The Glory of English Prose: Letters to My Grandson — John Shaqi
The Glory of English Prose: Letters to My GrandsonColeridge, Stephen
History
The Glory of English Prose: Letters to My Grandson
Coleridge, Stephen
Coleridge, Stephen, 1854-1936; English language -- Great Britain -- Style; English prose literature -- History and criticism
"The day before he died," writes Evelyn, "he call'd to me and in a
more serious manner than usual, told me that for all I loved him
so dearly I should give my house, land, and all my fine things, to
his Brother Jack, he should have none of them; and next morning
when he found himself ill, and that I persuaded him to keepe his
hands in bed, he demanded whether he might pray to God with his
hands un-joyn'd; and a little after, whilst in great agonie,
whether he should not offend God by using His holy name so often
calling for ease. What shall I say of his frequent pathetical
ejaculations utter'd of himselfe: Sweete Jesus save me, deliver
me, pardon my sinns, let Thine angels receive me!
"So early knowledge, so much piety and perfection! But thus God
having dress'd up a Saint for himselfe, would not longer permit
him with us, unworthy of ye future fruites of this incomparable
hopefull blossome. Such a child I never saw: for such a child I
blesse God in whose bosome he is! May I and mine become as this
little child, who now follows the child Jesus that Lamb of God in
a white robe whithersoever he goes; even so, Lord Jesus, _fiat
voluntas tua!_ Thou gavest him to us, Thou hast taken him from us,
blessed be ye name of ye Lord! That I had anything acceptable to
Thee was from Thy grace alone, since from me he had nothing but
sin, but that Thou hast pardon'd! Blessed be my God for ever,
Amen! I caused his body to be coffin'd in lead, and reposited on
the 30th at 8 o'clock that night in the church at Deptford,
accompanied with divers of my relations and neighbours among whom
I distributed rings with this motto: _Dominus abstulit_;
intending, God willing, to have him transported with my owne body
to be interr'd in our dormitory in Wotton Church, in my dear
native county of Surrey, and to lay my bones and mingle my dust
with my fathers, if God be gracious to me and make me fit for Him
as this blessed child was. The Lord Jesus sanctify this and all my
other afflictions, Amen! Here ends the joy of my life, and for
which I go even mourning to my grave."
This great love and reverence for little children is peculiarly in accord
with Christianity, for we should remember that it was the WISE men,
who, when they had journeyed far across the world to salute the King
of kings, laid their offerings down at the feet of a little child.
Is there not something to reverence in faith and resignation such as are
here expressed by Evelyn? Were not these men of old with their
unshakable faith and simple piety better and happier than those who in
these days know so much more and believe so much less?
We, no doubt, have the knowledge, but perhaps they had the wisdom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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