Part 1

THE POETICAL WORKS OF

THOMAS TRAHERNE

THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS TRAHERNE 1636?-1674

FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPTS

EDITED BY BERTRAM DOBELL

_WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR_

SECOND EDITION

"I give you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball, It will lead you in at Heaven's gate Built in Jerusalem's wall."

_William Blake_

"Heaven lies about us in our infancy."

_William Wordsworth_

LONDON PUBLISHED BY THE EDITOR 77 CHARING CROSS ROAD, W.C. 1906

TO

G. THORN DRURY

My youth was ever constant to one dream, Though hope failed oft--so hopeless did it seem-- That in the ripeness of my days I might Something achieve that should the world requite For my existence; for it was a pain To think that I should live and live in vain: And most my thoughts were turned towards the Muse, Though long she did my earnest prayers refuse, And left me darkling and despairing; then By happy chance there came within my ken A hapless poet, whom--I thank kind fate!-- It was my privilege to help instate In that proud eminence wherein he shines Now that no more on earth he sadly pines. This was a fortune such as I must ever Be thankful for--yet still 'twas my endeavour, With what, I hope, was no unworthy zeal, My life-work with some other deed to seal, And lo! when such a dream might well seem vain, Propitious fate smiled on me once again, And through the mists of time's close-woven pall A glint of light on one dim form did fall, Which, as I gazed more earnestly, became A living soul, discovered by the flame Of glowing inspiration which possessed Even now, as when he lived, the poet's breast. Did I deceive myself? Could it be true A new poetic star was in my view, And shining with a lustre bright and clear, Where, constellated in the heavenly sphere, Herbert and Vaughan, Crashaw and Milton shine With varying brightness, yet alike divine? I gazed again, but still that star burned on, And ever with a deeper radiance shone, Until I knew no Will-o'-th'-Wisp's false light, No meteor delusive mocked my sight, But 'twas indeed a fulgent planet which Henceforth shall with its beams the heavens enrich.

Some vanity, I know, is in this strain, But men may be with reason sometimes vain: Shall he alone who does a worthy deed Not pay himself, if so he will, that meed Of self-applause from which all virtues spring,-- Without it who would do a noble thing? So let the world arraign me as it will, It cannot now my satisfaction chill, Since you, dear friend! and all whose praise I prize, Look on my labours with approving eyes.

This book to you 'tis fit I dedicate Since you, my friend, so well appreciate-- Nay, rather love, our poets of old time, Responding ever to their notes sublime: Who, though you treasure most those sons of light, Whose radiance glitters on the brow of night, Do not despise the faintest twinkling star That shines where Shakespeare, Spenser, Milton are: Who can, like Lamb, a brilliant flower descry Where all seems sterile to the common eye, Who, like Lamb, too, to no strait bounds confined, Have room for all fair fancies in your mind, And, with a taste that never errs, discover Faults like a censor, beauties like a lover.

Here is another offering for your store, Though not arrayed in that brown garb of yore Which, with quaint type and paper stained with age, Were for the Spirit of our Poet-Sage A fitter dwelling, more becoming page. I could not give him these, and so have sought To match his noble and exalted thought With the best raiment that our time affords Of comely type, fine paper, seemly boards, Which, centuries hence, to our children's children's eyes May have an antique look which they shall prize, When Traherne's name, familiar to their ears, Shall hold assured a place among his peers.

CONTENTS

PAGE

DEDICATION v

CONTENTS ix

INTRODUCTION xiii

THE SALUTATION 1

WONDER 4

EDEN 8

INNOCENCE 11

THE PREPARATIVE 15

THE INSTRUCTION 19

THE VISION 21

THE RAPTURE 24

THE IMPROVEMENT 26

THE APPROACH 31

DUMBNESS 34

SILENCE 38

MY SPIRIT 42

THE APPREHENSION 48

FULLNESS 49

NATURE 51

EASE 55

SPEED 58

THE CHOICE 60

THE PERSON 65

THE ESTATE 69

THE ENQUIRY 73

THE CIRCULATION 76

AMENDMENT 80

THE DEMONSTRATION 83

THE ANTICIPATION 88

THE RECOVERY 94

ANOTHER 98

LOVE 101

THOUGHTS.--I 104

THOUGHTS.--II 109

[THE INFLUX] 112

THOUGHTS.--III 115

DESIRE 119

THOUGHTS.--IV 123

GOODNESS 128

[THE SOUL'S GLORY] 132

[FINITE YET INFINITE] 134

ON NEWS 135

[THE TRIUMPH] 138

[THE ONLY ILL] 140

THE RECOVERY 142

[THE GLORY OF ISRAEL] 143

[ASPIRATION] 148

[SUPPLICATION] 152

AN HYMN UPON ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY 153

POEMS FROM TRAHERNE'S "CHRISTIAN ETHICKS"--

"FOR MAN TO ACT AS IF HIS SOUL DID SEE" 156

"ALL MUSICK, SAWCES, FEASTS, DELIGHTS, AND PLEASURES" 157

"AS IN A CLOCK 'TIS HINDER'D FORCE DOTH BRING" 157

"WERE ALL THE WORLD A PARADISE OF EASE" 159

OF MEEKNESS 160

OF CONTENTMENT 166

"AND IF THE GLORY AND ESTEEM I HAVE" 167

APPENDIX--

BLISS 170

[LIFE'S BLESSEDNESS] 171

[THE RESURRECTION] 172

THE WAYS OF WISDOM 174

TRAHERNE'S "SERIOUS AND PATHETICALL CONTEMPLATION OF THE MERCIES OF GOD" 179

THE WILL OF THOMAS TRAHERNE 185

Note: The poems of which the titles are enclosed within brackets are without titles in the original manuscripts. It seemed better to give them names, in order to facilitate reference to them.

INTRODUCTION

It is with a more than ordinary degree of pleasure that I have undertaken the task of introducing to readers of the present day the writings of a hitherto unknown seventeenth-century poet. Centuries had drawn their curtains around him, and he had died utterly, as it seemed, out of the minds and memories of men; but the long night of his obscurity is at length over, and his light henceforth, if I am not much mistaken, is destined to shine with undiminished lustre as long as England or the English tongue shall endure.

The author of the poems contained in the present volume belongs to that small group of religious poets which includes Herbert, Vaughan, and Crashaw, though he is much more nearly allied to the authors of "The Temple" and "Silex Scintillans" than to the lyrist of Roman Catholicism. Yet he is neither a follower nor an imitator of any of these, but one who draws his inspiration from sources either peculiar to himself or made his own by the moulding force of his own fervent spirit. Of the inner life of the author of these poems we have abundant and satisfactory knowledge, for it is certain that no man's writings ever furnished a clearer or more faithful mirror of their author's personality than do those of Thomas Traherne. But of the outward incidents of his life little can be told, though that little is sufficient to show that he was a man of the finest and noblest character. Profession and practice in his case went together, and he was no less admirable as a man than he was as a poet and a minister of religion. That he was a person of great sweetness of disposition, of most happy temperament, and of singularly attractive character, is certain; and to know so much of a man is to know everything we really need to know. We cannot help, however, craving for more than this, and we would give much indeed for such a record of Traherne as Walton gave of Hooker, Herbert, Donne, and Sanderson. It is likely, indeed, that other particulars of Traherne's career will in time be discovered; but for the present the reader must be content with the scanty details which are given in the following pages.

I regret to say that the inquiries which I have made, or caused to be made, as to the time and place of Thomas Traherne's birth have been, so far, without result. Probably he was born at Hereford, since his father was a shoemaker in that town; but this is not certain. He may have been born at Ledbury, which is a village a few miles from Hereford, for it seems pretty certain that his family was in some way connected with that place. The earlier portion of the registers of that village has been printed by the Parish Registers Society, and from this it appears that there were "Trayernes" there in the sixteenth century. Unfortunately, the portion of the Ledbury registers which covers the period during which it is probable that our author was born is missing. That also seems to be the case as regards the Hereford registers of the same period. This is very disappointing; but we may hope that further inquiries will prove more successful.

That the family from which the poet sprang was Welsh by descent seems to be highly probable. It is true that the name is also found in a slightly different form in Cornwall; but no doubt both branches sprang from the same root at some distant period. The poet's character and temperament, as displayed in his writings, almost proclaim his nationality. Herbert and Vaughan, the two poets to whom he is most near akin, were both Welsh by descent, and though neither of them is deficient in warmth of feeling, Traherne certainly surpasses them in the passionate fervour which he infuses into his writings. It is hardly possible to think of them as having emanated from the cooler and less enthusiastic Anglo-Saxon temperament.

All that I am able to say, then, as to the time of Traherne's birth is that it was probably in the year 1636. Wood informs us that he became a commoner of Brazennose College, Oxford, in 1652; and as the age at which it was then usual for youths to commence their college career was about sixteen, the above date seems the most likely one, though it may, of course, have been a year earlier or later. His father was in all probability the "John Traherne, Shoemaker," who is recorded to have received, in conjunction with another person, "from Mistress Joyce Jefferies the sum of three pounds for the shipping money."[A] This lady is also recorded to have paid money to one John Traherne (who may or may not have been the same person) for training as the soldier whom she had to provide for the Trained-bands.

John Traherne, it seems likely, was related to a man of considerable note and influence in Hereford. This was Philip Traherne (the name is sometimes spelt Traheron), who was twice Mayor of Hereford. He was born in 1566, and was noted for his fidelity to the cause of King Charles I., and, to follow the eulogium upon his tombstone, "for his fervent zeal for the Established Church and clergy, and friendly and affectionate behaviour in conversation, which rendered him highly valuable to all the loyal party." He was mayor of Hereford at the time when the Scots attacked it. He died in 1645, aged 79. It would thus appear that the Traherne family was one which occupied a fairly good position in the middle class of the community. It would seem, however, from a passage in Traherne's "Centuries of Meditations" ("Sitting in a little obscure room in my father's poor house") that John Traherne's circumstances were not very flourishing.

Of the poet's infancy and youth, the only source of information we have is that which we find in his own writings. That the poems in which he dwells so lovingly, and with so much enthusiasm, upon the happiness and innocence of his infancy are somewhat coloured by the warmth of his imagination may, perhaps, be suspected, but not, I think, with justice. It is possible that he, to some extent, confused reflections of later date with those which he represents himself to have experienced in his infancy; but he was evidently a very precocious child, and the dawn of consciousness and thought was surely much earlier in him than it is in ordinary children. I think, therefore, we may trust the evidence of the poems, in which he speaks of his infancy and childhood, as affording a true, or but little idealised, picture of his early life. It might be unsafe to depend upon the evidence of the poems if they stood alone, but the earnestness with which he dwells upon the same topic, and repeats in prose (in his "Centuries of Meditations") what he asserts in his verse, is sufficiently convincing. I know of no author whose writings convey to the reader a stronger conviction of their author's entire sincerity and absolute truthfulness than do those of Thomas Traherne.

Traherne's "Centuries of Meditations" consists of a series of reflections on religious and moral subjects, divided into short numbered paragraphs. The manuscript (which was probably written in the last years of his life, and therefore contains his most mature thoughts) comprises four complete "Centuries," and ten numbers of a fifth "Century." From the fact that it was left unfinished it would seem that his labour upon it was cut short by his death. It was written for the benefit and instruction of a lady, a friend from whom he had received as a present the book in which it is written. It bears the following inscription on the first page:

"This book unto the friend of my best friend, As of the wisest love a mark, I send, That she may write my Maker's praise therein, And make herself thereby a cherubim."

In the third "Century" of the "Meditations" we find many details of the author's infancy and childhood. I cannot do better that give the greater part of these in the author's own words:

I

Will you see the infancy of this sublime and celestial greatness? Those pure and virgin apprehensions I had in my infancy, and that divine light wherewith I was born, are the best unto this day wherein I can see the universe. By the gift of God they attended me into the world, and by His special favour I remember them till now. Verily they form the greatest gift His wisdom could bestow, for without them all other gifts had been dead and vain. They are unattainable by books, and therefore I will teach them by experience. Pray for them earnestly, for they will make you angelical and wholly celestial. Certainly Adam in Paradise had not more sweet and curious apprehensions of the world than I when I was a child.

II

All appeared new and strange at first, inexpressibly rare and delightful and beautiful. I was a little stranger which at my entrance into the world was saluted and surrounded with innumerable joys. My knowledge was Divine; I knew by intuition those things which since my apostacy I collected again by the highest reason. My very ignorance was advantageous. I seemed as one brought into the estate of innocence. All things were spotless and pure and glorious; yea, and infinitely mine and joyful and precious. I knew not that there were any sins, or complaints or laws. I dreamed not of poverties, contentions, or vices. All tears and quarrels were hidden from mine eyes. Everything was at rest, free and immortal. I knew nothing of sickness or death or exaction. In the absence of these I was entertained like an angel with the works of God in their splendour and glory; I saw all in the peace of Eden; heaven and earth did sing my Creator's praises, and could not make more melody to Adam than to me. All Time was Eternity, and a perpetual Sabbath. Is it not strange that an infant should be heir of the whole world, and see those mysteries which the books of the learned never unfold?

III

The corn was orient and immortal wheat which never should be reaped nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold: the gates were at first the end of the world. The green trees when I saw them first through one of the gates transported and ravished me; their sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap, and almost mad with ecstacy, they were such strange and wonderful things. The Men! O what venerable and reverend creatures did the aged seem! Immortal Cherubims! And young men glittering and sparkling angels, and maids strange seraphic pieces of life and beauty! Boys and girls tumbling in the street were moving jewels: I knew not that they were born or should die. But all things abided eternally as they were in their proper places. Eternity was manifest in the Light of the Day, and something infinite behind everything appeared, which talked with my expectation and moved my desire. The City seemed to stand in Eden or to be built in Heaven. The streets were mine, the temple was mine, the people were mine, their clothes and gold and silver were mine, as much as their sparkling eyes, fair skins, and ruddy faces. The skies were mine, and so were the sun and moon and stars, and all the world was mine; and I the only spectator and enjoyer of it. I knew no churlish proprieties, nor bounds nor divisions; but all proprieties and divisions were mine, all treasures and the possessors of them. So that with much ado I was corrupted, and made to learn the dirty devices of this world, which now I unlearn, and become, as it were, a little child again that I may enter into the Kingdom of God.

These passages are succeeded in the MS. by the poem entitled "The Approach," which the reader will find at page 31 of the present volume.

In the following sections of the "Meditations" the author tells how these thoughts were first dimmed, and afterwards almost entirely lost owing to the evil influence of those around him. It is clear that his parents failed to appreciate the fact that their child was of a very uncommon type, and that the ordinary methods of dealing with children were inapplicable in his case. His early and innocent thoughts, he says, were quite obliterated by the influence of a bad education. He found that those around him were immersed in the trivial cares and vanities of common life; that they were wholly wrapped up in the outward shows of things, and were moved only by common and mercenary motives. Alas! this is the discovery that every poet makes, and it is this which constitutes the tragedy of life for him. Had any one, Traherne says, spoken to him on the great and sublime truths of God and Nature; had he been taught that God was good, and had made him the sole heir of a glorious universe; had he been assured that earth was better than gold, and water, every drop of it, a precious jewel, he would have thankfully received and gladly believed the lessons. But instead of this they tried to instil into his mind the lessons of selfishness and worldly wisdom.

IX

It was a difficult matter to persuade me that the tinseled ware upon a hobby horse was a fine thing. They did impose upon me and obtrude their gifts that made me believe a ribbon or a feather curious. I could not see where was the curiousness or fineness. And to teach me that a purse of gold was at any value seemed impossible, the art by which it becomes so, and the reasons for which it is accounted so were so deep and hidden to my inexperience. So that nature is still nearest to natural things, and farthest off from preternatural; and to esteem that the reproach of nature is an excuse in them only who are unacquainted with it. Natural things are glorious, and to know them glorious; but to call things preternatural natural monstrous. Yet all they do it who esteem gold, silver, houses, land, clothes, &c., the riches of nature, which are indeed the riches of invention. Nature knows no such riches, but art and error makes them. Not the God of Nature, but sin only was the parent of them. The riches of Nature are our souls and bodies, with all their faculties, senses, and endowments. And it had been the easiest thing in the whole world [to teach me] that all felicity consisted in the enjoyment of all the world, that it was prepared for me before I was born, and that nothing was more divine and beautiful.

Surely Traherne was here anticipating much which seems to belong to a far later date! The doctrine here urged is in essentials the same as that which was insisted upon by Rousseau and other philosophers of the eighteenth century. Shelley himself hardly enforced the idea of the return to nature more strenuously than Traherne does in this passage. "Natural things are glorious and to know them glorious"--is not this the whole burden of Walt Whitman's poetry? Nay, is it not the whole burden of all poetry worthy of the name?

X

Thoughts are the most present things to thoughts, and of the most powerful influence. My Soul was only apt and disposed to great things; but souls to souls are like apples, one being rotten rots another. When I began to speak and go, nothing began to be present to me but what was present to me in their thoughts. Nor was anything present to me any other way than it was so to them. The glass of imagination was the only mirror wherein anything was represented or appeared to me. All things were absent which they talked not of. So I began among my playfellow's to prize a drum, a fine coat, a penny, a gilded book, &c., who before never dreamed of any such wealth. Goodly objects to drown all the knowledge of Heaven and Earth! As for the Heavens and Sun and Stars, they disappeared, and were no more unto me than the bare walls. So that the strange riches of man's invention quite overcame the riches of nature, being learned more laboriously and in the second place.