No man is an island. entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
(John Donne, ‘Meditation XVII’, The Works of John Donne, edited by Henry Alford, John W Parker, London, 1839, p. 574.)
These famous words reflect life in another time. Death was announced to all by the clanging of the bell. Without knowing who had died, you were reminded that you belonged to the race of Adam—the inheritors of death.
The copy of Donne’s meditations sitting on the shelf in my office contains a short biography of Donne written by Izaac Walton. As I read it, I was struck by the way Donne’s experience of sickness, and thus his association with death, lead him to contemplate the grace and mercy of God in Christ. Instead of seeking to divert himself from the pain, Donne gave himself to contemplating the goodness of God in Christ. Donne knew the riches of Christ’s love so deeply that, even as he was dying, he was asking to be allowed to continue to preach the gospel.
At the end of his life, his sickness caused him to retire to the country for so long that a rumour went around that he had died. In response to the report, Donne wrote a letter to a friend sprinkled with dry humour and deep conviction. Here is a brief excerpt:
A man would almost be content to die—if there were no other benefit in death—to hear of so much sorrow, and so much good testimony from good men, as I—God be blessed for it—did upon the report of my death … It hath been my desire, and God may be pleased to grant it, that I might die in the pulpit; that is, die the sooner by occasion of these labours.
The account of his life goes on to describe his last sermon, which occured within a month of writing this letter:
Before that month ended, he was appointed to preach upon his old constant day, the first Friday in Lent: he had notice of it, and had in his sickness so prepared for that employment, that as he had long thirsted for it, so he resolved his weakness should not hinder his journey; he came therefore to London some few days before his appointed day of preaching. At his coming thither, many of his friends—who with sorrow saw his sickness had left him but so much flesh as did only cover his bones—doubted his strength to perform that task, and did therefore dissuade him from undertaking it, assuring him, however, it was like to shorten his life: but he passionately denied their requests, saying “he would not doubt that God, who in so many weaknesses had assisted him with an unexpected strength, would now withdraw it in his employment; professing an holy ambition to perform that sacred work.” And when, to the amazement of some beholders, he appeared in the pulpit, many of them thought he presented himself no to preach mortification by a living voice, but mortality by a decayed body, and a dying face.
The day after he preached this sermon, he was visited by a friend who asked, “Why are you sad?” He replied,
I am not sad; but most of the night past I have entertained myself with many thoughts of several friends that left me here, and are gone to that place from which they shall not return; and that within a few days I also shall go hence, and no more be seen. And my preparation for this change is become my nightly meditation upon my bed, which my infirmities have now made restless to me … I cannot plead innocency of life, especially of my youth; but I am to be judged by a merciful God, who is not willing to see what I have done amiss. And though of myself I have nothing to present to Him but sins and misery, yet I know He looks not upon me now as I am of myself, but as I am in my Saviour, and hath given me, even at this present time, some testimonies of His Holy Spirit, that I am of the number of His Elect: I am therefore full of inexpressible joy, and shall die in peace.
Maybe if contemplating death and the goodness of God can lead to words like this, it is time for us all to contemplate our mortality a little more often. It would certainly help us to appreciate Christmas: “And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’” (Luke 2:10-11).
Thanks Paul. There’s a great recent biography by John Stubbs called –
‘John Donne: The Reformed Soul’.
I really enjoyed reading it last year.