The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 16
TekstThe viceroy was there waiting for it, attended by his guards, the remaining part of the nobility, the council royal, and the magistrates, all in mourning. At the time when the holy corpse was landing, a company of young men, consecrated to the service of the altars, sung the Benedictus Dominus Deus Israel. In the mean while, they ordered the ceremony of the procession after this ensuing manner: —
Ninety children went foremost, in long white robes, with chaplets of flowers on their heads, and each of them holding in his hand an olive branch. The Brotherhood of Mercy followed them, with a magnificent standard. The clergy succeeded to the Brotherhood, and walked immediately before the corpse, which was carried by the fathers of the Society. The viceroy, with his court, closed up the ceremony, which was followed by an innumerable multitude of people. All the streets were hung with tapestry; and when the blessed corpse appeared, flowers were thrown upon it from all the windows, and from the tops of houses.
But nothing rendered the pomp more famous, than the miracles which at that time were wrought; for there seemed to breathe out from this holy body, a saving virtue, together with a celestial odour. Many sick persons, who had caused themselves to be carried out into the streets, were cured with only seeing it; and even some, who were not able to leave their beds, recovered their health with the bare invocation of his name. Jane Pereyra was of this number; after a sickness of three months, being almost reduced to a despair of life, she had no sooner implored the assistance of the saint, but she found herself in a perfect state of health.
Another young maiden, who was just at the point of death, and held the consecrated taper in her hand, having been recommended by her mother to the patronage of the saint, came suddenly to herself, and rose up well recovered, while the procession was passing by the house.
After many turns and windings, at last they proceeded to the college of St Paul; and there set down the coffin, in the great chapel of the church. A retrenchment had been made before the chapel, to keep off the crowd; but it was immediately broken down, notwithstanding the opposition of the guards, which were placed on purpose to defend it. To appease the tumult, they were forced to shew the saint three times successively, and to hold him upright, that he might more easily be seen by the longing multitude. It was also thought convenient to leave the body exposed to view, for three days together, for the comfort of the inhabitants, who were never weary with gazing on it; and who, in gazing, were pierced with a sensible devotion.
New miracles were wrought in presence of the holy body. The blind received their sight, those who were taken with the palsy recovered the use of their limbs, and the lepers became clean as babes. At the sight of these miraculous cures, the people published aloud all those wonderful operations, which they knew to have been performed by Father Xavier; and his old companion John Deyro, at that time a religious of the order of St Francis, related, with tears of tenderness and devotion, what the saint had prophesied of him, which was now accomplished. In the mean time, on that very day, which was Friday, the canons of the cathedral solemnly sung the high mass of the cross. The clay following, the religious of St Francis, whom the man of God had always honoured, and tenderly affected, came to sing the mass of the blessed Virgin, in the church of the Society.
When in this manner the public devotion had been accomplished, on Sunday night the coffin was placed on an eminence near the high altar, on the gospel side.
In this place I ought not to omit, that the vessel which had borne this sacred pledge to Goa, split asunder of itself, and sunk to the bottom, so soon as the merchandizes were unloaded, and all the passengers were come safe on shore; which was nothing less than a public declaration of Almighty God, that he had miraculously preserved her in favour of that holy treasure; and that a ship which had been employed on so pious an occasion, was never to be used on any secular account.
As soon as it was known in Europe that Father Xavier was dead, they began to speak of his canonization. And on this account, Don John the Third, King of Portugal, gave orders to the viceroy of the Indies, Don Francis Barreto, to make a verbal process of the life and miracles of the man of God. This was executed at Goa, at Cochin, at the coast of Fishery, at Malacca at the Moluccas, and other parts; and men of probity, who were also discerning and able persons, were sent upon the places, heard the witnesses, and examined the matters of fact, with all possible exactness.
It is to be acknowledged, that the people took it in evil part, that these informations were made; being fully satisfied of the holiness of the saint, and not being able to endure that it should be doubted in the least; in like manner, neither would they stay, till all the ecclesiastical proceedings were wholly ended, nor till the Holy See had first spoken of rendering him the worship due to saints; they invoked him already in their necessities, and particularly in all sorts of dangers. Some of them placed his picture in their oratories; and even the archbishop of Goa, Don Christopher de Lisbonne, (for the episcopal see had been erected into an archbishopric,) the archbishop, I say, wore on his breast an image of Xavier in little, which he often kissed with a reverent affection: and his devotion was not without reward; for, having been cruelly tormented with the stone, for a month together, he was freed immediately from it, and felt not any farther pains.
It also happened, that in many places of the Indies the new converts built churches in honour of Father Francis, through a precipitate and indiscreet devotion, which their good meaning and their zeal are only capable of excusing. Amongst those churches, there was one much celebrated, on the coast of Travancore. The Saracens having demolished it, together with eleven other ancient structures of piety, the Christians, who, by reason of their poverty, were not able to rebuild them all, restored only this one church, which was dearer to them than any of the rest.
For what remains, in what place soever any churches were dedicated to the Father, there never failed a wonderful concourse of people to honour the memory of the holy man; and, according to the relation of Francis Nugnez, vicar of Coulan, they were obliged to sink a well for the relief of poor pilgrims near the church, which was built in honour of him at that town. Nugnez also reports, "That those which had been consecrated to the apostles, and other saints, in a manner lost their titles, when once the image of St Xavier was there exposed; and that the people, turning all their devotion towards him, were wont to call them the churches of Father Francis."
But what was most to be admired, even the professed enemies of Jesus Christ paid him reverence after his decease, as well as during his life; calling him, "the man of prodigies, the friend of heaven, the master of nature, and the god of the world." Some of them undertook long voyages, and came to Goa, expressly to behold his body exempted from corruption, and which, only excepting motion, had all the appearance of life. There were amongst the Gentiles, who spoke of raising altars to him; and some people of the sect of Mahomet did, in effect, dedicate a mosque to him, on the western coast of Comorine. The king of Travancore, though a Mahometan, built a magnificent temple to him; and the infidels had so great a veneration for that place, where the great Father was adored, that they durst not spit upon the ground, if we may believe the testimony of those who were natives of the country.
The Pagans had a custom, that, in confirmation of a truth, they would hold a red-hot iron in their hands, with other superstitions of the like nature; but after that Father Francis came to be held in so great veneration through the Indies, they swore solemnly by his name; and such an oath was generally received for the highest attestation of a truth. Neither did any of them forswear themselves unpunished after such an oath; and God authorized, by many proofs, this religious practice, even by manifest prodigies. Behold a terrible example of it: An Idolater owed a Christian a considerable sum of money; but as he denied his debt, and no legal proof could be made of it, the Christian obliged him to swear in the church, upon the image of St Francis: the Idolater made a false oath without the least scruple; but was scarcely got into his own house, when he began to void blood in abundance at his mouth, and died in a raging fit of madness, which had the resemblance of a man possessed, rather than of one who was distracted.
Neither was his memory less honoured in Japan than in the Indies. The Christians of the kingdom of Saxuma kept religiously a stone, on which he had often preached, and shewed it as a precious rarity. The house wherein he had lodged at Amanguchi, was respected as a sacred place; and was always preserved from ruin, amidst those bloody wars, which more than once had destroyed the town. For what remains, the Indians and Japonians were not the only people which honoured Father Xavier after his decease; the odour of his holy life expanded itself beyond the seas into other Heathen countries where he had never been. And Alphonso Leon Barbuda, who has travelled over all the coasts of Afric, reports, that in the kingdoms of Sofala, beyond the great river of Cuama, and in the isles about it, the name of Father Francis was in high repute; and that those Moors never mentioned him, but with the addition of a wonderful man So many illustrious testimonies, and so far above suspicion, engaged the king of Portugal anew to solicit the canonization of the saint; and in that prospect there was made an ample collection of his virtues, of which I present you with this following extract.
No exterior employments, how many, or how great soever, could divert the Father from the contemplation of celestial things. Being at Goa, his ordinary retirement, after dinner, was into the clock-house of the church, to avoid the interruption of any person; and there, during the space of two hours, he had a close communication with his God. But because he was not always master of himself on those occasions, so as to regulate his time, and that he was sometimes obliged to leave his privacy, he commanded a young man of the seminary of Sainte Foy, whose name was Andrew, to come and give him notice when the two hours, to which he was limited, were expired. One day, when the Father was to speak with the viceroy, Andrew, being come to advertise him, found him seated on a little chair, his hands across his breast, and his eyes fixed on heaven. When he had looked on him a while attentively, he at length called him; but finding that the Father answered not, he spoke yet louder, and made a noise. All this was to no purpose, Xavier continued immovable; and Andrew went his way, having some scruple to disturb the quiet of a man, who had the appearance of an angel, and seemed to enjoy the pleasures of the souls in paradise, He returned, nevertheless, about two hours after, and found him still in the same posture. The young man fearing that he should not comply with duty, if, coming the second time, he should not make himself be heard, began to pull the Father, and to jog him. Xavier at length returning to himself, was in a wonder at the first, that two hours should so soon be slipped away; but coming to know, that he had remained in that place beyond four hours, he went out with Andrew, to go to the palace of the viceroy. He had scarcely set his foot over the threshold, when he seemed to be ravished in spirit once again. After he had made some turns, without well knowing whither he went, he returned as night was beginning to come on, and said to his attendant, "My son, we will take another time to see the governor; it is the will of God, that this present day should be wholly his."
Another time, walking through the streets of the same city, his thoughts were so wholly taken up with God, that he perceived not a furious elephant, who, being broken loose, caused a general terror, and every man made haste out of his way. It was in vain to cry out to the Father, that he might avoid him; he heard nothing, and the enraged beast passed very near him without his knowledge.
In his voyages at sea, he continued earnestly in prayer, from midnight even to sun-rising, and that regularly. From thence it came almost to a proverb amongst the seamen, "That nothing was to be feared in the night, because Father Francis watched the vessel; and the tempests durst not trouble them, while he held conversation with God."
A man of Manapar, at whose house he lodged, and who observed him at divers hours of the night, found him always on his knees before a crucifix, and frequently beheld the chamber enlightened by the rays which darted from his countenance.
While he was sojourning among Christians, the small repose he gave to nature was commonly in the church; to the end he might be near the blessed sacrament, before which he prayed all the remainder of the night. But in countries where yet there were no churches built, he passed the night in the open air; and nothing so much elevated his soul to God as the view of heaven, spangled over, and sowed, as it were, with stars; and this we have from his own relation.
The Pope had permitted him, in consideration of his employments and apostolical labours, to say a breviary which was shorter than the Roman, and had but three lessons: it was called the "Office of the Cross," and was easily granted in those times to such who were overburdened with much business. But Xavier never made use of this permission, what affairs soever he was pressed withal, for the service of Almighty God: on the contrary, before the beginning of every canonical hour, he always said the hymn of Veni, Creator Spiritus; and it was observed, that while he said it, his countenance was enlightened, as if the Holy Ghost, whom he invoked, was visibly descended on him.
He daily celebrated the sacrifice of the mass with the same reverence and the same devotion with which he had said it the first time, and most ordinarily performed it at break of day. Those heavenly sweets which overflowed his soul at the altar, spread their mild inundations even over the assistants; and Antonio Andrada reported of himself, that, being then a young soldier, he found such an inward satisfaction when he served the Father, in serving at mass, that, in that consideration, he sought the occasions of performing the clerk's office.
In the midst of his conversations with secular men, the saint was often called aside of God, by certain sudden illuminations which obliged him to retire; and when afterwards they sought him, he was found before the holy sacrament, in some lonely place, engulphed in deep meditations, and frequently suspended in the air, with beams of glory round his countenance. Many ocular witnesses have deposed this matter of fact; but some have affirmed, that at first they have found him on his knees immovable; that they have afterwards observed, how by degrees he was mounted from the earth; and that then, being seized with a sacred horror, they could not stedfastly behold him, so bright and radiant was his countenance. Others have protested, that while he was speaking to them of the things of God, they could perceive him shooting upward, and distancing himself from them on the sudden, and his body raising itself on high of its own motion.
These extraordinary ravishments, which bore some manner of proportion to the glory of the blest above, happened to him from time to time during the sacrifice of the mass, when he came to pronounce the words of consecration; and he was beheld elevated in that manner, particularly at Meliapore and at Malacca. The same was frequently observed at Goa, while be was communicating the people; and what was remarkable, as it was then the custom to give the sacrament in kneeling, he appeared to be lifted from the earth in that humble posture.
For common extasies, he had them almost every day, especially at the altar, and after the sacrifice of the mass: insomuch, that many times they could not bring him to himself, with pulling him by the robe, and violently shaking him.
The delights which he enjoyed at such a time, are only to be comprehended by such souls, which have received from heaven the like favours. Nevertheless, it is evident, that if it be possible for man to enjoy on earth the felicities of heaven, it is then, when the soul, transported out of itself, is plunged, and as it were lost, in the abyss of God.
But it was not only in these extatic transports, that Xavier was intimately united to our Lord: In the midst of his labours, he had his soul recollected in God, without any dissipation caused by the multitude or intricacy of affairs; insomuch, that he remained entire in all he did, and at the same time whole in Him, for whose honour he was then employed.
This so close and so continual an union, could only proceed from a tender chanty: the divine love burning him up in such a manner, that his face was commonly on fire; and both for his interior and outward ardour, they were often forced to throw cold water into his bosom.
Frequently in preaching and in walking, he felt in himself such inward scorching, that, not being able to endure it, he was constrained to give himself air, by opening his cassock before his breast; and this he has been seen to do on many occasions, in the public places at Malacca and at Goa, in the garden of St Paul's college, and in the sandy walks of the sea-shore.
Almost every hour, words of life and fire burst and sallied as it were from out his mouth, which were indeed the holy sparkles of a burning heart. As for example, "O most Holy Trinity! O my Creator! O my Jesus! O Jesus, the desire of my soul!" He spoke these words in Latin, that he might not be understood by the common people: and being on the coast of Fishery, at the kingdom of Travancore, and at the Moluccas, he was heard to speak so many times every day these words, O Sanctissima Trinitas! that the most idolatrous barbarians, when they found themselves in extreme dangers, or that they would express their amazement at any thing, pronounced those very words, without understanding any thing more of them than that they were holy and mysterious.
Even sleep itself had not the power to interrupt those tender aspirations; and all the night long he was heard to say, "O my Jesus, my soul's delight!" or other expressions as full of tenderness, which shewed the inclination of his heart. Being out of his senses by the violence of a burning fever, both at Mozambique and at Sancian, he spoke of God, and to God, with more fervency than ever; insomuch, that his delirium seemed only to be a redoubling of his love. He was so sensible of the interests of the Divine Majesty, that, being touched to the quick with the enormity of those crimes that were committed in the new world, he wrote to a friend of his, in these very terms: – "I have sometimes an abhorrence of my life, and would rather chuse to die than to behold so many outrages done to Jesus Christ, without being able either to hinder or to repair them."
For the rest, that he might always keep alive the fire of divine love, he had incessantly before his eyes the sufferings of our Lord. At the sight of the wounds and of the blood of a crucified God, he fell into sighs and tears, and languishments, and extasies of love. He was consumed with the zeal of returning his Saviour life for life; for martyrdom was his predominant passion, and his sentiments are a continual proof of it. "It sometimes happens, through a singular favour of the Divine Goodness," says he in one of his letters, "that for the service of God we run ourselves into the hazard of death. But we ought to bear in mind, that we are born mortal; and that a Christian is bound to desire nothing more than to lay down his life for Jesus Christ."
From thence proceeded that abundant joy which he conceived, when the faithful poured out their blood for faith; and he wrote to the Fathers at Rome, on occasion of the massacre of the baptized Manarois; – "We are obliged to rejoice in Jesus Christ, that martyrs are not wanting, not even in our decaying times; and to give Him thanks, that, seeing so few persons make the right use of His grace for their salvation, He permits that the number of the happy shall be completed through the cruelty of men." "Admirable news," says he elsewhere, "is lately come from the Moluccas; they who labour there in the Lord's vineyard suffer exceedingly, and are in continual hazard of their lives I imagine that the Isles del Moro will give many martyrs to our Society, and they will soon be called the Isles of Martyrdom. Let our brethren then, who desire to shed their blood for Jesus Christ, be of good courage, and anticipate their future joy. For, behold at length a seminary of martyrdom is ready for them, and they will have wherewithal to satisfy their longings."
The same love which inspired him with the desire of dying for our Saviour, made him breathe after the sight and the possession of God. He spoke not but of paradise, and concluded almost all his letters with wishing there to meet his brethren.
But his charity was not confined to words and thoughts, – it shone out in his works and actions, and extended itself to the service of his neighbour. Xavier seemed to be only born for the relief of the distressed; he loved the sick with tenderness, and to attend them was what he called his pleasure: he sought out not only wherewithal to feed them but to feast them; and for that purpose begged from the Portuguese the most exquisite regalios, which were sent them out of Europe. He was not ashamed of going round the town with, a wallet on his back, begging linen for the wounded soldiers; he dressed their hurts, and did it with so much the more affection, when they were the most putrified and loathsome to the smell. If he happened to meet with any beggar who was sinking under sickness, he took him in his arms, bore him to the hospital, prepared his remedies, and dressed his meat with his own hands.
Though all the miserable were dear to him, yet he assisted the prisoners after a more particular manner, with the charities which he gathered for them; and in Goa, which was the common tribunal of the Indies, he employed one day in the week in doing good to such who were overwhelmed with debts. If he had not wherewithal to pay off their creditors entirely, he mollified them at least with his civilities, and obliged them sometimes to release one moiety of what was owing to them.
The poor, with one common voice, called him their Father, and he also regarded them as his children. Nothing was given him, but what passed through his hands into theirs, who were members of Jesus Christ; even so far as to deprive himself of necessaries. He heaped up, as I may call it, a treasury of alms, not only for the subsistence of the meaner sort, who are content with little, but for the maintenance of honourable families, which one or two shipwrecks had ruined all at once; and for the entertainment of many virgins of good parentage, whom poverty might necessitate to an infamous course of living.
The greatest part of the miracles, which on so many occasions were wrought by him, was only for the remedy of public calamities, or for the cure of particular persons; and it was in the same spirit, that, being one day greatly busied in hearing the confessions of the faithful at Goa, he departed, abruptly in appearance, out of the confessional, and from thence out of the church also, transported with some inward motion, which he could not possibly resist: after he had made many turns about the town, without knowing whither he went, he happened upon a stranger, and having tenderly embraced him, conducted him to the college of the Society. There that miserable creature, whom his despair was driving to lay violent hands upon himself, having more seriously reflected on his wicked resolution, pulled out the halter, which he had secretly about him, and with which he was going to have hanged himself, and gave it into the Father's hands. The saint, to whom it was revealed, that extreme misery had reduced the unhappy wretch to this dismal melancholy, gave him comfort, retained him in the college for some time, and at length dismissed him with a round sum of money, sufficient for the entertainment of his family. He recommended, without ceasing, his friends and benefactors to our Lord; he prayed both day and night for the prosperity of King John III. of Portugal, whom he called the true protector of all the Society: But the persecutors of the saint had a greater share in his devotions than any others; and at the same time when he was treated so unworthily by the governor of Malacca, he daily offered for him the sacrifice of the mass. He was used to say, that to render good for evil, was in some sort a divine revenge; and he revenged himself in that very sort on the governor of Comorine, which, in one of his letters is thus attested: "My dear brother in Jesus Christ, (thus he wrote to Father Mansilla,) I hear uncomfortable news, that the governor's ship is destroyed by fire; that his houses also are burnt down; that he is retired into an island, and has nothing left him, even for the necessary provisions of life. I desire you, out of Christian charity, to go with the soonest to his relief, with your Christians of Punical: get what barks you can together, and load them with all manner of provisions; I have written earnestly to the chief of the people, that they furnish you with all things necessary, and especially with fresh water, which, as you know, is very scarce in those desart islands. I would go in person to the assistance of the governor, if I thought my presence might be acceptable to him; but of late he hates me, and has written that he could not say, without giving scandal, all the evils I have done him. God and man can bear me witness, if ever I have done him the least prejudice."
His charity towards his neighbour has principally appeared in what he did for the conversion of souls. It is difficult to enumerate all his travels by land, and his voyages by sea; and if any one would take that pains, it might be thought he had scarce the leisure to do any thing but travel. Without mentioning his journey's from France to Italy, and from Italy to Portugal, he went from Lisbon to Mozambique, and from Mozambique to Melinda, to Socotoro, and in fine to Goa. From Goa he passed to Cape Comorine, and to the Fishing-coast, from thence to Cochin, and returning to Goa, came back to the coast of Fishery, entered far into the islands, and returned to the Fishery, from whence he travelled to the kingdom of Travancore, which is seated to the west.
After he had run over all these coasts, he was a second time at Cochin and at Goa; from Goa he took the way of Cambaya, and having crossed that whole region, which lies extended from the mouth of the river Indus, as far as Cochin, he made the tour of Cape Cori, and went to the islands of Ceylon, of Manar, and of Las Vaccas. There he took shipping for Negapatan, and from thence undertook the voyage of Meliapor, along the coasts of Coromandel. From Meliapor he set sail for Malacca, from Malacca he descended towards the equinoctial, which having passed, he entered into the southern hemisphere, as far as the Isle of Banda, and those of Amboyna, Nuliager, Ulate, Baranura, Rosalao, and others without name, unknown even to seamen and geographers.
In sequel of these voyages, he turned towards the Moluccas, was at Ternata, and passed from thence to the Isles del Moro. Went again to Ternata and Amboyna, repassed the equator, and returned to Malacca; from thence, by sea, he regained the port of Cochin; but immediately after his arrival departed for the coast of Fishery and Ceylon. After this he returned to Goa, and drew downward on the same coast for Bazain; from Bazain he returned once more to Goa and Cochin. He passed a-new from Goa to Cochin, and from Cochin to Goa; from thence following the coast as far as Cape Comorine, he set sail towards Malacca. Having there made some little stay, he continued his course northward, and coasting certain isles in sight of China, came at length to Japan. After he had made some courses there, during the space of two years, from Cangoxima to Firando, from. Firando to Amanguchi, from Amanguchi to Meaco, from Meaco back to Amanguchi, and from thence to Bungo, he put once more to sea, touched at the isle of Sancian, and was driven by tempest on the Isle of Mindanao, one of the Phillippinas. Once again he went to Malacca, and to Goa; from Goa, he repassed the fifth time to Malacca, and from thence arrived at Sancian, where death concluded all his travels.
Behold the sequel of the voyages of the Indian apostle Francis Xavier! I have omitted a vast number of islands and regions, where we are satisfied he carried the light of the gospel; I say I have not mentioned them, because the time is not precisely known, when he made these voyages. For what remains, I undertake not to reckon up the leagues which he has travelled, (the supputation would be difficult to make,) and content myself to say in general, that, according to the rules of our geographers, who have exactly measured the terrestrial globe, if all his courses were to be computed, they would be found to be many times exceeding the circumference of this world.
In the mean time, the least of his business, in all his travels, was to travel: And they who were best acquainted with him, report of him, what St Chrysostom said of the apostle St Paul, "That he ran through the world with an incredible swiftness, and as it were on the wing," yet not without labour, nor that labour without fruit, but preaching, baptizing, confessing, disputing with the Gentiles, rooting out Idolaters, reforming manners, and throughout establishing the Christian piety. His apostolical labours were attended with all the incommodities of life; and if those people were to be credited, who the most narrowly observed him, it was a continual miracle that he lived; or rather the greatest miracle of Xavier was not to have revived so many dead, but not to die himself of labour, during the incessant sweat of ten years toiling.