed, in which being layd by them he sleept soundly and quiettly till the morning; when being awakd and missing the bed, [Page 299] though he was more then a little con­cernd that it should be carryd away, yett neuer the less he found himselfe quite Cur'd of his infirmity, and vpon the score of the Saints deuotion to our B. Lady.

As for his loue towards his Neigh­bour, I had rather waue then mention it, as not able to treat of it in that due manner I ought and it deserues: not but that it was mainly great in it selfe, but time and records haue bin so injurious as not to conuey the particulars to our knowledg; and in these things we must not goe by guess but certaine relation. Who can rationally doubt but that he who was a flaming furnace of loue to­wards God, was enkindled with the same towards his Neighbour for loue of God? Or he that playd the good Shea­pard for 7. yeares to geather in feeding his flock, had not a tender loue for the same flock, without which he had [Page 300] prou'd himselfe rather a Mercenary hyreling then good Sheapard? Or if he were so zealously couragious for the maintenance and Recouery of his Church Lands and Libertyes, would he not be much more sollicitous for her childrens soules and saluation? If he took her dead Concerns so much to hart, how much more would he her li­uing; if he were so charitably charita­ble after death in the cure of theyr bo­dyes, how much more while he hu'd in curing theyr soules? We know that he was assiduous in preaching and teach­ing, in reconciling enmityes, in hinder­ing debates, in administring justice, in promoting piety, in depressing vice, in redressing abuses, in administring the Sacraments, &c. but what's all this to his boundles zeale, which not conten­ting it selfe with obligatoryes would branch into supererogatoryes: and none of these latter are come to our [Page 301] knowledg besydes what is already spe­cifyd. I cannot satisfy my selfe as to what I would and ought to say on this poynt, and therfore I pass to the next.

XXIV. CHAPTER. Of his Purity of body and mind.

AMong all the vertues which like so many Starrs embellishd our Saint, 3. seem Conspicuously eminent aboue the rest, and as I may say, of the first magnitude. One was his zeale and courage in the vindication and mainte­nance of his Churches Libertyes; and of this we haue treated in the 15. Chap­ter. The second his parsimony and so­briety of dyett to such a degree of Spare­nes, and mortification of his appetite, that he might be sayd, as we mentiond a little before, to haue obseru'd for ma­ny yeares of his life a strict Ecclesiasti­call fast; and of this in the 22. The [Page 302] third was a wonderfull innocency of life, by which he is thought to haue pre­seru'd the baptismall garment of his soule pure and vnspotted all his life long, at least from any mortall stayne; a pri­uiledg granted not to many, and this I call his Purity of body and mind, and shall be the subjectt of this Chapter.

This purity is that cleanes of hart to which our B. Sauiour affixd a beati­tude, and in its beames our B. Saint saw God so present in all his actions, that he was ashamd as well as reuerentially afrayd to offend him: whence it made him sollicitous to walk like a child of light; and the Apostle tells vs that theyr Eph. 5. 9. journey and progress is in all goodnes, and justice, and truth. Whence it was that the Royall Prophett desyrd so Psal. 50. 62. much to haue a cleane hart created in him; for such as is the hart such is the whole man, and God who so earnestly Couetts our hart will eyther haue a pure [Page 303] one or none. This is the eye of man which if it be simple the whole body will be lightsome, if troubled and ob­scure, darksome: and if the light that's in vs, sayth our Sauiour, be darknes, Matt. 6. 23. how great and lamentable must that needs be. This is the reason why the Wiseman aduises vs to guard our hart with all diligence, because it is the Ori­ginall house of life as well Spirituall as Corporall, the chiefe seat of life and the H. Ghost, whose throne it is. What is engenderd heer must be like that of pearles by the pure dew of heauen with­out speck or blemmish, one dropp of salt water causes a miscarriage: and as the Spouse feeds and lyes not but a­mong lillyes, so if we couett his Com­pany at bed and bord, this must be his entertainment: euen a discomposd cast of an eye will make him quitt the Company; for Diuine Wisdome will Sap. 1. 4. not enter into a maleuolous soule, [Page 304] nor dwell in a body subject to Sinn.

To this due preseruation of the hart and maintenance of purity, there must be a joynt Concurrence of both the parts of man, body and soule, nor will the one be able to effect it whithout the other, it being a result of both. One flaw spoyles the worth of a iewell, one distorted limb or wenn a beautifull bo­dy; perfection Consists in an integrity of the parts and whole: and this was the care and sollicitude of our Saint to com­byne both his in this respect into a Common interest; nor did he endea­uour it by fitts and spurts, but was the constant practise of his life, and who euer aymes at it, his solid resolution must be like that of the Ermin, ‘Malo mori quam faedari ’ rather dye then suffer a blemmish. To effect this was the grand work of our B. Saint, as it is of all those who intend to serue God in syncerity and purity: and to Compass [Page 305] it the better he keept a strict eye vpon both and theyr proceedings, by a due inquiry into them, and sett for that end watch and ward vpon all the auenues which lead therto, securing himselfe thus against all surprizes, by a due intelli­gence of all that pasd, admitting the good rejecting the bad. By this dili­gence he enioyd a perfect peace both at home and abroad, nor in his interiour did he find eyther mutiny or insurrec­tion; and whoeuer will imitate this his mannagement of such affayres shall ex­perience the same. By this wary watch­fullnes, and the assistance of a good Spi­rituall Directour in his beginnings or younger dayes, he preseru'd himselfe so vnderild both in body and soule, the grace of Alm. God Cooperating, that he deseru'd from the same his Di­rectour in his now declining age that publique Elogium of his integrity which I mentiond in the 10. Chapter: which [Page 306] by aduancing from vertue to vertue he was still Consummating euen till death.

This was one reason why he treated his crazy body so seuerely both by absti­nence and other chastisements; know­ing right well that to haue it a dutifull seruant it must be keept vnder and at task, least through idlenes getting head it become vnruly and play the wanton, debauching the soule to its licentious­nes, to which our corrupt nature too much inclines it. This flesh of ours is the worst naturd creature vpon earth, a meer diuell to our, and its owne vn­doing; it cares for no body but it selfe, and thats the propperty of self loue, neuer regarding what woe it work the soule so it can Compass its desyres and please its appetites: it is little concernd eyther for heauen or hell, creditt or dis­creditt, friend or foe; and what doe we in pampering such a one, but make [Page 307] much of a churlish curr which will one day doe his best to pull out our throat, that is, vndoe vs: the way to cast out this Diuell is that which our Sauiour prescribes, „in jejunio & oratione„ Matt. 17. 20. in fasting and prayer. He added to this by way of preuention a shunning of conuersation with woemen (occasion they say makes a thiefe, and he that tou­ches pitch shall be defil'd by it) euen his owne Sisters, as much as could stand with Common ciuility; not permitting them to lodge aboue one night in his pallace, and then his custome was to leaue it himselfe, and diuert to some of his maunour houses. He had a horrour of all speeches glauncing at leuity, nor durst any in his presence scatter such smutty jeasts, much less vtter broad rib­aldry without the penalty of a sound check: a language much vnbeseeming Christian Conuersation, as made vpp onely of the dreggs of witt, fitt onely in­deed [Page 308] for the mouth of a bargman, though not a little in vogue among many world lings. The loue of this vertue made him conceiue a perfect hatred and hor­rour of the contrary vice, and as both the impious and his impiety is abomi­nable to God, so had he not onely a loathing of the latter, but also an auer­sion from the former and those he knew to be giuen to the same, nor could he affect them further then Christian cha­rity commanded, though otherwise his neerest allyes. This he made euident by his Carriage towards a nephew of his one for whome he had a great kind­nes so long as he did well, maintaining him in the Uniuersity, making him his Confident, and would certainly haue done very much for him. But vnder­standing that he was become loose of behauiour and not so chast in his wayes, he totally withdrew his affection, and though much pressd to take him along [Page 309] in his journey to Rome, no perswasion could preuaile; on which subject he expressd himselfe to this effect. These young men, sayd he, are not now a­dayes so bashfull and modest as heerto­fore: for when I was such a one, if a handsome woman had lookd me in the face, I should presently haue bin putt to the blush, turnd my eyes from her, (they are words of the Record) or pulld my hatt ouer them, that eyther I should not haue seen her or shee mee; but now things goe farr otherwise: nor could he euer be induc'd to receiue him into fa­uour or familiarity. This vertue of An­gelicall purity was so conspicuous in him that the Prayer vsd in the office of his feast petitions by it graces from God, and that by its meritts we may deserue to be associated to the quires of Angells; and the first lesson of the same Office calls him Angelicus homo, an Angeli­call man.

And the loue and esteem he had for this vertue was not onely verball or from the teeth outwards, but he made good in deed what he professd in word: and Alm. God was pleasd to permitt Cer­tamen forte dedit ei ut vince­ret. Sap. [...]0. 12. some trialls in this kind, and to giue him a strong Combatt for the greater glory of his victory. While he liu'd at Paris, he like another chast Joseph was assaul­ted in the same as dangerously as im­pudently; and he like him forc'd to flye and leaue his cloak behind him, nor can that flight by deemd disgracefull when by it we gett the victory. He gott it, and in this was more happy then Joseph that he wonn not onely the Combatt but also the Tempter into the bargaine, reclayming her to a chast life from her impudent lubricity, and so deseru'd a double reward. Such a chast body was fitt to be the consort of so pure a soule to make vpp an Angelicall Compound: and its but meet that such a jewell of pu­rity [Page 311] should be keept in a suitable Cabi­nett that both parts might beare propor­tion and mutually correspond. A Chri­stian ought to trayne vpp his body to immortality, and labour to leaue it such in life and death as he desyres to find it in the Resurrection; such that it may be acknowledgd and ownd for a Member of Chtist as indeed it is, and what a shame then is it, as the Apostle argues, to make it the member of a har­lott. Our B. Saint vnderstood this right well both as to proportion, decency, and other aduantages which thence ac­cru'd, and therfore he made it allwayes his busynes to procure and maintaine a good Correspondence betwixt both.

Now he that was so industrious in the Cultiuating and preseruation of his body what would he be for his soule and Conscience? the other's but the seruant, this the Mistress; that but the Shell, this the Pearle; and he knew [Page 312] very well how to giue euery one its due. All he was to doe in this kind was to keep it to Christian duty according to his state, to cultiuate it in piety and the seruice of God sowing in it the seeds of all vertues; and how he did this euen in his youth, and in what a nice and delicate temper he keept it, maybe knowne by what we related in the end of the 5. Chapter of the vine­propp taken out of anothers vineyard, and the 7. yeares pennance he did for the same.

Whence we may gather how Ange­lically pure that delicate soule was which checkd so feelingly at so small a matter, and how farr it was from har­bouring any great offence which deemd the least to be so great. Nor yett was it one of those which flea a gnatt and swallow a Camell according to the ex­pression of our B. Sauiour, or stumbles at a straw and leaps ouer a block; but [Page 313] pure illuminated soules in theyr quick-sightednes can espye a blemmish where a dimm eye of a grosser Complexion makes no discouery at all. This was the Constitution of his mind and tenour of proceeding when he was now in the flower of his youth, and nature pronest to lubricity, where nothing but the spe­ciall grace of God in an eminent sancti­ty could work such effects so opposite to nature and aboue it. And as he went allwayes aduancing to Sanctity euen till death, so did he also in purity, sanctity, as S. Anselme defines out of S. Denys, being a most perfect and vnspotted pu­rity free and entyre from all blemmish, and to what a pitch of eminency must he needs arriue! I shall conclude all in this, that he liu'd and dy'd a pure Virgin both in body and mind.

XXV. and last CHAPTER. Of his Justice and Prudence.

BOth these are Cardinall Vertues, and when I haue shewd with what a rich stock our Saint traded in them, I shall haue made him Conspicuous in in all fower. As for his temperance and fortitude I haue already giuen a charac­ter of them; the former while I treated of his abstinence, the latter of his cou­rage and magnanimity in defence of his Church. As to what we treat of at pre­sent, he had great practise of the former, to witt Iustice, in both his Chancellor­ships, and dischargd his trust with such integrity that all partyes concernd were abundantly satisfyd. And he took the true way to doe it; for he sought it, not himselfe; and made its advance his end, not his owne, nor the enrichment of [Page 315] his estate: while others peruersly in­uert true order by taking the quite con­trary course. The ordering of this de­pends much vpon the well or ill orde­ring of theyr owne Conscience, which must be the beame of the ballance, and to be right, stand allwayes perpendicu­lar, inclining neyther to one syde or other but as the scales sway it, in the one wheroff must be justice, in the o­ther the thing controuerted; to the end an eeuen and vnpartiall hand may be keept. It were much to be wishd that all distributers of justice did this; more indeed to be wishd then hopd for, while so many make a trade of selling what they ought to giue, and gratis; theyr honesty becoming venall to auarice, and them selues imitatours of Iudas, who as he sold his Master so they theyr Mistress, for what are all in office but her Ser­uants and Ministers; that which Cap­tiuated the other Captiuates them, per­uerts [Page 316] theyr sense, and misleads them from the paths of equity. This proceeds from being not so well principled in poynt of Conscience and justice, which goe allwayes hand in hand togeather, and are attended by vprightnes and syn­cerity: and thus our B. Saint walkd in them with the Common approbation of all, guided not by the dictamens of this world but Diuine Wisdome, by whose Prou. 8. 15, direction all both Lawgiuers and Admi­nisters of justice decree and execute just things.

Thus he purchasd that vogue of in­tegrity which euery where accompa­ny'd his proceedings, growing vpp with him euen from his youth, and so habi­tually rooted and relucent in all his car­riage, that it is noted as the prime Mo­tiue why he was chosen first to the Chancelorship of the Vniuersity and then of the whole Kingdome. And Certainly such an integrity of justice [Page 317] is an excellent Cemmendatory to pre­ferment, as giuing great aduantages to a full discharge of trust, and strange it is that men do not take this way to Com­pass it when they seek so greedily after it. If naturall abilityes be so much regarded, how much more in all reason ought su­pernaturall? if witt, how much more vertue? Witt without vertue and grace degenerates for the most part into Craft, and turnes publique justice into priuate ends and selfseeking. Euen those that are not vertuous are great admirers of it in others, as being praise worthy in a very enemy: and synce no body but loues to haue theyr things well done, and nothing Contributes more then it to theyr welldoing; as they willingly Couet the former so they are forward in preferring the latter. Besydes that Honours and Offices are Commonly at the disposall of the honorable, or per­sons of honour and integrity; and who [Page 318] stand more cleare in theyr eye, or are deem'd better deseruing, or lastly by whome are they like to haue more cre­ditt and satisfaction then by the vpright­ly just and vertuous? This vertue is par­ticularly specifyd in the ancient Les­sons of his Office, where he is sayd to haue bin ‘in justis operibus semper de­votus allwayes much deuoted to the practise of justice:’ and elswhere in the same, ‘Iura Ecclesiae suae viriliter de­fendebat indutus justitia ut Lorica’ he couragiously defended the Rights of his Church armd with justice as with a breast plate. And this repute purchasd him such a name that it sett him as it were out of the reach of temptation; and he in reality so abhorrd any thing in its administration which lookd like a bribe, that he was a frayd euen of its shadow. It is particularly recounted that certaine Religious men, who had a suite depen­ding at Law, applyd themselues to him [Page 319] for his fauour and furtherance in the dispatch of the same, and therto presen­ted him with a jewell of value; which he rejected not without indignation, asking them whether they thought him to be wonn with guifts. Theyr inten­tion questionles was good, and aymd at no more then a reedeming of the de­layes of the Law, not a buying of it, which they knew could not be sold: but a Iudge must auoyd euen suspicions in this kind, chusing rather to sitt with­out a lawfull gaine then haue it with ha­zard of dishonesty; better is a good name, sayth the Wiseman, then great Prou. 22. 1. riches. One in that office who car­ryes himselfe so religiously, where so many eyes are vpon him, as not to be taxd by any, it is a great euidence that he discharges his trust vprightly. In the Vniuersity he had the same Character, and that was a stepp to the other pro­motion where he gaue as ample satis­faction [Page 320] by a just performance of his of­fice in promoting learning, aduancing vertue, exacting Discipline, redressing abuses, punishing offenders, maintain­ing priu [...]ledges, complying in fine with all poynts of duty, so that he also might carry for his discharg or motto, ‘bene Marc. 7. 37. omnia fecit’ he did all well. It was chiefly for the esteem they had of his justice and piety that he was made Chancellor of the Vniuersity, and for these particularly was he praysd publick­ly in the same by Robert Arch Bishop of Canterbury, affirming that in all his iudiciall Acts relating to the Students he was neyther swayd with fauour of feare, but regulated himselfe meerly by justice and the meritts of the cause.

In administring justice, what he did by himselfe, the dictates of a good Con­science inusolably keept, would not lett him swarue from a vertuous reason; and in what he was forcd to entrust [Page 321] others with all, he burdend theyr Con­sciences (the onely tye to him that ownes one) to a faythfull discharge, as they would answere it at Gods tribunal. When complaynts were made against his Bayliffs or other Officers, he took the matter to his owne scanning, and if he found them faulty he was not con­tent with punishing them, but reuok▪d and annulld what they had vnjustly done, causing satisfaction to be made to the injurd partyes. When euer he ap­prehended a concerne of justice in any cause he was so resolute for its vindica­tion and maintenance, that he wan'd all other considerations: whence it was that in his Law-suites for the Recouery of his Church Lands, mentiond aboue in the 15. Chapter, though the power of his aduersaryes were formidable enough, and the issue on that respect doubtfull, yett he could neuer be brought to harken to any vnderhand [Page 322] composition, though more perchance for his priuate interest. The Earle of Glocester when he preceiu'd himselfe cast in Law offerd round summs of mo­ney to lett the suite fall: Peter Corbett did the same on a like occasion; and Roger Lord Clifford, as knowing him­selfe more lyable to the Law (for he in time of warr had taken the then Bishop of Hereford prisoner meerly to extort a ransome from him) labourd to redeem his publique pennance with a 100. ster­ling (a great summe in those dayes,) but the Saint was inflexible to all such motions, resolu'd to leaue all to the Course of Justice. In the publique in­terest he as Counsellour had in affayres, he obseru'd that the Jewes, permitted then to liue promiscously, were very pernicious to the State, not onely for counterfeyting false Coyne, but also by reason of theyr vsurarious extorsions by which they eat-out the estates of theyr [Page 323] debters to theyr vtter vndoing. Wher vpon he preuaild with the King that some fitt men might be appoynted to preach to them, and if they would still remayne obstinate, that then they should quitt the Realme. They vnder­stood what was doing and 500. of them, sayth the Record, came in a body to him, offering large summes of money if he would desist: but they missd much of theyr mark, nor found him like some others capable of a bribe; his answere was, they were enemyes to God and Rebells to fayth, nor could euer gaine his good will but by becoming good Christians.

I will conclude this Corallary of our Saints vertues and Narratiue of his life with that which consummated all into perfection, his prudence: this deserued­ly accompany's justice and is its asso­ciate, synce this orders what that execu­tes. Prudence is stiled by the Wiseman [Page 324] the Science of Saints, a Science without which the greatest learning is igno­rance and Wisdome folly; and it Con­sists, sayth the Prince of Diuines, in a due Election of Mediums and ordering them to our finall End, the Compassing wheroff is our finall beatitude, and con­sequently Consummate Wisdome. This is its great Act or Master piece, and from hence imparts its influence into the Common concerns and mannagement of all our proceedings, giuing them weight, and squaring them according to Christian vertue. This part of Diuine Wisdome grew vpp with our Saint from his childhood; and that it might not degenerate into Craft (a hand-mayd Issue that will needs like Ismael stand in Competition with the Legitimate Isaac) he ioynd simplicity with it to exclude all duplicity or double dealing, the onely art by which craft thriues; knowing right well the truth of that Common [Page 325] saying, ‘Prudens simplicitas densa feli­citas’ Prudent simplicity fertil feli­city, and what a rich Cropp is to be reapd thence! It is recorded of him that he was of an eminent prudence and had a deep insight into all sorts of affayres as well temporall as Spirituall: and why not? the light of grace doth neyther dazell nor ouercast but rather cleare vpp the sight of our judgment, and when supernaturall light is added to Naturall it must needs perfect and improue, synce an inferiour can neuer suffer an allay by mixing with a superiour, as brass or syl­uer with gold. Whence I conclude that the greatest Saints are fittest to make the gratest Statesmen, not onely be­cause they are freeest from Corruption, and least swayd with passion and inte­rest (two great blinders of judgment) but also for the singular aduantage theyr na­turall abilityes receiue from the light and assistance of diuine grace. Whence [Page 326] it is obseruable in our Historyes that in Catholique times Learned Bishops and vertuous Prelates were employd ordi­narily both at home and abroad in the mannagement of weightyest affayres: and who, I pray, more knowing then they, or ought to be of greater inte­grity?

As a generall opinion acquird by his just and vpright Carriage preferrd him to the Chancellorship of the Vniuersity, so his prudent demeanment in the same, made King Harry the 3. preferr him to that of the Kingdome. And though vpon that good Kings death at his owne earnest request he were licenc'd by his Sonn Edward to relinquish it, yett he keept him still of his Priuy Councell; and how much he esteemd his aduise is seen by what we recounted in the 23. Chapter. He that could wade through the deep affayres of two Chan­cellorships and a Bishoprick, and keep [Page 327] still aboue the waters of any dislike or dissatisfaction, where so many sinke, must needs haue bin supported with a great prudence. The meanes he vsd for this support was to haue knowing and conscientious men about him, who vnderstood both what in prudence was to be done and would execute it honestly: and when, all Circumstan­ces duely weighd, he found that ac­cording to the Dictates of prudence and Conscience this was to be effected or that omitted, he stuck so close to his principles that neyther feare nor re­spect could moue him in the least; and this we confirm'd with an example in the 8. Chapter. We must also Consider the times in which hee bore the aforesayd Offices most vn­quiett and turbulent, and to keep sure footing on such slippery ground argues a great prudence and wisdome: it argues that he could Master both [Page 328] the times and himselfe, not they him.

And now hauing giuen as good á Character of this vertue in our Saint as my breuity and informations will allow, it is time to make an end: and though I haue sayd little in regard of what might be sayd, yett I think I say much to its and his Commendation, when I shew that by it he orderd both his Spirituall and temporall Concerns so, as to proue himselfe a great Saint in the former, and a great Statesman in the latter. In his declining age, especially after he was made Bishop, he withdrew himselfe as much as he could from all worldly em­ployments, the more to apply himselfe to heauenly, and that was the greatest poynt of prudence which euer he exer­cisd, teaching him that the Kingdome of heauen was to be sought in the first place and aboue all. For what will it auaile one to gaine the whole world if [Page 329] he loose heauen and his owne soule, or with what exchange will he be able to redeem that loss? What matters it if one enioy all the pleasures of the world, all the treasures of the world, and all its highest preferrments if he haue not hea­uen at the end of them? that is to say, what matters it to enioy heer a seeming momentary happynes, and be most vn­happy heerafter for all eternity? To be truly prudent is to be prudent to eter­nity, and so was our Saint, and who euer is not thus prudent proues himselfe a very foole.

True prudence guides to true hap­pynes; as there is no true happynes but eternall, so neyther true prudence but which leads to this eternity. This is true prudence indeed, its great Act and Master piece; at which all our practicall prudence in this great manna­gement must leuell as at its finall scope, and the purchase of all our endea­uours [Page 330] in this lifes Commerce. As nothing less then eternity will doe our work, that is, make vs eternally happy, so must we acquiesce in no other, none but that being truly satiatiue, and all the rest an empty shadow. The prudence of the flesh, sayth the Apostle, is death, Rom. 8. 6. and operates it: the wisdome of this world, sayth the same, is folly with God; that Cannot be a guide of our 1. Cor. 3. 19. proceedings. Ours must be refin'd aboue the world and death, the issue of diuine Wisdome, and therfore is calld by it the Science of Saints, ‘Scientia Prou. 10. Sanctorum prudentia.’ This Science our B. Saint study'd all his life long, and learnd more true knowledg out of it, then he did out of all the Philosophy of Aristotle, or Idaeas of Plato. He learnd to be vertuous, to keep a good Con­science, his duty towards God, his Neighbour, and himselfe, to subdue sense to reason, and the whole man to [Page 331] the Obedience of the Diuine Law. He learnd to preferr a solid happynes before a seeming one, eternity before time, the soule before the body, and God and his Seruice aboue all. Christ our B. Saui­our Matt. 10. 16. sends vs to the Serpent to learne this prudence; and it teaches vs a twofold: to expose the whole body to saue the head, the seat of life; and so must wee all our externall goods, body and all, for the preseruation of our fayth and safety of our Soules. The Serpent, say Natu­ralists, stopps one eare with its tayle the other it clapps close to the ground, so to become deafe to charmes and en­chantments; and prudence bidds vs imitate this amidst the enchantments of Sinnfull pleasures, (according to that of the 57. Psalme) to which our Corrupt nature inclines. Common errours lead the way, Custome like a torrent carry's vs head long, and engulfs vs in a sea of Spirituall Miseryes. To these two we [Page 332] may add a third; and it is, that the Ser­pent by forcing her passage through a narrow Cranny stripps her selfe of her old coat and togeather of her old age and so becomes young. Wee by en­deauouring, as our Sauiour aduises, to Luc. 13. 24. enter by the narrow gate may effect the same, and, stripping our selues of inue­terate habitts, putt on a newnes of life. Let vs learne at least to auoyd gross mis­takes against prudence, if we cannot all. Euen Common prudence bidds vs se­cure the mayne Concern when we cannot all particulars, it being accoun­ted no indiscretion to hazard something to saue the whole. What is our main Concern but our Soule? if we loose that we loose all: to venture a limb to saue our life is a dictate of nature; and to exspose both body and estate to saue our Soule is a Certain Maxime of grace. If we must quitt eyther a lease for life, or an inhereritance, it would be deemd [Page 333] madnes to part with the latter to secure the former, this being as much in its Kind as to exchange pearles for peebles and gold for Clinquant; and is the same when euer Soule and body, time and eternity, heauen and this world come into Competency. To make heer a right Election is the part of prudence; and our glorious S. THOMAS both did it and teaches vs to doe it, and of all the vertuous lessons of his whole life none then this is more important, none more prudent. God in his grace and light giue vs strength to make the same re­solues, and execute them with an equall fidelity. Amen.