Skip to main content

Full text of "The lives of Dr. John Donne, Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Richard Hooker, Mr. George Herbert and Dr. Robert Sanderson"

See other formats 


itttljeCttpofiamgork 

THE  LIBRARIES 


THE 

LIVES 


OF 


DR  JOHN  DONNE,  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON, 
MR.  RICHARD  HOOKER,  MR.  GEORGE  HERBERT, 


AND 


DR.   ROBERT    SANDERSON. 


BY 


IZAAK    WALTON: 


WITH 


SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  AUTHOR  AND  HIS  WRITINGS, 

BY  THOMAS   ZOUCH,   D.D.,   F.L.S., 

PREBENDARY   OF   DURHAM. 


A    NEW    EDITION,    WITH    ILLUSTRATIVE    NOTES,    ETC. 


These  were  honourable  men  in  their  generations. — Ecchis.  xliv.  7. 


NEW  YORK : 
WILEY  AND  PUTNAM,  161  BROADWAY. 

1846. 


W!1 


7    -- 

There  are  no  colours  in  the  fairest  sky, 

So  fair  as  these  :  the  feather  whence  the  pen 

Was  shaped,  that  traced  the  lives  of  these  good  men, 

Dr opt  from  an  angeVs  wing :  with  moistened  eye, 

We  read  of  faith,  and  purest  charity, 

In  Statesmen,  Priest,  and  humble  Citizen. 

Oh  !  could  we  copy  their  mild  virtues,  then 

What  joy  to  live,  what  blessedness  to  die  I 

Methinks  their  very  names  shine  still  and  bright. 

Apart — like  glow-worms  on  a  summer  night ; 

Or  lonely  tapers  when  from  far  they  fling 

A  guiding  ray  ;  or  seen — like  stars  on  high, 

Satellites  burning  in  a  lucid  ring, 

Around  meek  Walton's  heavenly  memory ! 

Wordsworth. 


V/ivW/^^ 


William  Osboun.  Printer,  T.  B.  Smith,  Stereotyper, 

Tribune  Buildings.  216  William  Street. 


CONTENTS. 


Life  of  Izaak  Walton,  by  Thomas  Zouch 
Dedication  to  Dr.  Morley,  Bishop  of  Winchester 

Epistle  to  the  Reader 

Introduction  to  the  Life  of  Dr.  Donne 
Life  of  Dr.  Donne     ...... 

Epitaph  by  Dr.  Corbet      ..... 

Elegy  by  Dr.  King 

Elegy  by  Izaak  Walton     ....'. 

Life  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton      .... 

Elegy  by  Cowley       ...... 

Introduction  to  the  Life  of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker 
Life  of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker    .... 

Epitaph  by  Sir  William  Cowper 

Appendix  to  the  Life  of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker 

Letter  of  jMr.   George  Cranmer 

Introduction  to  the  Life  of  Mr.  George  Herbert 

Life  of  Mr.  George  Herbert  .... 

His  Letter  to  Nicholas  Farrer 

Dedication  to  the  Life  of  Dr.  Robert  Sanderson 

Preface        .         .         .       - . 

Life  of  Dr.  Robert  Sanderson 

Dr.  Pierce's  Letter 

Dr.  Barlow's  (Bishop  of  Lincoln)  Letter 
Index   


PAGE 
1 

43 
45 
49 
53 
116 
117 
119 
125 
176 
181 
183 
238 
239 
244 
255 
257 
309 
313 
315 
317 
373 
376 
379 


ENGLISH  PUBLISHER'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 


MDCCCXLV. 


In  offering  this  edition  of  Walton's  Lives  to  the  pubUc  it 
need  only  be  observed,  that  it  is  founded  upon  the  one  which 
Mr.  Major,  with  his  usual  taste  in  embellishing  the  Text  of 
Walton,  put  forth  some  years  back. 

The  Notes  which  were  then  collected  at  the  end  of  the 
work,  are  now  brought  to  the  foot  of  the  page,  with  some 
few  alterations  and  additions.  It  is  hoped  that  this  volume, 
while  it  may  assume  the  character  of  a  Library  Book,  is 
thus  rendered,  in  itself,  a  complete  pocket  companion  to  the 
admirer  of  the  exquisite  simplicity  of  the  pure  old  English 
Author  and  the  incomparable  men  he  commemorates. 

The  collation  of  the  text  is  thus  referred  to  in  the  former 
edition ; 

"  Life  of  Dr.  Don7ie,  originally  prefixed  to  the  first  volume 
"  of  his  Sermons,  1640,  Fol.  Second  Edition,  alone,  1658, 
"  12mo.  Life  of  Sir  Henri/  Wottoti,  attached  to  the  Reliquiae 
'•'.Wattonianse,  1651,  12mo.,  other  editions,  1654,  1672,  1685. 
"Life  of  Richard  Hooker,  First  Edition,  1665,  small  oc- 
"  tavo ;  Second  ditto,  attached  to  the  Ecclesiastical  Pohty, 
"  1666,  Folio.  Life  of  George  Herbert,  First  Edition  with 
"  his  Letters,  1670,  12mo. ;  the  Memoir  was  afterwards  at- 
'  tached  to  his  Temple,  Poems,  <fcc.  in  the  edition  of  1679. 


viii  ENGLISH   PUBLISHER'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 


"  Life  of  Dr.  Robert  Sandemon^  the  first  separate  edition 
"  by  Walton,  was  printed  in  Octavo,  in  1678,  together  with 
"several  of  the  Prelate's  Tracts,  Cases  of  Conscience,  a 
"  Sermon  by  Hooker,  and  two  Letters  on  the  subject  of  the 
"  Memoir.  Of  Collections  of  the  first  four  of  these  Lives, 
"  there  were  four  editions ;  the  first  of  which  was  published 
"  in  1670,  and  the  last  in  1675,  both  in  Octavo.  The  latter 
"  of  these  has  been  used  for  revising  the  text  of  the  follow- 
"  ing  pages  ;  and  the  Publisher  has  been  kindly  favoured  by 
"  Mr.  William  Upcott  of  the  London  Institution  with  the 
"  use  of  a  Presentation  copy  of  it,  having  all  the  typogra- 
"  phical  errors  corrected  by  Walton's  own  pen  ;  whilst  upon 
"  the  fly-leaf  is  written, 

'  Ffor  my  Cozen  M"'".  Wiliams,  Iz.  Wa? 

"  The  Publisher  has  also  to  acknowledsre  the  kindness  of 
''  Francis  Martin,  Esq.  Windsor  Herald,  and  Joseph  Hasle- 
"  wood,  Esq.  ;  the  former  for  the  favour  of  a  copy  of  Walton's 
'•  first  edition  of  his  collected  Memoirs,  and  the  latter  for 
"  that  of  the  original  impression  of  the  Life  of  Sir  Henry 
"  Wotton." 


In  addition  to  the  above  it  is  necessary  only  to  state  that 
the  complete  Life  of  Walton  by  Zouch  has  been  prefixed  to 
the  present  Edition  by  the  American  Publisher. 


SOME     ACCOUNT 


OF   THE 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  IZAAK  WALTON. 

BY   THOMAS   ZOUCH,  D.D.,   F.R.S., 

rUEBENDARY    OF    DURHAM. 


I  PRESENT  not  to  the  reader  the  history  of  a  wise  statesman,  an 
adventurous  soldier,  or  a  profound  philosopher.  Yet  I  trust,  that 
he  will  experience  no  small  degree  of  satisfaction  from  contem- 
plating the  virtues  of  a  private  citizen  ;  who,  though  he  arrogates 
not  to  himself  the  splendour  of  high  descent,  or  the  pride  of  super- 
fluous wealth,  deserves  our  approbation  and  regard.  Isaac,  or, 
as  he  usually  wrote  his  name,  Izaak  Walton,  adorned  with  a 
guileless  simplicity  of  manners,  claims  from  every  good  man  the 
tribute  of  applause.  It  was  his  ambition  (and  surely  a  more 
honourable  ambition  cannot  be  excited  in  the  human  breast)  to 
commend  to  the  reverence  of  posterity  the  merits  of  those  excel- 
lent persons,  whose  comprehensive  learning  and  exalted  piety  will 
ever  endear  them  to  our  memories. 

The  important  end  of  historical  knowledge  is  a  prudent  appli- 
cation of  it  to  ourselves,  with  a  view  to  regulate  and  amend  our 
own  conduct.  As  the  examples  of  men  strictly  and  faithfully 
discharging  their  professional  duties,  must  obviously  tend  to  in- 
vigorate our  efforts  to  excel  in  moral  worth,  the  virtuous  char- 
acters, which  are  so  happily  delineated  in  the  following  pages, 
cannot  fail,  if  considered  with  serious  attention,  of  producing  the 
most  beneficial  and  lasting  impressions  on  the  mind. 

The  life  of  the  author  of  this  biographical  collection  was  little 
diversified  with  events.     He  was  born  of  a  respectable  family,  on 

2 


9  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  ninth  day  of  August,  1593,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Mary's,  in  the 
town  of  Stafford.  Of  his  father  no  particular  tradition  is  extant. 
From  his  mother  he  derived  an  hereditary  attachment  to  the 
Protestant  religion,  as  professed  in  the  church  of  England.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  Edmund  Cranmer,  Archdeacon  of  Canter- 
bury, sister  to  Mr.  George  Cranmer,  the  pupil  and  friend  of  Mr. 
Richard  Hooker,  and  niece  to  that  first  and  brightest  ornament  of 
the  Reformation,  Dr.  Thomas  Cranmer,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury. No  vestiges  of  the  place  or  manner  of  his  education  have 
been  discovered  j  nor  have  we  any  authentic  information  con- 
cerning his  first  engagements  in  a  mercantile  life.  It  has  indeed 
been  suggested,  that  he  was  one  of  those  industrious  young  men, 
whom  the  munificence  of  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  the  founder  of 
the  Royal  Exchange,  had  placed  in  the  shops  which  were  erected 
in  the  upper  buildings  of  his  celebrated  Burse.  However  this 
may  be,  he  soon  improved  his  fortune  by  his  honesty,  his  frugali- 
ty, and  his  diligence.  His  occupation,  according  to  the  tradition 
still  preserved  in  his  family,  was  that  of  a  wholesale  linen-draper, 
or  Hamburgh  merchant. 

The  writers  of  the  Life  of  Milton  have,  with  the  most  scrupu- 
lous attention,  regularly  marked  out  the  different  houses  succes- 
.sively  inhabited  by  the  poet,  "  as  if  it  was  an  injury  to  neglect  any 
place,  that  he  honoured  by  his  presence."  The  various  parts  of 
London,  in  which  Izaak  Walton  resided,  have  been  recorded  with 
the  same  precision.  It  is  sufficient  to  intimate,  that  he  was  for 
some  years  an  inhabitant  of  St.  Dunstan's  in  the  West.  With  Dr. 
John  Donne,  then  vicar  of  that  parish,  of  whose  sermons  he  was 
a  constant  hearer,  he  contracted  a  friendship,  which  remained 
uninterrupted  to  their  separation  by  death.  This  his  parishioner 
attended  him  in  his  last  sickness,  and  was  present  at  the  time  that 
he  consigned  his  sermons  and  numerous  papers  to  the  care  of  Dr. 
Henry  King,  who  was  promoted  to  the  see  of  Chichester  in  1641. 

He  married  Anne,  the  daughter  of  Thomas  Ken,  Esq.  of  Fur- 
nival's  Inn ;  a  gentleman,  whose  family,  of  an  ancient  extraction, 
was  united  by  alliance  with  several  noble  houses,  and  had  pos- 
sessed a  very  plentiful  fortune  for  many  generations,  having  been 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Kens  of  Ken-Place,  in  Somersetshire. 
She  was  the  sister  of  Thomas  Ken,  afterward  the  deprived  Bishop 


OF  IZAAK   WALTON. 


of  Bath  and  Wells.  If  there  be  a  name  to  which  I  have  been  ac- 
customed from  my  earliest  youth  to  look  up  with  reverential  awe, 
it  is  that  of  this  amiable  prelate.  The  primitive  innocence  of  his 
life,  the  suavity  of  his  disposition,  his  taste  for  poetry  and  music, 
his  acquirements  as  a  polite  scholar,  his  eloquence  in  the  pulpit  (for 
he  was  pronounced  by  James  the  Second  to  be  the  first  preacher 
among  the  Protestant  divines),  these  endearing  qualities  ensure  to 
him  our  esteem  and  affection.  But  what  principally  commands 
our  veneration,  is  that  invincible  inflexibility  of  temper,  which 
rendered  him  superior  to  every  secular  consideration.  When 
from  a  strict  adherence  to  the  dictates  of  conscience  he  found 
himself  reduced  to  a  private  station,  he  dignified  that  station  by 
the  magnanimity  of  his  demeanour,  by  a  humble  and  serene  pa- 
tience, by  an  ardent  but  unaffected  piety. 

In  1643,  Mr.  Walton,  having  declined  business,  retired  to  a 
small  estate  in  Staffordshire,  not  far  from  the  town  of  Stafford. 
His  loyalty  made  him  obnoxious  to  the  ruling  powers ;  and  we 
are  assured  by  himself,  that  he  was  a  sufferer  during  the  time  of 
the  civil  wars.  In  1643  the  Covenanters  came  back  into  Eng- 
land, marching  with  the  Covenant  gloriously  upon  their  pikes  and 
in  their  hats,  with  this  motto,  "  For  the  Crown  and  Covenant  of 
both  Kingdoms."  "  This,"  he  adds,  "  I  saw,  and  suffered  by  it. 
But  when  I  look  back  upon  the  ruin  of  families,  the  bloodshed, 
the  decay  of  common  honesty,  and  how  the  former  piety  and 
plain  dealing  of  this  now  sinful  nation  is  turned  into  cruelty  and 
cunning  ;  when  I  consider  this,  I  praise  God,  that  he  prevented  me 
from  being  of  that  party,  which  helped  to  bring  in  this  Covenant, 
and  those  sad  confusions  that  have  followed  it."  He  persevered 
in  the  most  inviolable  attachment  to  the  royal  cause.  In  many  of 
his  writings  he  pathetically  laments  the  afflictions  of  his  sover- 
eign, and  the  wretched  condition  of  his  beloved  country,  involved 
in  all  the  miseries  of  intestine  dissensions.  The  incident  of  his 
being  instrumental  in  preserving  the  lesser  George,  which  belong- 
ed to  Charles  the  Second,  is  related  in  "  Ashmole's  History  of  the 
Order  of  the  Garter." 

We  may  now  apply  to  him  what  has  been  said  of  Mr.  Cowley : 
*'  Some  few  friends,  a  book,  a  cheerful  heart,  and  innocent  con- 
science, were  his  companions."     In  this  scene  of  rural  privacy 


4  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 

he  was  not  unfrequently  indulged  with  the  company  of  learned  and 
good  men.  Here,  as  in  a  safe  and  peaceful  asylum,  they  met  with 
the  most  cordial  and  grateful  reception.  And  wc  are  informed  by 
the  Oxford  antiquary,  that,  whenever  he  went  from  home,  he  re- 
sorted principally  to  the  houses  of  the  eminent  clergymen  of  the 
church  of  England,  of  whom  he  was  much  beloved.  To  a  man 
desirous  of  dilating  his  intellectual  improvements,  no  conversation 
could  be  more  agreeable,  than  that  of  those  divines,  who  were 
known  to  have  distinguished  him  with  their  personal  regard. 

The  Roman  poet,  of  whom  it  has  been  remarked,  that  he  made 
the  happiest  union  of  the  courtier  and  the  scholar,  was  of  plebeian 
origin.  Yet  such  was  the  attraction  of  his  manners  and  deport- 
ment, that  he  classed  among  his  friends  the  first  and  most  illustri- 
ous of  his  contemporaries,  Plotius  and  Varus,  PoUio  and  Fus- 
cus,  the  Visci  and  the  Messalee.  Nor  was  Isaak  Walton  less  for- 
tunate in  his  social  connexions.  The  times  in  which  he  lived 
were  times  of  gloomy  suspicion,  ot  danger  and  distress,  when  a 
severe  scrutiny  into  the  public  and  private  behaviour  of  men  es- 
tablished a  rigid  discrimination  of  character.  He  must  therefore 
be  allowed  to  have  possessed  a  peculiar  excellency  of  disposition, 
who  conciliated  to  himself  an  habitual  intimacy  with  Usher,  the 
Apostolical  Primate  of  Ireland,  with  Archbishop  Sheldon,  with 
Morton,  Bishop  of  Durham,  Pearson  of  Chester,  and  Sanderson 
of  Lincoln,  with  the  ever-memorable  Mr.  John  Hales  of  Eton,  and 
the  judicious  Mr.  Chillingworth ;  in  short,  with  those  who  were 
most  celebrated  for  their  piety  and  learning.  Nor  could  he  be 
deficient  in  urbanity  of  manners  or  elegance  of  taste,  who  was 
the  companion  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton,*  the  most  accomplished  gen- 

*  "  My  next  and  last  example  shall  be  that  undervaluer  of  money,  the  late 
Provost  of  Eton  College,  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  a  man  with  whom  I  have  often 
fished  and  conversed  ;  a  man,  whose  forcign  employments  in  the  service  of  this 
nation,  and  whose  experience,  learning,  wit,  and  clieerfiilness,  made  his  com- 
pany to  bs  esteemed  one  of  the  delights  of  mankind." — {Complete  Angler.  P. 
I.  Ch.  I.) 

In  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  verses,  written  by  him  as  he  sat  fishing  on  the  bank 
of  a  river,  he  probably  alludes  to  Walton  himself,  who  often  accompanied  him 
in  liis  innocent  amusement : 

"  There  stood  my  friend  with  patient  skill, 
Attending  of  his  trembling  quill." 


OF   IZAAK   WALTON. 


tiemaii  of  his  age.  The  singular  circumspection  which  he  ob- 
served  in  the  choice  of  his  acquaintance,  has  not  escaped  the  no- 
tice of  Mr.  Cotton.  "  My  father  Wahon/'  says  he,  "  will  be 
seen  twice  in  no  man's  company  he  does  not  like ;  and  likes  none 
but  such  as  he  believes  to  be  very  honest  men ;  which  is  one  of 
the  best  arguments,  or  at  least  of  the  best  testimonies  I  have,  that 
I  either  am,  or  that  he  thinks  me  one  of  those,  seeing  I  have  not 
yet  found  him  v/eary  of  me." 

Before  his  retirement  into  the  country,  he  published  the  Life  of 
Dr.  Donne.  It  was  originally  appended  to  "  LXXX  Sermons, 
preached  by  that  learned  and  reverend  divine,  John  Donne,  Doc- 
tor in  Divinity,  late  Dean  of  the  Cathedral  Church  of  St.  Paul's, 
London,  1640."  He  had  been  solicited  by  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  to 
supply  him  with  materials  for  writing  that  Life.  Sir  Henry  dy- 
ing in  1639,  before  he  had  made  any  progress  in  the  work,  Izaak 
Walton  engaged  in  it.  This,  his  first  essay  in  biography,  was  by 
more  accurate  revisals  corrected,  and  considerably  enlarged  in 
subsequent  editions.  Donne  has  been  principally  commended  as 
a  poet : — Walton,  who,  as  it  has  been  already  remarked,  was  a 
constant  hearer  of  his  sermons,  makes  him  known  to  us  as  a 
preacher,  eloquent,  animated,  affecting.  His  poems,  like  the  sky 
bespangled  with  small  stars,  are  occasionally  interspersed  with 
the  ornaments  of  fine  imagery.     They  must,  however,  be  pro- 

That  this  amiable  and  excellent  person  set  a  high  value  on  the  conversation 
of  his  humble  friend,  appears  from  the  following  letter  : 

"  JVrr  WORTHY  FRIEND, 

"  Since  I  last  saw  you,  I  have  been  confined  to  my  chamber  by  a  quotidian 
fever,  I  thank  God,  of  more  contumacy  than  malignity.  It  had  once  left  me, 
£is  I  thought,  but  it  was  only  to  fetch  more  company,  returning  with  a  surcrew 
of  those  splenetic  vapours,  that  are  called  hypocondrical ;  of  which  most  say 
the  cure  is  good  company,  and  I  desire  no  better  physician  than  yourself  I 
have  in  one  of  those  fits  endeavoured  to  make  it  more  easy  by  composing  a 
short  hynm  ;  and  since  I  have  apparelled  my  best  thoughts  so  lightly  as  in 
verse,  I  hope  I  shall  be  pardoned  a  second  vanity,  if  I  communicated  it  with 
such  a  friend  as  yourself;  to  whom  I  wish  a  cheerful  spirit,  and  a  thankful 
heart  to  value  it,  as  one  of  the  greatest  blessings  of  our  good  God ;  in  whose 
dear  love  I  leave  you,  remaining 

"  Your  poor  friend  to  serve  you, 

"H.  WOTTON." 
(Reliquim  Wottoniancs,  p.  361.  4th  edit.) 


LIFE   AND    WRITINGS 


nounced  generally  devoid  of  harmony  of  numbers^  or  beauty  of 
versiticafion.  Involved  in  the  language  of  metaphysical  obscurity, 
they  cannot  be  read  but  with  fastidiousness.  They  abound  in 
false  thoughts,  aifected  plirases,  and  unnatural  conceits.  His  ser- 
mons, though  not  without  that  pedantry  which  debases  the  wri- 
tings of  almost  all  the  divines  of  those  times,  are  often  written 
with  energy,  elegance,  and  copiousness  of  style.  Yet  it  must  be 
confessed,  liiat  all  the  wit  and  eloquence  of  the  author  have  been 
unable  to  secure  them  from  neijlect. 

An  instance  of  lilial  gratitude  and  affection  occurs  in  a  letter 
from  Mr.  John  Donne,  junior,  to  Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  thanking  him 
for  writing  his  father  the  Dean's  Life. 

''Sir, 

"  I  send  this  book  rather  to  witness  my  debt,  than  to  make  any 
payment.  For  it  would  be  incivil  in  me  to  offer  any  satisfaction 
for  that  that  all  my  father's  friends,  and  indeed  all  good  men,  are 
so  equally  engaged.  Courtesies  that  are  done  to  the  dead  being 
examples  of  so  much  piety,  that  they  cannot  have  their  reward  in 
this  life,  because  lasting  as  long,  and  still  (by  awakening  the  like 
charity  in  others)  propagating  the  debt,  they  must  expect  a  retri- 
bution from  him,  who  gave  the  first  inclination. 

"  2.  And  by  this  circle.  Sir,  I  have  set  you  in  my  place,  and  in- 
stead of  making  you  a  payment,  I  have  made  you  a  debtor ;  but 
'tis  to  Almighty  God,  to  whom  I  know  you  will  be  so  willingly 
committed,  that  I  may  safely  take  leave  to  write  myself, 

"  Your  thankful  servant, 

"JO.  DONNE. 

"  From  my  house  in  Covent-Garden,  ) 
24th  June,  1640."  \ 

It  is  difficult  to  discover  what  correspondence  subsisted  between 
our  biographer  and  the  writer  of  the  preceding  letter,  who,  having 
been  admitted  to  the  degree  of  doctor  of  laws  in  the  university  of 
Padua,  was  incorporated  in  that  degree  at  Oxford,  in  1638.  In  a 
will  which  was  printed  in  1662,  Dr.  John  Donne,  junior,  be- 
queathed all  his  father's  writings,  with  his  "  Common-Place  Book," 
to  Izaak  Walton,  for  the  use  of  his  son,  if  he  should  be  brought 


OF   IZAAK   WALTON. 


up  a  scholar.  That  he  was  a  clergyman,  and  had  some  prefer- 
ment in  the  diocese  of  Peterborough,  we  learn  from  a  letter  writ- 
ten to  him  by  Dr.  John  Towers,  Bishop  of  Peterborough,  his  dio- 
cesan ;  wherein  his  lordship  thanks  hirn  for  the  first  volume  of 
his  father's  sermons,  telling  him,  that  his  parishioners  may  pardon 
his  silence  to  them  for  a  while,  since  by  it  he  hath  preached  to 
them  and  to  their  children's  children,  and  to  all  our  English  par- 
ishes, for  ever.  Anthony  Wood,  although  he  describes  him  as  a 
man  of  sense  and  parts,  is  unfavourable  to  his  memory.  He  rep- 
resents him  as  no  better  than  "  an  atheistical  buffoon,  a  banterer, 
and  a  person  of  over-free  thoughts,  yet  valued  by  Charles  the 
Second."  With  a  sarcasm  not  unusual  to  him,  he  informs  his 
reader,  that  Dr.  Walter  Pope  •'  leads  an  epicurean  and  heathenish 
life,  much  like  to  that  of  Dr.  Donne,  the  son."  Bishop  Kennet, 
in  his  "  Register,"  p.  3^18,  calling  him,  by  mistake.  Dr.  John 
Downe,  names  him  as  the  editor  of  "  A  Collection  of  Letters  made 
by  Sir  Toby  Matthews,  knight,"  with  a  character  of  the  most  ex- 
cellent lady,  Lucy,  Countess  of  Carlisle,  by  the  same  author ;  to 
which  are  added  several  letters  of  his  own  to  several  persons  of 
honour,  who  were  contemporary  with  him,  London,  1660,  8vo.  I 
cannot  but  observe,  that  he  neither  consulted  the  reputation  of  his 
father,  nor  the  public  good,  when  he  caused  the  "  Biathanatos"  to 
be  printed.  If  he  was  determined,  at  all  events,  to  disregard  the 
injunctions  of  parental  authority,  would  it  not  have  been  more  ex- 
pedient to  have  committed  the  manuscript  to  the  flames,  rather 
than  to  have  encountered  the  hazard  of  diffusing  certain  novel 
opinions,  from  which  no  good  consequences  could  possibly  arise  ? 
For  though  those  effects  did  not  actually  follow,  which  are  men- 
tioned by  an  industrious  foreign  writer,  who  tells  us,  that  on  the 
first  publication  of  this  work,  many  persons  laid  violent  hands  on 
themselves ;  yet  the  most  remote  probability  of  danger  accruing 
from  it  should  have  induced  him  entirely  to  have  suppressed  it. 
But  to  return  from  this  digression. 

The  narrative  of  the  vision  in  this  Life  of  Dr.  Donne  hath  sub- 
jected the  author  to  some  severe  animadversions.  Let  it  how- 
ever  be  remembered,  that  he  probably  related  the  matter  with 
cautious  and  discreet  fidelity,  as  it  was  really  represented  to  him. 
The  account  is  not  inserted  in  the  earlier  editions  of  Dr.  Donne's 


LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 


Life.  Hence  we  may  presume,  that  the  strictest  and  most  severe 
inquiry  was  made  before  its  introduction.  Plutarch  is  not  es- 
teemed a  credulous  writer  ;  yet  he  has  given  a  full  and  circum- 
stantial history  of  the  appearances  that  presented  themselves  to  Dion 
and  to  Brutus.  And  in  modern  times  Dr.  Doddridge,  a  most  sed- 
ulous examiner  of  facts,  and  of  all  men  the  least  liable  to  credu- 
lity and  weakness  of  understanding,  published  a  relation  of  an 
extraordinary  vision.  Let  it  be  remarked  that,  according  to  the 
opinion  of  a  medical  writer  of  great  eminence,  a  discriminating 
symptom  of  human  insanity  is  "  the  rising  up  in  the  mind  of  images 
not  distinguishable  by  the  patient  from  impressions  upon  the 
senses."  To  a  momentary  delusion,  originating  from  some  bod- 
ily disorder,  we  may  safely  attribute  the  visions  or  false  percep- 
tions, of  which  many  authentic  descriptions  have  been  transmitted 
to  us  ;  and  we  may  easily  suppose  that  Dr.  Donne,  separated  from 
his  beloved  wife  and  family,  whom  he  had  left  in  a  very  distress- 
ful situation,  must  have  sufi'ered  the  most  poignant  anxiety  of 
mind,  and  of  course  much  indisposition  of  body. 

When  the  first  years  of  man  have  been  devoted  to  "  the  dili- 
gence of  trades  and  noiseful  gain,"  we  have  no  reason  to  hope 
that  his  mind  will  be  replenished  by  study,  or  enriched  with 
literature.  In  the  lucrative,  as  well  as  in  the  political  life,  men 
are  tempted  to  assume  some  of  those  habits  or  dispositions,  which 
are  not  entirely  consistent  with  the  principles  of  justice  or  honour. 
An  eagerness  to  amass  wealth,  not  seldom  extinguishes  every 
other  affection.  But  it  was  not  thus  vv^ith  Izaak  Walton.  Firm 
and  uncorrupted  in  his  integrity,  he  no  sooner  bade  farewell  to 
his  commercial  concerns,  than  he  gave  the  most  convincing 
proofs  of  his  attention  to  the  most  laudable  pursuits.  He  had 
already  written  the  Life  of  one  friend.  He  now  undertook  to 
exhibit  a  testimony  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  another.  In 
1651,  he  was  the  editor  of  "  Reliquioe  Wottonianse,  or  a  Collec- 
tion of  Lives,  Letters,  Poems,  with  Characters  of  sundry  Person- 
ages, and  other  incomparable  Pieces  of  Language  and  Art,  by  the 
curious  pencil  of  the  ever-memorable  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Knt, 
late  Provost  of  Eaton  College."  Tliis  collection  is  dedicated  "  to 
Lady  Mary  Wotton,  relict  of  the  last  Lord  Wotton,  and  to  her 
three   noble   daughters."     These   ladies   communicated   to  him 


OF   IZAAK   WALTON. 


many  original  letters,  written  by  tiieir  illustrious  relation.  After 
the  Dedication  follows  "  Tho  Life  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton."  In  the 
succeeding  editions,  the  volume  is  inscribed  to  the  Right  Honour- 
able Philip,  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  Lord  Stanhope  of  Shelford,  and 
great  nephew  to  Sir  Henry  Wotton.  This  nobleman,  accompa- 
nying his  mother,  the  Lady  Catharine  Stanhope,  into  Holland, 
where  she  attended  the  Princess  of  Orange,  daughter  to  Charles 
the  First,  had  his  education  along  with  William,  Prince  of  Orange, 
afterward  advanced  to  the  throne  of  England,  and  became  very 
serviceable  in  promoting  the  restoration  of  the  royal  family.  He 
loved  the  memory,  and  imitated  the  virtues  of  his  generous  uncle. 
By  a  life  of  strict  temperance  he  attained  to  a  great  age.  He 
died,  January  28,  1713.  It  is  proper  to  observe,  that  a  later 
edition  of  the  "  Reliquiae  Wottonianse,"  namely,  that  of  1685,  is 
enriched  with  Sir  H^enry  Wotton's  Letters  to  Lord  Zouch,  who 
was  eminent  among  his  contemporaries  as  an  able  statesman  and 
an  accomplished  scholar.* 

"  The  Church  Plistory  of  Great  Britain,"  compiled  by  Dr. 
Thomas  Fuller,  whose  writings,  though  far  from  being  without 
blemish,  are  of  inestimable  value,  was  first  published  in  1655. 
A  conversation,  seasoned  with  much  pleasantness  and  innocent 
jocularity,  is  said  to  have  passed  between  the  author  and  his 

*  A  contemporary  writer  has  thus  delineated  the  characters  of  Dr.  Donne 
and  Sir  Henry  Wotton. — "  To  speak  it  in  a  word,  the  Trojan  Horse  was  not 
fuller  of  heroic  Grecians,  than  King  James's  reign  was  full  of  men  excellent 
in  all  kinds  of  learning.  And  here  I  desire  the  reader's  leave  to  remembei' 
two  of  my  old  acquaintance :  the  one  was  Mr.  John  Donne,  who,  leaving  Ox- 
ford, lived  at  the  Inns  of  Court,  not  dissolute,  but  very  neat ;  a  great  visitor  of 
ladies,  a  great  writer  of  conceited  verses,  until  such  time  as  King  James,  taking 
notice  of  the  pregnancy  of  his  wit,  was  a  means  that  ho  took  him  to  the  study 
of  divinity,  and,  thereupon  proceeding  Doctor,  was  made  Dean  of  St.  Paul's, 
and  became  so  rare  a  preacher,  that  he  was  not  only  commended,  but  even 
admired  by  all  that  heard  him.  The  other  was  Henry  Wotton  (mine  old  ac- 
quaintance also,  as  having  been  fellow  pupils  and  chamber-fellows  in  Oxford 
divers  years  together.)  This  gentleman  was  employed  by  King  James  in  em- 
bassage to  Venice  :  and  indeed  the  kingdom  afforded  not  a  fitter  man  for 
matching  the  capaciousness  of  the  Italian  wits ;  a  man  of  so  able  dexterity 
with  his  pen,  that  he  hath  done  himself  much  wrong,  and  the  kingdom  more, 
in  leaving  no  more  of  nis  writings  behind  him." — (Sir  Richard  Baker's  Chron- 
icle of  the  Kings  of  England,  London,  1684.) 


10  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 

ever  cheerful  and  friendly  acquaintance,  Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  upon 
the  general  character  of  this  work.  Walton  having  paid  him  a 
visit,  it  was  asked  by  Fuller,  who  knew  how  intimate  he  was 
with  several  of  the  bishops  and  ancient  clergy,  first,  What  he 
thought  of  the  History  himself,  and  then,  what  reception  it  had 
met  with  among  them.  Walton  answered,  that  he  thought  "  it 
should  be  acceptable  to  all  tempers  ;  because  there  were  shades  in 
it  for  the  warm,  and  sunshine  for  those  of  a  cold  constitution  ; 
that  with  youthful  readers  the  facetious  parts  would  be  profitable 
to  make  the  serious  more  palatable  ;  while  some  reverend  old 
readers  might  fancy  themselves  in  his  History  of  the  Church,  as 
in  a  flower  garden,  or  one  full  of  evergreens."  "  And  why  not," 
said  Fuller,  "  the  Church  History  so  decked  as  well  as  the  Church 
itself  at  a  most  holv  season,  or  the  tabernacle  of  old  at  the  Feast 
of  Boughs  ?"  "  That  was  but  for  a  season,"  said  Walton  ;  "  in 
your  Feast  of  Boughs,  they  may  conceive,  we  are  so  overshadow- 
ed throughout,  that  the  parson  is  more  seen  than  his  congregation, 
and  this  sometimes  invisible  to  its  old  acquaintance,  who  may 
wander  in  the  search,  till  they  are  lost  in  the  labyrinth."  ''  Oh  !" 
says  Fuller,  '•  the  very  children  of  our  Israel  may  find  their  way 
out  of  this  wilderness."  "  True,"  returned  Walton,  "  as  indeed 
they  have  here  such  a  Moses  to  conduct  them." 

His  next  work  was  "  The  Life  of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker,"  which 
first  appeared  in  1662.  It  was  composed  at  the  earnest  request 
of  Dr.  Sheldon,  then  Bishop  of  London  ;  and  v/ith  the  express 
purpose  of  correcting  some  errors  committed  by  Dr.  Gauden,  from 
mere  inadvertency  and  haste,  in  his  account  of  "  that  immortal 
man,"  as  he  has  been  emphatically  styled,  "  who  spoke  no  lan- 
guage but  that  of  truth  dictated  by  conscience."  Gauden  seems 
to  have  been  extremely  deficient  in  his  information,  and,  dying 
soon  afterward,  had  no  opportunity  of  revising  and  amending  his 
very  imperfect  and  inaccurate  memoir.  This  was  followed  by 
"  The  Life  of  Mr.  George  Herbert,"  usually  called  •'  the  Divine 
Herbert,"  in  1670.  In  1678,  he  concluded  his  biographical  la- 
bours with  '•  The  Life  of  Dr.  Robert  Sanderson."  Previous  to  the 
publication  of  this  last  work  he  received  the  following  interesting 
letter  from  Dr.  Thomas  Barlow,  then  Bisliop  of  Lincoln,  who  had 
been  for  many  years  the  intimate  friend  of  Dr.  Sanderson  du- 


OF   IZAAK  WALTON.  11 

ring  his  residence  at  Oxlbrdj  and  after  his  retirement  into  the 
country. 

"  My  worthy  friend.  Mr.  Walton, 
"  I  am  heartily  glad,  that  you  have  undertaken  to  write  the 
Life  of  that  excellent  person,  and,  both  for  learning  and  piety, 
eminent  prelate,  Dr.  Sanderson,  late  Bishop  of  Lincoln  ;  because 
I  know  your  ability  to  know,  and  integrity  to  write  truth.  And 
sure  I  am,  that  the  life  and  actions  of  that  piqus  and  learned  prel- 
ate will  afford  you  matter  enough  for  his  commendation,  and  the 
imitation  of  posterity.  In  order  to  the  carrying  on  your  intended 
good  work,  you  desire  my  assistance,  that  I  would  communicate 
to  you  such  particular  passages  of  his  life,  as  were  certainly 
known  to  me.  1  confess  I  had  the  happiness  to  be  particularly 
known  to  him  for  about  the  space  of  twenty  years  ;  and,  in  Oxon, 
to  enjoy  his  conversation,  and  his  learned  and  pious  instructions 
while  he  was  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity  there.  Afterwards, 
when  (in  the  time  of  our  late  unhappy  confasions)  he  left  Oxon, 
and  was  retired  into  the  country,  I  had  the  benefit  of  his  letters; 
wherein,  with  great  candour  and  kindness,  he  answered  those 
doubts  I  proposed,  and  gave  me  that  satisfaction,  which  I  neither 
had,  nor  expected  from  some  others  of  greater  confidence,  but  less 
judgment  and  humility.  Having  in  a  letter  named  two  or  three 
books,  writ  ('  ex  professo')  against  the  being  of  any  original  sin ; 
and  that  Adam,  by  his  fall,  transmitted  some  calamity  only,  but 
no  crime  to  his  posterity ;  the  good  old  man  was  exceedingly 
troubled,  and  bewailed  the  misery  of  those  licentious  times,  and 
seemed  to  wonder  (save  that  the  times  were  such)  that  any  should 
write,  or  be  permitted  to  publish  any  error  so  contradictory  to 
truth  and  the  doctrine  of  the  church  of  England,  established  (as 
he  truly  said)  by  clear  evidence  of  Scripture,  and  the  just  and 
supreme  power  of  this  nation,  both  sacred  and  civil.  I  name  not 
the  books  nor  their  authors,  which  are  not  unknown  to  learned 
men  (and  I  wish  they  had  never  been  known),  because  both  the 
doctrine  and  the  unadvised  abettors  of  it  are,  and  shall  be,  to  me 
apocryphal.'^ 

*  The  writer  principally  alluded  to  in  this  part  of  the  Letter,  was  the  excel- 
lent Dr.  Jereniy  Taylor,  Bishop  of  Down  and  Conner. 


12  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 

*'  Another  little  story  I  must  not  pass  in  silence,  being  an  argu- 
ment of  Dr.   Sanderson's  piety,  great  ability,  and  judgment  as  a 
casuist.     Discoursing  with  an  honourable  person"^  (whose  piety  I 
value  more  than  his  nobility  and  learning,  though  both  be  great,) 
about  a  case  of  conscience  concerning  oaths  and  vows,  their  na- 
ture and  obligation ;  in  which,  for  some  particular  reasons,  he 
then  desired  more  fully  to  be  informed  ;  I  commended  to  him  Dr. 
Sanderson's   book,    '  De   Juramento ;'   which   having   read  with 
great  satisfaction,  he  asked  me,  '  if  I  thought  the  doctor  could  be 
induced  to  write  Cases  of  Conscience,  if  he  might  have  an  hon- 
orary pension  allowed  him,  to  furnish  him  with  books  for  that  pur- 
pose.'    I  told  him  'I  believed  he  would;'  and,  in  a  letter  to  the 
Doctor,  told  him  what  great  satisfaction  that  honourable  person, 
and  many  more,  had  reaped  by  reading  his  book,  '  De  Juramen- 
to;'  and  asked  him,  '  whether  he  would  be  pleased,  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  church,  to  write  some   tract  of  Cases  of  Conscience.' 
He  replied,  '  that  he  was  glad  that  any  had  received  benefit  by 
his  books;'  and  added  further,   'that  if  any   future  tract  of  his 
could  bring  such  benefit  to  any,  as  we  seemed  to  say  his  former  had 
done,  he  would  willingly,  though  without  any  pension,  set  about 
that  work.'     Having  received  this  answer,  that  honourable  person 
before  mentioned,  did,  by  my  hands,  return  fifty  pounds  to  the 
good  Doctor,  whose  condition  then  (as  most  good  men's  at  that 
time  were)  v/as  but  low ;  and  he  presently  revised,  finished,  and 
published  that  excellent  book,  '  De  Conscientia ;'  a  book  little  in 
bulk,  but  not  so  if  we  consider  the  benefit  an  intelligent  reader 
may  receive  by  it.     For  there  are  so  many  general  propositions 
concerning  conscience,  the  nature  and  obligation  of  it  explained, 
and  proved  with  such  firm  consequence  and  evidence  of  reason, 
that  he  who  reads,  remembers,  and  can  with  prudence  pertinently 
apply  them  '  hie  et  nunc'  to  particular  cases,  may,  by  their  light 
and  help,  rationally  resolve  a  thousand  particular  doubts  and 
scruples  of  conscience.     Here  you  may  see  the  charity  of  that 
honourable  person  in  promoting,  and  the  piety  and  industry  of  the 
good  Doctor,  in  performing  that  excellent  work. 

"  iVnd  here  I  shall  add  the  judgment  of  that  learned  and  pious 

*  Robert  Boyle,  Esq. 


OF  ISAAK   WALTON.  13 

prelate  concerning  a  passage  very  pertinent  to  our  present  pur- 
pose. Wlien  he  was  in  Oxon,  and  read  his  public  lectures  in  the 
schools  as  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity,  and  by  the  truth  of  his 
positions  and  evidences  of  his  proofs  gave  great  content  and  satis- 
faction to  all  his  hearers,  especially  in  his  clear  resolutions  of  all 
difficult  cases  which  occurred  in  the  explication  of  the  subject 
matter  of  his  lectures ;  a  person  of  quality  (yet  alive)  privately 
asked  him.  '  what  course  a  young  divine  should  take  in  his  stud- 
ies to  enable  him  to  be  a  good  casuist  V  His  ansvv-er  was,  '  that, 
a  convenient  understanding  of  the  learned  languages,  at  least  of 
Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin,  and  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  arts  and 
sciences  presupposed,  there  were  two  things  in  human  literature, 
a  comprehension  of  which  would  be  of  very  great  use,  to  enable 
a  man  to  be  a  rational  and  able  casuist,  which  otlierwise  was 
very  difficult,  if  not  impossible  :  1.  A  convenient  knowledge  of 
moral  philosophy;  especially  that  part  of  it  which  treats  of 'the 
nature  of  human  actions  :  To  know,  ''  quid  sit  actus  humanus 
(spontaneus,  invitus,  mixtus),  unde  habeat  bonitatem  et  malitiam 
moralem  ?  an  ex  genere  et  objecto,  vel  ex  circumstantiis  ?"  How 
the  variety  of  circumstances  varies  the  goodness  or  evil  of  human 
actions  ?  How  far  knowledge  and  ignorance  may  aggravate  or 
excuse,  increase  or  diminish,  the  goodness  or  evil  of  our  actions  ? 
For  every  case  of  conscience  being  only  this — "  Is  this  action 
good  or  bad  ?"  "  May  I  do  it,  or  may  I  not  ?" — he  who,  in  these, 
knows  not  how  and  whence  human  actions  become  morally  good 
and  evil,  never  can  ('  in  hypothesi')  rationally  and  certainly  de- 
termine, whether  this  or  that  particular  action  be  so.  2.  The 
second  thing,  which,'  he  said,  '  would  be  a  great  help  and  advan- 
tage  to  a  casuist,  was  a  convenient  knowledge  of  the  nature  and 
obligation  of  laws  in  general ;  to  know  what  a  law  is ;  what  a 
natural  and  positive  law ;  what  is  required  to  the  "  latio,  dispen- 
satio,  derogatio,  vel  abrogatio  legis;"  what  promulgation  is  ante- 
cedently required  to  the  obligation  of  any  positive  law  ;  what  ig- 
norance takes  off  the  obligation  of  a  law,  or  does  excuse,  diminish, 
or  aggravate  the  transgression  :  for  every  case  of  conscience  be- 
ing only  this — "  Is  this  lawful  for  me,  or  is  it  not  ?"  and  the  law 
the  only  rule  and  measure  by  which  I  must  judge  of  the  lawful- 
ness or  unlawfulness  of  any  action,  it  evidently  follows,  that  he, 


14  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 


who,  in  these,  knows  not  the  nature  and  obligation  of  laws,  never 
can  be  a  good  casuist,  or  rationally  assure  himself  or  others  of 
the  lawfulness  or  unlawfulness  of  actions  in  particular.' 

"  This  was  the  judgment  and  good  counsel  of  that  learned  and 
pious  prelate ;  and  having,  by  long  experience,  found  the  truth 
and  benefit  of  it,  I  conceive  I  could  not,  without  ingratitude  to 
him  and  want  of  charity  to  others,  conceal  it.  Pray  pardon  this 
rude  and,  I  fear,  impertinent  scribble,  which,  if  nothing  else,  may 
signify  thus  much,  that  I  am  willing  to  obey  your  desires,  and 
am,  indeed,  "  Your  affectionate  friend, 

''■  THOMAS  LINCOLN." 

London,  May  10,  1678. 

Among  the  literary  characters  of  the  sixteenth  century,  none 
appears  with  more  transcendent  lustre  than  that  of  Sir  Henry 
Savile,  a  magnificent  patron  of  merit,  and  a  complete  gentleman. 
He  seems  to  have  traversed  the  whole  range  of  science,  being 
equally  celebrated  for  his  knowledge  of  ancient  and  modern 
learning.  The  life  of  this  illustrious  scholar  would  be  a  valu- 
able acquisition  to  the  republic  of  letters.  That  it  was  actually 
compiled  by  Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  we  have  every  reason  to  con- 
clude. Dr.  King,  Bishop  of  Chichester,  in  his  letter  to  him,  da- 
ted November  17,  1664,  tells  him,  that  "  he  has  done  much  for 
Sir  Henry  Savile,  the  contemporary  and  friend  of  Mr.  Richard 
Hooker."  It  is  seriously  to  be  regretted,  that  the  most  diligent 
inquiry  after  this  work  has  hitherto  proved  unsuccessful. 

Among  those  whom  Sir  Henry  Savile  honoured  with  his  friend- 
ship was  Mr.  John  Hales  of  Eton.  Mr.  Anthony  Farringdon, 
an  eminent  preacher,  and  a  man  of  extensive  learning  and  ex- 
emplary piety,  had  collected  materials  with  a  view  to  write  the 
life  of  this  incomparable  person.  On  his  demise,  his  papers  were 
consigned  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  by  Mr.  William  Ful- 
man,  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford,  who  had  proposed  to 
finish  the  work,  and  on  that  occasion  had  applied  for  the  assistance 
of  our  biographer.  The  result  of  this  application  is  not  known. 
Fulman's  collection  of  manuscripts,  written  with  his  own  hand, 
was  deposited  in  the  archives  of  the  library  of  his  college,  and 
Wood  laments  that  he  was  refused  access  to  them.     It  is  unne- 


OF  IZAAK  WALTON.  15 

cessary  to  add,  that  the  Life  of  Mr.  Hales,  by  Mr.  Dcs  Maizeaux, 
was  published  in  1716. 

Angling  had  been  long  a  favourite  diversion  in  England.  Alex- 
ander Novvell,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  the  composer  of  "  that  good, 
plain,  unperplexed  catechism,  which  is  in  our  good  old  Service 
Book,"  was  a  lover  of,  and  most  experienced  proficient  in  this  de- 
lightful art.  It  was  his  custom,  besides  his  fixed  hours  of  private 
and  public  prayer,  to  spend  a  tenth  part  of  his  time  in  this  amuse- 
ment, and  also  to  bestow  a  tenth  part  of  his  revenue,  and  usually 
all  his  fish,  among  the  poor,  saying,  that  "  charity  gave  life  to 
religion."  An  elegant  Latin  poem,  written  by  Dr.  Simon 
Ford,  was  inscribed  to  Archbishop  Sheldon,  who,  in  his  younger 
years,  being  fond  of  this  diversion,  is  said  to  have  acquired  a 
superior  skill  in  taking  the  umber  or  barbel,  "  a  heavy  and  a 
dogged  fish  to  be  dealt  withal."  Dr.  Donne  is  called  "a  great 
practitioner,  master,  and  patron  of  angling."  And  we  learn 
from  good  authority,  that  Mr.  George  Herbert  loved  angling; 
a  circumstance  that  is  rather  to  be  believed,  "  because  he  had 
a  spirit  suitable  to  anglers,  and  to  those  primitive  Chris- 
tians who  are  so  much  loved  and  commended."  Let  not 
ttiese  remarks  provoke  the  chastisement  of  censure.  Let  them 
not  be  condemned  as  nugatory  and  insignificant.  Amidst  our 
disquietudes  and  delusive  cares,  amidst  the  painful  anxiety,  the 
disgustful  irksomeness,  which  are  often  the  unwelcome  at- 
tendants on  business  and  on  study,  a  harmless  gratification  is  not 
merely  excusable,  it  is  in  some  degree  necessary.  In  the  skilful 
management  of  the  angle,  Izaak  Walton  is  acknowledged  to  bear 
away  the  prize  from  all  his  contemporaries.  The  river  which  he 
seems  principally  to  have  frequented  for  the  purpose  of  pursuing 
his  inoffensive  amusement,  was  the  Lea,  which,  rising  above  the 
town  of  Ware  in  Hertfordshire,  falls  into  the  Thames  a  little  be- 
low Blackwall ;  "unless  we  will  suppose  that  the  vicinity  of  the 
New  River  to  the  place  of  his  habitation  might  sometimes  tempt 
him  out  with  his  friends,  honest  Nat  and  R.  Roe,  whose  loss  he 
so  pathetically  mentions,  to  spend  an  afternoon  there."  In  his 
tract  of  "  The  Complete  Angler,  or  the  Contemplative  Man's  Rec- 
reation," he  has  comprised  the  clearest  and  fullest  instructions 


16  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 


for  the  attainment  of  a  thorough  proficiency  in  the  art.  James 
Duport,  the  Greek  Professor  at  Cambridge,  who  was  far  from 
being  a  novice  in  the  use  of  the  rod,  disdained  not,  on  this  occa- 
sion, to  address  our  author  in  a  beautiful  Latin  Iambic  Ode,  of 
which  the  following  classic  version  will  not  be  unacceptable  to 
the  reader. 

"  Hail,  Walton  !  honoured  friend  of  mine, 
Mighty  master  of  the  line  ! 
Whether  down  some  valley's  side 
You  walk  to  watch  the  smooth  stream  glide, 
Or  on  the  flowery  margin  stand 
To  cheat  the  fish  with  cunning  hand, 
Or  on  the  green  bank,  seated  still, 
With  quick  eye  guard  the  dancing  quill ; 
Thrice  happy  sage  !  who,  distant  far 
From  the  wrangling  forum's  war, 
From  the  city's  bustling  train. 
From  the  busy  hum  of  men. 
Haunt  some  gentle  stream,  and  ply 
Your  honest  crafts,  to  lure  the  fry : 
And  while  the  world  around  you  set 
The  base  decoy  and  treacherous  net, 
Man  against  man,  th'  msidious  wile. 
Or,  the  rich  dotard  to  beguile, 
Bait  high  with  gifts  the  smiling  hook 
All  gilt  with  Flattery's  sweetest  look ; 
Arm'd  for  the  innocent  deceit. 
You  love  the  scaly  brood  to  cheat. 
And  tempt  that  water-wolf,  the  pike, 
With  ravening  tooth  his  prey  to  strike. 
Or  in  the  minnow's  living  head 
Or  in  the  writhed  brandling  red 
Fix  your  well-charged  hook,  to  gull 
The  greedy  perch,  bold-biting  fool. 
Or  with  the  tender  moss-worm  tried 
Win  the  nice  trout's  speckled  pride. 
Or  on  the  carp,  whose  wary  eye 
Admits  no  vulgar  tackle  nigh, 
Essay  your  art's  supreme  address. 
And  beat  the  fox  in  sheer  finesse. 
The  tench,  physician  of  the  brook. 
Owns  the  magic  of  your  hook. 


OF  IZAAK  WALTON.  17 

The  little  gudgeon's  thoughtless  haste 
Yields  a  brief  yet  sweet  repast, 
And  the  whisker'd  barbel  pays 
His  coarser  bulk  to  swell  your  praise. 
Such  the  amusement  of  your  hours, 
While  the  season  aids  your  powers  ; 
Nor  shall  my  friend  a  single  day 
Ere  pass  without  a  line  away. 
Nor  these  alone  your  honours  bound. 
The  tricks  experience  has  found  ; 
Sublimer  theory  lifts  your  name 
Above  the  fishers  simple  fame, 
And  in  the  practice  you  excel 
Of  what  none  else  can  teach  as  well, 
And  wield  at  once  with  equal  skill 
The  useful  powers  of  either  quill. 
With  all  that  winning  grace  of  style, 
What  else  were  tedious,  to  beguile, 
A  second  Oppian,  you  impart 
The  secrets  of  the  ansflinof  art : 
Each  fish's  nature,  and  how  best 
To  fit  the  bait  to  every  taste, 
Till,  in  the  scholar  that  you  train. 
The  accomplish'd  master  lives  again. 
And  yet  your  pen  aspires  above 
The  maxims  of  the  art  you  love  ; 
Though  virtues,  faintly  taught  by  rule. 
Are  better  learnt  in  angling's  school, 
Where  Temperance,  that  drinks  the  rill, 
And  Patience,  sovereign  over  ill. 
By  many  an  active  lesson  bouglit, 
Refine  the  soul,  and  steel  the  thought. 
Far  higher  truths  you  love  to  start. 
To  train  us  to  a  nobler  art, 
And  in  the  lives  of  good  men  give 
That  chiefest  lesson,  how  to  live  ; 
While  Hooker,  philosophic  sage, 
Becomes  the  wonder  of  your  page. 
Or  while  we  see  combined  in  one 
The  wit  and  the  divine  in  Donne  ; 
Or  while  the  poet  and  the  priest. 
In  Herbert's  sainted  form  confest, 
Unfold  the  temple's  holy  maze 
That  awes  and  yet  invites  our  gaze : 

3 


18  LIFE   AND  WRITINGS 


Worthies  these  of  pious  name 
From  your  portraying  pencil  claim 
A  second  life,  and  strike  anew 
With  fond  delight  the  admiring  view. 
And  thus  at  once  the  peopled  brook 
Submits  its  captives  to  your  hook, 
And  we,  the  wiser  eons  of  men, 
Yield  to  the  magic  of  your  pen, 
While  angling  on  some  streamlet's  brink 
The  muse  and  you  combine  to  think." 


In  this  volume  of  "  The  Complete  Angler,"  which  will  be  al- 
ways read  with  avidity,  even  by  those  who  entertain  no  strong 
relish  for  the  art  which  it  professes  to  teach,  we  discover  a  copi- 
ous vein  of  innocent  pleasantry  and  good  humour.  The  scenes 
descriptive  of  rural  life  are  inimitably  beautiful.  How  artless 
and  unadorned  is  the  language  !  The  dialogue  is  diversified  with 
all  the  characteristic  beauties  of  colloquial  composition.  The 
songs  and  little  poems,  which  are  occasionally  inserted,  will 
abundantly  gratify  the  reader,  who  has  a  taste  for  the  charms  of 
pastoral  poesy.  And,  above  all,  those  lovely  lessons  of  religious 
and  moral  instruction,  which  are  so  repeatedly  inculcated  through- 
out the  whole  work,  will  ever  recommend  this  exquisitely  pleas- 
ing performance.  It  was  first  printed  in  1653,  with  the  figures 
of  the  fishes  very  elegantly  engraved,  probably  by  Lombart,  on 
plates  of  steel ;  and  was  so  generally  read  as  to  pass  through  five 
editions  during  the  life  of  the  author.  The  second  edition  is  da- 
ted in  1655,  the  third  in  1661 ;  and  in  1668  the  fourth  appeared 
with  many  valuable  additions  and  improvements.  The  lovers  of 
Angling,  to  whom  this  treatise  is  familiar,  are  apprized,  that  the 
art  of  fishing  whh  the  fly  is  not  discussed  with  sufficient  accura- 
cy ;  the  few  directions  that  are  given,  having  been  principall}'- 
communicated  by  Mr.  Thomas  Barker,  who  has  written  a  very 
entertaining  tract  on  the  subject.  To  remedy  this  defect,  and  to 
give  lessons  how  to  angle  for  a  trout  or  grayling  in  a  clear  stream, 
a  fifth  and  much  improved  edition  was  published  in  1676,  with 
a  second  part  by  Charles  Cotton,  of  Beresford,  in  Staffordshire, 
Esq.  This  gentleman,  who  is  represented  as  the  most  laborious 
trout-catcher,   if  not  the  most  experienced   angler  for  trout  and 


OF   IZAAK  WALTON.  19 

grayling  that  England  ever  had,  to  testify  his  regard  for  Mr. 
Walton,  had  caused  the  words, 


«  PISCATORIBUS  SACRUM 


5? 


with  a  cipher  underneath,  comprehending  the  initial  letters  of  both 
their  names,  to  be  inscribed  on  the  front  of  his  fishing-house. 
This  little  building  was  situated  near  the  banks  of  the  river  Dove, 
which  divides  the  two  counties  of  Stafford  and  Derby.  Here  Mr. 
Walton  usually  spent  his  vernal  months,  carrying  v/ith  him  the 
best  and  choicest  of  all  earthly  blessings,  a  contemplative  mind,  a 
cheerful  disposition,  an  active  and  a  healthful  body.  So  beaute- 
ous did  the  scenery  of  this  delightful  spot  appear  to  him,  that,  to 
use  his  own  words,  "  the  pleasantness  of  the  river,  mountains, 
and  meadows  about  it,  cannot  be  described,  unless  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney, or  Mr.  Cotton's  father  were  again  alive  to  do  it." 

In  the  latter  years  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  the  vio- 
lence of  faction  burst  forth  with  renovated  fury.  The  discon- 
tents of  the  Nonconformists  were  daily  increasing ;  while  Popery 
assumed  fresh  hopes  of  re-establishing  itself  by  fomenting  and 
encouraging  the  divisions  that  unhappily  subsisted  among  Protes- 
tants. A  tract,  entitled  "  The  Naked  Truth,  or  the  True  State 
of  the  Church,"  was  published  in  1675,  and  attributed  to  Dr. 
Herbert  Croft,  Bishop  of  Hereford.  Eager  to  accomplish  a  union 
of  the  Dissenters  with  the  Church  of  England,  and  to  include 
them  within  its  pale,  this  prelate  hesitated  not  to  suggest  the  ex- 
pediency of  proposing  several  concessions  to  them,  with  respect 
to  the  rites  and  ceremonies  then  in  use,  and  even  to  comply  with 
their  unreasonable  demand  of  abolishing  Episcopacy.  It  may  be 
easily  presumed,  that  these  proposals  met  with  no  very  favoura- 
ble reception.  They  were  animadverted  upon  with  much  spirit 
and  ability,  in  various  publications.  In  the  mean  time,  animosi- 
ties prevailed  without  any  prospect  of  their  termination.  From 
fanaticism  on  one  side,  and  from  superstition  on  the  other,  real 
danger  was  apprehended.  Those  who  exerted  themselves  in 
maintaining  the  legal  rights  and  liberties  of  the  established  church, 
were  denominated  "  Whigs."  Most  of  them  were  persons  emi- 
nent for  their  learning,  and  very  cordially  attached  to  the  estab- 


20  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 


lished  constitution.  Others,  who  opposed  the  Dissenters,  and 
were  thought  to  be  more  in  fear  of  a  republic,  than  a  Popish  suc- 
cessor, were  distinguished  by  the  name  of  "  Tories."  At  this 
critical  period,  Izaak  Walton  expressed  his  solicitude  for  the  real 
welfare  of  his  country,  not  with  a  view  to  embarrass  himself  in 
disputation, — for  his  nature  was  totally  abhorrent  from  contro- 
versy,— but  to  give  an  ingenuous  and  undissembled  account  of 
his  own  faith  and  practice,  as  a  true  son  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. His  modesty  precluded  him  from  annexing  his  name  to 
the  treatise,  which  he  composed  at  this  time,  and  which  appeared, 
first,  in  1680,  under  the  title  of  "  Love  and  Truth,  in  two  mod- 
est and  peaceable  Letters,  concerning  the  Distempers  of  the  pres- 
ent Times ;  written  from  a  quiet  and  conformable  Citizen  of  Lon- 
den,  to  two  busy  and  factious  Shopkeepers  in  Coventry.  '  But 
let  none  of  you  suffer  as  a  busy-body  in  other  men's  matters.' 
1  Pet.  iv.  15.  1680."  The  style,  the  sentiment,  the  argumenta- 
tion, are  such  as  might  be  expected  from  a  plain  man,  actuated 
only  by  an  honest  zeal  to  promote  the  public  peace.  And  if  we 
consider  that  it  was  written  by  him  in  the  87th  year  of  his  age,  a 
period  of  life  when  the  faculties  of  the  mind  are  usually  on  the 
decline,  it  will  be  scarce  possible  not  to  admire  the  clearness  of 
his  judgment,  and  the  unimpaired  vigour  of  his  memory.  The 
real  purport  of  this  work,  which  is  not  altogether  unapplicable  to 
more  recent  times,  and  which  breathes  the  genuine  spirit  of  be- 
nevolence and  candour,  is  happily  expressed  in  the  author's  own 
words  to  the  person  whom  he  addresses  in  the  second  letter. 

"  This  I  beseech  you  to  consider  seriously  ;  and,  good  cousin, 
let  me  advise  you  to  be  one  of  the  thankful  and  quiet  party ;  for 
it  will  bring  peace  at  last.  Let  neither  your  discourse  nor  prac- 
tice be  to  encourage  or  assist  in  making  a  schism  in  that  church, 
in  which  you  were  baptized  and  adopted  a  Christian  ;  for  you 
may  continue  in  it  with  safety  to  your  soul ;  you  may  in  it  study 
sanctification,  and  practise  it  to  what  degree  God,  by  his  grace, 
shall  enable  you.  You  may  fast  as  much  as  you  will ;  be  as  hum- 
ble as  you  will ;  pray  both  publicly  and  privately  as  much  as  you 
will ;  visit  and  comfort  as  many  distressed  and  dejected  fam- 
ilies as  you  will  ;  be  as  liberal  and  charitable  to  the  poor  as  you 
think  fit  and  are  able.     These,  and  all  other  of  those  undoubted 


OF   IZAAK  WALTON.  21 

Christian  graces  that  accompany  salvation,  you  may  practise  ei- 
ther publicly  or  privately,  as  much  and  as  often  as  you  think  fit ; 
and  yet  keep  in  the  communion  of  that  church,  of  which  you 
were  made  a  member  by  your  baptism.  These  graces  you  may 
practise,  and  not  be  a  busy-body  in  promoting  schism  and  fac- 
tion ;  as  God  knows  your  father's  friends,  Hugh  Peters  and  John 
Lilbourn  did,  to  the  ruin  of  themselves  and  many  of  their  disci- 
ples. Their  turbulent  lives  and  uncomfortable  deaths  are  not,  I 
hope,  yet  worn  out  of  the  memory  of  many.  He  that  compares 
them  with  the  holy  life  and  happy  death  of  Mr.  George  Herbert, 
as  it  is  plainly,  and,  I  hope,  truly  writ  by  Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  may 
in  it  find  a  perfect  pattern  for  an  humble  and  devout  Christian  to 
imitate.  And  he  that  considers  the  restless  lives  and  uncomfort- 
able deaths  of  the  other  two  (who  always  lived,  like  the  salaman- 
der, in  the  fire  of  contention),  and  considers  the  dismal  conse- 
quences of  schism  and  sedition,  will  (if  prejudice  and  a  malicious 
zeal  have  not  so  blinded  him  that  he  cannot  see  reason)  be  so  con- 
vinced, as  to  beg  of  God  to  give  him  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit ;  and 
that  he  may,  by  his  grace,  be  prevented  from  being  a  busy-body, 
in  what  concerns  him  not." 

Such  admonitions  as  these  could  only  proceed  from  a  heart 
overflowing  with  goodness ;  a  heart,  as  was  said  concerning  that 
of  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  "  in  which  peace,  patience,  and  calm  con- 
tent did  inhabit." 

His  intercourse  with  learned  men,  and  the  frequent  and 
familiar  conversations  which  he  held  with  them,  afforded  him 
many  opportunities  of  obtaining  several  valuable  anecdotes  rela- 
tive to  the  history  of  his  contemporaries.  The  following  literary 
curiosity  is  preserved  in  the  Ashmolean  Museum,  at  Oxford : 

"  For  your  friend's  queries  this  : 

"  I  only  knew  Ben  Jonson ;  but  my  lord  of  Winton  knew  him 
very  well,  and  says  he  was  in  the  sixth,  that  is,  the  uppermost 
form  in  Westminster  school,  at  which  time  his  father  died,  and 
his  mother  married  a  bricklayer,  who  made  him  (much  against 
his  will)  help  hiin  in  his  trade ;  but  in  a  short  time,  his  school- 
master, Mr.  Camden,  got  him  a  better  employment,  which  was  to 
attend  or  accompany  a  son  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  in  his  travels. 


22  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 

Within  a  short  time  after  their  return,  they  parted  (I  think  not  in 
cool  blood)  and  with  a  love  suitable  to  what  they  had  in  their 
travels  (not  to  be  commended).  And  then  Ben  began  to  set  up 
for  himself  in  the  trade  by  which  he  got  his  subsistence  and  fame, 
of  which  I  need  not  give  any  account.  He  got  in  time  to  have  a 
hundred  pounds  a  year  from  the  king,  also  a  pension  from  the 
city,  and  the  like  from  many  of  the  nobility  and  some  of  the 
gentry,  which  was  well  paid,  for  love  or  fear  of  his  railing  in 
verse  or  prose,  or  both.  My  lord  told  me,  he  told  him  he  was  (in 
his  long  retirement  and  sickness,  when  he  saw  him,  which  was 
often)  much  afflicted,  that  he  had  profaned  the  Scripture  in  his 
plays,  and  lamented  it  with  horror ;  yet  that,  at  that  time  of  his 
long  retirement,  his  pension  (so  much  as  came  in)  was  given  to 
a  woman  that  governed  him  (with  whom  he  lived  and  died  near 
the  Abbey  in  Westminster) ;  and  that  neither  he  nor  she  took 
much  care  for  next  week ;  and  would  be  sure  not  to  want  wine ; 
of  which  he  usually  took  too  much  before  he  went  to  bed,  if  not 
oftener  and  sooner.  My  lord  tells  me,  he  knows  not,  but  thinks 
he  was  born  in  Westminster.  The  question  may  be  put  to  Mr. 
Wood  very  easily  upon  what  grounds  he  is  positive  as  to  his 
being  born  there ;  he  is  a  friendly  man,  and  will  resolve  it.  So 
much  for  brave  Ben.  You  will  not  think  the  rest  so  tedious  as  1 
do  this. 

"  For  your  second  and  third  queries  of  Mr.  Hill,  and  Billings- 
ley,  I  do  neither  know  nor  can  learn  any  thing  worth  telling  you. 

"For  your  two  remaining  queries  of  Mr.  W^arner,  and  Mr. 
Harriott,  this : 

"  Mr.  Warner  did  long  and  constantly  lodge  near  the  water- 
stairs,  or  market,  in  Woolstable.  Woolstable  is  a  place  not  far 
from  Charing-Cross,  and  nearer  to  Northumberland-house.  My 
lord  of  Winchester  tells  me,  he  knew  him,  and  that  he  said,  he 
first  found  out  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  and  discovered  it  to 
Dr.  Harvey  (who  said  that  it  was  he  himself  that  found  it),  for 
which  he  is  so  memorally  famous.  Warner  had  a  pension  of 
forty  pounds  a  year  from  that  Earl  of  Northumberland  that  lay 
so  long  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  and  some  allowance  from  Sir 
Thomas  Aylesbury,  and  with  whom  he  usually  spent  his  summer 


OF  IZAAK  WALTON.  23 

**  »^      ■■■■Ml  111  ■  l-l  I  ■  I,  I..I  MM      I.       ■  IIWIM      I  fc.— ^— ■  I 

in  Windsor  Park,  and  was  welcome,  for  he  was  harmless  and 
quiet.  His  winter  was  spent  at  the  Woolstable,  where  he  died  in 
the  time  of  the  parliament  of  1640,  of  which  or  whom  he  was  no 
lover. 

"  Mr.  Harriott,  my  lord  tells  me,  he  knew  also  ;  that  he  was  a 
niore  gentle  man  than  Warner.  That  he  had  a  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds  a  year  pension  from  the  said  Earl  (who  was  a 
lover  of  their  studies),  and  his  lodgings  in  Sion-house,  where  he 
thinks  or  believes  he  died. 

"  This  is  all  I  know  or  can  learn  for  your  friend ;  which 
I  wish  may  be  worth  the  time  and  trouble  of  reading  it. 

"  Nov.  22,  '80.  J.  W. 

"  I  forgot  to  tell,  that  I  heard  the  sermon  preached  for  the 
Lady  Danvers,  and  have  it;  but  thank  your  friend." 

A  life  of  temperance,  sobriety,  and  cheerfulness,  is  not  seldom 
rewarded  with  length  of  days,  with  a  healthful,  honourable,  and 
happy  old  age.  Izaak  Walton  retained  to  the  last  a  constitution 
unbroken  by  disease,  with  the  full  possession  of  his  mental 
powers.  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Cotton,  from  London,  April  29,  1676, 
he  writes :  "  Though  I  be  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from  you, 
and  in  the  eighty-third  year  of  my  age,  yet  I  will  forget  both,  and 
next  month  begin  a  pilgrimage  to  beg  your  pardon."  He  had 
written  the  life  of  Dr.  Sanderson,  when  he  was  in  his  eighty-fifth 
year.  We  find  him  active  with  his  pen,  after  this  period,  at  a 
time  when,  "  silvered  o'er  with  age,"  he  had  a  just  claim  to  a 
writ  of  ease.  On  the  ninetieth  anniversary  of  his  birth-day,  he 
declares  himself  in  his  will  to  be  of  perfect  memory.  In  the  very 
year  in  which  he  died,  he  prefixed  a  Preface  to  a  work  edited  by 
him :  "  Thealma  and  Clearchus,  a  Pastoral  History,  in  smooth 
and  easy  verse ;  written  long  since  by  John  Chalkhill,  Esq.,  an 
acquaintant  and  friend  of  Edmund  Spenser."  Flatman,  who  is 
known  both  as  a  poet  and  a  painter,  hath  in  such  true  colours  de- 
lineated the  character  of  his  much-esteemed  friend,  that  it  would 
be  injurious  not  to  transcribe  the  following  lines  : 


24  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 


"to    my    worthy    friend,    MR.    IZAAK    WALTON, 
"  ON  THE  PUBLICATION  OF    THIS  POEM. 

"  Long  had  the  bright  Thealma  lay  obscure  ; 
Her  beauteous  charms,  that  might  the  world  allure, 
Lay,  like  rougli  diamonds  in  the  mine,  unknown, 
By  all  the  sons  of  fully  trampled  on, 
Till  your  kind  hand  unveiled  her  lovely  face, 
And  gave  her  vigour  to  exert  her  rays. 
Happy  old  man  !  whose  worth  all  mankind  knows, 
Except  himself;  who  charitably  shows, 
The  ready  road  to  virtue  and  to  praise, 
The  road  to  many  long  and  happy  days, 
The  noble  arts  of  generous  piety, 
And  how  to  compass  true  felicity  ; 
Hence  did  he  leara  the  art  of  living  well ; 
The  bright  Thealma  was  his  oracle  : 
Inspired  by  her  he  knows  no  anxious  cares, 
Through  near  a  century  of  pleasant  years : 
Easy  he  lives,  and  cheerful  shall  he  die. 
Well  spoken  of  by  late  posterity, 
As  long  as  Spenser's  noble  flames  shall  bum, 
And  deep  devotions  throng  about  his  urn ; 
As  lonof  as  Chalkhill's  venerable  name 
With  noble  emulation  shall  inflame 
Ages  to  come,  and  swell  the  rolls  of  fame. 
Your  mcmorj'  shall  for  ever  be  secure, 
And  long  beyond  our  short -hved  praise  endure  ; 
As  Phidias  in  Minerva's  shield  did  live, 
And  shared  that  immortality  he  alone  could  give." 

The  classic  reader,  when  he  recollects  the  story  of  Phidias,  will 
easily  acknowledge  the  propriety  of  the  encomium  passed  on  Mr. 
Walton,  who  secured  immortal  fame  to  himself,  while  he  con- 
ferred it  upon  others.  That  divine  artist,  having  finished  his  fa- 
mous statue  of  Minerva,  with  the  most  consummate  exquisiteness  of 
skill,  afterwaixl  impressed  his  own  image  so  deeply  on  her  buck- 
ler, that  it  could  not  be  effaced  without  destroying  the  whole  work. 

The  beauties  of"  Thealma  and  Clearchus,"  and  the  character 
of  the  author,  are  not  unaptly  described  in  the  editor's  own  lan- 
guage. He  intimates  in  the  Preface,  that  "  the  reader  will  find 
what  the  title  declares,  a  Pastoral  History,  in  smooth  and  easy 


OF  IZAAK  WALTON.  25 


verse  ;  and  will  in  it  find  many  hopes  and  fears  finely  painted 
and  feelingly  expressed.  And  he  will  find  the  first  so  often  dis- 
appointed, when  fullest  of  desire  and  expectation  ;  and  the  latter 
so  often,  so  strangely,  and  so  unexpectedly  relieved  by  an  unfore- 
seen Providence,  as  may  beget  in  him  wonder  and  amazement." 
He  adds,  that  "  the  reader  must  here  also  meet  with  passions 
heightened  by  easy  and  fit  descriptions  of  joy  and  sorrow  ;  and 
find  also  such  various  events  and  rewards  of  innocent  truth  and 
undissembled  honesty,  as  is  like  to  leave  in  him  (if  he  be  a  good- 
natured  reader)  more  sympathizing  and  virtuous  impressions  than 
ten  times  so  much  time  spent  in  impertinent,  critical,  and  needless 
disputes  about  religion."  Mr.  Chalkhill  died  before  he  had  per- 
fected even  the  fable  of  his  poem.  He  was  a  man  generally 
known  in  his  time,  and  as  well  beloved  ;  for  he  was  humble  and 
obliging  in  his  behaviour,  a  gentleman,  a  scholar,  very  innocent 
and  prudent ;  and  indeed  his  whole  life  was  useful,  quiet,  and 
virtuous.  So  amiable  were  the  manners,  so  truly  excellent  the  char- 
acter of  all  those,  whom  Izaak  Walton  honoured  with  his  regard. 
When  Leoniceni,  one  of  the  most  profound  scholars  in  Italy,  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  was  asked  by  what  art  he  had,  through  a 
period  of  ninety  years,  preserved  a  sound  memory,  perfect  senses, 
an  upright  body,  and  a  vigorous  health,  he  answered,  "  by  inno- 
cence, serenity  of  mind,  and  temperance."  Izaak  W^alton,  hav- 
ing uniformly  enjoyed  that  happy  tranquillity,  which  is  the  natural 
concomitant  of  virtue,  came  to  the  grave  in  a  full  age,  "  like  as  a 
shock  of  corn  cometh  in  his  season." 

"  So  would  I  live,  such  gradual  death  to  find, 
Like  timely  fruit,  not  shaken  by  the  wind, 
But  ripely  dropping  from  the  sapless  bough  ; 
And  dying,  nothing  to  myself  would  owe. 
Thus,  daily  changing,  with  a  duller  taste 
Of  lessening  joys,  I  by  degrees  would  waste  ; 
Still  quitting  ground  by  unperceived  decay, 
And  steal  myself  from  life  and  melt  away." 

Dryden. 

He  died  during  the  time  of  the  great  frost,  on  the  fifteenth  day 
of  December,  1683,  at  Winchester,  in  the  prebendal  house  of  Dr. 
William  Hawkins,  hi*  son-in-law,  whom  he  loved  as  his  own  son. 


26  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 

It  was  his  express  desire,  that  his  burial  might  be  near  the  place 
of  his  death,  privately,  and  free  from  any  ostentation  or  charge. 
On  the  stone  which  covers  his  remains  within  the  cathedral  of 
that  city  these  lines  are  yet  extant. 

"  Here  resteth  the  body  of 

MR.  ISAAK  WALTON, 

Who  died  the  15th  of  Deer.  1683. 

"  Alas  !  he  's  gone  before, 
Gone  to  return  no  more. 
Our  panting  breasts  aspire 
■    *  After  their  aged  sire, 

Whose  well-spent  life  did  last 
Full  ninety  years  and  past. 
But  now  he  hath  begun 
That  which  will  ne'er  be  done, 
Crowned  with  eternal  bliss, 
We  wish  our  souls  with  his. 

VOTIS   MODESTIS   SIC    FLERUNT    LIBERI." 

He  survived  his  wife  many  years.  She  died  in  1662,  and  was 
buried  in  our  Lady's  Chapel,  in  the  Cathedral  of  Worcester.  In 
the  north  wall  is  placed  a  small  oval  monument  of  white  marble, 
on  which  is  the  following  inscription,  written,  no  doubt,  by  her 
affectionate  husband. 

"  Ex terris 

D.        + 
S.        +.     M 
Here  lyeth  buried  so  much  as 
could  die  of  ANA,  the  wife  of 
ISAAC  WALTON, 
who  was 
a  woman  of  remarkable  prudence 
and  of  the  primitive  piety  :  her  great 
and  general  knowledge  being  adorned 
with  such  true  humility,  and  blest 
with  so  much  Christian  meekness  as 
made  her  worthy  of  a  more  memorable 
Monument. 
She  died  (alas  that  she  is  dead) 
the  17th  of  April,  1662,  aged  52. 
Study  to  be  like  her." 


OF  IZAAK  WALTON.  27 

He  had  one  son,  Isaac,  who  never  married,  and  a  daughter 
Anne,  the  wife  of  Dr.  William  Hawkins,  a  prebendary  in  the 
church  of  Winchester,  and  rector  of  Droxford  in  Hampshire. 
Dr.  W^illiam  Hawkins  left  a  son  William,  and  a  daughter  Anne. 
The  latter  died  unmarried.  The  son,  who  was  a  serjeant  at  law, 
and  author  of  the  well-known  treatise  of  "  The  Pleas  of  the 
Crown,"  lived  and  died  in  the  Close  of  Sarum.  He  published  a 
short  account  of  the  life  of  his  great  uncle  in  1713,  and  also  his 
works  in  1721,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Works  of  the  right 
reverend,  learned,  and  pious  Thomas  Ken,  D.  D.,  late  Lord 
Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells.  4  vols."  These  works  include  only- 
Ken's  poetical  compositions,  which  do  not  merit  any  great  enco- 
mium, though  they  are  written  in  a  strain  of  real  piety  and  devo- 
tion. This  William  Hawkins  had  a  son  and  three  daughters,  the 
eldest  of  whom,  Mrs.  Hawes,  relict  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hawes, 
rector  of  Bemerton,  is  the  only  surviving  person  of  that  gene- 
ration. 

I  have  omitted  to  enumerate  among  the  friends  of  our  biogra- 
pher. Dr.  George  Morley,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  Dr.  Seth 
Ward,  Bishop  of  Salisbury.  To  be  esteemed,  to  be  caressed  by 
men  of  such  comprehensive  learning  and  extraordinary  abilities, 
is  honourable  indeed.  They  were  his  choicest  and  most  confi- 
dential companions.  After  the  Restoration,  he  and  his  daughter 
had  apartments  constantly  reserved  for  them  in  the  houses  of 
these  two  prelates.  Here  he  spent  his  time  in  that  mutual  recip- 
rocation of  benevolent  offices,  which  constitutes  the  blessedness 
of  virtuous  friendship.  He  experienced  many  marks  of  favour 
from  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  of  whose  kindness  to  him  he  has 
signified  his  remembrance  in  the  ring  bequeathed  at  his  death, 
with  this  expressive  motto,  "a  mite  for  a  million."  It  was 
doubtless  through  his  recommendation,  that  Ken  obtained  the 
patronage  of  Dr.  Morley  ;  who,  having  appointed  him  his  chap- 
lain, presented  him  to  the  rectory  of  Woodhay,  in  Hampshire ; 
and  then  preferred  him  to  the  dignity  of  a  prebendary  in  the  ca- 
thedral church  of  Winton. 

The  worthy  son  of  a  worthy  father  had  no  cause  to  complain 
that  his  merit  was  unnoticed,  or  unrewarded.  Mr.  Izaak  Walton, 
junior,  was  educated  at  Christ  Church  in  Oxford.     Whilst  he  was 


28  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 

Bachelor  of  Arts  he  attended  his  uncle,  Mr.  Ken,  to  Rome,  where 
he  was  present  at  the  jubilee  appointed  by  Pope  Clement  the 
Tenth  in  1675.  On  this  occasion  Ken  was  wont  to  say,  "  that  he 
had  great  reason  to  give  God  thanks  for  his  travels  ;  since,  if  it 
were  possible,  he  returned  rather  more  confirmed  of  the  purity  of 
the  Protestant  religion  than  he  was  before."  During  his  resi- 
dence in  Italy,  that  country,  which  is  justly  called  the  great 
school  of  music  and  painting,  the  rich  repository  of  the  noblest 
productions  of  statuary  and  architecture,  both  ancient  and  modern, 
young  Mr.  Walton  indulged  and  improved  his  taste  for  the  fine 
arts.  On  his  return  to  England,  he  retired  to  the  university  of 
Oxford  to  prosecute  his  studies.  Having  afterward  accepted  an 
invitation  from  Bishop  Ward,  to  become  his  domestic  chaplain,  he 
was  preferred  to  the  rectory  of  Polshot,  near  Devizes  in  Wilt- 
shire, and  elected  a  canon  of  Salisbury.  He  afforded  much 
assistance  to  Dr.  John  Walker,  when  engaged  in  his  "  History  of 
the  Sufferings  of  the  Clergy,"  communicating  to  him  a  variety  of 
materials  for  that  excellent  work.  He  possessed  all  the  amiable 
qualities  that  adorned  the  character  of  his  father,  a  calm  philan- 
thropy, a  genuine  piety,  an  unaffected  humility.  It  was  at  the 
house  of  this  his  nephew,  that  Dr.  Ken  was  upon  a  visit,  when  a 
stack  of  chimneys  fell  into  his  bed-chamber,  Nov.  27,  1703, 
without  doing  him  any  harm  ;  whilst  Dr.  Kidder,  his  immediate 
successor  in  the  see  of  Bath  and  Wells,  was  unfortunately  killed 
with  his  lady  by  a  similar  accident,  during  the  same  storm,  in  his 
palace  at  Wells.  Mr.  Walton,  junior,  died  in  1716.  His  re- 
mains lie  interred  at  the  feet  of  his  friend  and  patron,  Bishop 
Ward,  in  the  cathedral  of  Salisbury. 

It  would  be  highly  improper  to  ascribe  to  Mr.  Izaak  Walton 
that  extent  of  knowledge,  which  characterizes  the  scholar.  Yet 
those  who  are  conversant  in  his  writings  will  probably  entertain 
no  doubt  of  his  acquaintance  with  books.  His  frequent  refer- 
ences to  ancient  and  modern  history,  his  seasonable  applications 
of  several  passages  in  the  most  approved  writers,  his  allusions  to 
various  branches  of  general  science,  these  and  other  circum- 
stances concur  in  confirming  the  assertion,  that  though  he  did  not 
partake  of  the  benefits  of  early  erudition,  yet  in  maturer  age,  he 
enlarged  his  intellectual  acquisitions,  so  as  to  render  them  fully 


OF   IZAAK   WALTON.  29 

proportionate  to  his  opportunities  and  abilities.  The  fruits  of  his 
truly  commendable  industry  he  has  generously  consecrated  to 
posterity.  Deprived  of  the  advantage  of  a  learned  education,  he 
hath  with  great  fidelity  preserved  the  memory  of  those,  who  were 
'•  by  their  knowledge  of  learning  meet  for  the  people,  wise  and 
eloquent  in  their  instructions,  honoured  in  their  generations,  and 
the  glory  of  their  times,'"'  each  of  whom,  in  his  edifying  pages, 
"being  dead  yet  speaketh."  He  may  be  literally  said  "to  have 
laboured  not  for  himself  only,  but  for  all  those  that  seek  wisdom." 
How  interesting  and  affecting  are  many  of  his  narratives  and 
descriptions !  The  vision  of  ghastly  horror  that  presented  itself 
to  Dr.  Donne,  at  the  time  of  his  short  residence  in  Paris  ;  the 
pleasant  messages  which  Sir  Henry  Wotton  and  the  good-natured 
priest  exchanged  with  each  other  in  a  church  at  Rome,  during  the 
time  of  vespers ;  the  domestic  incidents  which  excited  the  tender 
commiseration  of  Mr.  Edwin  Sandys  and  Mr.  George  Cranmer, 
while  they  visited  their  venerable  tutor  at  his  country  parsonage 
at  Drayton  Beauchamp  ;  the  affectionate  and  patient  condescen- 
sion of  Mr.  George  Herbert,  compassionating  the  distresses  of  the 
poor  woman  of  Bemerton  ;  the  interview  of  Dr.  Sanderson  and 
Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  accidentally  meeting  each  other  in  the  streets 
of  London  ;  these  and  numberless  other  .similar  passages  will  al- 
ways be  read  with  reiterated  pleasure. 

We  shall  indeed  be  disappointed,  if  we  expect  to  find  in  the 
following  volume  the  brilliancy  of  wit,  the  elaborate  correctness 
of  style,  or  the  ascititious  graces  and  ornaments  of  fine  composi- 
tion. But  that  pleasing  simplicity  of  sentiment,  that  plain  and 
unaffected  language,  and,  may  I  add,  that  natural  eloquence,  which 
pervades  the  whole,  richly  compensates  the  want  of  elegance,  and 
rhetorical  embellishment.  Truth  is  never  displayed  to  us  in  more 
grateful  colours,  than  when  she  appears,  not  in  a  garish  attire,  but 
in  her  own  native  garb,  without  artifice,  Avithout  pomp.  In  that 
garb  Izaak  Walton  has  arrayed  her.  Deeply  impressed  with  the 
excellence  of  those  exemplary  characters  which  he  endeavours 
to  portray,  he  speaks  no  other  language  than  tliat  of  the  heart, 
and  thus  imparts  to  the  reader  his  own  undisguised  sentiments,  so 
friendly  to  piety  and  virtue.  Assuredly,  no  pleasure  can  be 
placed  in   competition   with  that,  which  results  from  the  view  of 


30  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


men  sedulously  adjusting  their  actions  with  integrity  and  honour. 
To  accompany  them,  as  it  were,  along  the  path  of  life,  to  join  in 
their  conversation,  to  observe  their  demeanour  in  various  situa- 
tions, to  contemplate  their  acts  of  charity  and  beneficence,  to  at- 
tend them  into  their  closets,  to  behold  their  ardour  of  piety  and  de- 
votion ;  in  short,  to  establish,  as  it  were,  a  friendship  and  famili- 
arity with  them  ;  tliis,  doubtless,  must  be  pronounced  a  happy 
anticipation  of  that  holy  intercourse,  which  will,  I  trust,  subsist  be- 
tween beatified  spirits  in  another  and  a  better  state. 

Those  parts  of  this  volume  are  more  peculiarly  adapted  to  af- 
ford satisfaction,  improvement,  and  consolation  in  which  is  re- 
lated the  behaviour  of  these  good  men  at  the  hour  of  death. 
Here  we  find  ourselves  personally  and  intimately  interested.  "  A 
battle  or  a  triumph,"  says  Mr.  Addison,  "are  conjunctures,  in 
which  not  one  man  in  a  million  is  likely  to  be  engaged  ;  but 
when  we  see  a  person  at  the  point  of  death,  we  cannot  forbear 
being  attentive  to  every  thing  he  says  or  does ;  because  we  are 
sure,  that  some  time  or  other,  we  shall  ourselves  be  in  the  same 
melancholy  circumstances.  The  general,  the  statesman,  or  the 
philosopher,  are  perhaps  characters  which  we  may  never  act  in ; 
but  the  dying  man  is  one  whom,  sooner  or  later,  we  shall  certainly 
resemble."  Thus,  while  these  instructive  pages  teach  us  how  to 
live,  they  impart  a  lesson  equally  useful  and  momentous — how  to 
die.  When  I  contrast  the  death-bed  scenes,  which  our  author 
has  described,  with  that  which  is  exhibited  to  us  in  the  last  illness 
of  a  modern  philosopher,  who  at  that  awful  period  had  no 
source  of  consolation  but  what  he  derived  from  reading  Lucian 
and  other  books  of  amusement,  discoursing  cheerfully  with  his 
friends  on  the  trifling  topics  of  common  conversation,  playing  at 
his  favourite  jgrame  of  whist,  and  indulging  his  pleasantry  on  the 
fabulous  history  of  "  Charon  and  his  boat,"  without  one  single 
act  of  devotion,  without  any  expression  of  penitential  sorrow,  of 
hope,  or  confidence  in  the  goodness  of  God,  or  in  the  merits 
of  a  Redeemer  ;  when  this  contrast,  1  say,  is  presented  to  my 
view,  it  is  impossible  not  to  adopt  the  language  of  the  prophet, 
"  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be 
like  his." 

Is  it  necessary  to  add,  that  we  are   here  presented  with  two 


OF   IZAAK  WALTON.  31 

pleasing  portraits  of  female  excellence,  in  the  mother  and  in  the 
wife  of  Mr.  George  Herbert  ?  In  the  first  were  united  all  the 
personal  and  mental  accomplishments  of  her  sex.  The  enlight- 
ened piety  of  the  latter,  her  native  humility,  her  truly  christian 
charity,  exhibit  her  as  a  perfect  model  of  every  thing  good  and 
praiseworthy,  while  her  marriage  with  Mr.  Herbert,  though  at- 
tended with  some  unusual  circumstances,  proves  incontestably, 
that  an  union,  originating  from  "  good  sense,  from  inclination,  and 
from  an  equality  of  age,  of  dignity,  and  of  fortune,"  can  seldom 
fail  of  being  attended  with  happiness. 

It  is  said  of  Socrates,  that  all  who  knew  him  loved  him ;  and 
that  if  any  did  not  love  him,  it  was  because  they  did  not  know 
him.  May  we  not  affirm  the  same  of  that  worthy  person,  who  is 
the  subject  of  this  memoir  ?  Such  was  the  sweetness  of  his 
temper,  so  affectionate  was  the  regard  which  his  friends  professed 
for  him,  that,  in  their  epistolary  correspondence,  though  they  were 
far  superior  to  him  in  rank  and  condition  of  life,  they  usually  ad- 
dressed him  in  the  language  of  tenderness  and  soothing  endear- 
ment, styling  him,  "Good  Mr,  Walton;"  "Honest  Isaac;" 
"Worthy  Friend;"  "Dear  Brother;"  "  Most  Ingenious  Friend." 
No  one  better  deserved  these  kind  appellations.  Let  it  always  be 
recorded  to  his  honour,  that  he  never  retracted  any  promise,  when 
made  in  favour  even  of  his  meanest  friend.  Neal,  in  his  "  Historv 
of  the  Puritans,"  introduces  an  erroneous  quotation  from  "  Wal- 
ton's Life  of  Mr.  Hooker."  Dr.  Warburton,  in  his  notes  on  that 
history  (Warburton's  Works,  Vol.  VII.  p.  895,)  commenting 
upon  this  quotation,  speaks  of  "  the  quaint  trash  of  a  fantastical 
life-writer."  Is  it  possible  to  suppose  that  an  epithet,  more  adapt- 
ed to  the  asperity  of  fastidious  censure,  than  to  the  cool  and  de- 
liberate judgment  of  candid  and  equitable  criticism,  should  be 
justly  applied  to  a  man  of  real  merit,  who  strenuously  exerted 
himself  in  promoting  the  cause  of  religion,  as  well  by  his  writings 
as  by  his  exemplary  conduct  ? 

The  corporation  of  Stafford  have  publicly  pronounced  him  their 
worthy  and  generous  benefactor.  Of  his  singular  munificence 
to  the  poor  inhabitants  of  this  his  native  town,  we  find  several 
instances  in  his  life-time.  And,  at  his  death,  he  consigned  some 
bequests  of  considerable  value  to  be  appropriated  to  their  use. 


32  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 

In  an  ancient  inscription  yet  extant,  it  is  said  of  a  Roman  citi- 
zen, that  he  knew  not  how  to  speak  injuriously, — "  Nescivit  mal- 
edicere."  We  may  observe  of  Izaak  Walton,  that  he  was  igno- 
rant how  to  write  of  any  man  with  acrimony  and  harshness. 
This  liberality  of  disposition  will  ever  recommend  him  to  his  read- 
ers. Whatever  are  the  religious  sentiments  of  the  persons, 
whom  he  introduces  to  our  notice,  how  widely  soever  they  differ 
from  his  own ;  we  discover  not,  in  his  remarks,  the  petulance  of 
indiscriminate  reproach,  or  the  malignancy  of  rude  invective. 
The  mild  spirit  of  moderation  breathes  almost  in  every  page.  I 
can  only  lament  one  instance  of  severity,  for  which,  however, 
several  pleas  of  extenuation  might  readily  be  admitted. 

He  is  known  to  have  acquired  a  relish  for  the  fine  arts.  Of 
paintings  and  prints  he  had  formed  a  small,  but  valuable  collec- 
tion. And  we  may  presume,  that  he  had  an  attachment  to  and  a 
knowledge  of  music.  His  affection  for  sacred  music  may  be  in- 
ferred from  that  animated,  I  had  almost  said,  that  enraptured  lan- 
guage which  he  adopts,  whenever  the  subject  occurs  to  him.*  It 
will  be  easy  recollected,  that  Ken,  his  brother-in-law,  whose  morn- 
ing, evening,  and  midnight  hymns,  endear  his  memory  to  the  de- 
vout Christian,  began  the  duties  of  each  day  with  sacred  melody. 
And  that  between  men  perfectly  congenial  in  their  sentiments  and 
habits  of  virtue,  a  similarity  of  disposition  in  this  instance  should 
prevail,  is  far  from  being  an  unreasonable  suggestion.  That  he 
had  an  inclination  to  poetry,  we  may  conclude  from  his  early  in- 
timacy with  Michael  Drayton,  "  the  golden-mouthed  poet ;"  a  man 
of  an  amiable  disposition,  of  mild  and  modest  manners,  whose  po- 
ems are  much  less  read  than  they  deserve  to  be.  It  is  needless 
to  remark,  that  on  the  first  publication  of  a  work  it  was  usual  for 
the  friends  of  the  author  to  prefix  to  it  recommendatory  verses. 
Izaak  Walton,  whose  circle  of  friends  was  very  extensive  indeed, 
often  contributed  his  share  of  encomium  on  these  occasions.     To 

*  "  He  that  at  midnight,  when  the  very  labourer  sleeps  securely,  should  hear, 
as  I  have  often  done,  the  sweet  descants,  the  natural  rising  and  falling,  the 
doubling  and  redoubling  of  the  nightingale's  voice,  might  well  be  lifted  above 
earth,  and  say,  Lord,  what  music  hast  thou  provided  for  the  saints  in  heaven, 
when  thou  affbrdest  bad  men  such  music  upon  earth  ?" — {Complete  Angler, 
P.  I.  Ck  L) 


OF   IZAAK   WALTOxM.  33 

his  productions  of  this  kind  no  other  commendations  can  be 
allowed,  than  that  they  were  sincere  memorials  of  his  grateful 
and  tender  regard.  It  must  however  be  added,  that  he  never  de- 
based his  talents  by  offering  the  incense  of  adulation  at  the  shrine 
of  infamy  and  guilt.  The  persons,  whom  he  favoured  with  these 
marks  of  his  attention,  were  not  undeserving  of  praise.  Such, 
for  instance,  was  William  Cartwright,  who,  though  he  died  in  the 
thirtieth  year  of  his  age,  was  the  boast  and  ornament  of  the  uni- 
versity of  Oxford,  as  a  divine,  a  philosopher,  and  a  poet.  Dr. 
Fell,  Bishop  of  Oxford,  declared  him  to  be,  "  the  utmost  man  can 
come  to  ;"  and  Ben  Jonson  was  wont  to  say  of  him,  "  My  son 
Cartwright  writes  all  like  a  man."  And  here  an  opportunity 
presents  itself  of  ascertaining  the  author  of  "  The  Synagogue,  or 
the  Shadow  of  the  Temple,"  a  collection  of  sacred  poems,  usually 
annexed  to  Mr.  George  Herbert's  "Temple."  Mr.  Walton  has 
addressed  some  encomiastic  lines  to  him,  as  his  friend  •  and  in 
"  The  Complete  Angler,"  having  inserted  from  that  collection,  a 
little  poem,  entitled  "The  Book  of  Common  Prayer,"  he  expressly 
assigns  it,  and  of  course  the  whole  work,  to  a  reverend  and  learned 
divine,  Mr.  Christopher  Harvey,  •'  that  professes  to  imitate  Mr. 
Herbert,  and  hath  indeed  done  so  most  excellently  ;"  and  of  whom 
he  adds  pleasantly,  "  you  will  like  him  the  better,  because  he  is  a 
friend  of  mine,  and  I  am  sure  no  enemy  to  angling." 

Faithfully  attached  to  the  church  of  England,  he  entertained 
the  highest  veneration  for  her  discipline  and  doctrines.  He  had 
not  been  an  inattentive  spectator  of  the  rapid  progress  of  the  sec- 
taries, hastening  from  one  degree  of  injustice  to  another,  until 
a  universal  anarchy  consummated  the  ruin  of  our  ecclesiastical 
constitution.  In  his  last  will  he  has  announced  an  ingenious  and 
decided  avowal  of  his  religious  principles,  with  a  design,  as  it  has 
been  conjectured,  to  prevent  any  suspicions  that  might  arise  of  his 
inclination  to  Popery,  from  his  very  long  and  very  true  friendship 
with  some  of  the  Roman  communion.  But  a  full  and  explicit 
declaration  of  his  Christian  faith,  and  the  motives  which  enforced 
his  serious  and  regular  attendance  upon  the  service  of  that  church 
in  which  he  was  educated,  are  delivered  with  great  propriety  and 
good  sense,  in  his  own  words.     For  thus  he  writes  in  a  letter  to 

one  of  his  friends.     "  I  go  so  constantly  to  the  church  service  to 

4 


34  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 


adore  ^,  and  worship  my  God,  who  hath  made  me  of  nothing,  and 
preserved  me  from  being  worse  than  nothing.  And  this  worship 
and  adoration  I  do  pay  him  inwardly  in  my  soul,  and  testify  it 
outwardly  by  my  behaviour ;  as,  namely,  by  my  adoration,  in  my 
forbearing  to  cover  my  head  in  that  place  dedicated  to  God,  and 
only  to  his  service ;  and  also,  by  standing  up  at  profession  of  the 
creed,  which  contains  the  several  articles  that  I  and  all  true  Chris- 
tians profess  and  believe  ;  and  also  my  standing  up  at  giving  glory 
to  the  Father,  to  the  Son,  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  confessing 
them  to  be  three  persons,  and  but  one  God. 

"  And,  secondly,  I  go  to  church  to  praise  my  God  for  my  cre- 
ation and  redemption ;  and  for  his  many  deliverances  of  me  from 
the  many  dangers  of  my  body,  and  more  especially  of  my  soul, 
in  sending  me  redemption  by  the  death  of  his  Son,  my  Saviour ; 
and  for  the  constant  assistance  of  his  holy  spirit :  a  part  of  which 
praise  I  perform  frequently  in  the  Psalms,  which  are  daily  read 
in  the  public  congregations. 

"  And,  thirdly,  I  go  to  church  publicly  to  confess  and  bewail 
my  sins,  and  to  beg  pardon  for  them,  for  his  merits  who  died  to 
reconcile  me  and  all  mankind  unto  God,  who  is  both  his  and  my 
Father  ;  and,  as  for  the  words  in  which  I  beg  this  mercy,  they  be 
the  litany  and  collects  of  the  church,  composed  by  those  learned 
and  devout  men,  whom  you  and  I  have  trusted  to  tell  us  which  is 
and  which  is  not  the  written  word  of  God,  and  trusted  also  to 
translate  those  Scriptures  into  English.  And,  in  these  collects, 
you  may  note,  that  I  pray  absolutely  for  pardon  of  sin,  and  for 
grace  to  believe  and  serve  God.  But  I  pray  for  health  and  peace 
and  plenty,  conditionally  ;  even  so  far  as  may  tend  to  his  glory 
and  the  good  of  my  soul,  and  not  further.  And  this  confessing 
my  sins,  and  begging  mercy  and  pardon  for  them,  I  do  in  my 
adoring  my  God,  and  by  the  humble  posture  of  kneeling  on  my 
knees  before  him.  And,  in  this  manner,  and  by  reverend  sittino- 
to  hear  some  chosen  parts  of  God's  word  read  in  the  public  as- 
sembly, T  spend  one  hour  of  the  Lord's  day  every  forenoon,  and 
half  so  much  time  every  evening.  And  since  this  uniform  and 
devout  custom  of  joining  together  in  public  confession  and  praise 
and  adoration  of  God,  and  in  one  manner,  hath  been  neglected, 
the  power  of  Christianity  and  humble  piety  is  so  much  decayed, 


OF   IZAAK  WALTON.  35 


that  it  ought   not  to  be  thought  on  but  with  sorrow  and   lamenta- 
tion ;   and  I  think,  especially  by  the  Nonconformists." 

The  reasons  which  he  has  assigned  for  his  uninterrupted  atten- 
tion to  the  discharge  of  another  duty  will  afford  satisfaction  to 
every  candid  reader.  "  Now  for  preaching,  I  praise  God,  I  un- 
derstand my  duty  both  to  him  and  my  neighbour  the  better,  by 
hearing  of  sermons.  And  though  I  be  defective  in  the  perfonis- 
ance  of  both  (for  which  I  beseech  Almighty  God  to  pardon  me), 
yet  I  had  been  a  much  worse  Christian,  if  I  had  not  frequented 
the  blessed  ordinance  of  preaching ;  which  has  convinced  me  of 
my  many  sins  past,  and  begot  such  terrors  of  conscience,  as  have 
begot  in  me  holy  resolutions.  This  benefit,  and  many  other  like 
benefits,  I  and  other  Christians  have  had  by  preaching  ;  and  God 
forbid  that  we  should  ever  use  it  so,  or  so  provoke  him  by  our 
other  sins,  as  to  withdraw  this  blessed  ordinance  from  us,  or  turn 
it  into  a  curse,  by  preaching  heresy  and  schism  ;  which  too  many 
have  done  in  the  late  time  of  rebellion,  and  indeed  now  do  in 
many  conventicles ;  and  their  auditors  think  such  preaching 
is  serving  God,  when  God  knows  it  is  contrary."  Such  were 
the  rational  grounds  on  which  he  founded  his  faith  and  practice. 

No  excuse  is  pleaded  for  again  noticing  the  opportunities  of 
improvement,  which  he  experienced  from  his  appropriated  inti- 
macy with  the  most  eminent  divines  of  the  church  of  England. 
Genuine  friendship  exists  but  among  the  virtuous.  A  friend  is 
emphatically  styled  "  the  medicine  of  life,"  the  sovereign  remedy 
that  softens  the  pangs  of  sorrow,  and  alleviates  the  anguish  of  the 
heart.  We  cannot  therefore  sufficiently  felicitate  the  condition 
of  Izaak  Walton,  who  imbibed  the  very  spirit  of  friendship  ;  and 
that  with  men  renowned  for  their  wisdom  and  learning,  for  the 
sanctity  of  their  manners,  and  the  unsullied  purity  of  their  lives. 
"If,"  to  use  the  words  of  one  of  his  biographers,  "  we  can  en- 
tertain a  doubt  that  Walton  was  one  of  the  happiest  of  men,  v/e 
show  ourselves  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  that  felicity,  to  which 
it  is  possible  even  in  this  life  for  virtuous  and  good  men,  with  the 
blessing  of  God,  to  arrive." 

The  features  of  the  countenance  often  enable  us  to  form  o 
judgment,  not  very  fallible,  of  the  disposition  of  the  mind.  In 
lew  portraits  can  this  discovery  be   more  successfully  pursued 


36  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS 


than  in  that  of  Izaak  Walton.  Lavater,  the  acute  master  of 
physiognomy,  would,  I  think,  instantly  acknowledge  in  it  the  de- 
cisive traits  of  the  original ; — mild  complaisance,  forbearance, 
mature  consideration,  calm  activity,  peace,  sound  understanding, 
power  of  thought,  discerning  attention,  and  tjecretly  active  friend- 
ship. Happy  in  his  unblemished  integrity,  happy  in  the  appro- 
bation and  esteem  of  others,  he  in  wraps  himself  in  his  own  vir- 
tue. The  exultation  of  a  good  conscience  eminently  shines  forth 
in  the  looks  of  this  venerable  person. 


Candida  semper 


Gaudia,  et  in  vultu  curarum  ignara  voluptas." 

Racket,  Bishop  of  Lichfield  and  Coventry,  used  this  motto, 
"Serve  God,  and  be  cheerful."  Our  biographer  seems  to  have 
adhered  to  this  golden  maxim  during  the  whole  tenour  of  his  life. 
His  innocence  and  the  inoffensive  plainness  of  his  manner,  his 
love  of  truth,  his  piety,  and  the  unbiassed  rectitude  of  his  con- 
duct diffused  over  his  mind  a  serenity  and  complacency  which 
never  forsook  him.  Let  no  one,  however  elevated  in  rank  or 
station,  however  accomplished  with  learning,  or  exalted  in  genius, 
esteem  himself  undervalued,  when  it  shall  be  pronounced  con- 
cerning him,  that  his  religious  and  moral  qualities  are  placed  in 
the  balance,  or  compared  with  those  of  Izaak  Walton. 


COPY  OF  WALTON'S  WILL. 

"  August  the  ninth,  one  thousand  six  hundred 
eighty-three. 

"  In  the  Name  of  God,  Amen,  I  Izaac  Walton  the  elder,  of 
Winchester,  being,  this  present  day,  in  the  ninetieth  year  of  my 
age,  and  in  perfect  memory,  for  which  praised  be  God  ;  but  con- 
sidering how  suddenly  I  may  be  deprived  of  both,  do  therefore 
make  this  my  last  Will  and  Testament  as  followeth  :  And  first,  I 
do  declare  my  belief  to  be,  that  there  is  only  one  God,  who  hath 
made  the  whole  world,  and  me,  and  all  mankind  ;  to  whom  I  shall 


OF   IZAAK  WALTON.  37 


give  an  account  of  all  my  actions,  which  are  not  to  be  justified, 
but  I  hope  pardoned,  for  the  merits  of  my  Saviour  Jesus  :  And 
because  the  profession  of  Christianity  does,  at  this  t;me,  seem  to 
be  subdivided  into  Papist  and  Protestante,  I  take  it,  at  least,  to  be 
convenient  to  declare  my  belief  to  be,  in  all  points  of  faith,  as  the 
Church  of  England  now  professeth ;  and  this  I  do  the  rather,  be- 
cause of  a  very  long  and  very  true  friendship  with  some  of  the 
Roman  Church.  And  for  my  worldly  estate  (which  1  have  nei- 
ther got  by  falsehood  or  flattery,  or  the  extreme  cruelty  of  the 
law  of  this  nation),  I  do  hereby  give  and  bequeath  it  as  followeth  : 
First,  I  give  my  son-in-law,  Doctor  Hawkins  and  to  his  wife  ;  to 
them  I  give  all  my  title  and  right  of  or  in  a  part  of  a  house  and 
shop  in  Paternoster- row,  in  London,  which  I  hold  by  lease  from 
the  lord  bishop  of  London  for  about  fifty  years  to  come.  And  I 
do  also  give  to  them  all  my  right  and  title  of  or  to  a  house  in 
Chancery  Lane,  London,  wherein  Mrs.  Greinwood  now  dwelleth, 
in  which  is  now  about  sixteen  years  to  come  :  1  give  these  two 
leases  to  them,  they  saving  my  executor  from  all  damage  con- 
cerning the  same.  And  I  give  to  my  son  Izaak  all  my  right  and 
title  to  a  lease  of  Norington  farme,  which  I  hold  from  the  lord 
bishop  of  Winton  :  And  I  do  also  give  him  all  my  right  and  title 
to  a  farme  or  land  near  to  Stafford,  which  I  bought  of  Mr.  Walter 
Noell ;  I  say,  I  give  it  to  him  and  his  heirs  for  ever ;  but  upon  the 
condition  following,  namely ;  if  my  son  shall  not  marry  before  he 
shall  be  of  age  of  forty-and-one  years,  or,  being  married,  shall 
dye  before  the  said  age,  and  leave  no  son  to  inherit  the  said  farme 
or  land,  or  if  his  son  or  sons  shall  not  live  to  attain  the  age  of 
twenty-and-one  years,  to  dispose  otherways  of  it, — then  I  give  the 
said  farme  or  land  to  the  towne  or  corporation  of  Stafford,  in 
which  I  was  borne,  for  the  good  and  benefit  of  some  of  the  said 
towne,  as  I  shall  direct,  and  as  followeth ;  (but  first  note,  that  it 
is  at  this  present  time  rented  for  twenty-one  pound  ten  shillings  a 
year,  and  is  like  to  hold  the  said  rent,  if  care  be  taken  to  keep 
the  barn  and  housing  in  repair;)  and  I  would  have,  and  do  give 
ten  pound  of  the  said  rent,  to  bind  out,  yearly,  two  boys,  the  sons 
of  honest  and  poor  parents,  to  be  apprentices  to  some  tradesmen 
or  handy-craft  men,  to  the  intent  the  said  boys  may  the  better  af- 
terward  get  their  own  living.     And  I  do  aLqo  give  five  pound 


38  I.1FE   AND   WRITINGS 

yearly,  out  of  the  said  rent,  to  be  given  to  some  maid  servant, 
that  hath  attained  the  age  of  twenty  and  one  years,  not  less,  and 
dwelt  long  in  one  service,  or  to  some  honest  poor  man's  daughter, 
that  hath  attained  to  that  age,  to  be  paid  her  at  or  on  the  day  of 
her  marriage  ;  and  this  being  done,  my  will  is,  that  what  rent 
shall  remain  of  the  said  farme  or  land,  shall  be  disposed  of  as  fol- 
loweth  :  first,  I  do  give  twenty  shillings  yearly,  to  be  spent  by  the 
major  of  Stafford  and  those  that  shall  collect  the  said  rent  and  dis- 
pose of  it  as  I  have  and  shall  hereafter  direct ;  and  that  what 
money  or  rent  shall  remain  undisposed  of,  shall  be  imployed  to 
buy  coals  for  some  poor  people,  that  shall  most  need  them,  in  the 
said  towne ;  the  said  coals  to  be  delivered  the  first  weeke  in  Janu- 
ary, or  in  every  first  week  in  February ;  I  say  then,  because  I 
take  that  time  to  be  the  hardest  and  most  pinching  times  with 
poor  people ;  and  God  reward  those  that  shall  do  this  without  par- 
tiality, and  with  honesty  and  a  good  conscience.  And  if  the  said 
major  and  others  of  the  said  towne  of  Stafford  shall  prove  so  neg- 
ligent, or  dishonest,  as  not  to  imploy  the  rent  by  me  given  as  in- 
tended and  exprest  in  this  my  will,  which  God  forbid, — then  I 
give  the  said  rents  and  profits  of  the  said  farme  or  land,  to  the 
towne,  and  chief  magistrates  or  governors,  of  Ecleshall,  to  be  dis- 
posed of  by  them  in  such  manner  as  I  have  ordered  the  disposal 
of  it  by  the  towne  of  Stafford,  the  said  farme  or  land  being  near 
the  towne  of  Ecleshall.  And  I  give  to  my  son-in-law,  Dr.  Haw- 
kins, whom  I  love  as  my  own  son ;  and  to  my  daughter,  his  wife; 
and  my  son  Izaak ;  to  each  of  them  a  ring,  with  these  words  or 
motto ;   "  Love  my  memory,  I.  W.  obiit  :" 

to  the  Lord  Bisliop  of  Winton  a  ring,  with  this  motto  ;  "  A  mite 
for  a  million,  L  W.  obiit  :"  and  to  the  friends 

hereafter  named,  I  give  to  each  of  them  a  ring  with  this  motto  : 
"  A  friend's  farewell,  L  W.  obiit  ."     And 

my  will  is,  the  said  rings  be  delivered  within  forty  days  after 
my  death ;  and  that  the  price  or  value  of  all  the  said  rings  shall 
be  thirteen  shillings  and  fourpence  a  piece.  I  give  to  Dr.  Haw- 
kins, Doctor  Donne's  Sermons,  which  I  have  heard  preacht,  and 
read  with  much  content.  To  my  son  Izaak,  I  give  Doctor  Sibbs 
his  "  Soul's  Conflict;"  and  to  my  daughter  his  "  Bruised  Reed," 
desiring  them  to  read  them  so  as  to  be  well  acquainted  with  them. 


OF   IZAAK   WALTON.  39 

And  I  also  give  unto  her  all  my  books  at  Winchester  and  Droxford, 
and  whatever  in  those  two  places  are,  or  I  can  call  mine,  except  a 
trunk  of  linen,  which  I  give  to  my  son  Izaak  :  but  if  he  do  not 
live  to  marry,  or  make  use  of  it,  then  I  give  the  same  to  my 
grandaughter,  Anne  Hawkins.  And  I  give  my  daughter  Doctor 
Hall's  Works,  which  be  now  at  Farnham.  To  my  son  Izaak  I 
give  all  my  books,  not  yet  given,  at  Farnham  Castell ;  and  a 
deske  of  prints  and  pictures ;  also  a  cabinett  near  my  bed's  head, 
in  which  are  some  little  things  that  he  will  value,  though  of  no 
great  worth.  And  my  will  and  desire  is,  that  he  shall  be  kind  to 
his  aunt  Beachame,  and  his  aunt  Rose  Ken ;  by  allowing  the  first 
about  fifty  shillings  a  year,  in  or  for  bacon  and  cheese,  not  more, 
and  paying  four  pounds  a  year  towards  the  boarding  of  her  son's 
d3'et  to  Mr.  John  Whitehead  :  for  his  aunt  Ken,  I  desire  him  to  be 
kind  to  her  according  to  her  necessitie  and  his  own  abilitie ;  and 
I  commend  one  of  her  children,  to  breed  up  as  I  have  said  I  in- 
tend to  do,  if  he  shall  be  able  to  do  it,  as  I  know  he  will ;  for  they 
be  good  folke.  I  give  to  Mr.  John  Darbyshire  the  Sermons  of 
Mr.  Anthony  Farringdon,  or  of  Dr.  Sanderson,  which  my  execu- 
tor thinks  fit.  To  my  servant,  Thomas  Edgill,  I  give  five  pound 
in  money,  and  all  my  cloths,  linen  and  woollen,  except  one  suit 
of  cloths,  which  I  give  to  Mr.  Holinshed,  and  forty  shillings  if  the 
said  Thomas  be  my  servant  at  my  death  ;  if  not,  my  cloths  only. 
And  I  give  my  old  friend,  Mr.  Richard  Marriott,*  ten  pounds 
in  money,  to  be  paid  him  within  three  months  after  my  death; 
and  I  desire  my  son  to  shew  kindness  to  him  if  he  shall  neede, 
and  my  son  can  spare  it.  And  I  do  hereby  will  and  declare  my 
sou  Izaak  to  be  my  sole  executor  of  this  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment ;  and  Dr.  Hawkins  to  see  that  he  performs  it ;  which  I 
doubt  not  but  he  will.  I  desire  my  burial  may  be  near  the  place 
of  my  death,  and  free  from  any  ostentation  or  charge,  but  pri- 
vately. This  I  make  to  be  m}'-  last  will  (to  which  I  shall  only  add 
the  codicil  for  rings),  this  sixteenth  day  of  August,  one  thousand 
six  hundred  eighty-three.  Izaak  Walton.  Witness  to  this  will. 
The  rings  I  give,  are  as  on  the  other  side.  To  my  brother 
John  Ken  ;  to  my  sister,   his  wife  ;   to  my  brother,  Doctor  Ken  ; 

*  Bookseller,  and  his  Publibher. 


40  LIFE   AND   WRITINGS   OF  IZAAK   WALTON. 

to  my  sister  Pye  ;  to  Mr.  Francis  Morley  ;  to  Mr.  George  Ver- 
non ;  to  his  wife  ;  to  his  three  daughters ;  to  Mistris  Nelson  ;  to 
Mr.  Richard  Walton  ;  to  Mr.  Palmer  ;  to  Mr.  Taylor  ;  to  Mr. 
Thomas  Garrard  ;  to  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Sarum  ;  to  Mr.  Rede, 
his  servant ;  to  my  cousin  Dorothy  Kenrick  ;  to  my  cousin  Levvin  ; 
to  Mr.  Walter  Higgs  ;  to  Mr.  Charles  Cotton ;  to  Mr.  Richard 
Marryot :  22.  To  my  brother  Beacham  ;  to  my  sister,  his  wife  ; 
to  the  lady  Anne  How  ;  to  Mrs.  King,  Doctor  Phillips's  wife  ;  to 
Mr.  Valentine  Harecourt ;  to  Mrs.  Eliza  Johnson  ;  to  Mrs.  Mary 
Rogers  ;  to  Mrs.  Eliza  Milward ;  to  Mrs.  Dorothy  WoUop  ;  to 
Mr.  Will.  Milward,  of  Clirist-church,  Oxford  ;  to  Mr.  John  Dar- 
byshire  ;  to  Mr.  Undevill  ;  to  Mrs.  Rock  ;  to  Mr.  Peter  White  ; 
to  Mr.  John  Lloyde  ;  to  my  cousin  Creinsell's  Widow  ;  Mrs. 
Dalbin  must  not  be  forgotten  :  16.  Izaak  Walton.  Note,  that 
several  lines  are  blotted  out  of  this  will,  for  they  were  twice  re- 
peated, and  that  this  will  is  now  signed  and  sealed  this  twenty 
and  fourth  day  of  October,  one  thousand  six  hundred  eighty-three, 
in  the  presence  of  us :  Witness,  Abraham  Markland,  Jos.  Tay- 
lor, Thomas  Crawley. 


WALTON'S    LIVES. 


TO    THE 


5 


RIGHT    HONOURABLE    AXD    REVEREND    FATHER    IN    GOD, 

GEORGE. 

LORD    BISHOP     OF     WINCHESTER, 

AND  PRELATE  OF  THE  MOST  NOBLE  ORDER 
OF  THE  GARTER* 

BIY    LORD, 

I  DID  some  years  past,  present  you  with  a  plain  relation  of  the 
Life  of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker,  that  humble  man,  to  whose  memory, 
Princes  and  the  most  learned  of  this  nation,  have  paid  a  reverence 
at  the  mention  of  his  name.  And  now,  with  Mr.  Hooker's,  I  pre- 
sent you  also,  the  Life  of  that  pattern  of  primitive  piety,  Mr. 
George  Herbert;  and  with  his  the  Life  of  Dr.  Donne,  and  your 
friend  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  all  reprinted.  The  two  first  were  writ- 
ten under  your  roof:  for  which  reason,  if  they  were  worth  it, 
you  might  justly  challenge  a  Dedication.     And  indeed,  so  you 

*  Dr.  George  Morley,  distinguislied  by  his  unshaken  loyalty  and  attachment 
to  Charles  I.  was,  at  the  Restoration,  first  made  Dean  of  Christ-church,  and 
then  Bishop  of  Worcester.  In  1662  he  was  translated  to  the  see  of  Winchester. 
Though  nominated  one  of  the  Assembly  of  Divines,  he  never  did  them  the  hon- 
our, nor  himself  the  injury,  to  sit  among  them.  During  his  absence  from  his 
native  country,  he  endeared  himself  to  several  learned  foreigners,  particularly 
to  Andrew  Rivettus,  Heinsius,  Salmasius,  and  Bochart.  He  constantly  at- 
tended the  young  exiled  King ;  but  not  being  permitted  to  follow  him  into 
Scotland,  he  retired  to  Antwerp,  where  for  about  three  or  four  years  he  read 
the  service  of  the  Church  of  England  twice  every  day,  catechized  once  a  week, 
and  administered  the  connnunion  once  a  month  to  all  the  English  in  the  town 
who  could  come  to  it ;  regularly  and  strictly  observing  all  the  parochial  duties 
of  a  clergyman,  as  he  did  afterwards  at  Breda  for  four  years  together.  He 
died  in  1684.  . 


44  DEDICATION. 


might  of  Dr.  Donne's,  and  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  :  because,  if  I 
had  been  fit  for  this  undertaking,  it  would  not  have  been  acquired 
learning  or  study,  but  by  the  advantage  of  forty  years  friendship, 
and  thereby,  with  hearing  and  discoursing  with  your  Lordship, 
that  hath  enabled  me  to  make  the  relation  of  these  Lives  passable 
— if  they  prove  so — in  an  eloquent  and  captious  age. 

And  indeed,  my  Lord,  though  these  relations  be  well-meant 
sacrifices  to  the  memory  of  these  worthy  men  ;  yet  I  have  so  lit- 
tle confidence  in  my  performance,  that  I  beg  pardon  for  super- 
scribing your  name  to  them :  and  desire  all  that  know  your  Lord- 
ship, to  apprehend  this  not  as  a  Dedication, — at  least  by  which 
you  receive  any  addition  of  honour  ; — but  rather  as  an  humble, 
and  more  public  acknowledgement,  of  your  long-continued,  and 
your  now  daily  favours  to, 

My  Lord, 
Your  most  affectionate, 

and  most  humble  servant, 

IzAAK  Walton. 


TO   THE  READER. 

_  Though  the  several  introductions  to  these  several  lives  have 
partly  declared  the  reasons  how,  and  why  I  undertook  them, 
yet  since  they  are  come  to  be  reviewed,  and  augmented,  and  re- 
printed, and  the  four  are  now  become  one  book,*  I  desire  leave  to 
inform  you  that  shall  become  my  reader,  that  when  I  sometimes 
look  back  upon  my  education  and  mean  abilities,  it  is  not  without 
some  little  wonder  at  myself,  that  I  am  come  to  be  publicly  in 
print.  And  though  I  have  in  those  introductions  declared  some 
of  the  accidental  reasons  that  occasioned  me  to  be  so,  yet  let  me 
add  this  to  what  is  there  said,  that  by  my  undertaking  to  collect 
some  notes  for  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  writing  the  Life  of  Dr.  Donne, 
and  by  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  dying  before  he  performed  it,  I  be- 
came like  those  men  that  enter  easily  into  a  lawsuit  or  a  quarrel, 
and  having  begun,  cannot  make  a  fair  retreat  and  be  quiet,  when 
they  desire  it. — And  really,  after  such  a  manner,  I  became  en- 
gaged into  a  necessity  of  writing  the  Life  of  Dr.  Donne,  contrary 
to  my  first  intentions ;  and  that  begot  a  like  necessity  of  writing 
the  Life  of  his  and  my  ever-honoured  friend,  Sir  Henry  Wotton. 
And  having  writ  these  two  lives,  I  lay  quiet  twenty  years, 
without  a  thought  of  either  troubling  myself  or  others,  by  any 
new  engagement  in  this  kind ;  for  I  thought  I  knew  my  unfitness. 
But,  about  that  time,  Dr.  Gaudenj"  (then  Lord  Bishop  of  Exeter) 

*  He  had  not  then  written  the  life  of  Bishop  Sanderson. 

t  Dr.  John  Gauden,  born  at  Mayland  in  Essex,  educated  at  St.  John's  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  was  Dean  of  Booking,  and  Master  of  the  Temple,  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  In  1660  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Exeter, 
and  from  thence  promoted  to  Worcester  in  1662,  in  which  year  he  died,  aged 
57  years. 

It  must  be  owned,  that  he  was  one  of  the  Assembly  of  Divines  in  1643,  and 
that  he  took  the  covenant ;  to  which,  however,  he  made  some  scruples  and 
objections,  so  that  his  name  was  soon  struck  out  of  the  list.  He  abandoned  the 
cause  of  the  Parliament  as  soon  as  they  relinquished  their  first  avowed  prin- 
ciples of  reforming  only,  instead  of  extirpating  Episcopacy  and  Monarchy. 


46  EPISTLE   TO   THE   READER, 


published  the  Life  of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker  (so  he  called  it),  with 
so  many  dangerous  mistakes,  both  of  him  and  his  books,  that  dis- 
coursina  of  them  with  his  Grace  Gilbert,  that  now  is  Lord  Arch- 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  he  enjoined  me  to  examine  some  circum- 
stances, and  then  rectify  the  Bishop's  mistakes,  by  giving  the 
world  a  fuller  and  truer  account  of  Mr.  Hooker  and  his  books 
than  that  bishop  had  done  ;  and  I  know  I  have  done  so.  And  let 
me  tell  the  reader,  that  till  his  Grace  had  laid  this  injunction 
upon  me,  I  could  not  admit  a  thought  of  any  fitness  in  me  to  un- 
dertake it ;  but  when  he  twice  had  enjoined  me  to  it,  I  then 
declined  my  own,  and  trusted  his  judgment,  and  submitted  to  his 
commands ;  concluding,  that  if  1  did  not,  I  could  not  forbear 
accusing  myself  of  disobedience,  and  indeed  of  ingratitude,  for  his 
many  favours.     Thus  I  became  engaged  into  the  third  life. 

For  the  life  of  that  great  example  of  holiness,  Mr.  George  Her- 
bert, I  profess  it  to  be  so  far  a  free-will  offering,  that  it  was  writ 
chiefly  to  please  myself,  but  yet  not  without  some  respect  to  pos- 
terity :  For  though  he  was  not  a  man  that  the  next  age  can  for- 
get, yet  many  of  his  particular  acts  and  virtues  might  have  been 
neglected,  or  lost,  if  I  had  not  collected  and  presented  them  to  the 
imitation  of  those  that  shall  succeed  us :  For  I  humbly  conceive 
writing  to  be  both  a  safer  and  truer  preserver  of  men's  virtuous 
actions  than  tradition ;  especially  as  it  is  managed  in  this  age. 
And  1  am  also  to  tell  the  reader,  that  though  this  life  of  Mr.  Her- 
bert was  not  by  me  writ  in  haste,  yet  I  intended  it  a  review  before 
it  should  be  made  public ;  but  that  was  not  allowed  me,  by 
reason  of  my  absence  from  London  when  it  was  printing  :  so  that 
the  reader  may  find  in  it  some  mistakes,  some  double  expressions, 
and  some  not  very  proper,  and  some  that  might  have  been  con- 
tracted, and  some  faults  that  are  not  justly  chargeable  upon  me, 
but  the  printer ;  and  yet  I  hope  none  so  great,  as  may  not,  by  this 
confession,  purchase  pardon  from  a  good-natured  reader. 

And  now  I  wish,  that  as  that  learned  Jew,  Josephus,  and  others, 
so  these  men  had  also  writ  their  own  lives ;  but  since  it  is  not  the 
fashion  of  these  times,  I  wish  their  relations  or  friends  would  do 
it  for  them,  before  delays  make  it  too  difHcult.  And  I  desire  this 
the  more,  because  it  is  an  honour  due  to  the  dead,  and  a  generous 
debt  due  to  those  that  shall   live  and   succeed  us,  and  would   to 


EPISTLE   TO   THE   READER.  47 

them  prove  both  a  content  and  satisfaction.  For  when  the  next 
age  shall  (as  this  does)  admire  the  learning  and  clear  reason 
which  that  excellent  casuist  Dr.  Sanderson  (the  late  Bishop  of 
Lincoln)  hath  demonstrated  in  his  sermons  and  other  writings ; 
who,  if  they  love  virtue,  would  not  rejoice  to  know,  that  this  good 
man  was  as  remarkable  for  the  meekness  and  innocence  of  his 
life,  as  for  his  great  and  useful  learning ;  and  indeed  as  remark- 
able for  his  fortitude  in  his  long  and  patient  suffering  (under  them 
that  then  called  themselves  the  godly  party)  for  that  doctrine 
which  he  had  preached  and  printed  in  the  happy  days  of  the  na- 
tion's and  the  church's  peace  ?  And  who  would  not  be  content  to 
have  the  like  account  of  Dr.  Field,*  that  great  schoolman,  and 
others  of  noted  learning  ?  And  though  I  cannot  hope  that  my 
example  or  reason  can  persuade  to  this  undertaking,  yet  I  please 
myself,  that  I  shall  conclude  my  preface  with  wishing  that  it  were 

so. 

I.  W. 


*  Dr.  Richard  Field,  Chaplain  to  James  I.  and  Dean  of  Gloucester,  died 
Nov.  21,  1616, — the  friend  of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker,  and  one  of  the  most  learned 
men  of  his  age.  He  was  the  author  o(  a  work  entitled  "  Of  the  Church  ;  fol. 
1610." — James  I.  when  he  first  heard  him  preach,  said,  "  This  is  a  Field  for 
God  to  dwell  in." — With  the  same  allusion  Fuller  calls  him  that  learned  divine, 
"  whose  memory  smelleth  like  a  Field  that  the  Lord  hath  blessed." — Anthony 
Wood  mentions  a  manuscript,  written  by  Nathaniel  Field,  Rector  of  Stourton, 
in  Wiltshire,  containing  "'  some  short  Memorials  concerning  the  Life  of  that 
Rev.  Divine,  Dr.  Richard  Field,  Prebendary  of  Windsor,"  &c.  The  feature 
which  peculiarly  marked  his  disposition,  was  an  aversion  to  those  disputes  on 
the  Arminian  points,  which  then  began  to  disturb  the  peace  of  the  church,  and 
from  which  he  dreaded  the  most  unhappy  consequences.  It  was  his  ambition 
to  conciliate,  not  to  irritate. 


INTRODUCTION 


TO 


THE  LIFE   OF   DOCTOR   DONNE; 

AS  ORIGINALLY  TREFIXED  TO  THE  FIRST  COLLECTION 
OF    HIS    SERMONS    IN    1640. 


If  that  great  master  of  language  and  art,  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  the  late  Pro- 
vost of  Eton  College,  had  lived  to  see  the  publication  of  these  Sermons,  he  had 
presented  the  world  with  the  Author's  life  exactly  written  ;  and  'twas  pity  he 
did  not,  for  it  was  a  work  worthy  his  undertaking,  and  he  fit  to  undertake  it : 
betwixt  whom  and  the  Author  there  was  so  mutual  a  knowledge,  and  such  a 
friendship  contracted  in  their  youth,  as  nothing  but  death  could  force  a  separa- 
tion. And,  though  their  bodies  were  divided,  their  affections  were  not  ;  for  that 
learned  Knight's  love  followed  his  friend's  fame  beyond  death  and  the  forgetful 
grave  ;  which  he  testified  by  entreating  me,  whom  he  acquainted  with  his  de- 
sign, to  enquire  of  some  particulars  that  concerned  it,  not  doubting  but  my 
knowledge  of  the  Author,  and  love  to  his  memory,  might  make  m)^  diligence 
useful :  I  did  most  gladly  undertake  the  employment,  and  continued  it  with 
great  content,  till  I  had  made  my  collection  ready  to  be  augmented  and  com- 
pleted by  his  matchless  pen  :  but  then  death  prevented  his  intentions. 

When  I  heard  that  sad  news,  and  heard  also  that  these  Sermons  were  to  be 
printed,  and  want  the  Author's  life,  which  I  thought  to  be  very  remarkable  ; 
indignation  or  grief — indeed  I  know  not  which — transported  me  so  far,  that  I 
reviewed  my  forsaken  collections,  and  resolved  the  world  should  see  the  best 
plain  picture  of  the  Author's  life,  that  my  artless  pencil,  guided  by  the  hand  of 
truth,  could  present  to  it. 

And  if  I  shall  now  be  demanded,  as  once  Pompey's  poor  bondman  was,* 
*'  the  grateful  wretch  had  been  left  alone  on  the-sea  shore,  with  the  forsaken 
"  dead  body  of  his  once  glorious  lord  and  master ;  and  was  then  gathering  the 
"  scattered  pieces  of  an  old  broken  boat,  to  make  a  fimeral  pile  to  bum  it ; 
"  which  was  the  custom  of  the  Romans — Who  art  thou,  that  alone  hast  the 
"  honour  to  bury  the  body  of  Pompey  the  Great?"  So,  who  am  I,  that  do 
thus  officiously  set  the  Author's  memory  on  fire  ?     I  hope  the  question  will 

*  Plutarch. 

5 


50  INTRODUCTION. 


prove  to  have  in  it  more  of  wonder  than  disdain  ;  but  wonder  indeed  the  reader 
may,  that  I,  who  profess  myself  artless,  should  presume  with  my  faint  light  to 
show  forth  his  life,  whose  very  name  makes  it  illustrious  !  But,  be  this  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  person  represented :  certain  I  am,  it  is  to  the  advantage 
of  the  beholder,  who  shall  here  see  the  Author's  picture  in  a  natural  dress, 
which  ought  to  beget  faith  in  what  is  spoken  :  for  he  that  wants  skill  to  deceive, 
may  safely  be  trusted. 

And  if  the  Author's  glorious  spirit,  which  now  is  in  heaven,  can  have  the  lei- 
sure to  look  down  and  see  me,  the  poorest,  the  meanest  of  all  his  friends,  in  the 
midst  of  his  officious  duty,  confident  I  am,  that  he  will  not  disdain  this  well- 
meant  sacrifice  to  his  memory :  for,  whilst  his  conversation  made  me  and  many 
others  happy  below,  I  know  his  humility  and  gentleness  were  then  eminent ; 
and,  I  have  heard  divines  say,  Ihose  virtues  that  were  but  sparks  upon  earth, 
become  great  and  glorious  flames  hi  heaven. 

Before  I  proceed  further,  I  am  to  entreat  the  reader  to  take  notice,  that 
when  Doctor  Donne's  Serjnons  were  first  printed,  this  was  then  my  excuse  for 
daring  to  write  liis  life  ;  and  I  dare  not  now  appear  v/ithout  it. 


THE  LIFE  OF  DR.  JOHN  DONNE 


LATE  DEAN  OF  ST.  PAUl's  CHURCH,  LONDON. 


THE  LIFE   OF   DR.   JOHN   DONNE, 


LATE  DEAN  OF  ST.  PAUL  S  CHURCH,  LONDON 


Master  John  Donne  was  born  in  London,  in  the  year  1573, 
of  good  and  virtuous  parents :  and,  though  his  own  learning  and 
other  multiplied  merits  may  justly  appear  sufficient  to  dignify 
both  himself  and  his  posterity ;  yet  the  reader  may  be  pleased  to 
know,  that  his  father  was  masculinely  and  lineally  descended 
from  a  very  ancient  family  in  Wales,  where  many  of  his  name 
now  live,  that  deserve,  and  have  great  reputation  in  that  country. 

By  his  mother  he  was  descended  of  the  family  of  the  famous 
and  learned  Sir  Thomas  More,"^  sometime  Lord  Chancellor  of 
England  :  as  also,  from  that  worthy  and  laborious  Judge  Rastall,f 
who  left  posterity  the  vast  Statutes  of  the  Law  of  this  nation  most 
exactly  abridged. 

*  Fuller,  in  his  Church  History,  b.  x.  p.  112,  mentions  these  circumstances 
most  probably  from  the  present  work  ;  since  he  concludes  his  notice  of  Donne 
by  saying,  that  his  "  life  is  no  less  truly  than  elegantly  written,  by  my  worthi- 
ly respected  friend  Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  whence  the  Reader  may  store  himself 
with  further  information."  In  the  first  two  editions  of  the  life  of  Donne,  there 
is  no  separation  between  the  Introduction  and  Memoir  ;  and  no  year  mention- 
ed for  his  time  of  birth. 

'''  William  Rastall,  or  Rastell,  was  an  eminent  Printer  of  London,  and  the 
son  of  John  Rastall  and  Elizabeth,  the  sister  of  Sir  Thomas  More.  He  was 
bom  and  educated  in  London,  and  about  1525,  at  the  age  of  17,  was  sent  to 
Oxford,  after  which  he  entered  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  became  an  excellent  law- 
yer. On  the  change  of  religion  in  England  he  went  to  Louvain,  being  a  zeal- 
ous Catholic  ;  but  on  the  accession  of  Mary  he  returned  and  filled  several  offi- 
ces of  great  repute,  of  which  one  was  Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas.  In  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth  he  again  returned  to  Louvain,  and  died  there  August  27th, 
1565.  There  are  several  works  ascribed  to  him,  of  which  it  is  doubtful  if  he 
were  the  author  ;  but  the  "  abregement  of  the  Statutys,"  alluded  to  in  the  text, 
was  first  published  by  him  in  8vo.  in  1533. 


54  THE    LIFE   OF 


He  had  his  first  breeding  in  his  father's  house,  where  a  private 
tutor  had  the  care  of  him,  until  the  tenth  year  of  his  age  ;  and, 
in  his  eleventh  year,  was  sent  to  the  university  of  Oxford ;  hav- 
ing at  that  time  a  good  command  both  of  the  French  and  Latin 
tongue.*  This,  and  some  other  of  his  remarkable  abilities,  made 
one  then  give  this  censure  of  him  ;  That  this  age  had  brought 
forth  another  Picus  Mirandula  ;f  of  whom  story  says,  that  he  was 
rather  born,  than  made  wise  by  study. 

There  he  remained  for  some  years  in  Hart-Hall,  having,  for 
the  advancement  of  his  studies,  tutors  of  several  sciences  to  at- 
tend and  instruct  him,  till  time  made  him  capable,  and  his  learn- 
ing expressed  in  public  exercises,  declared  him  worthy  to  receive 
his  first  degree  in  the  schools,  which  he  forbore  by  advice  from 
his  friends,  who,  being  for  their  religion  of  the  Romish  persuasion, 
were  conscionably  averse  to  some  parts  of  the  oath  that  is  always 
tendered  at  those  times,  and  not  to  be  refused  by  those  that  ex- 
pect the  titulary  honour  of  their  studies. 

About  the  fourteenth  year  of  his  age,  he  was  transplanted  from 
Oxford  to  Cambridge  ;  where,  that  he  might  receive  nourishment 
from  both  soils,  he  staid  till  his  seventeenth  year ;  all  which  time 
he  was  a  most  laborious  student,  often  changing  his  studies,  but 
endeavouring  to  take  no  degree,  for  the  reasons  formerly  nnen- 
tioned. 

About  the  seventeenth  year  of  his  age  he  v*^as  removed  to  Lon- 
don, and  then  admitted  into  Lincoln's  Inn,  with  an  intent  to  study 
the  Lav/  ;  where  he  gave  great  testimonies  of  his  wit,  his  learn- 
ing,  and  of  his  improvement  in  tliat  profession  ;  which  never 
served  him  for  other  use  than  an  ornament  and  self-satisfaction. 

His  father  died  before  his  admission  into  this  society ;  and,  be- 

*  It  is  quaintly  said  in  tlie  first  edition  that  he  had  "  a  command  of  the 
French  and  Latine  tongues,  when  others  can  scarce  speak  their  owne." 

t  John  Picus,  Prince  of  Mirandula,  a  Duchy  in  Italy,  now  the  property  of 
the  Dukes  of  Modena,  was  born  Feb.  2 1th,  14G3.  lie  is  said  to  have  under- 
stood twenty-two  languages  at  the  age  of  18  ;  and  at  24  he  discoursed  on  every 
branch  of  knowledge.  The  death  of  his  friend  Lorenzo  de'  Medicis,  so  much 
affected  him,  that  he  resigned  his  sovereignty  to  his  nephew,  and  died  in  re- 
tirement at  Florence,  Nov.  17th,  1494.  His  works  were  chiefly  Controversial 
Theology,  witli  some  familiar  Epistles.  Ilrs  name  docs  not  occur  in  Vv''a!ton's 
first  edition. 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  55 


ing  a  merchant,  left  him  his  portion  in  money.  (It  was  £3,000.) 
His  mother,  and  those  to  whose  care  he  was  committed,  were 
watchful  to  improve  his  knowledge,  and  to  that  end  appointed  him 
tutors  both  in  the  mathematics,  and  in  all  the  other  liberal  sci- 
ences, to  attend  him.  But  with  these  arts,  they  were  advised  to 
instil  into  him  particular  principles  of  the  Romish  Church ;  of 
which  those  tutors  professed,  though  secretly,  themselves  to  be 
members. 

They  had  almost  obliged  him  to  their  faith ;  having  for  their 
advantage,  besides  many  opportunities,  the  example  of  his  dear 
and  pious  parents,  which  was  a  most  powerful  persuasion,  and 
did  work  much  upon  him,  as  he  professeth  in  his  preface  to  his 
Pseudo-]\Iartyr,*  a  book  of  which  the  reader  shall  have  some  ac- 
count in  what  follows. 

He  was  now  entered  into  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  age  ;  and 
at  that  time  had  betrothed  himself  to  no  religion,  that  might  give 
him  any  other  denomination  than  a  Christian.  And  reason  and 
piety  had  both  persuaded  him,  that  there  could  be  no  such  sin  as 
Schism,  if  an  adherence  to  some  visible  Church  were  not  neces- 
sary. 

About  the  nineteenth  year  of  his  age,  he,  being  then  unre- 
solved what  religion  to  adhere  to,  and  considering  how  much  it 
concerned  his  soul  to  choose  the  most  orthodox,  did  therefore, — 
though  his  youth  and  health  promised  him  a  long  life — to  rectify 
all  scruples  that  might  concern  that,  presently  lay  aside  all  study 
of  the  Law,  and  of  all  other  sciences  that  might  give  him  a  de- 
nomination ;  and  began  seriously  to  survey  and  consider  the  body 
of  Divinity,  as  it  vv^as  then  controverted  betwixt  the  Reformed  and 
the  Roman  Church.  And,  as  God's  blessed  Spirit  did  then 
awaken  him  to  the  search,  and  in  that  industry  did  never  forsake 
liim — they  be  his  own  wordsj — so  he  calls  the  same  Holy  Spirit 

*  "  I  had  a  longer  work  to  do  than  many  other  men :  for  I  was  first  to  blot 
out  certaine  impressions  of  the  Romane  religion  and  to  wrestle  both  against  the 
examples  and  against  the  reasons,  by  which  some  hold  was  taken,  and  some 
anticipations  early  layde  upon  my  conscience,  both  by  persons  who  by  nature 
had  a  power  and  superiority  over  my  will,  and  others  who  by  their  learning  and 
good  life  seemed  to  me  justly  to  claime  an  interest  for  the  guiding  and  rectify- 
ing of  mine  understanding  in  these  matters." 

t  In  !::.5  Preface  to  Pseudo-Martyr. 


56  THE   LIFE   OF 


to  witness  tliis  protestation  ;  that  in  that  disquisition  and  search, 
he  proceeded  with  humility  and  diffidence  in  himself;  and  by  that 
which  he  tooiv  to  be  the  safest  way  ;  namely,  frequent  prayers, 
and  an  indifferent  affection  to  both  parties ;  and  indeed,  Truth 
had  too  much  light  about  her  to  be  hid  from  so  sharp  an  enqui- 
rer ;  and  he  had  too  much  ingenuity,  not  to  acknowledge  he  had 
found  her. 

Being  to  undertake  this  search,  he  believed  the  Cardinal  Bel- 
larmine*  to  be  the  best  defender  of  the  Roman  cause,  and  there- 
fore betook  himself  to  the  examination  of  his  reasons.  The  cause 
was  weighty,  and  wilful  delays  had  been  inexcusable  both  to- 
wards God  and  his  own  conscience :  he  therefore  proceeded  in 
this  search  with  all  moderate  haste,  and  about  the  twentieth  year 
of  his  age,  did  show  the  then  Dean  of  Gloucester"]' — whose  name 
my  memory  hath  now  lost — all  the  Cardinal's  works  marked  with 
many  weighty  observations  under  his  own  hand  ;  which  works 
were  bequeathed  by  him,  at  his  death,  as  a  legacy  to  a  most  dear 
friend. 

About  a  year  following  he  resolved  to  travel ;  and  the  Earl  of 
Essex  going  first  the  Cales,^  and  after  the  Island  voyages,  the 

*  One  of  tlio  most  celebrated  coutroversiul  writers  of  his  time  ;  he  was  born 
ill  Tuscany  in  1542,  and  became  a  Jesuit  in  1560.  Until  1576,  he  was  'a 
teacher  of  Divinity  in  the  Low  Countries,  but  he  then  commenced  reading  con- 
troversial Lectures  at  Rome  ;  and  with  such  success,  that  Sixtus  V.  sent  him 
with  his  Legate  into  France,  to  assist  in  the  event  of  any  religious  dispute.  In 
1599,  Clement  VIIL  created  him  a  Cardinal,  and  he  resided  in  the  Vatican 
from  1605  till  1621,  when  he  left  it  in  declining  health,  and  died  in  the  House 
of  the  Jesuits,  Sept.  17th.  His  work  alluded  to,  is  entitled  "  Dlsputationes  de 
Controversiis  Christiancz  Fidei,  advcrsus  sui  temporis  HcEreiicos"  Cologne, 
1610,  4  vol.  fol. 

t  Dr.  Anthony  Rudde,  a  native  of  Yorkshire,  and  Fellow  of  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge  ;  died  Bishop  of  St.  David's  in  161.3-14. 

t  This  was  an  expedition  consisting  of  a  fleet  of  150  sail,  with  twenty-two 
Dutch  ships,  and  seven  thousand  soldiers ;  Charles  Howard,  Earl  of  Notting- 
ham, being  Lord  High  Admiral,  and  the  Earl  of  Essex,  General  of  the  Land 
forces.  On  June  21st,  the  Spanish  squadron  was  destroyed,  and  Cadiz  taken, 
with  an  immense  treasure  and  stores  ;  in  addition  to  wliich  the  inhabitants  re- 
deemed their  lives  at  the  price  of  520,000  ducats.  The  Island  voyage  was 
also  an  expedition  to  oppose  the  King  of  Spain  invading  Ireland,  in  1597;  and 
it  consisted  of  120  sail,  and  6,000  land  forces  under  the  Earl  of  Essex.     It  waa 


DR.   JOHN   DONNE.  :,7 


first  anno  1593,  llie  second  1597,  he  took  tlie  advantage  of 
those  opportunities,  waited  upon  his  Lord.ship,  and  was  an  eye- 
witness of  those  happy  and  unhappy  employments. 

But  he  returned  not  back  into  England,  till  he  had  staid  some 
years,  first  in  Italy,  and  then  in  Spain,  where  he  made  many  use- 
ful observations  of  thosvO  countries,  their  lav/s  and  manner  of  gov- 
ernment, and  returned  perfect  in  their  languages. 

The  time  that  he  j^^pont  in  Spain,  was,  at  his  first  going  into 
Italy,  designed  for  travelling  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  for  viewing 
Jerusalem  and  the  Sepulchre  of  our  Saviour.  But  at  his  being 
in  the  furthest  parts  of  Italy,  the  disappointment  of  company,  or 
of  a  safe  convoy,  or  the  uncertainty  of  returns  of  money  into 
those  remote  parts,  denied  him  that  happines.^  which  he  did  often 
occasionally  mention  with,  a  deploration. 

Not  long  after  his  return  into  England,  that  exemplary  pattern 
of  gravity  and  wisdom,  the  Lord  Eilesmere,*  then  Keeper  of  the 
Great  Seal,  the  Lord  Chancellor  of  England,  taking  notice  of  his 
learnin:^,  laniruagcs.  and  otlier  abilities,  and  much  affectin;!  his 
person  and  behaviour,  took  him  to  be  his  chief  Secretary  ;  sup- 
posing and  intending  it  to  be  an  introduction  to  some  more  weighty 
employment  in  the  State  ;  for  which,  his  Lordship  did  often  pro- 
test, he  thought  him  very  fit. 

Nor  did  his  Lordshio  in  this  time  of  Master  Donne's  attendance 

i. 

upon  him,  account  iiim  to  be  .so  much  his  servant,  as  to  forget  he 


his  iiiteiitioii  first  to  lidve  destroyed  tlie  .ships  preparing,  and  then  sailing  to  the 
Azores,  or  Western  Islands,  to  have  waited  for,  and  captured  the  Spanish  India 
Fleet.  This  scheme,  however,  failed,  througii  contrary  winds,  storms,  and  a 
dispute  between  the  Earl  of  Essex  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

*  Sir  Thomas  Ellesmere  of  Tatton  in  the  County  of  Chester,  Knight,  the 
natural  son  of  Sir  Richard  Egerton  of  Ridley,  was  born  about  1540,  and  wa.s 
entered  of  Brazen  Nose  College,  Oxford,  at  the  age  of  17,  whence  he  removed 
to  Lincoln's  Inn.  On  June  28th,  1581,  he  was  made  Solicitor-General,  and 
was  soon  afterwards  knighted ;  in  April,  1594,  he  was  appointed  Master  of  tho 
Rolls:  and  in  1596,  he  received  the  Great  Seal,  and  was  sworn  of  the  Privy 
Council.  In  1604,  James  I.  created  him  Baron  of  Ellesmere  and  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, which  office  he  held  till  the  age  of  76,  when  he  addressed  two  paihelic 
letters  to  the  King  for  his  dismissal.  The  Sovereign  first  created  him  Viscount 
Brackley,  and  then  received  the  Seals  from  him  in  person  upon  his  death -bed. 
He  died  at  York  House  in  the  Strand,  March  15tli,  1617. 


r. 


8  THE   LIFE   OF 


was  his  friend  ;  and,  to  testify  it,  did  always  use  him  with  much 
courtesy,  appointing  liini  a  place  at  his  own  table,  to  which  he 
esteemed  his  company  and  discourse  to  be  a  great  ornament. 

He  continued  that  employment  for  the  space  of  five  years,  be- 
ing daily  useful,  and  not  mercenary  to  his  friend.  During  which 
time,  he, — 1  dare  not  say  unhappily — fell  into  such  a  liking,  as, 
— with  her  approbation, — increased  into  a  love,  with  a  young 
gentlewoman  that  lived  in  that  family,  who  was  niece  to  the  Lady 
Ellesmere,  and  daughter  to  Sir  George  More,*  then  Chancellor  of 
the  Garter  and  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 

Sir  George  had  some  intimation  of  it.  and,  knowing  prevention 
to  be  a  great  part  of  wisdom,  did  therefore  remove  her  with  much 
haste,  from  that  to  his  own  house  at  Lothesley,  in  the  County  of 
Surrey  ;  but  too  late,  by  reason  of  some  faithful  promises  which 
were  so  interchangeably  passed,  as  never  to  be  violated  by  either 
party. 

These  promises  Vv'ere  only  known  to  themselves  ;  and  the  friends 
of  both  parties  used  much  diligence,  and  many  arguments,  to  kill 
or  cool  their  affections  to  each  other  :  but  in  vain  ;  jfor  lovef  is  a 
flattering  mischief,  that  hath  denied  aged  and  wise  men  a  fore- 
sight of  those  evils  that  too  often  prove  to  be  the  children  of  that 
blind  father,  a  passion,  that  carries  us  to  commit  errors  with  as 
much  ease  as  whirlwinds  move  feathers,  and  begets  in  us  an  un- 
wearied industry  to  the  attainment  of  what  we  desire.-  And  such 
an  industry  did,  notwithstanding  much  watchfulness  against  it, 


*  Sir  George  was  the  only  son  and  heir  of  Sir  WiUiam  More,  and  was  born 
Nov.  28th,  1552  ;  educated  at  Exeter  College,  Oxford,  whence  he  removed  to 
the  Inns  of  Court.  About  1597,  he  was  knighted,  in  IGlO,  was  made  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Garter,  and  in  1615,  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower.  He  frequently 
sat  in  Parliament  for  the  Borough  of  Guildford,  and  he  died  Oct.  IGth,  1632. 
His  sister,  the  Lady  Ellesmere,  was  the  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  William  More, 
and  was  bora  April  28th,  1552.  She  was  thrice  married,  the  last  of  her  hus- 
bands being  Chancellor  Egerton  ;  and  the  second  Sir  John  Wolley  of  Pirford, 
Knt.  Losely  House,  the  seat  of  the  More  family,  is  situate  in  the  Hundred  of 
Godalming,  and  County  of  Surrey,  about  two  miles  south-west  of  Guildford. 
It  consists  of  a  main  body,  facing  the  north,  and  one  wing  extending  northward 
from  its  western  extremity  ;  the  whole  being  built  of  the  ordinary  country  stone. 

t  This  fine  passage  on  the  rashness  of  youthful  passion  was  not  inserted  till 
Vv'al ton's  second  edition. 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  59 


bring  them  secretly  together, — I  forbear  to  tell  the  manner  how 
— and  at  last  to  a  marriage  too,  without  the  allowance  of  those 
friends,  whose  approbation  always  was,  and  ever  will  be,  neces- 
sary, to  make  even  a  virtuous  love  become  lawful. 

And,  that  the  knowledge  of  their  marriage  might  not  fall,  like 
an  unexpected  tempest,  on  those  that  were  unwilling  to  have  it 
so  ;  and  that  pre-appre.hensions  might  make  it  the  less  enormous 
when  it  was  known,  it  was  purposely  whispered  into  the  ears  of 
many  that  it  was  so,  yet  by  none  that  could  affirm  it.  But,  to  put 
a  period  to  the  jealousies  of  Sir  George, — doubt  often  begetting 
more  restless  thounjhts  than  the  certain  knowled^re  of  what  we 
fear — the  news  was,  in  favour  to  Mr.  Donne,  and  with  his  allow- 
ance, made  known  to  Sir  George,  by  his  honourable  friend  and 
neighbour  Henry,  Earl  of  Northumberland  ;*  but  it  was  to  Sir 
George  so  immeasurably  unwelcome,  and  so  transported  him, 
that,  as  though  his  passion  of  anger  and  inconsideration  might  ex- 
ceed theirs  of  love  and  error,  he  presently  engaged  his  sister,  the 
Lady  Ellesmicre,  to  join  with  him  to  procure  her  lord  to  discharge 
Mr.  Donne  of  the  place  he  held  under  his  Lordship.  This  re- 
quest was  follovved  Vvith  violence  ;  and  though  Sir  George  were 
remembered,  that  errors  might  be  over  punished,  and  desired 
therefore  to  forbear,  till  second  considerations  might  clear  some 
scruples  ;  yet  he  became  restless  until  his  suit  was  granted,  and 
the  punishment  executed.     And  though  the  Lord  Chancellor  did 

*  Henry  Percy,  nintli  Earl  of  Northumberland,  bom  in  April,  1564  ;  suc- 
ceeded to  the  title  in  June,  1565.  In  1568,  he  was  one  of  those  gallant  young 
noblemen  who  hired  ships  at  their  own  charge,  and  joined  the  fleet  despatched 
against  the  Spanish  Armada  ;  and  in  1593,  he  was  made  Knight  of  the  Garter. 
He  was  greatly  attached  to  the  House  of  Stuart,  and  was  active  in  the  in- 
terests of  James  I.  ;  but  as  one  of  the  conspirators  in  the  Gunpowder  Plot  was 
related  to  his  Lordship,  he  was  prosecuted,  fined  £.30,000.  by  Sir  Edward  Coke 
in  the  Sar-Chamber,  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  during  life. 
The  Earl's  fine  was  reduced  to  £20,090.  and  his  liberty  restored  after  fifteen 
years  confinement,  in  July,  1621.  He  died,  Nov.  5th,  1632.  Wood  calls  him 
"  a  learned  man  himself,  and  the  generous  favourer  of  all  good  learning ;"  du- 
ring his  imprisonment  he  allowed  salaries  for  eminent  scholars  to  attend  upon 
him,  and  he  also  enjoyed  the  converse  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  then  a  prisoner 
in  the  Tower.  He  had  a  peculiar  talent  for  mathematics  ;  and  on  account  of 
his  love  for  the  occult  .sciences,  he  was  sometimes  entitled  Henry  the  Wizaid. 


GO  THE   LIFE   OF 


not,  at  Mr.  Donne's  dismission,  give  iiim  such  a  commendation  as 
the  great  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth  did  of  his  Secretary,  Eraso, 
when  lie  parted  witli  liim  to  his  son  and  successor,  Philip  the 
Second,  saying,  "  That  in  his  Eraso,  he  gave  to  him  a  greater  gift 
than  all  his  estate,  and  all  the  kingdoms  wliich  he  then  resigned  to 
him  :"  yet  the  Lord  Chancellor  said,  "  He  parted  with  a  friend, 
and  such  a  Secretary  as  was  fitter  to  serve  a  king  than  a  sub- 
ject." 

Immediately  after  his  dismission  from  his  service,  he  sent  a 
sad  letter  to  liis  wife,  to  acquaint  lier  witli  it  :  and  after  the  sub- 
scription of  iiis  name,  writ, 

John  Bonne,  An7ic  Donne,  Un-done  ; 

And  God  knows  it  proved  too  true  ;*  for  this  bitter  pliysic  of  Mv. 
Donne's  dismission,  was  not  enough  to  purge  out  all  Sir  George's 
choler  ;  for  he  was  not  satisfied  till  Mr.  Donne  and  his  sometime 
com-pupil  in  Cambridge,  that  married  him,  namely,  Samuel 
Brooke, I  wlio  was  after  Doctor  in  Divinity,  and  Master  of  Trinity 
College — and  his  brother  Mr.  Christopher  Brooke,  sometime  Mr. 
Donne's  chamber-fellow  in  Lincoln's  Inn,  who  gave  Mr.  Donne 
his  wife,  and  witnessed  the  marriage,  were  all  committed  to  three 
several  prisons. 

Mr.  Donne  was  first  enlarged,  who  neither  gave  rest  to  his 
body  or  brain,  nor  to  any  friend  in  whom  he  might  hope  to  have  on 

*  The  passage  beginning  "  and  though  the  Lord  Chancellor" — down  lo — 
"  it  proved  loo  true,"  is  not  entire  in  either  of  Walton's  first  two  editions. 

t  Son  of  Robert  Brook,  an  eminent  merchant,  and  Lord  Mayor  of  York,  in 
1582  and  1595.  He  was  admitted  of  Trinity  College  in  Cambridge,  in  159(1, 
and  Sept.  2Gth,  1612,  was  ohosen  Divinity  Professor  in  Gresham  College,  being 
then  Chaplain  to  Prince  Henry.  In  1615,  he  was  made  D.D. ;  m  1618,  Rec- 
tor of  St.  Margaret's  Lotlibun^',  in  London;  in  1629,  Master  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege ;  and  Archdeacon  of  Vv^ells,  in  1631,  in  v.'hich  year  he  died.  Of  his  wri- 
ting there  remains  one  Latin  di-scourse,  and  a  Latin  Pastoral,  called  Milanthe, 
acted  before  King  James  at  Cambridge.  Christopher  Brook  was  a  Benciu-r 
and  Summer  Reader  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  is  much  commended  as  a  poet  by 
Ben  Jonson,  Drayton,  &:-c.  He  wrote  an  Elegy  to  the  never-dying  memory 
of  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  Lond.  1613,  4to.  ;  and  he  also  published  a  voluma 
of  Eclogues,  Lond.  1614.  In  Dr.  Donne's  Poo'i  s  are  two  addressed  to  this  gen- 
tleman, "  the  Storme."  and  "  the  Calmc." 


DR.   JOHN    BONNE.  Gl 


interest,  until  he  bad  procured  an  enlargement  for  his  two  impris- 
oned friends. 

He  was  now  at  liberty,  but  his  days  were  still  cloudy  :  and  be- 
ing past  these  troubles,  others  did  still  multiply  upon  him  ;  for  his 
wife  was, — to  her  extreme  sorrov/ — detained  from  him  ;  and  though 
wiih  Jacob*  he  endured  not  a  hard  service  for  her,  yet  he  lost  a 
good  one,  and  was  forced  to  make  good  his  title,  and  to  get  pos- 
session of  her  by  a  long  and  restless  suit  in  law ;  which  proved 
troublesome  and  sadly  chargeable  to  him,  whose  youth,  and  trav- 
el, and  needless  bounty,  had   brought   his   estate   into  a   narrow 


compass. 


It  is  observed,  and  most  truly,  that  silence  and  submission  are 
charming  qualities,  and  work  most  upon  passionate  men  ;  and  it 
proved  so  witli  Sir  George  ;  for  these,  and  a  general  report  of 
Mr.  Donne's  merits,  together  with  his  winning  behaviour, — wliich, 
when  it  would  entice,  had  a  strange  kind  of  elegant  irresistible 
art ; — these,  and  time  had  so  disnassionated  Sir  George,  that  as 
the  world  had  approved  his  daughter's  choice,  so  he  also  could 
not  but  see  a  more  than  ordinary  merit  in  his  new  son  ;  and  this 
at  last  melted  him  into  so  much  remorse, — for  love  and  anger  arc 
so  like  agues,  as  to  have  hot  and  cold  fits ;  and  love  in  parents, 
though  it  may  be  quenched,  yet  is  easily  re-kindled,  and  expires 
not  till  death  denies  mankind  a  natural  heat, — that  he  laboured 
his  son's  restoration  to  his  place ;  usin^;  to  that  end,  both  his  own 
and  his  sister's  power  to  her  lord  :  but  with  no  success  ;  for  his 
answer  was,  "  That  though  he  was  unfeignedly  sorry  for  what  he 
had  done,  yet  it  was  inconsistent  with  his  place  and  credit,  to  dis- 
charge and  re-admit  servants  at  the  request  of  passionate  peti- 


tioners." 


Sir  George's  endeavour  for  Mr.  Donne's  re-admission,  vras  by 
all  means  to  be  kept  secret: — for  men  do  more  naturally  reluct 
for  errors,  than  submit  to  put  on  those  blemishes  that  attend  their 
visible  acknowledgement — But,  however,  it  was  not  long  before 
Sir  George  appeared  to  be  so  far  reconciled,  as  to  wish  their  hap- 
piness, and  not  to  deny  them  his  paternal  blessing,  but  yet  refu- 

*  The  first  edition  has  this  alhision  to  Genesis,  chap.  xxix. ;  and  similar  ref- 
erences placed  in  the  margin. 


6:3  THE   LIFE   OF 


seel  to  contribute  any  means  that  might  conduce  to  their  live- 
lihood. 

Mr.  Donne's  estate  was  the  greatest  part  spent  in  many  and 
chargeable  travels,  books,  and  dear-bought  experience  :  he  out  of 
all  employment  that  might  yield  a  support  for  himself  and  wife, 
who  had  been  curiously  and  plentifully  educated  ;  both  their  na- 
tures generous,  and  accustomed  to  confer,  and  not  to  receive, 
courtesies :  these  and  other  considerations,  but  chieflv  that  his 
wife  was  to  bear  a  part  in  his  sufferings,  surrounded  him  with 
many  sad  thoughts,  and  some  apparent  apprehensions  of  want. 

But  his  sorrows  were  lessened  and  his  wants  prevented,  by  the 
seasonable  courtesy  of  their  noble  kinsman,  Sir  Francis  Wolly,* 
of  Pirford,  in  Surrey,  who  intreated  them  to  a  cohabitation  with 
him  ;  where  they  remained  with  much  freedom  to  themselves, 
and  equal  content  to  him,  for  some  years  ;  and  as  their  charge 
increased — she  had  yearly  a  child, — so  did  his  love  and  bounty. 

It  hath  been  observed  by  wise  and  considering  men,  that  wealth 
hath  seldom  been  the  portion,  and  never  the  mark  to  discover  good 
people ;  but  that  A^lmighty  God,  who  disposeth  all  things  wisely, 
hath  of  his  abundant  goodness  denied  it — he  only  knows  why — to 
many,  whose  minds  he  hath  enriched  with  the  greater  blessings 
of  knowledge  and  virtue,  as  the  fairer  testimonies  of  his  love  to 
mankind :  and  this  was  the  present  condition  of  this  man  of  so 
excellent  erudition  and  endowments ;  whose  necessary  and  daily 
expences,  were  hardly  reconcileable  with  his  uncertain  and  nar- 
row estate.  Which  I  mention,  for  that  at  this  time,  there  was  a  most 
generous  offer  made  him  for  the  moderating  of  his  worldly  cares  ; 
the  declaration  of  which  shall  be  the  next  employment  of  my  pen. 

God  hath  been  so  good  to  his  Church,  as  to  afford  it  in  every 

*  Or  Wolley,  only  son  of  Sir  John  WoUey,  Knight,  Dean  of  Carlisle,  and 
Latin  Secretary  to  Queen  Elizabeth  :  was  born  March  18th,  1582-83,  and  was 
a  Member  of  Merton  College,  Oxford.  In  1600,  he  represented  the  borough 
of  Haslemere,  in  Parliament,  and  was  afterwards  knighted,  but  he  died  un- 
married in  the  flower  of  his  age  in  1610.  He  was  buried  in  the  same  grave 
with  his  father,  and  the  Lady  Egerton  his  mother,  in  the  church  of  Pirford,  in 
Surrey;  but  in  1614,  their  bodies  were  all  removed,  and  re-interred  under  a 
beautiful  monument  of  black  and  white  marble,  bearing  their  effigies,  and  a 
Latin  Epitaph,  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  which  was  destroyed  in  the  great  fire. 


DR.  JOHN    DONNE.  G3 


age,  some  such  men  to  serve  at  his  altar,  as  have  been  piously 
ambitious  of  doing  good  to  mankind  ;  a  disposition,  that  is  so  like 
to  God  himself,  that  it  owes  itself  only  to  Him,  who  takes  a  plea- 
sure to  behold  it  in  his  creatures.  These  times*  he  did  bless 
with  many  such  ;  some  of  which  still  live  to  be  patterns  of  apos- 
tolical charity,  and  of  more  than  human  patience.  I  have  said 
this,  because  I  have  occasion  to  mention  one  of  them  in  my  fol- 
lowing discourse  ;  namely,  Dr.  Morton,f  the  most  laborious  and 
learned  Bishop  of  Durham  ;  one  that  God  hath  blessed  with 
perfect  intellectuals  and  a  cheerful  heart  at  the  age  of  94  years — 
and  is  yet  living  : — one,  that  in  his  days  of  plenty  had  so  large  a 
heart,  as  to  use  his  large  revenue  to  the  encouragement  of  learn- 
ing and  virtue,  and  is  now — be  it  spoken  with  sorrow — reduced  to 
a  narrow  estate,  which  he  embraces  without  repining ;  and  still 
shows  the  beauty  of  his  mind  by  so  liberal  a  hand,  as  if  this  were 
an  age  in  which  to-morrow  were  to  care  for  itself.  I  have  taken 
a  pleasui'e  in  giving  the  reader  a  short,  but  true  character  of  this 

*  1648. 

t  Thomas  Morton  is  supposed  by  his  friend  and  biographer  Dr.  John  Bar- 
wick,  to  have  been  descended  from  the  famous  Cardinal  Morton,  Bishop  of  Ely. 
He  was  born  at  York,  March  20th,  1564,  and  was  educated  there  and  at  Hal- 
ifax, where  one  of  his  schoolfellows  was  the  notorious  Guy  Fawkes.  In  1582, 
he  Vv'as  entered  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  read  Lectures  ou 
Logic  ;  and  on  account  of  his  skill  in  dii^puting  with  the  Romish  recusants,  he 
was  selected  to  be  chaplain  to  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  then  Lord  President  of 
the  North.  In  1602,  holding  a  Rectory  about  four  miles  from  York,  he  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  his  fearless  and  charitable  exertions  whilst  the  Plague 
was  in  that  City  ;  often  visiting  the  Pest-House  there,  and  carrying  provisions 
to  the  poor  unattended  by  a  single  domestic.  In  160.3,  he  went  as  Chaplain 
with  the  English  Embassy  to  Denmark  ;  in  1606,  he  became  D.D.  and  Chap- 
lain to  James  I.  ;  he  was  made  Dean  of  Gloucester  by  the  King,  June  22nd, 
1607,  and  was  removed  to  Winchester  in  1609.  Early  in  1616,  Dr.  Morton 
W£is  made  Bishop  of  Chester  ;  in  which  Diocese  he  used  many  efforts  to  con- 
ciliate the  Nonconformists.  In  1618,  he  was  again  translated  to  the  See  of 
Lichfield  and  Coventrj^,  in  which  situation  he  detected  the  supposed  witchcraft 
of  the  Boy  of  Bilson  ;  and  on  July  2nd,  1632,  he  was  advanced  to  the  Bishop- 
ric of  Durham.  Dr.  Morton  suffered  much  during  the  Rebellion,  and  was  ex- 
pelled from  his  Palace,  but  he  waS'  at  length  taken  into  the  protection  of  Sir 
Christopher  Yelverton,  to  whose  son  he  became  Tutor  ;  and  at  whose  seat  in 
Northamptonshire  he  died,  Sept.  22nd,  1659,  having  been  44  years  a  Bishop, 
and  being  in  the  95th  year  of  his  age. 


64  THE   LIFE   OF 


good  man,  my  friend,  from  whom  I  received  this  following  rela- 
tion.— He  sent  to  Mr.  Donne,  and  intrcated  to  borrow  an  liour  of 
his  time  for  a  conference  the  nfext  day.  After  their  meeting,  there 
was  not  many  minutes  passed  before  he  spake  to  Mr.  Donne  to  this 
purpose  :  "  Mr.  Donne,  the  occasion  of  sending  for  you,  is  to  pro- 
pose to  you  what  I  have  often  revolved  in  my  own  thought  since  I 
last  saw  you:  which  nevertheless,  I  will  not  declare  but  upon 
this  condition,  that  you  shall  not  return  me  a  present  answer,  but 
forbear  three  days,  and  bestow  some  part  of  that  time  in  fasting 
and  prayer ;  and  after  a  serious  consideration  of  what  I  shall 
propose,  then  return  to  me  with  your  answer.  Deny  me  not,  Mr. 
Donne  ;  for,  it  is  the  effect  of  a  true  love,  which  I  would  gladly 
pay  as  a  debt  due  for  yours  to  me." 

Tliis  request  being  granted,  the  Doctor  expressed  himself  thus  : 
"Mr.  Donne,  I  know  your  education  and  abilities;  1  know 
your  expectation  of  a  state-employment  ;  and  I  kno'.v  your  fitness 
for  it  ;  and  I  know  too  the  many  delays  and  contingencies  that 
attend  court-promises:  and  let  me  tell  you,  that  my  love,  begot 
by  our  long  friendship  and  your  merits,  hath  prompted  mo  to 
such  an  inquisition  after  your  present  temporal  estate,  as  makes 
me  no  stranger  to  your  necessities  ;  which  I  know  to  be  such  as 
your  generous  spirit  could  not  bear,  if  it  were  not  supported  with 
a  pious  patience.  You  know  I  have  form.erly  persuaded  you  to 
v/ave  your  court-hopes,  and  enter  into  holy  orders  ;  which  I  now 
again  persuade  you  to  embrace,  with  this  reason  added  to  my 
former  request  :  The  King  hath  yesterday  made  me  Dean  of 
Gloucester,  and  I  am  also  possessed  of  a  benefice,  the  profits  of 
which  are  equal  to  those  of  my  deanery  ;  I  will  think  my  deanery 
enough  for  my  maintenance, — who  am,  and  resolved  to  die,  a 
single  man — and  will  quit  my  benefice,  and  estate  you  in  it, — 
which  the  Patron  is  willing  I  shall  do — if  God  shiall  incline  your 
heart  to  embrace  this  motion.  Remember,  Mr.  Donne,  no  man's 
education  or  parts  make  him  too  good  for  this  employment,  which 
is  to  be  an  ambassador  for  the  God  of  glory  ;  that  God,  who,  by 
a  vile  death,  opened  the  gates  of  life  to  mankind.  Make  me  no 
present  answer  ;  but  remember  your  promise,  and  return  to  me 
the  third  day  with  your  resolution." 

At  the  hearing  of  tliis,  Mr.  Donne's  faint  breath  and  perplexed 


DR.   JOHN    DONNE.  G5 


countenance,  gave  a  visible  testimony  of  an  inward  conflict :  but 
he  performed  his  promise,  and  departed  without  returning  an 
answer  till  the  third  day,  and  then  his  answer  was  to  this  effect  : 

"  My  most  worthy  and  most  dear  friend,  since  I  saw  you,  I 
have  been  faithful  to  my  promise,  and  have  also  meditated  much 
of  your  great  kindness,  which  hath  been  such  as  would  exceed 
even  my  gratitude  ;  but  that  it  cannot  do;  and  more  I  cannot  re- 
turn you  ;  and  I  do  that  with  an  heart  full  of  humility  and  thanks, 
though  I  may  not  accept  of  your  offer;  but.  Sir,  my  refusal  is  not 
for  that  I  think  myself  too  good  for  that  calling,  for  which  Kings, 
if  they  think  so,  are  not  good  enough  :  nor  for  that  my  education 
and  learning,  though  not  eminent,  may  not,  being  assisted  with 
God's  grace  and  humility,  render  me  in  some  measure  fit  for  it: 
but  I  dare  make  so  dear  a  friend  as  you  are,  my  confessor:  some 
irregularities  of  my  life  have  been  so  visible  to  some  men,  that 
though  I  have,  I  thank  God,  made  my  peace  with  him  by  peniten- 
tial resolutions  against  them,  and  by  the  assistance  of  his  grace 
banished  them  my  affections ;  yet  this,  which  God  knows  to  be 
so,  is  not  so  visible  to  man,  as  to  free  me  from  their  censures, 
and  it  may  be  that  sacred  calling  from  a  dishonour.  And  be- 
sides, v/hereas  it  is  determined  by  the  best  of  casuists,  that  God's 
glory  should  be  the  first  end,  and  a  maintenance  the  second  mo- 
tive to  embrace  that  calling  ;  and  though  each  man  may  propose 
to  himself  both  together,  yet  the  first  may  not  be  put  last  without 
a  violation  of  conscience,  which  he  that  searches  the  heart  will 
judge.  And  truly  my  present  condition  is  such,  that  if  I  ask  my 
own  conscience,  whether  it  be  reconcileable  to  that  rule,  it  is  at 
this  time  so  perplexed  about  it,  that  I  can  neither  give  myself  nor 
you  an  answer.  You  know,  Sir,  who  says,  '  Happy  is  that  man 
whose  conscience  doth  not  accuse  him  for  that  thing  which  he 
does.'*  To  these  I  might  add  other  reasons  that  dissuade  me ; 
but  I  crave  your  favour  that  I  may  forbear  to  express  them,  and 
thankfully  decline  your  offer." 

This  was  his  present  resolution,  but  the  heart  of  man  is  not  in 
his  own  keeping ;   and  he  was  destined  to  this  sacred  service  by 

*  Romans  xiv.  22.     The  modem  translation  is,   "  Happy  is  he  that  con- 
dcmneth  not  himself  in  that  which  he  doeth." 

6 


CG  THE   LIFE   OF 


an  Iiiglier  hand  ;  a  liand  so  poweiTul,  as  at  last  forced  him  to  a 
comph'ancc  :  of  which  I  shall  give  the  reader  an  account,  befi^re 
I  shall  give  a  rest  to  my  pen.* 

Mr.  Donne  and  his  wife  continued  with  Sir  Francis  Wolly  till 
his  death  :  a  little  before  which  time.  Sir  Francis  was  so  happy 
as  to  make  a  perfect  reconciliation  betwixt  Sir  George,  and  his 
forsaken  son  and  daughter;  Sir  George  conditioning  by  bond,  to 
pay  to  Mr.  Donne  800/.  at  a  certain  day,  as  a  portion  with  his 
wife,  or  20/.  quarterly  for  their  maintenance,  as  the  interest  for 
it,  till  the  said  portion  was  paid. 

Most  of  those  years  that  he  lived  with  Sir  Francis,  he  studied 
the  Civil  and  Canon  Laws ;  in  which  he  acquired  such  a  perfec- 
tion, as  was  judged  to  hold  proportion  with  many,  who  had  made 
that  study  the  employment  of  their  whole  life. 

Sir  Francis  being  dead,  and  that  happy  family  dissolved,  Mr. 
Donne  took  for  himself  a  house  in  Mitciiara, — near  to  Croydon  in 
Surrey — a  place  noted  for  good  air  and  choice  company :  tliere  his 
wife  and  children  remained  ;  and  for  himself  ho  took  lodgings  in 
London,  near  to  White-hall,  whither  his  friends  and  occasions 
drew  him  very  often,  and  where  he  was  as  often  visited,  by  many 
of  the  Nobility  and  others  of  this  nation,  who  used  him  in  their 
councils  of  greatest  consideration,  and  with  some  rewards  for  his 
better  subsistence. 

Nor  did  our  own  Nobility  only  value  and  favour  him,  but  his 
acquaintance  and  friendship  was  sought  for  by  most  Ambassadors 
of  foreign  nations,  and  by  many  other  strangers,  whose  learning  or 
business  occasioned  their  stay  in  this  nation. 

He  was  much  importuned  by  many  friends  to  make  his  con- 
stant residence  in  London  ;  but  he  still  denied  it,  having  settled 
his  dear  wife  and  children  at  Mitcham,  and  near  some  friends 
that  were  bountiful  to  them  and  him  ;  for  tiiey,  God  knovv's,  need- 
ed  it:  and  that  you  may  the  better  now  judge  of  the  then  present 
condition  of  his  mind  and  fortune,  I  shall  present  you  with  an  cx- 
tractf  collected  out  of  some  few  of  his  many  letters. 

*  TliC  proposal  of  Dr.  Morton  to  -".Ir.  Donne,  l)eginnin;T  at  tlie  words  "  It 
hath  been,"  down  to  "  a  rest  to  my  pen,"  was  not  in  the  first  edition. 

t  As  these  epistles  are  not  to  be  found  entire  in  the  printed  collection  of  his 
correspondence,  published  by  Dr.  Donne,  Junior,  under  the  title  of  "  Letters  to 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  67 


"  And  the  reason  why  I  did  not  send  an  answer  to  your 


last  week's  letter,  was,  because  it  then  found  nie  under  too  crreat 
a  sadness ;  and  at  present  'tis  tiius  with  me  :  There  is  not  one 
person,  but  myself,  well  of  my  family  :  I  have  already  lost  half  a 
child,  and,  with  that  mischance  of  hers,  my  wife  is  fallen  into 
such  a  discomposure,  as  would  afllict  her  too  extremely,  but  that 
the  sickness  of  all  her  other  children  stupilies  her  :  of  one  of  which, 
in  good  faith,  I  have  not  much  hope :  and  these  meet  with  a  for- 
tune  so  ill-provided  for  physic,  and  such  relief,  that  if  God  should 
ease  us  with  burials,  I  know  not  how  to  perform  even  that :  but  I 
flatter  myself  with  this  hope,  that  I  am  dying  too;   for  I  cannot 

waste  faster  than  by  such  griefs.     As  for,  

From  my  Hospital  at  Mitcham. 
Aug.  10.  JOHN  DONNE." 

Thus  he  did  bemoan  himself:  and  thus  in  other  letters. 

• "  For,  we  hardly  discover  a  sin,  when  it  is  but  an  omis- 


sion of  some  good,  and  no  accusing  act :  with  this  or  the  former, 
I  have  often  suspected  myself  to  be  overtaken  ;  which  is,  with  an 
over-earnest  desire  of  the  next  life  :  and,  though  I  know  it  is  not 
merely  a  weariness  of  this,  because  1  had  the  same  desire  when  I 
went  with  the  tide,  and  enjoyed  fairer  hopes  than  I  now  do ;  yet 
I  doubt  worldly  troubles  have  increased  it :  'tis  now  Spring,  and 
all  the  pleasures  of  it  displease  me  ;  every  other  tree  blossoms, 
and  I  witlier  :  I  grow  older,  and  not  better;  my  strength  dimin- 
isheth,  and  my  load  grows  heavier ;  and  yet,  I  would  fain  be  or 
do  something ;  but  that  I  cannot  tell  what,  is  no  wonder  in  this 
time  of  my  sadness  ;  for  to  choose  is  to  do  ;  but  to  be  no  part  of 
any  body,  is  as  to  be  nothing  :  and  so  I  am,  and  shall  so  judge 
myself,  unless  I  could  be  so  incorporated  into  a  part  of  the  world, 

scverall  Persons  of  ricncur,"  1651,  1654,  they  were  therefore  most  probably 
copied  from  the  orighials.  Dr.  Zouch  quotes  a  passage  from  another  of  Dr. 
Donne's  letters,  wherein  he  says,  "  I  write  from  the  fireside  in  my  parlour,  and 
in  the  noise  of  three  gamesome  cliildren,  and  by  the  side  of  her,  whom  because 
1  have  transplanted  into  such  a  wretched  fortune,  I  must  labour  to  disgui.so 
tbat  from  her  by  all  such  honr;  t  devices,  as  giving  lier  my  company  and  dis- 
course." 


G8  THE   LIFE   OF 


as  by  business  to  contribute  some  sustentation  to  the  whole.  This 
I  made  account ;  I  began  early,  when  I  understood  the  study  of 
our  Laws;  but  was  diverted  by  leaving  that,  and  embracing  the 
worst  voluptuousness,  an  hydroptic  immoderate  desire  of  human 
learning;  and  lanfruaijes :  beautiful  ornaments  indeed  to  men  of 
great  fortunes,  but  mine  was  grown  so  low  as  to  need  an  occupa- 
tion ;  which  I  thought  I  entered  well  into,  when  I  subjected  my- 
self to  such  a  service  as  I  thought  might  exercise  my  poor  abili- 
ties :  and  there  I  stumbled,  and  fell  too ;  and  now  I  am  become 
so  little,  or  such  a  nothing,  that  I  am  not  a  subject  good  enough 
for  one  of  my  own  letters. — Sir,  I  fear  my  present  discontent, 
does  not  proceed  from  a  good  root,  that  I  am  so  well  content  to  be 
nothing,  that  is,  dead.  But,  Sir,  though  my  fortune  hath  made 
me  such,  as  that  1  am  rather  a  sickness  or  a  disease  of  the  world, 
than  any  part  of  it,  and  therefore  neither  love  it  nor  life ;  yet  I 
would  gladly  live  to  become  some  such  thing  as  you  should  not 
repent  loving  me  :  Sir,  your  own  soul  cannot  be  more  zealous  for 
your  good,  than  I  am;  and  God,  who  loves  that  zeal  in  me,  will 
not  sulFer  you  to  doubt  it :  You  would  pity  me  now,  if  you  saw 
me  write,  for  my  pain  hath  drawn  my  head  so  much  awry,  and 
holds  it  so,  that  my  eye  cannot  follow  my  pen.  I  therefore  re- 
ceive you  into  my  prayers  with  mine  own  weary  soul,  and  com- 
mend myself  to  yours.  I  doubt  not  but  next  week  will  bring  you 
good  news,  for  I  have  either  mending  or  dying  on  my  side  :  but, 
if  I  do  continue  longer  thus,  I  shall  have  comfort  in  this,  that  my 
blessed  Saviour  in  exercising  his  justice  upon  my  two  worldly 
parts,  my  fortune  and  my  body,  reserves  all  his  mercy  for  that 
which  most  needs  it,  my  soul  !  which  is,  I  doubt,  too  like  a  por- 
ter, that  is  very  often  near  the  gate,  and  yet  goes  not  out.  Sir,  I 
profess  to  you  truly,  that  my  loathness  to  give  over  writing  now, 

seems  to  myself  a  sign  that  I  shall  write  no  more. 

Your  poor  friend,  and 


God's  poor  patient, 
Sept.  7.  JOHN  DONNE. 


>5 


By  this  you  have  seen  a  part  of  the  picture  of  his  narrow  for- 
tune, and  the  perplexities  of  his  generous  mind  ;  and  thus  it  con- 
tinued with  him  for  about  two  years,  all  which  time  his  family 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  69 


remained  constantly  at  Mitcham  ;  and  to  which  place  he  often  re- 
tired himself,  and  destined  some  days  to  a  constant  study  of  some 
points  of  controversy  betwixt  the  English  and  Roman  Church, 
and  especially  those  of  Supremacy  and  Allegiance :  and  to  that 
place  and  such  studies,  he  could  willingly  have  wedded  himself 
during  his  life  :*  but  the  earnest  persuasion  of  friends  became  at 
last  to  be  so  powerful,  as  to  cause  the  removal  of  himself  and  fami- 
ly to  London,  where  Sir  Robert  Drewry,-)-  a  gentleman  of  a  very 
noble  estate,  and  a  more  liberal  mind,  assigned  him  and  his  wife  an 
useful  apartment  in  his  own  large  house  in  Drury  Lane,  and  not 
only  rent  free,  but  was  also  a  cherisher  of  his  studies,  and  such  a 
friend  as  sympathized  with  him  and  his,  in  all  their  joy  and  sorrows. 
At  this  time  of  Mr.  Donne's  and  his  wife's  living  in  Sir  Robert's 
house,  the  Lord  Hay,  was,  by  King  James,  sent  upon  a  glorious 
embassy  to  the  then  French  King,  Henry  the  Fourth  ;  and  Sir 
Robert  put  on  a  sudden  resolution  to  accompany  him  to  the  French 
Court,  and  to  be  present  at  his  audience  there.  And  Sir  Robert 
put  on  a  sudden  resolution,  to  solicit  Mr.  Donne  to  be  his  com- 

*  The  passage  containing  these  letters  "  having  settled  his  dear  wife,"  to 
"  the  earnest  persuasion  of  friends,"  is  not  in  either  of  the  first  two  editions  of 
this  life. 

t  He  was  a  celebrated  member  of  the  Family  of  Drury,  of  Hawsted,  in  Suf- 
folk, eldest  son  of  Sir  William  Drur^',  who  was  killed  in  a  duel  in  France  in 
1589.  In  1591,  Sir  Robert  attended  the  Earl  of  Essex  to  the  unsuccessful 
siege  of  Rouen,  where  he  was  knighted,  when  he  could  not  have  exceeded  the 
age  of  14.  He  married  when  he  came  of  age,  Anne  daughter  of  Sir  Nicholas 
Bacon  of  Redgrave,  in  Suffolk  ;  by  whom  he  had  a  daughter  Dorothy,  who 
died  in  1610,  and  to  whose  memory  Dr.  Donne  composed  two  poems,  "  An 
Anatomie  of  the  World,"  and  "  The  progresse  of  the  Soulc."  In  March  1610, 
he  built,  and  liberally  endowed  an  Alms-house  for  Widows  at  Hawsted,  and 
m  16]  2,  he  went  to  Paris,  when  Dr.  Donne,  as  it  is  shewn  by  his  letters,  ac- 
companied him.  There  seems  to  be  some  error  concerning  the  time  when  Wal- 
ton states  that  Dr.  Donne  went  into  France,  since  the  Lord  Hay  was  not  sent 
Ambassador  there  till  July  1616,  and  beside  the  dates  of  Donne's  letters.  Sir 
Robert  Drury  died  April  2nd,  1615.  His  Latin  Epitaph  from  Hawsted  Church 
is  given  by  Sir  John  CuUum  in  his  History  of  Hawsted,  and  he  supposes  it 
might  have  been  composed  by  Dr.  Donne.  Drury-House,  supposed  to  have 
been  erected  by  the  father  of  this  Sir  Robert,  stood  at  the  lower  end  of  Drury 
Lane,  and  upper  end  of  Wych  Street.  It  was  afterwards  the  seat  of  William 
Earl  of  Craven.  The  remains  of  Craven  House  were  taken  down  in  1809, 
and  the  Olympic  Theatre  erected  on  a  part  of  its  site. 


70  THE   LIFE   OF 


panion  in  that  journey.  And  this  desire  was  suddenly  made 
known  to  his  wife,  who  was  then  with  child,  and  otherwise  under 
so  dangerous  a  habit  of  body,  as  to  her  health,  that  she  professed 
an  unwillingness  to  allow  him  any  absence  from  her  ;  saying, 
"Her  divining  soul  boded  her  some  ill  in  his  absence  ;"  and 
therefore  desired  him  not  to  leave  her.  This  made  Mr.  Donne 
lay  aside  all  thoughts  of  the  journey,  and  really  to  resolve  against 
it.  But  Sir  Robert  became  restless  in  his  persuasions  for  it,  and 
Mr.  Donne  was  so  generous  as  to  think  he  had  sold  his  liberty, 
when  he  received  so  many  charitable  kindnesses  from  him ;  and 
told  his  wife  so  ;  who  did  therefore,  with  an  unwillingness,  give  a 
faint  consent  to  the  journey,  v/hich  was  proposed  to  be  but  for 
two  months  ;  for  about  that  time  they  determined  their  return. 
AVithin  a  few  days  after  this  resolve,  the  Ambassador,  Sir  Robert, 
and  Mr.  Donne,  left  London  ;  and  were  the  twelfth  day  got  all 
safe  to  Paris.  Two  days  after  their  arrival  there,  Mr.  Donne 
was  left  alone  in  that  room,  in  which  Sir  Robert,  and  he,  and 
some  other  friends,  had  dined  together.  To  this  place  Sir  Robert 
returned  within  half  an  hour  ;  and  as  he  left,  so  he  found,  Mr. 
Donne  alone  ;  but  in  such  an  ecstacy,  and  so  altered  as  to  his 
looks,  as  amazed  Sir  Robert  to  behold  him  ;  insomuch  that  he 
earnestly  desired  Mr.  Donne  to  declare  what  had  befallen  him  in 
the  short  time  of  his  absence.  To  which  Mr.  Donne  was  not 
able  to  make  a  present  answer :  but  after  a  long  and  perplexed 
pause,  did  at  last  say,  "  I  have  seen  a  dreadful  vision  since  I  saw 
you  :  I  have  seen  my  dear  wife  pass  twice  by  me  through  this 
room,  with  her  hair  hanging  about  her  shoulders,  and  a  dead  child 
in  her  arms  :  this  I  have  seen  since  I  saw  you."  To  which  Sir 
Robert  replied,  "  Sure,  Sir,  you  have  slept  since  I  saw  you  ;  and 
this  is  the  result  of  some  melancholy  dream,  which  I  desire  you 
to  forget,  for  you  are  now  awake."  To  which  Mr.  Donne's  reply 
was :  "  I  cannot  be  surer  that  I  now  live,  than  that  I  have  not 
slept  since  1  saw  you  :  and  am  as  sure,  that  at  her  second  appear- 
ing, she  stopped,  and  looked  me  in  the  face,  and  vanished." — 
Rest  and  sleep  had  not  altered  Mr.  Donne's  opinion  the  next  day : 
for  he  then  affirmed  this  vision  with  a  more  deliberate,  and  so 
confirmed  a  confidence,  that  he  inclined  Sir  Robert  to  a  faint  be- 
lief that  the  vision  was  true. — It  is  truly  said,  that  desire  and 


DR.  JOHN    DONNE.  71 


doubt  have  no  rest ;  and  it  proved  so  with  Sir  Robert ;  for  he  im- 
mediately sent  a  servant  to  Drewry-house,  with  a  charge  to  has- 
ten back,  and  bring  liim  word,  whether  Mrs.  Donne  were  alive  ; 
and  if  alive,  in  what  condition  she  was  as  to  her  health.  The 
twelfth  day  the  messenger  returned  with  this  account — That  he 
found  and  left  Mrs.  Donne  very  sad,  and  sick  in  her  bed ;  and 
that  after  a  long  and  dangerous  labour,  she  had  been  delivered  of 
a  dead  child.  And,  upon  examination,  the  abortion  proved  to  be 
the  same  day,  and  about  the  very  hour,  that  Mr.  Donne  affirmed 
he  saw  her  pass  by  him  in  his  chamber. 

This  is  a  relation  that  will  beget  some  wonder,  and  it  well 
may  ;  for  most  of  our  world  are  at  present  possessed  with  an 
opinion,  that  Visions  and  Miracles  are  ceased.  And,  though  it  is 
most  certain,  that  two  lutes  being  both  strung  and  tuned  to  an 
equal  pitch,  and  then  one  played  upon,  the  other,  that  is  not 
touched,  being  laid  upon  a  table  at  a  fit  distance,  will — like  an 
echo  to  a  trumpet — warble  a  faint  audible  harmony  in  answer  to 
the  same  tune  ;  yet  many  will  not  believe  there  is  any  such  thing 
as  a  sympathy  of  souls  ;  and  I  am  well  pleased,  that  every 
Reader  do  enjoy  his  own  opinion.  But  if  the  unbelieving,  will 
not  allow  the  believing  Reader  of  this  story,  a  liberty  to  believe 
that  it  may  be  true  ;  then  I  wish  him  to  consider,  many  wise  men 
have  believed  that  the  ghost*  of  Julius  Ccesar  did  appear  to  Bru- 
tus, and  that  both  St.  Austin,  and  Monica  his  mother,  had  visions 
in  order  to  his  conversion.  And  though  these,  and  many  others 
— too  many  to  name — have  but  the  authority  of  human  story,  yet 
the  incredible  Reader  may  find  in  the  Sacred  story,"f  that  Samuel 
did  appear  to  Saul  even  after  his  death — whether  really  or  not,  I 
undertake  not  to  determine. — And  Bildad,  in  the  Book  of  Job, 
says  these  words  ;:{:  "  A  spirit  passed  before  my  face  ;  the  hair 
of  my  liead  stoop  up ;  fear  and  trembling  came  upon  me,  and 

*  The  whole  of  this  narrative-,  &c.  concerning  Dr.  Donne's  vision,  beginning 
"  At  this  tiine,"  down  to  "  many  of  the  NobiHty,"  is  wanting  in  the  earher  edi- 
tions as  well  as  in  the  collection  of  1 670  :  and  it  has  been  supposed  that  he  did 
not  sooner  insert  it  that  he  might  have  time  to  ascertain  its  truth.  The  ac- 
count of  the  visions  of  St.  Austin  and  Monica,  will  be  found  in  Wats's  translation 
of  St.  Augustine's  Confessions,  Book  iii.  Chap.  11  ;  and  Book  viii.  Chap.  12. 

t  1  Sam.  xxviii.  14.  X  Job.  iv.  13-16. 


72  THE   LIFE   OF 


made  all  my  bones  to  shake."  Upon  which  words  I  will  make 
no  comment,  but  leave  them  to  be  considered  by  the  incredulous 
Reader ;  to  whom  I  will  also  commend  this  following  considera- 
tion :  That  there  be  many  pious  and  learned  men,  that  believe 
our  merciful  God  hath  assigned  to  every  man  a  particular  Guard- 
ian Angel,  to  be  his  constant  monitor,  and  to  attend  him  in  all  his 
dangers,  both  of  body  and  soul.  And  the  opinion  that  every 
man  hath  his  particular  Angel,  may  gain  some  authority,  by  the 
relation  of  St.  Peter's  miraculous  deliverance  out  of  prison,*  not 
by  many,  but  by  one  Angel.  And  this  belief  may  yet  gain  more 
credit,  by  the  Reader's  considering,  that  when  Peter  after  his  en- 
largement knocked  at  the  door  of  Mary  the  mother  of  John,  and 
Rhode,  the  maid-servant,  being  surprised  with  joy  that  Peter  was 
there,  did  not  let  him  in,  but  ran  in  haste,  and  told  the  disciples 
• — who  were  then  and  there  met  together — that  Peter  was  at  the 
door  ;  and  they,  not  believing  it,  said  she  was  mad  :  yet,  when 
she  again  affirmed  it,  though  they  then  believed  it  not,  yet  they 
concluded,  and  said,  "  It  is  his  Angel." 

More  observations  of  this  nature,  and  inferences  from  them, 
might  be  made  to  gain  the  relation  a  firmer  belief:  but  I  forbear, 
lest  I,  that  intended  to  be  but  a  relator,  may  be  thought  to  be  an 
engaged  person  for  the  proving  what  was  related  to  me  ;  and  yet 
I  think  myself  bound  to  declare,  that  though  it  was  not  told  me 
by  Mr.  Donne  himself, — it  was  told  me — now  long  since — by  a 
Person  of  Honour,  and  of  such  intimacy  with  him,  that  he  knew 
more  of  the  secrets  of  his  soul,  than  any  person  then  living  : 
and  1  think  he  told  me  the  truth;  for  it  was  told  with  such  cir- 
cumstances, and  such  asseveration,  that— to  say  nothing  of  my 
own  thoughts — I  verily  believe  he  that  told  it  me,  did  himself  be- 
lieve it  to  be  true. 

I  forbear  the  Reader's  further  trouble,  as  to  the  relation,  and 
what  concerns  it ;  and  will  conclude  mine,,  with  commending  to 
his  view  a  copy  of  verses  given  by  Mr.  Donne  to  his  wife  at  the 
time  he  then  parted  from  her.  And  I  beg  leave  to  tell,  that  I 
have  heard  some  critics,  learned  both  in  languages  and  poetry, 
say.  that  none  of  the  Greek  or  Latin  poets  did  ever  equal  them. 

*  Acts  xii.  7-10.     lb.  13-15. 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  73 


A    VALEDICTION,    FORBIDDING    TO    MOURN. 

As  virtuous  men  pass  mildly  away, 
And  whisper  to  their  souls,  to  go. 

Whilst  sonie  of  their  sad  friends  do  say, 
The  breath  goes  now,  and  some  say,  No  : 

So  let  us  melt,  and  make  no  noise. 

No  tear-floods,  nor  sigh-tempests  move, 
'  Twere  profanation  of  our  joys, 

To  tell  the  laity  our  love. 

Moving  of  tV  earth,  brings  harms  and  fears 
Men  reckon  ivhat  it  did  or  meant  : 

But  trepidation  of  the  spheres, 
Though  greater  far,  is  innocent. 

Dull  sublunary  lovers''  love — 

Whose  soul  is  sense — cannot  admit 

Absence,  because  that  doth  remove 
Those  things  which  elemented  it. 

But  we,  by  a  love  so  far  refn'd, 
That  ourselves  know  not  what  it  is, 

Inter-assured  of  the  mind. 

Care  not  hands,  eyes,  or  lips  to  miss. 

Our  two  souls  therefore,  ichich  are  one^ — 
Though  I  must  go, — endure  not  yet 

A  breach,  but  an  expansion, 
Like  gold  to  airy  thinness  beat. 

If  we  be  two  ?  ice  are  two  so 

As  stiff  tjvi7i- compasses  are  two  : 

Thy  soul,  the  fix\l  foot,  makes  no  show 
To  move,  but  does  ifth'  other  do. 


74  THE    LIFE    OE 


And  ihou<j;h  tlmie  in  the  centre  sit, 

Yet,  lohen  my  other  far  does  roam, 
Thine  leans  and  hearkens  after  it. 

And  grows  erect  as  mine  comes  home. 

Such  ivilt  thou  be  to  me,  ivho  must, 

Like  til'  other  foot,  obliquely  run  : 
Thy  firmness  makes  my  circle  just, 

And  me  to  end  where  I  begun. 

I  return  from  my  account  of  tlie  vision,  to  tell  tiie  Reader,  that 
both  before  Mr.  Donne's  going  into  France,  at  his  being  there, 
and  after  his  return,  many  of  the  Nobility  and  others  that  were 
powerful  at  Court,  were  watcliful  and  solicitous  to  the  King  for 
some  secular  employment  for  him.  The  King  had  formerly  both 
known  and  put  a  value  upon  his  company,  and  had  also  given 
him  some  hopes  of  a  state-employment ;  being  always  much 
pleased  when  Mr.  Donne  attended  him.  especially  at  his  meals, 
where  there  were  usually  many  deep  discourses  of  general  learn- 
ing, and  very  often  friendly  disputes,  or  debates  of  religion,  be- 
twixt his  Majesty  and  those  divines,  whose  places  required  their 
attendance  on  him  at  those  times ;  particularly  the  Dean  of  the 
Chapel,  who  then  was  Bishop  Montague* — the  publisher  of  the 
learned  and  eloquent  Works  of  his  Majesty — and  the  most  Rev- 
erend Doctor  Andrews,^  the  late  learned  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
who  was  then  the  King's  Almoner. 

^  Jauiey,  liftli  sou  to  Sir  Edward,  and  brother  to  Edward,  tirst  Lord  Mon- 
tague of  Boughlou,  iu  the  County  of  Northampton,  was  usually  called  "  King 
James's  Ecclesiastical  Favourite."  He  was  educated  iu  Christ  Church  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  and  in  1G08,  was  made  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells  ;  when  he 
repaired  the  Abbey  Church  of  Bath,  at  a  great  expense,  through  the  represen- 
tations of  Sir  John  Harrington.  In  1616,  he  was  translated  to  the  Bishopric 
of  Winchester,  and  died  in  his  4I)th  year  in  1618,  being  buried  in  the  Abbey 
at  Bath. 

+  Launcelot  Andrews,  a  Prelate  of  most  eminent  virtues,  bom  in  London  iu 
1565,  and  educated  at  Merchant  Tailors  School,  and  Pembroke  Hall,  Cam- 
bridge, of  which  he  became  Fellow.  He  attracted  great  attention  at  the  Uni- 
versity by  his  Lectures  on  the  Commandments,  and  his  skill  in  Cases  of  Con- 
science.    Henry   Earl  of  Huntingdon  made  him  his  Chaplain  when  he  wa.-. 


DR.  JOHN    DONNE.  75 


About  this  time  there  grew  many  disputes,  that  concerned  the 
Oath  of  Supremacy  and  Allegiance,  in  which  the  King  had  ap- 
peared, and  engaged  himself  by  his  public  writings  now  extant: 
and  his  Majesty  discoursing  with  Mr.  Donne,  concerning  many 
of  the  reasons  which  are  usually  urged  against  the  taking  of  those 
Oaths,  apprehended  such  a  validity  and  clearness  in  his  stating 
the  questions,  and  his  answers  to  them,  that  his  Majesty  com- 
manded him  to  bestow  some  time  in  drawing  the  arguments  into 
a  method,  and  then  to  write  his  answers  to  them ;  and,  having 
done  that,  not  to  send,  but  be  his  own  messenger,  and  bring  them 
to  him.  To  this  he  presently  and  diligently  applied  himself,  and 
within  six  v/eeks  brought  them  to  him  under  his  own  hand  wri- 
ting, as  they  be  now  printed;  the  book  bearing  the  name  of 
Pseudo-Martyr,  printed  anno  1610. 

When  the  King  had  read  and  considered  that  book,  he  persua- 
ded Mr.  Donne  to  enter  into  the  Ministry  ;  to  which,  at  that  time, 
he  was,  and  appeared,  very  unwilling,  apprehending  it — such  was 
his  mistaken  modesty — to  be  too  weighty  for  his  abilities :  and 
though  his  Majesty  had  promised  him  a  favour,  and  many  persons 
of  worth  mediated  with  his  Majesty  for  some  secular  employment 
fbi'  him, — to  which  his  education  had  apted  him — and  particularly 
the  Earl   of  Somerset,*  when   in  his  greatest  height  of  favour ; 

President  of  the  North — where  he  made  several  converts  to  the  Protestant 
faith — and  he  was  also  patronized  by  Secretary  Walsingham.  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth made  him  one  of  her  Chaplains  in  Ordinary,  and  was  so  much  pleased 
with  his  preaching,  that  she  appointed  him  Prebendary  and  Dean  of  West- 
minster, and  Bishop  of  London  at  the  death  of  Dr.  Bancroft.  Dr.  iVndrews 
was  also  in  great  favour  with  James  I.  who  promoted  him  to  the  See  of  Chi- 
chester in  1605,  and  in  1609,  to  that  of  Ely.  In  1618,  he  was  translated  to 
Winchester,  and  he  died  at  the  Episcopal  Palace  in  Southwark,  Sept.  25th, 
1626,  being  buried  under  a  splendid  monument  in  St.  Saviour's  Church.  Bishop 
Andrews  was  one  of  the  translators  of  King  James's  Bible,  and  he  is  said  to 
have  known  fifteen  modern  languages. 

*  Robert  Carr,  a  Scots  gentleman,  had  been  page  to  King  James  I,  be- 
fore he  came  to  England,  he  was  introduced  to  the  King  at  a  tilting,  in 
1611,  by  Lord  Hay,  when  the  accidental  breaking  of  his  leg  by  a  fall  from  his 
horse,  at  once  broughf  him  into  favour.  On  his  recovery,  he  was  knighted  ; 
the  King  himself  taught  him  the  Latin  tongue,  made  him  Lord  of  his  Bod- 
chamber,  and,  soon  after,  Lord  Treasurer  of  Scotland.  In  1612  he  was  cre- 
ated Vitcount  Rocliester,  a  Member  of  the  Privy  Council,  and  a  Knight  of  the 


76  THE   LIFE   OF 


Avho  being  then  at  Theobald's*  with  tlic  King,  where  one  of  the 
Clerks  of  the  Council  died  that  night,  the  Earl  posted  a  messen- 
ger for  Mr.  Donne  to  come  to  him  immediately,  and  at  Mr.  Donne's 
coming,  said,  '•'  Mr.  Donne,  to  testify  the  reality  of  my  affection, 
and  my  purpose  to  prefer  you,  stay  in  this  garden  till  I  go  up  to 
the  King,  and  bring  you  word  that  you  are  Clerk  of  the  Council : 
doubt  not  my  doing  this,  for  I  know  the  King  loves  you,  and  know 
the  King  will  not  deny  me."  fBut  the  King  gave  a  positive  de- 
nial to  all  requests,  and,  having  a  discerning  spirit,  replied,  ''  1 
know  Mr.  Donne  is  a  learned  man,  has  the  abilities  of  a  learned 
Divine,  and  will  prove  a  powerful  preacher;  and  my  desire  is  to 
prefer  him  that  way,  and  in  that  way  I  will  deny  you  nothing  for 
lum." 

After  that  time,  as  he  professeth,:]:  "  the  King  descended  to  a 
persuasion,  almost  to  a  solicitation,  of  him  to  enter  into  sacred  Or- 
ders :"  which,  though  he  then  denied  not,  yet  he  deferred  it  for 
almost  three  years.     All  which  time  he  applied  himself  to  an  in- 


Garter  ;  at  first,  he  conducted  himself  with  moderation  ;  but  becoming  enam- 
oured of  that  infamous  woman  Frances  Howard,  afterwards  Countess  of  Es- 
sex, she  was  divorced  from  her  husband  to  be  married  to  him,  November  5th, 
1613  ;  he  was  created  Earl  of  Somerset,  and  the  following  July,  Lord  Cham- 
berlain. The  excellent  Sir  Thomas  Overbury  having  vainly  endeavoured  to 
prevent  the  above  marriage,  drew  upon  himself  the  anger  of  both  parties,  and 
by  their  intrigues  he  was  committed  to  the  Tower,  where  he  was  poisoned  Sept. 
15th,  1G13.  This  was  not  discovered  until  1615,  when  the  Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower,  and  four  others,  v.'ere  tried,  and  executed  ;  and  though  sentence  was 
also  passed  upon  the  Earl  and  Countess,  they  were  pardoned,  but  banished  the 
Court,  and,  the  former  died  in  July,  1645. 

*  The  house  at  Theobald's,  near  Waltham  in  Essex,  was  bnilt  by  the  Lord 
High  Treasurer  Burghley,  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  ''  A  place,  than  which, 
as  to  the  fabric,  nothing  can  be  more  neat,  and  as  to  the  gardens,  walks,  and 
wildernesses  about  it,  nothing  can  be  more  pleasant.'"  James  I.  was  so  much 
delighted  with  its  situation,  that  he  gave  the  manor  of  Hatfield  Regis  in  ex- 
change for  it  to  Lord  Cecil,  afterwards  created  Earl  of  Salisbury.  He  died  at 
this  his  favourite  palace,  March  27,  1627.  This  noble  and  beautiful  edifice 
was  plundered  and  destroyed  by  the  rebels  in  1651. 

t  The  passage  in  the  text  beginning,  "  And  though  His  Majesty"  down  to 
"  but  the  King  gave  a  positive  denial" — was  not  inserted  until  the  second  edi- 
tion. 

t  In  his  Book  of  Devotions. 

/ 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  77 


cessant  study  of  Textual  Divinity,  and  to  the  attainment  of  a 
greater  perfection  in  the  learned  languages,  Greek  and  Hebrew. 
In  the  first  and   most  blessed  tinries  of  Christianity,  when  the 
Clergy  were  looked  upon  with  reverence,  and  deserved  it,  wlien 
they  overcame  their  opposers   by  high  examples  of  virtue,  by  a 
blessed  patience  and  long-suffering,  those  only  were  then  judged 
worthy  the  Ministry,  whose  quiet  and  meek  spirits  did  make  them 
look  upon  that  sacred  calling  with  an  humble  adoration  and  fear 
'to  undertake  it ;  which  indeed  requires  such  great  degrees  of  hu- 
mility, and  labour,  and  care,  that  none  but  such  v/ere  then  thought 
worthy  of  that  celestial  dignity.     And  such  only  were  then  sought 
out,  and  solicited  to  undertake  it.     This  I  have  mentioned,  because 
forwardness  and  inconsideration,  could  not.  in  Mr.  Donne,  as  in 
many  others,  be  an  argument  of  insufficiency  or  unfitness  ;   for 
he  had  considered  long,  and  had  niany  strifes  within  himself  con- 
cerning the  strictness  of  life,  and  competency  of  learning,  required 
in  such  as  enter  into  sacred  Orders ;   and  doubtless,  considering 
his  own  demerits,  did  humbly  ask  God  with  St.  Paul,  "  Lord  who 
is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?"  and  with   meek  Moses,   "  Lord, 
who  am  I  ?"     And  sure,  if  he  had  consulted  with  flesh  and  blood, 
he  had  not  for  these  reasons  put  his  hand  to  that  holy  plough.     But 
God,  A\ho  is  able  to  prevail,  v/restled  with  him,  as  the  Angel  did 
v/ith  Jacob,  and  marked  him  ;   marked  him  for  his  own  ;   marked 
him  vvith  a  blessing,  a  blessing  of  obedience  to  the  motions  of  his 
blessed  Spirit.     And  then,  as  he  had  formerly  asked  God  with  Mo- 
ses, "  Who  am  I  ?"  so  now,  being  inspired  with  an  apprehension 
of  God's  particular  mercy  to  him.  in  the  ICing's  and  others  solici- 
tations of  him,  he  came  to  ask  King   David's  thankful  question, 
"  Lord,  who  am  I,  that  thou  art  so  mindful  of  me!"     So  mindful 
of  me,  as  to  lead  me  for  more  than  forty  years  through  this  v/ilder- 
ness  of  the  many  temptations  and  various  turnings  of  a  dangerous 
life :  so  merciful  to  me,  as  to  move  the  learnedest  of  Kings  to 
descend  to  move  me  to  serve  at  the  altar  !     So  merciful  to  me, 
as  at  last  to  move  my  heart  to  embrace  tins  holy  motion !     Thy 
motions  I  will  and  do  embrace:  and  I  now  say  v.ith  the  blessed 
Virgin,  "Bo  it  with  thy  servant  as  seemeth  best  in  thy  sight  :" 
and  so,  Blessed  Jesus,  I  do  take  the  Cup  of  Salvation,   and   will 
call  upon  thy  Name,  and  will   preach  thy  Gospel. 


78  THE   LIFE   OF 


Such  sirifos  as  these  St.  Austin  liad,*  when  St.  Ambrose-]-  en- 
deavoured his  conversion  to  Christi;inity  :  with  which  he  confess- 
eth  he  acquainted  his  friend  Alipius.  Our  learned  author, — a 
man  fit  to  v^rite  after  no  mean  copy — did  the  like.  And  declar- 
ing his  intentions  to  his  dear  friend  Dr.  King,:):  then  Bishop  of 
London,  a  man  famous  in  his  generation,  and  no  stranger  to  Mr. 
Donne's  abilities, — for  he  had  been  Chaplain  to  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, at  the  time  of  Mr.  Donnyp's  being  his  Lordship's  Secretary 
— tliat  reverend  man  did  receive  the  news  with  much  gladness ; 
and,  after  some  expressions  of  joy,  and  a  persuasion  to  be  constant 
in  liis  pious  purpose,  he  proceeded  with  all  convenient  speed  to 
ordain  liim  first  Deacon,  and  then  Priest  not  long  after. 

*  Augnstin,  the  f:!.mous  Bishop  of  Hippo,  and  usually  called  "  the  great  Doe- 
tor  of  Africa,"  was  born  in  359,  and  died  in  430.  The  carelessness  and  levit^'' 
of  the  earlier  period  of  his  life  v.'ere  in  sonic  measure  compensated  by  the  un- 
bounded charity,  the  piety  and  zeal  which  he  displayed  after  his  conversion  to 
the  true  faith.  This  conversion  it  attributed  partly  to  the  affecting  discom-ses 
of  St.  Ambrose,  whose  lectures  he  was  induced  to  attend  tlirough  mere  curi- 
osity, and  partly  to  the  tears  and  tender  entreaties  of  his  mother  Monica.  He 
hath  so  freely  acknowledged  and  censured  the  impropriety  of  his  former  con- 
duct, in  his  books  of  Confessions,  that  it  is  justly  deemed  "tyranny  to  trample 
on  him  that  prostrates  himself."  Erasmus,  who  hath  written  his  life,  exhibits 
litm  as  the  most  finished  pattern  of  goodness — "  quasi  Deus  voluerit  in  Augus- 
tino  tanquam  in  una  tabula  vividum  quoddam  exemplar  Episcopi  repraisentare 
omnibus  virtutum  numeris  absolutum." 

t  Bishop  of  Milan,  from  the  persuasive  powers  of  his  eloquence,  and  the 
charming  sweetness  of  his  language,  called  "  the  Mellifluous  Doctor."  The 
eftects  which  his  discourses  produced  on  St.  Augustin  are  described  in  Confes- 
sionum,  lib.  v.  cap.  14. 

t  John  King  was  born  at  Wornal  in  Bucks,  about  1559,  educated  in  West- 
minster School,  and  sent  to  Christ-Church  in  1576.  _  He  was  chaplain  to  Queen 
Elizabeth,  arch-deacon  of  Nottingham  in  1590,  doctor  of  divinity  in  IGOl,  deau 
of  Christ-Church  in  1605,  and  Bishop  of  London  in  1611.  Besides  his  "  Lec- 
tures upon  Jonali,"  printed  in  1594,  he  published  several  sermons.  He  was  so 
constant  in  preaching,  after  he  was  a  bishop,  that  he  never  missed  a  Sunday, 
when  his  health  permitted.  He  died  March  30,  1621,  and  was  iiitened  in  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral.  Soon  after,  the  papists  reported,  that  he  died  a  member  of 
their  church,  in  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  The  Bishop  of  London  his  Legacy;" 
but  the  falsity  of  this  story  was  sufficiently  exposed  by  his  son  Henry,  in  a 
sermon  at  St.  Paul's  Cross,  Nov.  25,  1621,  and  by  Bishop  Godwin,  in  the  ap- 
pendix to  his  "  Commentarius  de  Prsesulibus  Anglioe."  He  is  afterwards  no- 
tired  in  the  Life  of  Dr.  Sandorsnn. 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE. 


Now  the  English  Church  had  gained  a  second  St.  Austin  ;*  for 
I  think  none  was  so  like  him  before  his  conversion,  none  so  like 
St.  Ambrose  after  it :  and  if  his  youth  had  the  infirmities  of  the 
one,  his  ao;e  had  the  excellencies  of  the  other  :  the  learninfi;  and 
holiness  of  both. 

/And  now  all  his  studies  which  had  been  occasionally  diffused, 
were  all  concentered  in  Divinity.  Now  he  had  a  new  calling,  new 
thoughts,  and  a  new  employment  for  his  wit  and  eloquence. 
Now,  all  his  earthly  affections  were  changed  into  Divine  love  ; 
and  all  the  faculties  of  his  ovv'n  soul  were  engaged  in  the  conver- 
sion of  others  ;  in  preaching  the  glad  tidings  of  remission  to  re- 
penting sinners,  and  peace  to  each  troubled  soul.  To  these  he 
applied  himself  with  all  care  and  diligence  :  and  now  such  a 
change  was  wrought  in  him,  that  he  could  say  with  David,  "  O 
how  amiable  are  thv  Tabernacles,  O  Lord  God  of  Hosts  !"  Now 
he  declared  openly,  "  that  when  he  required  a  temporal,  God 
gave  him  a  spiritual  blessing."  And  that  "  he  was  now  gladder 
to  be  a  door-keeper  in  the  House  of  God,  than  he  could  be  to  en- 
joy the  noblest  of  all  temporal  employments.'' . 

Presently  after  he  entered  into  his  holy  profession,  the  King 
sent  for  him,  and  made  him  his  Chaplain  in  Ordinary,  and  prom- 
ised to  take  a  particular  care  for  his  preferment. 

And,  though  his  long  familiarity  with  scholars  and  persons  of 
greatest  quality,  was  such,  as  might  have  given  some  men  bold- 
ness enough  to  have  preached  to  any  eminent  auditory ;  yet  his 
modesty  in  this  employment  was  such,  that  he  could  not>be  per- 
suaded to  it,  but  went  usually  accompanied  with  some  one  friend 
to  preach  privately  in  some  village,  not  far  from  London  ;  his  first 
Sermon  being  preached  at  Paddington.  This  he  did,  till  his  Maj- 
esty sent  and  appointed  him  a  day  to  preach  to  him  at  White- 
hall ;  and,  though  much  were  expected  from  him,  both  by  his 
Majesty  and  others,  yet  he  was  so  happy — which  few  are — as  to 
satisfy  and  exceed  their  expectations :  preaching  the  Word  so,  as 
showed  his  own  heart  was  possessed  with  those  very  thoughts  and 
joys  that  he  laboured  to  distil  into  others  :  a  preacher  in  earnest ; 
weeping  sometimes  for  his  auditory,  sometimes  with  them  ;  al- 
ways preaching  to  himself,  lilie  an  angel  from  a  cloud,  but  in 
none  ;  carrying  some,  as  St.  Paul  was,  to  heaven  in  holy  raptures. 


80  THE   LIFE   OF 


and  enticing  others  by  a  sacred  art  and  courtship  to  annend  their 
lives  :  here  picturing  a  Vice  so  as  to  make  it  ugly  to  those  that 
practised  it ;  and  a  Virtue  so  as  to  make  it  be  beloved,  even  by 
those  that  loved  it  not ;  and  all  this  with  a  most  particular  grace 
and  an  unexpressible  addition  of  comeliness. 

There  may  be  some  that  may  incline  to  think — such  indeed  as 
have  not  heard  him — that  my  affection  to  my  friend  hath  trans- 
ported me  to  an  immoderate  commendation  of  his  preaching.  If 
this  meets  with  any  such,  let  me  entreat,  though  I  will  omit  many, 
yet  that  they  will  receive  a  double  witness  for  what  I  say  ;  it  be- 
ing attested  by  a  gentleman  of  worth, — Mr.  Chidley,"^  a  frequent 
hearer  of  his  Sermons — in  part  of  a  Funeral  Elegy  writ  by  him 
on  Dr.  Donne  ;  and  is  a  knov.n  truth,  though  it  be  in  verse. 

Each  altar  had  his  jire 

He  kept  his  love,  hut  not  his  ohject ;  wit 
He  did  not  banish,  hut  transplanted  it  ; 
Taught  it  both  time  and  place,  and  brought  it  home 
To  piety  which  it  doth  best  become. 

%  :■«  H;  *  *  *  * 

For  say,  had' ever  pleasure  such  a  dress  ? 

Have  you  seen  crimes  so  shaped.,  or  loveliness 

Such  as  his  lips  did  clothe  Religion  in  ? 

Had  not  reproof  a  beauty  passing  Sin  ? 

Corrupted  Nature  sorroio'd  that  she  stood 

So  near  the  danger  of  becoming  good. 

And,  when  he  prcacVd,  she  ivish^d  her  ears  exe?npt 

From  p)iety,  that  had  such  power  to  tempt. 

How  did  his  sacred  Jlaitery  beguile 

Men  to  amend  ? 

More  of  this,  and  more  witnesses,  might  be  brought ;  but  I  for- 
bear and  return. "I" 

*  John  Chndleigh,  ]M.A.  of  "Wadham  College,  Oxford,  and  eldest  son  of  Sir 
John  Chndleigh,  Bart,  of  Ashton,  in  Devonshire. 

t  The  cliaracter  of  Dr.  Donne's  Sermons  is  faithfnlly  delineated  by  his  son 
in  tiie  Dedication  of  them  to  Charles  I.  "  Tiiey  who  have  been  conversant 
in  the  works  of  the  holiest  men  of  all  times,  cannot  but  acknowledge  in  thef;o 


DR.   JOHX    DONNE.  S! 


That  Summer,  in  tho  very  same  month  in  v»'hich  he  entered 
into  sacred  Orders,  and  was  made  the  King's  Chaplain,  his  Maj- 
esty then  going  liis  Progress,  was  entreated  to  receive  an  enter- 
tainment in  the  University  of  Cambridge  :  and  Mr.  Donne  attend- 
ing his  Majesty  at  that  time,  his  Majesty  was  pleased  to  recom- 
.mend  him  to  the  University,  to  be  made  Doctor  in  Divinity :  Doc- 
tor Harsnett'^ — after  xVrchbishop  of  York — was  then  Vicc-Chan- 
cellor,  who,  knowing  him  to  be  the  author  of  that  learned  book 
the  Pseudo-Martyr,  required  no  other  proof  of  his  abilities,  but 
proposed  it  to  the  University,  who  presently  assented,  and  ex- 
pressed a  gladness,  that  they  had  such  an  occasion  to  entitle  him 
to  be  theirs. f 

the  same  spirit  with  which  Ihey  writ ;  reasonable  demonstrations  every  where 
ia  the  subjects  comprehensible  by  reason  :  As  for  those  things  which  cannot  bd 
comprehended  by  our  reason  alone,  they  are  no  where  made  easier  to  faith 
than  here  ;  and  for  the  other  part  of  our  nature,  which  consists  in  our  passions 
and  in  our  affections,  they  are  here  raised  and  laid,  and  governed  and  disposed, 
in  a  manner,  according  to  the  will  of  the  author.  The  doctrine  itself  which 
is  taught  here  is  primitively  Christian  ;  the  Fathers  are  every  where  consulted 
with  reverence,  but  apostolical  writings  only  appealed  to  as  the  last  Rule  of 
Faith.  Lastly,  such  is  tho  conjuncture  here  of  zeal  and  discretion,  that  whilst 
it  is  the  main  scope  of  the  author  in  these  Discourses,  that  glory  be  given  to 
God,  this  is  accompanied  every  vv^here  with  a  scrupulous  care  and  endeavour, 
that  peace  be  likewise  settled  amongst  men." 

*  Samuel  Harsnett,  born  at  Colchester  in  1561,  and  admitted  of  King's  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  in  Sept.  1576,  whence  he  removed  to  Pembroke  Ilall,  of 
which  he  was  elected  Fellow  in  1583,  and  Master  in  1605.  In  the  same  year, 
and  again  in  1614,  he  was  Vice-Chancellor  of  Cambridge  ;  in  1609,  he  was 
made  Bishop  of  Chichester,  whence  he  was  translated  to  the  Sec  of  Norwich 
in  1C19,  and  to  the  Archbishopric  of  York  in  1628.  In  Nov.  1629,  Dr.  Ilais- 
nett  was  made  a  Privy  Councillor,  and  he  died  May  25th,  1631.  He  was  one 
of  the  best  writers  of  his  time,  and  his  publicatior.s  consist  of  a  Sermon  at  Paul'-s 
Cross,  and  a  Controversial  tract  on  Demoniacal  Possession.  Le  Neve  states 
that  he  gave  up  his  Mastership  in  Cambridge,  rather  than  stand  the  result  of 
an  enquiry  into  57  articles  which  were  brought  against  him. 

t  The  circumstance  of  Dr.  Donne  being  made  D.D.  at  Cambridge,  is  related 
in  a  different  manner  in  two  letters  written  by  Mr.  Chamberlain  to  Sir  Dudley 
Carleton.  In  one,  dated  March  16th,  1614,  he  writes,  "  I  had  almost  forgot- 
ten, that  almost  all  the  Courtiers  went  forth  Masters  of  Arts  at  the  King's 
being  there  ;  but  few,  or  no  Doctors,  save  only  Younge,  which  v/as  done  by  a 
mandate,  being  son  to  Sir  Peter,  the  King's  schoolmaster.  The  Vice-Chan- 
rcllor  and  University  were  exceeding  strict  in  that  point,  and  refused  m.iny  I:n- 


82  THE   LIFE   OF 


His  abilities  and  industry  in  his  profession  were  so  eminent, 
and  he  so  known  and  so  beloved  by  persons  of  quality,  that  within 
the  first  year  of  his  entering  into  sacred  Orders,  he  had  fourteen 
advowsons  of  several  benefices  presented  to  him  :  but  they  were 
in  the  country,  and  he  could  not  leave  his  beloved  London,  to 
which  place  he  had  a  natural  inclination,  having  received  both  his 
birth  and  education  in  it,  and  there  contracted  a  friendship  with 
many,  whose  conversation  multiplied  the  joys  of  his  life  :  but  an 
employment  that  might  affix  him  to  that  place  would  be  welcome, 
for  he  needed  it. 

Immediately  after  his  return  from  Cambridge,  his  wife  died,* 
leaving  him  a  man  of  a  narrow,  unsettled  estate,  and — having  bu- 
ried five — the  careful  father  of  seven  children  then  living,  to 
whom  he  gave  a  voluntar}'-  assurance,  never  to  bring  them  under 
the  subjection  of  a  step-mother  ;  which  promise  he  kept  most 
faithfully,  burying  with  his  tears,  all  his  earthly  joys  in  his  most 
dear  and  deserving  wife's  grave,  and  betook  himself  to  a  most  re- 
tired and  solitary  life. 

In  this  retiredness,  which  was  often  from  the  sisjht  of  his  dear- 
est  friends,  he  became  crucified  to  the  world,  and  all  those  vani- 
ties, those  imaginary  pleasures,  that  are  daily  acted  on  that  restless 

portunities  of  great  men  ;  among  whom  was  Mr.  Secretarj',  that  made  great 
means  for  Mr.  Weslfield  ;  but  it  would  not  be  ;  neither  the  King's  intreaty  for 
John  Dun  would  prevail :  yet  the}"-  are  threatened  with  a  mandate,  which,  if 
it  come,  it  is  like  they  will  obey ;  but  they  are  resolved  to  give  him  such  a 
blow  withal,  that  he  were  better  without  it."  In  another  letter,  of  nearly  the 
same  date,  he  writes  thus. — '•  John  Donne,  and  one  Cheke,  v/ent  out  Doctors 
at  Cambridge  with  much  ado,  after  our  coming  away,  by  the  King's  express 
mandate  ;  though  the  Vice-Chancellor  and  some  of  the  Heads  called  them 
openly  Filios  nociis  et  tenehrioues,  that  sought  thus  to  come  in  at  the  window, 
when  there  was  a  fair  gate  open.  But  the  worst  is,  that  Donne  had  gotten  a 
reversion  of  the  Deanery  of  Canterbury,  if  such  grants  could  be  lawful ;  where- 
by he  hath  purchased  himself  a  great  deal  of  envy,  that  a  man  of  his  sort  should 
seek,  -per  saltum,  to  intercept  such  a  place  from  so  many  more  worthy  and  an- 
cient Divines." 

*  His  wife  died,  Aug.  15th,  1617,  on  the  seventh  day  after  the  birth  of  her 
twelfth  child.  We  find  in  Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painting  that  Nicholas 
Stone  the  sculptor  received  fifteen  pieces  for  her  monument  in  St.  Clements 
Danes  ;  it  stood  on  the  north  side  of  the  Chancel,  and  the  inscription  may  be 
seen^n  Stiype's  edition  of  Stowe's  Survey. 


DR.  JOHN    DONNE.  83 


stage  ;  and  they  were  as  perfectly  crucified  to  him.  Nor  is  it  liard 
to  think — being,  passions  may  be  both  changed  and  heightened  by 
accidents — but  that  that  abundant  affection  which  once  was  be- 
tv/ixt  him  and  her,  who  had  long  been  the  delight  of  his  eyes,  and 
the  companion  of  his  youth  ;  her,  with  whom  he  had  divided  so 
many  pleasant  sorrows  and  contented  fears,  as  common  people 
are  not  capable  of; — not  hard  to  think  but  that  she  being  now  re- 
moved by  death,  a  commeasurable  grief  took  as  full  a  possession 
of  him  as  joy  had  done ;  and  so  indeed  it  did  ;  for  now  his  very 
soul  was  elemented  of  nothing  but  sadness;  now  grief  took  so  full 
a  possession  of  his  heart,  as  to  leave  no  place  for  joy  :  If  it  did, 
it-was  a  joy  to  be  alone,  where,  like  a  pelican  in  the  wilderness, 
he  might  bemoan  himself  vv^ithout  witness  or  restraint,  and  pour 
forth  his  passions  like  Job  in  the  days  of  his  affliction  :  '•  Oh  that 
1  might  have  the  desire  of  my  heart !  Oh  that  God  would  grant 
the  thing  that  I  long  for  !"  For  then,  as  the  grave  is  become  her 
house,  so  I  v.'ould  hasten  to  make  it  mine  also ;  that  v/e  two  miglit 
there  make  our  beds  together  in  the  dark.  Thus,  as  the  Israel- 
ites sat  mourning  by  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  when  they  remember- 
ed Sion  ;  so  he  gave  some  ease  to  his  oppressed  heart  by  thus 
venting  his  sorrows  :  thus  he  began  the  day  and  ended  the  night ; 
ended  the  restless  night  and  began  the  weary  day  in  lamentations. 
And  thus  he  continued,  till  a  consideration  of  his  nev/  engage- 
ments to  God,  and  St.  Paul's  "  Woe  is  me,  if  I  preach  not  the 
Gospel  !"  dispersed  those  sad  clouds  that  had  then  benighted  his 
hopes,  and  now  forced  him  to  behold  the  light. 

His  first  motion  from  his  house,  was  to  preach  where  his  belov- 
ed wife  lay  buried, — in  St.  Clement's  Church,  near  Temple  Bar, 
London, — and  his  text  vv^as  a  part  of  the  Prophet  Jeremy's  Lam- 
entation :  "  Lo,  I  am  the  Man  that  have  seen  affliction." 

And  indeed  his  very  words  and  looks  testified  him  to  be  truly 
such  a  man  ;  and  they,  with  the  addition  of  his  sighs  and  tears, 
expressed  in  his  Sermon,  did  so  work  upon  the  affections  of  his 
hearers,  as  melted  and  moulded  them  into  a  companionable  sad- 
ness ;  and  so  they  left  the  congregation  ;  but  then  their  houses  pre- 
sented them  with  objects  of  diversion,  and  his  presented  him  witli 
nothing  but  fresh  objects  of  sorrow,  in  beholding  many  helpless 


84  THE   LIFE   OF 


children,  a  narrow  fortune,  and  a  consideration  of  the  many  cares 
and  casualties  that  attend  their  education.'*' 

In  this  time  of  sadness  he  was  importuned  by  the  grave  Bench- 
ers of  Lincoln's  Inn — who  were  once  the  companions  and  friends 
of  his  youth — to  accept  of  their  Lecture,  which,  by  reason  of  Dr. 
Gataker's  removal  from  thence,f  was  then  void ;  of  which  he  ac- 
cepted, being  most  glad  to  renew  his  intermitted  friendship  with 
those  whom  he  so  much  loved,  and  where  he  had  been  a  Saul, — 
though  not  to  persecute  Christianity,  or  to  deride  it,  yet  in  his  ir- 
regular youth  to  neglect  the  visible  practice  of  it, — there  to  be- 
come a  Paul,  and  preach  salvation  to  his  beloved  brethren. 

And  now  his  life  was  a  shinins;  lio;ht  among;  his  old  friends  :  now 
he  gave  an  ocular  testimony  of  the  strictness  and  regularity  of 
it :  now  he  might  say,  as  St.  Paul  adviseth  his  Corinthians,  "  Be 
ye  followers  of  me,  as  I  follow  Christ,  and  walk  as  ye  have  me 
for  an  example ;"  not  the  example  of  a  busy  body,  but  of  a  con- 
templative, a  harmless,  an  humble  and  an  holy  life  and  conversa- 
tion. 

The  love  of  that  noble  Society  was  expressed  to  him  many 
ways ;  for,  besides  fair  lodgings  that  were  set  apart,  and  newly 
furnished  for  him  with  all  necessaries,  other  courtesies  were  also 

*  III  the  first  edition  of  Donne's  Life,  the  passage  beginning  "  In  this  retired- 
ness,"  down  to  "  attend  their  education,"  is  wanting. 

t  Dr.  Zouchj  in  his  note  upon  this  passage,  originally  pointed  out  an  error 
concerning  Dr.  Donne's  immediate  predecessor  as  Divinity  Reader  at  Lincoln's 
Inn  :  for  he  states,  that  Mr.  Thomas  Gataker  quitted  that  Society  for  the  Rec- 
tory of  Rotherhithe  in  1611,  six  years  before  Dr.  Donne  was  chosen  there. 
Upon  referring  to  Coxe's  Manuscript  Digest  of  the  Records  of  Lincoln's  Inn, 
it  is  ascertained  that  Dr.  Gataker  was  elected  Preacher  in  the  44th  of  Eliz. 
IGOI  ;  that  he  was  succeeded  by  Dr.  Holloway,  in  the  ICth  of  James  I.  1G12  ; 
that  Dr.  Donne  became  Lecturer  in  the  14th  of  James  I.  1616  ;  that  in  the 
17th  of  that  Sovereign,  1619,  he  went  on  his  German  Embassy;  and  that  in' 
his  20th  year,  1622,  he  was  succeeded  at  Lincoln's  Inu  by  Mr.  Preston. 
Thomas  Gataker,  a  learned  Divine,  was  born  in  London,  in  1574,  and  was 
educated  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  He  was  celebrated  for  a  Treatise 
"  Of  the  Nature  and  Use  of  Lots ;"  and,  being  of  the  Parliamentary  party, 
was  one  of  the  Assembly  of  Divines  in  1642,  though  his  own  conduct  was 
moderate,  and  heprotestedagainst  the  violence  of  others,  and  especially  against 
the  King's  trial.  He  died  in  1654,  and  was  also  the  author  of  some  excellent 
Annotations  on  the  Scriptures,  and  some  Tracts  against  William  Lilly. 


DTI.   JOHN    DONNE.  Sf. 


daily  added  ;  indeed  so  many,  and  so  freely,  as  if  they  meant,  their 
gratitude  should  exceed  his  merits  :  and  in  this  love-strife  of  desert 
and  liberality,  they  continued  for  the  space  of  two  years,  he 
preaching  faitli fully  and  constantly  to  them,  and  they  liberally 
requiting  him.  About  which  time  the  Emperor  of  Germany  died, 
and  the  Palsgrave,  who  had  lately  married  the  Lady  Elizabeth, 
the  King's  only  daughter.*  was  elected  and  crowned  King  of  Bo- 
licmia,  t!)o  unhappy  beginning  of  many  miseries  in  that  nation. 

King  James,  whose  motto — Beati  pacijici — did  truly  speak  the 
very  thoughts  of  his  heart,  endeavoured  first  to  prevent,  and  after 
to  compose,  the  discords  of  that  discomposed  State  :  and,  amongst 
other  his  endeavours,  did  then  send  the  Lord  Hay.f  Earl  of  Bon- 

*  This  unfortunate  Princess,  from  her  amiable  and  enga^in;^  manners,  was 
called  '•  The  Queen  of  Hearts."  She  was  born  in  Scotland,  Ang.  19th,  159G  ; 
and  was  married  to  Frederick  V.  Count  Palatine  of  the  Rhine,  &c.  on  Valentine's 
day,  Feb.  14th,  1612,  on  which  occasion  Dr.  Donne  wrote  an  Epithalamium. 
She  left  England,  April  lOth  of  the  same  year ;  and  on  the  death  of  the  Em- 
peror Matthias,  March  20th,  1619,  the  States  of  Bohemia  rejected  his  cousin 
and  adopted  son,  Ferdinand  II.  from  being  their  King,  and  offered  their  crown 
to  the  husband  of  Elizabeth.  Ferdinand,  being  elected  Emperor  of  Germany, 
in  the  following  August,  marched  his  forces  against  Frederick,  took  from  him 
his  Palatinate,  and  forced  him  to  fly  into  the  Low  Countries.  He  died  of  a 
fever  at  Tuentz,  Nov.  29th,  1632,  and  his  Queen  continued  at  the  Hague  until 
after  the  Restoration,  v/hen  she  returned  to  Eno-land,  with  William  first  Earl 
of  Craven,  to  whom  it  is  supposed  she  was  married,  and  died  Feb.  13th,  1661. 

t  Sir  James  Hay  was  born  at  Pitcorthic,  in  Fife,  and  came  with  James  to 
England  in  1603.  In  June  1615,  he  v.'as  made  Baron  Hay  of  Sauley,  in 
Yorkshire:  in  July  1616,  he  went  Ambassador  io  France;  in  March  1617, 
he  was  made  a  Privy  Councillor  ;  and  in  July  1618,  Viscount  Doncastcr.  He 
departed  on  his  embassy  in  May  1519,  and  returned  in  the  January  following: 
after  which,  in  1622,  he  was  again  sent  as  Ambassador  to  France,  and  his  ser- 
vices revv^rded  by  his  being  created  Earl  of  Carlisle.  He  died  at  Whitehall, 
April  25th,  1636,  and  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's.  His  embassy  to  Ferdinand 
v/as  very  costly,  but  entirely  useless  ;  and  Rapin  doubts  if  he  even  once  saw 
tb.e  Emperor.  Lord  Clarendon  has  given  a  very  fine  portrait  of  this  nobleman  ; 
in  which  he  states  him  to  have  been  a  person  well  qualified  by  his  breeding  in 
France,  and  study  in  human  learning,  to  entertain  the  King,  and  by  his  grace- 
fulness and  affability  to  excite  a  jjarticuiar  interest  in  him.  He  was  a  man  of 
the  greatest  expense  in  his  own  person,  and  in  his  famous  Ante-Suppers,  of 
any  of  his  time  ;  and  after  having  spent  400,000/.  received  of  the  crov/n,  lie 
died,  leaving  literally  nothing  behind  him  but  the  reputation  of  a  fine  gentle- 
man, and  an  accomplished  courtier.  ' 


80  THE   LIFE   OF 


caster,  his  Ambassador  to  those  unsettled  Princes ;  and,  by  a  spe- 
cial command  from  his  Majesty,  Dr.  Donne  was  appointed  to  assist 
and  attend  that  employment  to  the  Princes  of  the  Union  ;  for 
which  the  Earl  was  most  glad,  who  had  always  put  a  great  value 
on  him,  and  taken  a  great  pleasure  in  his  conversa.tion  and  dis- 
course :  and  his  friends  at  Lincoln's  Inn  were  as  glad  ;  for  they 
feared  that  his  immoderate  study,  and  sadness  for  his  wife's  death, 
v.ould,  as  Jacob  said,  "  make  his  days  few,"  and,  respecting  his 
bodily  health,  "evil"  too;  and  of  this  there  were  many  visible 
signs. 

At  his  going,  he  left  his  friends  of  Lincoln's  Inn,*  and  they 
him,  with  many  reluctations  ;  for,  though  he  could  not  say  as  St. 
Paul  to  his  Ephesians,  "  Behold,  you,  to  whom  I  have  preached 
the  Kingdom  of  God,  shall  from  henceforth  see  my  face  no  more ;" 
yet  he,  believing  himself  to  be  in  a  consumption,  questioned,  and 
they  feared  it  :  all  concluding  that  his  troubled  mind,  with  the 
help  of  his  unintermitted  studies,  hastened  the  decays  of  his  weak 
body.  But  God,  who  is  the  God  of  all  wisdom  and  goodness, 
turned  it  to  the  best ;  for  this  employment — to  say  nothing  of  the 
event  of  it — did  not  only  divert  him  from  those  too  serious  studies 
and  sad  thoughts,  but  seemed  to  give  him  a  nev/  life,  by  a  true 
occasion  of  joy,  to  be  an  eye-witness  of  the  health  of  his  most 
dear  and  most  honoured  mistress,  the  Queen  of  Bohemia,  in  a 
foreign  nation ;  and  to  be  a  witness  of  that  gladness  which  she 
expressed  to  see  him  :  who,  having  formerly  known  him  a  cour- 
tier, was  much  joyed  to  see  him  in  a  canonical  habit,  and  more 
glad  to  be  an  ear-witness  of  his  excellent  and  powerful  preaching. 

About  fourteen  months  after  his  departure  out  of  England,  he 
returned  to  his  friends  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  with  his  sorrows  mode- 
rated, and  his  health  improved  ;  and  there  betook  himself  to  his 
constant  course  of  preaching. 

About  a  year  after  his  return  out  of  Germany,  Dr.  Careyf  was 

»  "  A  Sermon  of  Valediction  at  my  going  into  Gerinauy,  at  Lincoln's  Inne, 
April  18,  1619." 

In  the  margin  of  the  first  edition  of  Donne's  Life,  there  is  at  the  preceding 
sentence  reference  to  Genesis  xlvii.  9. 

t  Valentine  Carey,  Master  of  Christ's  College  in  Cambridge,  and  Dean  of 
St.  Paul's,  is  said  to  have  been  born  in  Northumberland,  and  descended  of  tlie 


DR.  JOHN    DONNE.  87 


made  Bisliop  of  Exeter,  and  by  his  removal  the  Deanery  of  St. 
Paul's  being  vacant,  the  King  sent  to  Dr.  Donne,  and  appointed 
him  to  attend  him  at  dinner  the  next  day.  When  his  Majesty 
was  sat  down,  before  he  had  eat  any  meat,  he  said  after  his  plea- 
sant manner,  '•  Dr.  Donne,  I  have  invited  you  to  dinner  ;  and, 
though  you  sit  not  down  with  me,  yet  1  will  carve  to  you  of  a 
dish  that  I  know  you  love  well ;  for,  knowing  you  love  London,  I 
do  therefore  make  you  Dean  of  St.  Paul's ;  and,  when  I  have 
dined,  then  do  you  take  your  beloved  dish  home  to  your  study, 
say  grace  there  to  yourself,  and  much  good  may  it  do  you." 

Immediately  after  he  came  to  his  Deanery,  he  employed  work- 
men to  repair  and  beautify  the  Chapel ;  sufTering  as  holy  David 
once  vowed,  '•'  his  eyes  and  temples  to  take  no  rest,  till  he  had 
first  beautified  the  house  of  God."* 

The  next  quarter  following,  when  his  father-in-law,  Sir  George 
More, — whom  time  had  made  a  lover  and  admirer  of  him — came 
to  pay  to  him  the  conditioned  sum  of  twenty  pounds,  he  refused 
to  receive  it ;  and  said — as  good  Jacob  did,  when  he  heard  his 
beloved  son  Joseph  was  alive,  "  '  It  is  enough;'  You  have  been 
kind  to  me  and  mine  :  I  know  your  present  condition  is  such  as 
not  to  abound,  and  I  hope  mine  is,  or  will  be  such  as  not  to  need 
it :  I  will  therefore  receive  no  more  from  you  upon  that  contract ;" 
and  in  testimony  of  it  freely  gave  him  up  his  bond. 

Immediately  after  his  admi.ssion  into  his  Deanery,  the  Vicarage 
or  St.  Dunstan  in  the  West,f  London,  fell  to  him  by  the  death  of 
Dr.  White,:]:  the  advowson  of  it  having  been   given  to  him  long 

noble  family  of  Hunsdon.     He  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Exeter,  Nov.  18th, 
1G21,  and  he  died  June  10th,  1626,  and  v.^as  buried  in  St.  Paul's. 

*  The  first  edition  of  this  life  has  a  reference  here  to  Psalm  cxxxii.  4,  5  ;  and 
in  the  next  paragraph  to  Genesis,  xl.  v.  23. 

t  Izaak  Walton  was  an  inhabitant  of  thi;5  parish,  and  thus  became  intimate- 
ly acquainted  with  Dr.  Donne. 

t  Dr.  Thomas  White,  born  in  Bristol,  and  entered  a  Student,  of  Magdalen 
Hall,  Oxford,  about  1566.  He  was  well  known  and  much  esteemed  as  a 
preacher,  being  minister  o*"  St.  Gregory's,  near  St.  Paul's,  in  London,  and  af- 
terward Rector  of  St.  Dunstan's  in  Fleet-Street.  In  1585,  he  was  made  a 
Canon  of  St.  Paul's  ;  in  1590,  Treasurer  of  Salisbury  ;  in  1591,  a  Canon  of 
Christ  Church,  Oxford;  and  in  1593,  a  Canon  of  St.  George's  Windsor.  His 
only  publications  were  Sermons  ;  but  Ins  charities  to  Bristol,  and  to  Sion  Col- 


88  THE   LIFE   OF 


before  bv  his  honourable  friend  Richard  Earl  of  Dorset,*  then 
the  patron,  and  confirmed  by  his  brother  the  late  deceased  Ed- 
ward, both  of  them  men  of  much  honour. 

By  these,  and  another  ecclesiastical  endowment  which  fell  to 
him  about  tlie  same  time,  given  to  him  formerly  by  the  Earl  of 
Kentj'l^  he  was  enabled  to  become  charitable  to  the  pooi-,  and  kind 
to  his  friends,  and  to  make  such  provision  for  his  cliildren,  that 
they  were  not  left  scandalous,  as  relating  to  their,  or  his  profes- 
sion and  quality. 

The  next  Parliament,  wliich  was  within  that  present  year,  he 
was  chosen  Prolocutor  to  the  Convocation,  and  about  that  time 
was  appointed  by  his  Majesty,  his  most  gracious  master,  to  preach 
very  many  occasional  Sermons,  as  at  St.  Paul's  Cross,  and  other 
places.  All  which  employments  he  performed  to  the  admiration 
of  the  representative  body  of  the  whole  Clergy  of  this  nation. 

He  was  once,  and  but  once,  clouded  with  the  King's  displeasure, 
and  it  was  about  this  time  ;  which  was  occasioned  by  some 
malicious  vvhisperer,  who  had  told  his  Majesty  that  Dr.  Donne 
had  put  on  the  general  humour  of  the  pulpits,  and  was  become 

lege,  London,  and  his  foundation  of  a  Lecture  on  Moral  Philosophy  at  Oxford, 
have  better  preserved  his  memory.     He  died  March  1st,  1623. 

*  Richard  Sackville,  third  Earl  of  Dorset,  was  born  March  28th,  1589,  at 
the  Charter-house  in  London  ;  and  Feb.  27th,  1608-9,  was  married  to  Anno, 
daughter  and  heir  of  the  famous  George  Clifford,  Earl  of  Cumberland,  his  father 
having  died  two  days  before.  He  died  on  Easter  Sunday,  March  28th,  1624 ; 
and  his  lady,  in  a  manuscript  history  of  her  life,  has  given  him  the  character 
of  an  amiable  man,  a  scholar,  a  soldier,  a  courtier,  and  a  gentleman.  His 
brother  Edward,  fourth  Earl  of  Dorset,  v.'as  born  in  1590  ;  and  having  been 
accomplished  both  by  study  and  travel,  was  early  distinguished  for  his  eminent 
abilities.  In  1613,  he  was  involved  in  a  qxiarrel  with  the  Lord  Bruce,  which  ter- 
minated in  a  duel,  when  the  latter  was  killed  near  Antwerp.  In  1620,  he  was 
made  a  Knight  of  the  Bath,  and  in  1625,  one  of  the  chief  Commanders  sent 
to  assist  the  King  of  Bohemia,  and  Kniglit  of  the  Garter.  He  adhered  to  the 
Royal  cause  throughout  the  Civil  Wars,  and  took  the  King's  murder  so  much 
to  heart,  as  never  after  to  leave  his  dwelling,  but  died  July  17th,  1652,  at  Dorset 
House,  in  Fleet  Street,  London. 

t  The  Earl  of  Kent,  was  Henry  Grey,  ninth  Earl  of  his  family,  who  mar- 
ried Elizabeth,  second  daughter,. and  co-heir  of  Gilbert  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrews- 
bury :  and  who  died  without  issue  at  his  house  in  White  Friars,  Loudon,  Nov. 
21st,  1639. 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  89 


busy  in  insinuating  a  fear  of  the  King's  inclining  to  Popery,  and 
a  dislike  of  his  government ;  and  particularly  for  the  King's  then 
turning  the  evening  Lectures  into  Cateciiising,  and  expounding 
the  Prayer  of  our  Lord,  and  of  the  Belief,  and  Commandments. 
His  Majesty  was  the  more  inclinable  to  believe  this,  for  that  a 
person  of  Nobility  and  great  note,  betwixt  whom  and  Dr.  Donne 
there  had  been  a  great  friendship,  was  at  this  very  time  discarded 
the  Court — I  shall  forbear  his  name,  unless  I  had  a  fairer  occa- 
sion— and  justly  committed  to  prison  ;  which  begot  many  rum.ours 
in  the  common  people,  who  in  this  nation  think  they  are  not  vvise, 
unless  they  be  busy  about  what  they  understand  not,  and  espe- 
cially about  religion. 

The  King  received  this  news  with  so  much  discontent  and  rest- 
lessness, that  he  would  not  suffer  the  sun  to  set  and  leave  him 
under  this  doubt ;  but  sent  for  Dr.  Donne,  and  required  his 
answer  to  the  accusation  ;  which  was  so  clear  and  satisfactory, 
that  the  Kina;  said,  "  he  was  right  glad  he  rested  no  longer  under 
the  suspicion."'  When  the  King  had  said  this,  Doctor  Donne 
kneeled  down,  and  thanked  his  Majesty,  and  protested  his  answer 
v/as  faithful,  and  free  from  all  collusion,  and  therefore,  "  desired 
that  he  might  not  rise,  till,  as  in  like  cases,  he  always  had  from 
God,  so  he  might  have  from  his  Majesty,  some  assurance  that  he 
stood  clear  and  fair  in  his  opinion."  At  which  the  King  raised 
Ijim  from  his  knees  with  his  own  hands,  and  "  protested  he 
believed  him  ;  and  that  he  knew  he  was  an  honest  man,  and 
doubted  not  but  that  he  loved  him  truly."  And,  having  thus 
dismissed  him,  he  called  some  Lords  of  his  Council  into  his  cham- 
ber,  and  said  with  much  earnestness,  "  My  Doctor  is  an  honest 
man  ;  and,  my  Lords,  I  was  never  better  satisfied  with  an  ansvv-er 
tlian  he  hath  now  made  me  ;  and  I  always  rejoice  v/hen  I  think 
that  by  my  means  he  became  a  Divine." 

He  was  made  Dean  in  the  fiftieth  year  of  his  age  ;  and  in  his 
fifty-fourth  year,  a  dangerous  sickness  seized  him,  which  inclined 
him  to  a  consumption  :  but  God,  as  Job  thankfully  acknowledged, 
preserved  his  spirit,  and  kept  his  intellectuals  as  clear  and  perfect, 
as  v.'hen  that  sickness  first  seized  his  body  ;  but  it  continued  long, 
and  threatened  him  with  death,  which  he  dreaded  not. 


90  THE   LIFE   OF 


III  this  distemper  of  body,  his  dear  friend.  Dr.  Henry  King,* — 
then  chief  Residentiary  of  that  Church,  and  late  Bishop  of  Chi- 
chester— a  man  generally  known  by  the  Clergy  of  this  nation, 
and  as  generally  noted  for  his  obliging  nature,  visited  him  daily ; 
and  observing  that  his  sickness  rendered  his  recovery  doubtful,  he 
chose  a  seasonable  time  to  speak  to  him  to  this  purpose. 

"  Mr.  Dean,  I  am,  by  your  favour,  no  stranger  to  your  temporal 
estate,  and  you  are  no  stranger  to  the  offer  lately  made  us,  for  the 
renewing  a  lease  of  the  best  Prebend's  corps  belonging  to  our 
church ;  and  you  knov/  'twas  denied,  for  that  our  tenant  being 
very  rich,  offered  to  find  at  so  low  a  rate  as  held  not  proportion 
with  his  advantages  :  but  I  will  either  raise  him  to  an  higher  sum, 
or  procure  that  the  other  Residentiaries  shall  join  to  accept  of 
what  was  offered  ;  one  of  these,  I  can  and  will  by  your  favour  do 
without  delay,  and  without  any  trouble  either  to  your  body  or  mind : 
I  beseech  you  to  accept  of  my  offer,  for  I  knov/  it  will  be  a  con- 
siderable addition  to  your  present  estate,  which  I  know  needs  it." 

To  this,  after  a  short  pause,  and  raising  himself  upon  his  bed, 
he  made  this  reply : 

"  My  most  dear  friend,  I  most  humbly  thank  you  for  your  many 
favours,  and  this  in  particular ;  but  in  my  present  condition  I 
shall  not  accept  of  your  proposal ;  for  doubtless  there  is  such  a 
sin  as  sacrilege ;  if  tliere  w^ere  not,  it  could  not  have  a  name  in 
scripture  :  and  the  primitive  clergy  were  watchful  against  all  ap- 
pearances of  that  evil  ;  and  indeed  then  all  christians  looked  upon 
it  with  horror  and  detestation,  judging  it  to  be  even  an  open  defi- 
ance of  the  power  and  providence  of  Almighty  God,  and  a  sad 
presage  of  a  declining  religion.  But  instead  of  such  christians, 
who  had  selected  times  set  apart  to  fast  and  pray  to  God,  for  a 

*  Henr)^  King  was  born  in  1591,  at  Wornal  in  Bucks,  and  educated  at 
Westminster,  whence  he  was  elected  a  student  of  Christ-Church,  Oxford,  in 
1608.  Having  taken  the  degrees  in  Arts  he  "  became  a  most  florid  preacher," 
says  Wood,  and  successively  Chaplain  to  James  I.,  Arch-Deacon  of  Colchester, 
Residentiary  of  St.  Paul's,  Canon  of  Christ-Church,  Chaplain  to  Charles  I., 
Doctor  of  Divinity,  and  Dean  of  Rochester,  from  which  he  was  advanced  to 
the  Bishopric  of  Chichester  in  1641,  which  he  held  till  the  time  of  his  death  in 
1669.  He  turned  the  Psalms  into  verse  (12nio.  1651,  and  1654),  being  dis- 
gusted with  the  old  translation,  and  published  in  1657  a  small  volume  of 
"  Poems,  Elegies,  Paradoxes,  and  Sonnets," 


DR.   JOII2N    DONNE.  91 


])ious  clergy,  which  they  then  did  obey,  our  times  abound  v.iih 
men  that  are  busy  and  litigious  about  trifles  and  church-ceremo- 
nies, and  yet  so  far  from  scrupling  sacrilege,  that  they  make  not 
so  much  as  a  qutere  v/liat  it  is  :  but  I  thank  God  I  have ;  and 
dare  not  now  upon  my  sick  bed,  when  Almighty  God  hath  made 
me  useless  to  the  service  of  the  church,  make  any  advantages  out 
of  it.  But  if  he  shall  again  restore  me  to  such  a  degree  of  health, 
as  again  to  serve  at  his  altar,  I  shall  then  gladly  take  the  reward 
which  the  bountiful  benefactors  of  this  church  have  designed  me  ; 
for  God  knows  my  children  and  relations  will  need  it.  In  which 
number,  my  mother, — whose  credulity  and  charity  has  contracted 
a  very  plentiful  to  a  very  narrow  estate — must  not  be  forgotten. 
But  Dr.  King,  if  I  recover  not,  that  little  worldly  estate  that  I 
shall  leave  behind  me — that  very  little,  when  divided  into  eight 
parts — must,  if  you  deny  me  not  so  charitable  a  favour,  fall  into 
your  hands,  as  my  most  faithful  friend  and  executor ;  of  whose 
care  and  justice  I  make  no  more  doubt,  than  of  God's  blessing, 
on  that  winch  I  have  conscientiously  collected  for  them ;  but  it 
shall  not  be  augmented  on  my  sick-bed ;  and  this  I  declare  to  be 
my  unalterable  resolution." 

The  reply  to  this  was  only  a  promise  to  observe  his  request.* 
AVithin  a  fev/  days  his  distempers  abated  ;  and  as  his  strength 
increased,  so  did  his  thankfulness  to  Almighty  God,  testified  in  his 
most  excellent  Book  of  Devotions,  which  he  published  at  his  re- 
covery ;  in  which  the  reader  may  see  the  most  secret  thoughts 
that  then  possessed  his  soul,  paraphrased  and  made  public  :  a  book, 
that  may  not  unfitly  be  called  a  Sacred  Picture  of  Spiritual  Ec- 
stasies, occasioned  and  appliable  to  the  emergencies  of  that  sick- 
ness ;  which  book,  being  a  composition  of  Meditations,  Disquisi- 
tions, and  Prayers,  he  writ  on  his  sick-bed  ;  herein  imitating  the 
holy  Patriarchs,  who  were  wont  to  build  their  altars  in  that  place 
where  they  had  received  their  blessings. 

This  sickness  brought  him  so  near  to  the  gates  of  death,  and  he 


*  The  account  of  Bishop  King's  offer  to  Dr.  Donne,  from  the  words,  "  In 
this  distemper,"  to  "  observe  his  request,"  was  not  inserted  until  the  second 
edition  of  this  life.  In  the  first  edition  the  following  scriptural  references  ap- 
pear on  the  margin:  Genesis  xii.  7^8  ;  xxviii.  18  ;  I  Corinthians  xv.  .31  ;  Job 
XXX.  15  ;  vii.  3. 


92  THE   LIFE   OF 


saw  the  grave  so  ready  to  devour  him,  that  he  would  often  say, 
his  recovery  was  supernatural :  but  that  God  that  then  restored 
his  health,  continued  it  to  him  till  the  fifty-ninth  year  of  his  life : 
and  then,  in  August  1030,  being  with  his  eldest  daughter,  Mrs. 
Harvey,  at  Abury  Hatch,  in  Essex,  he  there  fell  into  a  fever, 
which,  with  the  help  of  his  constant  infirmity — vapours  from  the 
spleen — hastened  him  into  so  visible  a  consumption,  that  his  be- 
holders might  say,  as  St.  Paul  of  himself,  '•  He  dies  daily  ;"  and 
he  might  say  v/ith  Job,  "  My  welfare  passeth  away  as  a  cloud,  the 
days  of  my  affliction  have  taken  hold  of  me,  and  weary  nights 
are  appointed  for  me." 

Reader,  this  sickness  continued  long,  not  only  weakening,  but 
wearying  Inm  so  much,  that  my  desire  is,  he  may  now  take  some 
rest ;  and  that  before  I  speak  of  his  death,  thou  wilt  not  think  it 
an  impertinent  digression  to  look  back  with  me  upon  some  obser- 
vations of  his  life,  which,  whilst  a  gentle  slumber  gives  rest  to  his 
spirits,  may,  I  hope,  not  unfitly  exercise  thy  consideration. 

His  marriage  was  the  remarkable  error  of  his  life  ;  an  error, 
which,  though  he  had  a  wit  able  and  very  apt  to  maintain  para- 
doxes, yet  he  was  very  far  from  justifying  it:  and  though  his 
wife's  competent  years,  and  other  reasons,  might  be  justly  urged 
to  moderate  severe  censures,  yet  he  would  occasionally  condemn 
himself  for  it:  and  doubtless  it  had  been  attended  with  an  heavy 
repentance,  if  God  had  not  bles.sed  them  with  so  mutual  and  cor- 
dial affections,  as  in  the  midst  of  their  sufferings  made  their  bread 
of  sorrow  taste  more  pleasantly,  tlian  the  banquets  of  dull  and 
low-spirited  people. 

The  recreations  of  his  youth  were  poetry,  in  which  he  Vv^as  so 
happy,  as  if  nature  and  all  lier  varieties  had  been  made  only  to 
exercise  his  sharp  wit  and  high  fancy  ;  and  in  those  pieces  which 
were  facetiously  composed  and  carelessly  scattered, — most  of 
them  being  written  before  the  twentieth  year  of  his  age — it  may 
appear  by  his  choice  metaphors,  that  both  nature  and  all  the  arts 
joined  to  as.sist  him  with  their  utmost  skill. 

It  is  a  truth,  that  in  his  penitential  years,  viewing  some  of  those 
pieces  that  had  been  loosely — God  knows,  too  loosely — scattered 
in  his  youth,  he  wished  they  had  been  abortive,  or  so  short-lived 
that  his  own  eves  had   witnessed  their  funerals  :  hut,  though   he 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  93 


was  no  friend  to  them,  he  was  not  so  fallen  out  with  heavenly 
poetry,  as  to  forsake  that ;  no,  not  in  his  declining  age  ;  witnessed 
then  by  many  divine  Sonnets,  and  other  high,  holy,  and  harmo- 
nious composures.  Yea,  even  on  his  former  sick-bed  he  wrote 
this  heavenly  Hymn,  expressing  the  great  joy  that  then  possessed 
his  soul,  in  the  assurance  of  God's  favour  to  him  when  he  com- 
posed it : 


AN  HYMN 


TO    GOD    THE    FATHER. 


Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  where  I  begun, 

Which  was  my  sin,  though  it  ivere  done  before  ? 

Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  through  lohich  I  run, 
And  do  run  still,  though  still  I  do  deplore  ? 

When  thou  hast  done,  thou  hast  not  done, 

For  I  have  more. 

Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin,  ivhich  I  have  icon 
Others  to  sin,  and  made  my  sin  their  door  ? 

Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  did  shun 
A  year  or  two  ; — but  wallowed  in  a  score  ? 

When  thou  hast  done,  thou  hast  not  done. 

For  I  have  more. 

I  have  a  sin  of  fear,  that  when  Fve  spun 
My  last  thread,  I  shall  j^erish  on  the  shore  ; 

But  swear  by  thyself,  that  at  my  death  thy  Son 
Shall  shine  as  he  shines  noio,  and  heretofore  ; 

And  having  done  that,  thou  hast  done, 

I  fear  no  more. 

I  have  the  rather  mentioned  this  Hymn,  for  that  he  caused  it  to 
be  set  to  a  most  grave  and  solemn  tune,  and  to  be  often  sung  to 
the  organ  by  the  Choristers  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  his  own  hear- 
ing ;  especially  at  the  Evening  Service  ;  and  at  his  return  from 
his  customary  devotions  in  that  place,  did  occasionally  say  to  a 


Dl  THE   LIFE   OF 


friend,  '•  the  words  of  tiiis  Hymn  have  restored  to  me  the  same 
thoughts  of  joy  th.at  possessed  my  soul  ia  my  sickness,  when  I 
composed  it.  And,  O  the  power  of  church-music  !  that  harmony 
added  to  this  Hymn  lias  raised  tiie  affections  of  my  heart,  and 
quickened  my  graces  of  zeal  and  gratitude  ;  and  I  observe  that  1 
always  return  from  paying  this  public  duty  of  prayer  and  praise 
to  God,  with  an  unexpressible  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  a  willing- 
ness to  leave  the  world.'' 

Afier  this  manner  did  the  Disciples  of  our  Saviour,  and  the 
besi  of  Christians  in  tliose  ages  of  the  Church  nearest  to  his  time, 
offer  their  praises  to  Almighty  God.  And  the  reader  of  St.  Au- 
gustine's* life  may  there  find,  that  towards  his  dissolution  he  wept 
abundantly,  that  the  enemies  of  Christianity  had  broke  in  upon 
them,  and.  profaned  and  ruined  their  Sanctuaries,  and  because 
their  Public  Hymns  and  Lauds  were  lost  out  of  their  Churches. 
And  after  this  manner  have  many  devout  souls  lifted  up  their 
hands,  and  offered  acceptable  sacrifices  unto  Almighty  God, 
where  Dr.  Donne  offered  his,  and  now  lies  buried. 

But  now,  Oh  Lord !  how  is  that  place  become  (1G56)  deso- 
late !t 


*  St,  Augustine  died  after  the  Goths  and  Vandals  had  with  great  cruelty 
and  slaughter,  over-run  the  greatest  part  of  his  native  country  of  Africa ;  in 
v/hich  only  three  cities  of  any  eminence  were  preserved  from  their  fury,  Hippo, 
liis  own  city  being  one,  though  it  was  besieged  by  them  for  fourteen  months. 
According  to  his  prayer  he  was  delivered  out  of  their  hands  hy  the  mercy  of 
God,  who  took  him  to  himself  during  the  siege. 

t  By  the  votes  of  both  Houses,  passed  in  the  Long  Parliament,  Sept.  lOtli, 
11th,  1642,  for  tlie  abolishing  of  Bishops,  Deans,  and  Chapters,  "the  very 
foundation  of  this  famous  Cathedral,"  says  Sir  William  Dugdale,  '•'  was  utterly 
shaken  in  pieces.  In  the  following  year,  the  famous  Cross  in  the  Church-yard, 
which  had  been  for  many  ages  the  most  noted  and  solemn  place  for  the  gravest 
Divines  and  greatest  scholars  to  preach  at,  was  pulled  down  to  the  ground  :  the 
stalls  in  the  choir  were  taken  away,  as  also  part  of  the  pavement  torn  up,  and 
the  monuments  demolished  or  defaced.  The  scalTolds  erected  for  repair  of  the 
Church  were  given  to  the  soldiers,  who  dug  pits  in  several  places  in  the  fabric, 
for  sawing  up  the  timber ;  even  where  some  reverend  Bishops  and  other  per- 
sons of  quality  lay  interred :  and  afterwards  the  body  of  the  Church  was  fre- 
quently converted  into  a  horse-quarter  for  soldiers,  though  a  part  of  the  choir 
was  separated  by  a  brick  wall  as  a  preaching  place,  the  entrance  to  which  was 
at  the  uppermost  window  on  the  north  bide  eastwards. 


DU.   JOHN    JJONiNE.  05 


Before- 1  proceed  further,  1  think  fit  to  inforni  the  Reader,  that 
not  long  before  his  deatli  he  caused  to  be  drawn  a  figure  of  tlie 
body  of  Christ  extended  upon  an  Anchor,  like  tliose  which  paint- 
ers draw,  when  they  would  present  us  with  the  picture  of  Christ 
crucified  on  the  Cross  :  his  varying  no  otherwise,  than  to  afHx 
him  not  to  a  Cross,  but  to  an  Anchor — the  emblem  of  Hope  ; — 
this  he  caused  to  be  drawn  in  little,  and  then  many  of  those  fig- 
ures thus  drawn  to  be  engraven  very  small  in  Helitropium*  stones, 
and  set  in  gold  ;  and  of  these  he  sent  to  many  of  his  dearest 
friends,  to  be  used  as  seals,  or  rings,  and  kept  as  memorials  of 
him,  and  of  his  affection  to  them. 

His  dear  friends  and  benefactors.  Sir  Henry  Goodier,"j"  and  Sir 
Robert  Drewry,  could  not  be  of  that  number ;  nor  could  the 
Lady   Magdalen   Herbert,:}:  the  mother  of  George  Herbert,  for 

*  The  gem  named  Heliotropium  by  the  ancients  is  supposed  to  be  the  mod- 
cm  bloodstone. 

t  The  son  and  heir  of  Sir  William  Goodier,  of  Monkskirby,  in  Warwick- 
shire, Knight,  Gentleman  of  the  Privy  Chamber  to  King  James  I.  He  once 
enjoyed,  in  succession,  the  Manor  of  Baginton,  in  the  above  county  ;  but  not 
being  so  fortunate  in  estate,  by  following  the  Court,  he  alienated  the  Lordship 
to  his  brother-in-law,  Sir  Henry  Rainsford,  of  Clifford,  in  Gloucestershire.  He 
married  his  cousin  Frances,  the  daughter  of  Sir  Henry  Goodier,  a  great  sup- 
porter of,  and  sufferer  for,  Mary  Queen  of  Scotland  ;  and  he  left  four  daugh- 
ters, of  whom,  Lucy,  the  eldest,  was  married  to  Sir  Francis  Nethersole,  and 
W^eever,  in  his  Ancient  Funerall  Monuments,  gives  this  epitapli  to  his  memory  ; 

"  An  ill  yeare  of  a  Goodyer  vs  bereft. 
Who,  gon  to  God,  much  lacke  of  him  here  left ; 
Full  of  good  gifts,  of  body  and  of  minde, 
V/ise,  comely,  learned,  eloquent,  and  kinde." 

t  Lady  Magdalen  Herbert,  was  the  daughter  of  Sir  Richard  Newport,  and 
Margaret,  youngest  daughter  and  heir  of  Sir  Thomas  Bromley,  one  of  the 
Privy  Council,  and  Executor  to  Henry  VHI.  She  was  married  to  Richard 
Herbert,  Esq.  and  was  the  mother  of  George  Herbert,  in  whose  life  Walton 
dilates  on  her  character,  and  Edward  Lord  Herbert,  of  Cherbury.  She  survived 
her  husband,  who  died  in  1597,  and,  says  the  latter  of  her  sons,  "  gave  rare  tes- 
timonies of  an  incomparable  piety  to  God,  and  love  to  her  children:  as  being 
most  assiduous  and  devout  in  her  daily,  both  public  and  private,  prayers ;  and 
tio  careful  to  provide  for  her  posterity,  that  though  it  were  in  her  power  to  give 
her  estate,  which  was  very  great,  to  whom  she  would,  yet  she  continued  still 
unmarried,  after  she  lived  ino::;t  virtuously  and  lovingly  with  her  husband- 


96  THE   LIFE    OF 


they  had  put  olT  mortality,  and  taken  possession  of  the  grave  be- 
fore him  :  but  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  and  Dr.  Hall/'=  the  then  late 
deceased  Bishop  of  Norwich,  were  ;  and  so  were  Dr.  Duppa,! 
Bishop  of  Salisbury,  and  Dr.  Henry  King,  Bishop  of  Chichester 
— lately  deceased — men,  in  whom  there  was  such  a  commixture 
of  general  Learning,  of  natural  Eloquence,  and  Christian  Humil- 
ity,  that  they  deserve  a  commemoration  by  a  pen  equal  to  tlieir 
own,  which  none  have  exceeded. 

And   in  this   enumeration  of  his  friends,  though  many  must  be 

She,  after  liis  death,  erected  a  fair  monument  for  him  in  Montgomery  Church, 
brought  up  her  cliildren  carefully,  and  put  them  in  good  courses  for  making 
tiieir  fortunes  ;  and  briefly  was  that  woman  Dr.  Donne  hath  described  her,  in 
his  Funeral  Sermon  of  her  printed."  She  died,  July,  11th,  1627,  and  was 
buried  at  Chelsea. 

*  Joseph  Hall  was  born  at  Bristow  Park,  in  the  County  of  Leicester,  1574, 
and  having  received  a  school  education  at  his  native  place,  was  sent  at  the  age 
of  15  to  Emanuel  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  was  distinguished  as  a  wit, 
a  poet,  and  a  rhetorician.  In  1612  he  took  the  degree  of  D.D.,  was  present- 
ed to  the  Deanery  of  Worcester  in  1616  ;  promoted  to  the  see  of  Exeter  in 
1627  ;  and  in  1641  translated  to  Norwich.  A  few  weeks  afterwards,  he  was 
sent  to  the  Tower  with  twelve  other  Prelates,  for  protesting  against  any  Laws 
passed  in  Parliament  during  their  forced  absence  from  the  House,  and  he  was 
not  released  until  June,  1642.  He  suffered  much  from  the  Puritans  during 
the  following  year,  they  plundered  his  house,  despoiled  his  Cathedral,  seques- 
tered his  estate,  and  reduced  him  to  poverty,  though  he  still  continued  to 
preach  occasionally.  He  died  at  Higham,  near  Norwich,  Sept.  8th,  1656. 
Full  of  the  spirit  of  Juvenal  and  Persius,  he  is  considered  as  the  first  of  our 
satirical  poets.  He  introduces  his  celebrated  work,  "  Virgidemiarum"  with 
these  lines 


'•'  I  first  adventure,  follow  me  who  list, 
And  be  the  second  English  Satirist." 

t  Dr.  Bryan  Duppa  was  born  at  Lewisham,  March,  10th,  1588,  and  edu- 
cated at  Westminster,  whence  he  was  elected  to  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  in 
1605.  In  1638,  he  was  appointed  Tutor  to  Prince  Charles  and  the  Duke  of 
York,  and  about  the  same  time  was  made  Bishop  of  Chichester,  whence  he 
was  translated  to  Salisburj'-  in  1641,  He  attended  Charles  I.  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  and  is  supposed  to  have  assisted  in  writing  the  Eikon  Busilike.  After 
remaining  with  the  King  till  his  martyrdom,  he  lived  in  retirement  at  Richmond 
until  the  Restoration,  when  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  Lord 
Almoner.  He  died  at  Richmond,  March  26th,  1662  ;  when  he  was  visited  by 
Charles  II.  who  received  his  last  benediction  kneeling. 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  97 


omitted,  yet  tliat  man  of  primitive  piety,  Mr.  George  Herbert,  may 
not  :  I  mean  that  Geororc  Herbert,  who  was  the  author  of  "  The 
Temple,  or  Sacred  Poems  and  Ejaculations."  A  book,  in  which 
by  declaring  his  own  spiritual  conflicts,  he  hath  comforted  and 
raised  many  a  dejected  and  discomposed  soul,  and  charmed  them 
into  sweet  and  quiet  thoughts :  a  book,  by  the  frequent  reading 
whereof,  and  the  assistance  of  that  Spirit  that  seemed  to  inspire 
the  Author,  the  Reader  may  attain  habits  of  Peace  and  Piety,  and 
all  the  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  Heaven :  and  may,  by  still 
reading,  still  keep  those  sacred  fires  burning  upon  the  altar  of  so 
pure  a  heart,  as  shall  free  it  from  the  anxieties  of  this  world,  and 
keep  it  fixed  upon  things  that  are  above.  Betwixt  this  George 
Herbert  and  Dr.  Donne,  there  was  a  long  and  dear  friendship, 
made  up  by  such  a  sympathy  of  inclinations,  that  they  coveted 
and  joyed  to  be  in  each  other's  company  ;  and  this  happy  friend- 
ship was  still  maintained  by  many  sacred  endearments  ;  of  which 
that  which  folio weth  may  be  .some  testimony. 

TO  MR.  GEORGE  HERBERT; 

SENT  HIM    WITH    ONE    OF    MY    SEALS    OF    THE    ANCHOR    AND  CHRIST. 

A  Sheaf  of  Snakes  used  heretofore  to  be  my  Seal,  which  is  the 

Crest  of  our  poor  family. 

Qui  prius  assuetus  serpentum  falce  tabellas 

Signare,  hsec  nostree  symbola  parva  domus, 
Adscitus  domui  Domini 

Adopted  in  God's  family,  and  so 
My  old  coat  lost,  into  neiu  Arms  I  go. 
The  Cross,  my  Seal  in  Baptism,  spread  below. 
Does  by  that  for  tn  into  an  Anchor  grow. 
Crosses  grow  Anchors,  bear  as  thou  shouldst  do 
Thy  Cross,  and  that  Cross  grows  an  Anchor  too. 
But  he  that  makes  our  Crosses  Anchors  thus, 
Is  Christ,  who  there  is  crucified  for  us. 
Yet  with  this  I  may  my  first  Serpents  hold  ; — 
God  gives  new  blessings,  and  yet  leaves  the  old — 

8 


98  THE   LIFE   OF 


The  Serpent,  may,  as  wise,  ray  paiiern  he  ; 

My  poison,  as  he  feeds  on  dust,  thaVs  me. 

And,  as  he  rounds  the  earth  to  murder,  sure 

He  is  my  death  ;  hut  on  the  Cross,  my  cure. 

Crucify  nature  then  ;  and  then  implore 

All  grace  from  him,  crucified  there  hefore. 

When  all  is  Cross,  and  that  Cross  Anchor  groivn 

This  Seal's  a  Catechism,  not  a  Seal  alone. 

Under  that  little  Seal  great  gifts  I  send. 

Both  7corks  and  pray'rs,  p)ato?is  and  fruits  of  a  friend. 

O  f  may  that  Saint  that  ridxs  on  our  Great  Seal, 

To  you  that  hear  his  name,  large  hounty  deal. 

John  Donne. 


IN    SACRAM    ANCHORUM    PISCATORIS 

GEORGE  HEPwBERT. 

Uuod  Crux  nequibat  fixa  clavique  addili, — 
Teiiere  Christum  scilicet  ne  ascenderet, 
TuivG  Christum 

Although  the  Cross  could  not  here  Christ  detain, 

When  naiVd  untoH,  hut  he  ascends  again  ; 

Nor  yet  thy  eloquence  here  keep  him  still, 

But  only  whilst  thou  speaWst — this  Anchor  will  : 

Nor  canst  thou  he  content,  unless  thou  to 

This  certain  Anchor  add  a  Seal ;  and  so 

The  water  and  the  eartli  hoth  unto  thee 

Do  owe  the  symhol  of  their  certainty. 

Let  the  world  reel,  we  and  all  our^s  stand  sure, 

This  holy  cahle'sfrom  all  storms  secure. 

George  Herbert. 

I  return  to  tell  the  reader,  that,  besides  these  verses  to  his  dear 
Mr.  Herbert,  and  that  Hymn  tliat  I  mentioned  to  be  sung  in  the 
choir  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  he  did  also  shorten  and  beguile  many 
sad  hours  by  composing  other  sacred  ditties ;  and  he  writ  an 
Hvmn  on  his  death- bed,  which  bears  this  title : 


DR.  JOHN    DONNE.  .09 


AN  HYMN  TO  GOD,. MY  GOD,  IN  MY  SICKNESS. 

March  23,  1630. 


'i 


Since  I  ar.i  coming  to  thai  holy  room, 
'  Where,  iviih  ihy  Choir  of  Saints,  for  evermore 

I  shall  he  7nade  thy  rausic,  as  I  come 
1  tune  r.iy  instrument  here  at  the  door, 
And.,  vshai  I  must  do  then,  think  here  before. 

Since  my  P/iyjicians  by  ihclr  loves  are  grown 
Cosmographers  ;  and  I  their  maj),  7vho  ly^^. 
Flat  on  this  bed. 

So,  in  his  -pv^yle  icrapt,  receive  my  Lord. ! 

By  these  his  thorns,  give  me  his  other  Crown  ; 
And,  as  io  other  sonis  I  preached  ihy  word 

Be  this  my  text,  my  sermon  io  inine  own 

'•'  That  he  may  raise  ;  therefore  the  Lord  throws  down.'' 


"J 


-* 


If  these  fall  under  the  censure  of  a  soul,  wliose  too  much  mix- 
ture with  earth  makes  it  unfit  to  judge  of  these  high  raptures  and 
illuminations,  let  liim  know,  that  many  holy  and  devout  men  have 
thought  the  soul  of  Prudentiusf  to  bo  most  refined,  when,  not 
many  days  before  his  death,  "  he  charged  it  to  present  his  God 
each  morning  and  evening  v/ith  a  new  and  spiritual  song  ;"  jus- 
tified by  the  example  of  King  David  and  the  good  King  Hezekiah, 
who,  upon  the  renovation  of  his  years  paid  his  thankful  vows  to 
Almighty  God  in   a  royal  hymn,  which  he  concludes  in  these 

*  In  the  first  editicu  of  Donne's  Life,  the  passage  contained  between  "  / 
fear  no  mon;,''  and  the  title  of  this  Hymn,  together  with  the  verses  of  tho 
Hymn,  were  omitted  ;  but  they  were  inserted  m  the  second  edition,  with  the 
exception  of  the  latter  verses. 

t  Clemens  Aurelius  Prudentius,  a  Christian  Poet,  born  in  Spain  in  the  year 
348.  He  was  brought  up  to  the  Law,  of  which  he  became  a  Judge  ;  but  ho 
was  also  a  soldier,  and  enjoyed  an  office  of  rank  in  the  Court  of  the  Emperor 
Ilonorius.  His  verses  were  not  v/ritten  until  he  was  advanced  in  years  :  and 
Gyraldas  observes,  mdior  nmnino  Christianus  est  qudm  Pnetn. 


100  THE  LIFE   OF 


words  ;  "  The  Lord  was  ready  to  save  ;  therefore  I  will  sing  my 
songs  to  the  stringed  instruments  all  the  days  of  my  life  in  the 
Temple  of  my  God." 

The  latter  part  of  his  life  may  be  said  to  be  a  continued  study ; 
for  as  he  usually  preached  once  a  week,  if  not  oftener,  so  after  his 
Sermon  he  never  gave  his  eyes  rest,  till  he  had  chosen  out  a  new 
Text,  and  that  night  cast  his  Sermon  into  a  form,  and  his  Text 
into  divisions  ;  and  the  next  day  betook  himself  to  consult  the 
Fathers,  and  so  commit  his  meditations  to  his  memory,  which  was 
excellent.  But  upon  Saturday  he  usually  gave  himself  and  his 
mind  a  rest  from  the  weary  burthen  of  his  week's  meditations, 
and  usually  spent  that  day  in  visitation  of  friends,  or  some  other 
diversions  of  his  thoughts  ;  and  would  say,  "  that  he  gave  both  his 
body  and  mind  that  refreshment,  that  he  might  be  enabled  to  do 
the  work  of  the  day  following,  not  faintly,  but  with  courage  and 
cheerfulness." 

Nor  was  his  age  only  so  industrious,  but  in  the  most  unsettled 
days  of  his  youth,  his  bed  was  not  able  to  detain  him  beyond  the 
hour  of  four  in  a  morning  ;  and  it  was  no  common  business  that 
drew  him  out  of  his  chamber  till  past  ten  ;  all  which  time  was 
employed  in  study  ;  though  he  took  great  liberty  after  it.  And 
if  this  seem  strange,  it  may  gain  a  belief  by  the  visible  fruits  of 
his  labours  ;  some  of  which  remain  as  testimonies  of  what  is  here 
written  ;  for  he  left  the  resultance  of  1400  Authors,  most  of  them 
abridged  and  analysed  with  his  own  hand  :  he  left  also  six  score 
of  his  Sermons,  all  written  v/ith  his  own  hand  ;  also  an  exact  and 
laborious  Treatise  concerning  self-murder,  called  Biathanatos  ;* 
wherein  all  the  Laws  violated  by  that  act  are  diligently  sur- 
veyed, and  judiciously  censured  :  a  Treatise  written  in  his 
younger  days,  which  alone  might  declare  him  then  not  only  per- 
fect in  the  Civil  and  Canon  Law,  but  in  many  other  such  studies 
and  arguments,  as  enter  not  into  the  consideration  of  many  that 
labour  to  be  thought  great  clerks,  and  pretend  to  know  all  things. 


*  The  original  Manuscript  is  now  in  tlie  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford,  having 
been  presented  to  it  in  1642,  by  Sir  Edward  Herbert,  to  whom  Dr.  Donne  gave 
it  with  a  dedicatory  letter.  The  account  of  Dr.  Donne's  arrangement  of  liis 
Sermons,  was  not  inserted  until  the  second  edition  of  his  Life. 


DR.  JOHN   DONiNE.  101 


Nor  were  these  only  found  in  his  study,  but  all  businesses  that 
passed  of  any  public  consequence,  either  in  this  or  any  of  our 
neighbour-nations,  he  abbreviated  either  in  Latin,  or  in  the  lan- 
guage of  that  nation,  and  kept  thern  by  him  for  useful  memorials. 
So  he  did  the  copies  of  divers  Letters  and  Cases  of  Conscience 
that  had  concerned  his  friends,  with  his  observations  and  solutions 
of  them  ;  and  divers  other  businesses  of  importance,  all  particu- 
larly and  methodically  digested  by  himself. 

He  did  prepare  to  leave  the  world  before  life  left  him ;  making 
his  Will  when  no  faculty  of  his  soul  was  damped  or  made  defec- 
tive by  pain  or  sickness,  or  he  surprised  by  a  sudden  apprehen- 
sion of  death :  but  it  was  made  with  mature  deliberation,  express- 
ing himself  an  impartial  father,  by  making  his  children's  portions 
equal ;  and  a  lover  of  his  friends,  whom  he  remembered  with  lega- 
cies  fitly  and  discreetly  chosen  and  bequeathed.  I  cannot  forbear 
a  nomination  of  some  of  them  ;  for  methinks  they  be  persons  that 
seem  to  challenge  a  recordation  in  this  place  ;  as  namely,  to  his 
brother-in-law,  Sir  Thomas  Grimes,  he  gave  that  striking  clock, 
which  he  had  long  worn  in  his  pocket ;  to  his  dear  friend  and 
executor,  Dr.  King, — late  Bishop  of  Chichester — that  Model  of 
Gold  of  the  Synod  of  Dort,*  with  which  the  States  presented  him 
at  his  last  being  at  the  Hague  ;  and  the  two  pictures  of  Padre 
Paolo  and  Fulgentio,"]"  men  of  his  acquaintance  when  he  travelled 

*  This  famous  national  Convocation  was  made  to  examine  into  certain  doc- 
trines of  Arminius,  which  were  disputed  in  Holland.  It  met  at  Dort,  Nov.  13th, 
1618,  and  the  States  General  allowed  100,000  francs  for  its  expenses.  The 
States  General  directed  a  gold  medal  to  he  struck  in  commemoration  of  the 
Synod.  On  one  side  is  represented  the  Assembly  of  the  Synod,  with  this  in- 
scription, "  ASSERTA  RELIGIONE."  On  the  reverse,  a  mountain,  on  the 
summit  of  which  is  a  temple,  to  which  men  are  ascending  along  a  very  steep 
path.  The  four  winds  are  blowing  with  great  violence  against  the  mountain. 
Above  the  temple  is  written  the  word  JEHOVAH,  in  Hebrew  characters. 
The  inscription  is  "  ERUNT  UT  MONS  SION.  ClODCXIX."  These 
winds  are  intended  to  represent  those  who  at  that  time  much  disturbed  the 
tranquillity  of  the  church. 

t  Paul  Sarpi,  commonly  called  Fath.cr  Paul,  was  born  at  Venice,  Aug.  14th, 
1552,  and  was  a  member  of  the  Order  of  Servitcs.  Although  he  is  said  to  have 
been  a  pattern  of  humility,  he  was  an  excellent  Divine,  Tilathematician,  and 
Natural  Philosopher  ;  and  to  him  are  attributed  several  discoveries  in  Anatomy. 
Being  made  Procurator  General  of  his  Order,  he  resided  at  Ron^e,  leaving  his 


lOa  TiiE   LIFE   Ui- 


Italy,  and  of  great  note  in  that  nation  for  their  remarkable  learn- 
ing.— To  his  ancient  friend  Dr.  Brook, — that  married  him — 
Master  of  Trinity  College  in  Cambridge,  he  gave  the  picture  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin  and  Joseph. — To  Dr.  WinnilF  who  succeeded 
him  in  the  Deanery — he  gave  a  picture  called  the  Skeleton. — To 
the  succeeding  Dean,  who  was  not  then  known,  he  gave  many 
necessaries  of  worth,  and  useful  for  his  house ;  and  also  several 
pictures  and  ornaments  for  the  Chapel,  with  a  desire  that  they 
might  be  registered,  and  remain  as  a  legacy  to  his  successors. — 
To  the  Earls  of  Dorset  and  Carlisle  he  gave  several  pictures ; 
and  so  he  did  to  many  other  friends ;  legacies,  given  rather  to  ex- 
press his  affection,  than  to  make  any  addition  to  their  estates  :  hut 
unto  the  poor  he  was  full  of  charity,  and  unto  many  others,  who, 
by  his  constant  and  long  continued  bounty,  might  entitle  them- 
selves to  be  his  alms-people  :  for  all  these  he  made  provision,  and  so 
largely,  as,  having  then  six  children  living,  might  to  some  appear 
more  than  proportionable  to  his  estate.  I  forbear  to  mention  any 
more,  lest  tlse  Reader  may  think  I  trespass  upon  his  patience  : 
but  I  Vvdll  beg  his  favour,  to  present  him  with  tlie  beginning  and 
end  of  Ins  Will. 

property  in  the  hands  of  ?.  person  who  abused  his  trust,  and  ',vho,  to  avoid  de- 
tection, advised  Paolo  to  remain  in  Rome  for  the  sake  of  promotion.  His  an- 
swer was,  that  ho  held  the  dignities  cf  that  Court  in  abomination  ;  and  the 
letter  eontaininjr  the  passage  being  betrayed  to  the  Pope,  Paolo  was  regarded 
as  a  heretic.  His  exertions  on  behalf  of  Venice,  caused  him  to  be  cited  to 
Rome,  and  after  the  Pope  and  the  Venetian  States  were  reconciled,  the  de- 
fendors  of  the  latter  were  marked  as  objects  of  vengeance,  on  whicl!  aceomit, 
his  life  was  attempted  in  1G07.  Hi^J  famous  History  of  iliC  Council  of  Trent 
Vvas  written  in  the  seclusion  to  v.diich  he  then  retired,  and  he  died  Jan.  14th, 
1G22. 

]\I.  Fulgentio,  was  a  Ivlinoritc,  and  the  friend  ilud  Biograph.crof  Father  Paul, 
hid  Life  of  h!m  was  pr.blished  in  English,  in  lG51,8vo.  He  wascelebrafed  for 
t!ie  dignity  and  freedom  with  which  he  preached  the  pure  Word  of  God  ;  and 
Pope  Paul  V.  said  of  his  Discour.ses,  "  Ho  has  indeed  some  good  Sermons,  but 
bad  ones  withal:  he  stands  too  miic!)  upon  Scripture,  which  is  a  book  tiial  if 
any  man  v/ill  keep  clo.se  to,  he  w'lW  quite  ruin  the  CatlioHc  faitli."  Father 
Fulgentio  h.'id  v/rilteu  in  tlio  Venetian  cojiircversy  against  the  Poj)e,  bnt  v/as 
induced  by  the  Nuncio  to  vi^it  Rouic,  on  promise  of  safe  conduct.  Ilj  was  at 
liist  received  with  favour,  and  even  with  fe.'tivity,  but  lie  v/as  afterwards  burned 
in  the  field  of  Flora. 


DR.   JOll.N    UiJiNiXK.  103 


"  In  the  namo  of  the  blessed  and  glorious  Trinity,  Amen.  I 
John  Donne,  by  the  mercy  of  Christ  Jesus,  and  by  the  calling  oi" 
tl]c  Church  of"  England,  Priest,  being  at  this  time  in  good  health 
and  perfect  understanding, — praised  be  God  therefor — do  here- 
by make  my  last  Will  and  Testament  in  manner  and  form  fol- 
lovv'ing. 

"  First,  I  give  my  gracious  God  an  entire  sacrifice  of  body  and 
soul,  v/ith  my  most  humble  thanks  for  that  assurance  which  his 
blessed  Spirit  imprints  in  me  no'«v  of  the  Salvation  of  the  one, 
and  the  R.esurrection  of  the  other  ;  and  for  that  constant  and 
cheerful  resolution,  v*'!iich  tlie  same,  spirit  hath  established  in  me,, 
to  live  and  die  in  the  Religion  nov/  professed  in  the  Church  of 
England.  In  expectation  of  that  Resurrection,  I  desire  my  body 
may  be  buried — in  the  most  private  manner  that  may  be — in 
that  place  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  London,  that  the  now  Residen- 
tiaries  have  at  my  recjuest  designed  for  that  purpose,  &c. — And 
this  my  last  Will  and  Testam.ent,  made  in  the  fear  of  God, — 
v.-hose  mercy  I  hum.bly  beg,  and  constantly  rely  upon  in  Jesu.i 
Christ — and  in  perfect  love  and  charity  v.-ith  all  the  world — 
vvhose  pardon  I  ask,  from  the  lov/est  of  my  servants,  to  the  high- 
est of  my  superiors — v/ritlen  all  v.itii  rnv  ov.'n  hand,  and  mv 
name  subscribed  to  every  page,  of  which  there  are  five  in  num- 
ber.* 

"Sealed  December  13,  1G30." 

Nor  vvas  this  blessed  sacrifice  of  Charity  expressed  only  at  his 
death,  but  in  his  life  also,  by  a  cheerful  and  frequent  visitation  of 
any  friend  vvhose  mind  v/as  dejected,  or  his  fortune  necessitous  ; 
he  was  inquisitive  after  the  wants  of  prisoners,  and  redeemed 
many  from  prison,  that  lay  for  their  fees  or  small  debts  :  he. was 
a  continual  giver  to  poor  scholars,  both  of  this  and  foreign  na- 
tions. Besides  what  he  gave  v/itli  his  own  hand,  he  usually  sent 
a  servant  or  a  discreet  and  trusty  friend,  to  distribute  his  charity 
to  all  tlie  P.nsons  in  London,  at  all  the  festival  times  of  the  year, 
especially  at  the  Birth  and  Resurrection  of  our  Saviour.  He 
gave   an   hundred   pounds  at  one  time  to  an  old  friend;  whoni  ho 

-*  Thu  conimencemenl  and  coziclusioii  of  Dr.  Donne's  Wii!  were  not  iuscrt- 
•  •!  iinti!  Ihe  second  edltieii  ui  his  Life ;  as  weil  as  tlie  account  of  his  friend 
who  had  fallen  ittto  embarrassed  circumstances. 


104  THE   LIFE   OF 


had  known  live  plentifully,  and  by  a  too  liberal  heart  and  care- 
lessness became  decayed  in  his  estate ;  and  when  the  receiving 
of  it  was  denied,  by  the  gentleman's  saying,  "  He  wanted  not ;" 
— for  the  reader  may  note,  that  as  there  be  some  spirits  so  gener- 
ous as  to  labour  to  conceal  and  endure  a  sad  poverty,  rather  than 
expose  themselves  to  those  blushes  that  attend  the  confession  of  it ; 
so  there  be  others,  to  whom  Nature  and  Grace  have  afforded  such 
sweet  and  compassionate  souls,  as  to  pity  and  prevent  the  dis- 
tresses of  mankind  ; — which  I  have  mentioned  because  of  Dr. 
Donne's  reply,  whose  answer  was ;  "  I  know  you  want  not  what 
will  sustain  nature  ;  for  a  little  will  do  that ;  but  my  desire  is, 
that  you,  who  in  the  days  of  your  plenty  have  cheered  and  raised 
the  hearts  of  so  many  of  your  dejected  friends,  would  now  re- 
ceive this  from  me,  and  use  it  as  a  cordial  for  the  cheering  of 
your  own  :"  and  upon  these  terms  it  was  received.  He  was  an 
happy  reconciler  of  many  differences  in  the  families  of  his  friends 
and  kindred, — which  he  never  undertook  faintly ;  for  such  under- 
takings have  usually  faint  effects — and  they  had  such  a  faith  in 
his  judgment  and  impartiality,  that  he  never  advised  them  to  any 
thing  in  vain.  He  was,  even  to  her  death,  a  most  dutiful  son  to 
his  Mother,  careful  to  provide  for  her  supportation,  of  which  she 
had  been  destitute,  but  that  God  raised  him  up  to  prevent  her  ne- 
cessities ;  who  having  sucked  in  the  religion  of  the  Roman 
Church  with  the  mother's  milk,  spent  her  estate  in  foreign  coun- 
tries, to  enjoy  a  liberty  in  it,  and  died  in  his  house  but  three 
months  before  him. 

And  to  the  end  it  may  appear  how  just  a  steward  he  was  of 
his  Lord  and  Master's  revenue,  I  have  thought  fit  to  let  the  reader 
know,  that  after  his  entrance  into  his  Deanery,  as  he  numbered 
his  years,  he,  at  the  foot  of  a  private  account,  to  which  God  and 
iiis  Angels  were  only  witnesses  with  him, — computed  first  his 
revenue,  then  what  was  given  to  the  poor,  and  other  pious  uses  ; 
and  lastly,  what  rested  for  him  and  his  ;  and  having  done  that, 
he  then  blessed  each  year's  poor  remainder  with  a  thankful  pray- 
er ;  which,  for  that  they  discover  a  more  than  common  devotion, 
the  Reader  shall  partake  some  of  them  in  his  own  words : 

So  all  is  that  remains  this  year — [1624-5] 


')ii.  joii;.    DOiN'ME  lOi 


Deo  Opt.  Max.  bcn'-gno  hrgHori,  li  vie,  ct  ab  Lis  quibus  hccc  a  me 
resercuntui',  Gloj-iti  et  gralla  in  ccternum.     Amen. 

Translated  thus. 

To  God  all  (xood,  all  Great,  the  benevolent   Bestovver,  by  me 
.  and  by  them,  fbr  wiiom,  by  me,  tiiese  sums  are  laid  up,  be  glory 
and  grace  ascribed  for  ever.     Amen. 

So  that  tliis  yca:',  [1620]  God  hath  blessed  nic  and  mine 
v/itli : — 

^I^ilUjjliccUcc  sunt  super  nos  miser icordicc  tuce,  Domiiie. 

Tk  AN  SLATED    THUS. 

Thy  mercies,  Oh  Lord  •  are  niultiplied  upon  us. 

Da,  ponmie,  lit  qucs.  ex  im?nensd  hoiiltate  taa  nobis  eiargir^^dig- 
ncitus  sis,  ill  quoruincunqiie  maniis  devenerinl,  in  titani  semper 
cedanl  iiloriain.     A7iieit. 

Tk ANSLATKl >    THU S . 

Grant,  Oh  Lord  !  that  what  out  of  thine  mtinibe  bounty  Thou 
liast  vouchsafed  to  lavisli  upon  us,  into  whosoever  hands  it  may 
devolve,  mav"  always  bo  imoroved  to  thy  2;lorv.     Amen. 

Injuie  horiiin  sex  annorum  manet : [1628-9] 

Quid  hcJjco  quod  non  acceyi  a  Domino  ?  Largiiur  ciiaui  id 
quai  largUus  est  sua  iierum  fiant,  bono  eorum  usu  ;  uL  quemadmo- 
duni  nee  ojjidis  hujus  inundi,  nee  loei  in  quo  me  posuit  dignitatis 
nec^servis,  nee  egcnis,  in  tolo  hujus  anni  curriculo  mihi  consdus 
sunt  vie  d.efuisse  ;  iia  et  liberi,  quibus  quce  supersunt,  supersunt, 
grato  aniiRo  ea  accipiant,  et  beneficiini  authorem  recognoscanl. 
Amen. 

Translated  thus. 

At  the  end  of  these  six  years  remains  : — 

What  have  I,  which  I  have  not  received  from  the  Lord  t  He 
bestows,  also,  to  the  intent  that  what  he  hath  bestowed  may  re- 
vert to  Him  by  the  proper  use  of  it :  that,  as  I  have  not  consciously 
been  wanting  to  myself  during  the  whole  course  of  the  past  year, 
either  in  discharging  my  secular  duties,  in  retaining  the  dignity 


106  THE   LIFE   OF 


of  my  station,  or  in  my  conduct  towards  my  servants  and  the 
poor, — so  my  children  for  whom  remains  whatever  is  remaining, 
may  receive  it  with  gratitude,  and  acknowledge  the  beneficent 
Giver.     Amen. 

But  I  return  from  my  long  digression. 

We  left  the  Author  sick  in  Essex,  where  he  was  forced  to 
spend  much  of  that  Winter,  by  reason  of  his  disability  to  remove 
from  that  place ;  and  having  never,  for  almost  twenty  years,  omit- 
ted his  personal  attendance  on  his  Majesty  in  that  month,  in  which 
he  was  to  attend  and  preach  to  him  ;  nor  having  ever  been  left 
out  of  the  roll  and  number  of  Lent  Preachers,  and  there  being 
then — in  January,  1630, — a  report  brought  to  London,  or  raised 
there,  that  Dr.  Donne  was  dead  ;  that  report  gave  him  occasion 
to  write  the  following  letter  to  a  dear  friend  : 

''  Sir, 
"  This  advantage  you  and  my  other  friends  have  by  my  fre- 
quent fevers,  that  I  am  so  much  the  oftener  at  the  gates  of  Heav- 
en ;  and  this  advantage  by  the  solitude  and  close  imprisonment 
that  they  reduce  me  to  after,  that  I  am  so  much  the  oftener  at  my 
prayers,  in  which  I  shall  never  leave  out  your  happiness  ;  and  I 
doubt  not,  among  his  other  blessings,  God  will  add  some  one  to 
you  for  my.  prayers.  A  man  would  almost  be  content  to  die, — 
if  there  were  no  other  benefit  in  death, — to  hear  of  so  much  sor- 
row, and  so  much  good  testimony  from  good  men,  as  I, — God  be 
blessed  for  it — did  upon  the  report  of  my  death  :  yet  I  perceive  it 
went  not  through  all  ;  for  one  writ  to  me,  that  some, — and  he 
said  of  my  friends, — conceived  I  was  not  so  ill  as  I  pretended, 
but  withdrew  myself  to  live  at  my  ease,  discharged  of  preaching. 
It  is  an  unfriendly,  and,  God  knows,  an  ill-grounded  interpreta- 
tion ;  for  I  have  always  been  sorrier  when  I  could  not  preach, 
than  any  could  be  they  could  not  hear  me.  It  hath  been  my  de- 
sire, and  God  may  be  pleased  to  grant  it,  that  I  might  die  in  the 
pulpit ;  if  not  that,  yet  that  I  might  take  my  death  in  the  pulpit ; 
that  is,  die  the  sooner  by  occasion  of  those  labours.  Sir,  I  hope 
to  see  you  presently  after  Candlemas ;  about  which  time  will  fall 
my  Lent  Sermon  at  Court,  except  my  Lord  Chamberlain  believe 


DR.  JUiLN    DONNE.  1U7 


me  to  be  dead,  and  so  leave  me  out  of  the  roll  :  but  as  lono-  as  I 
live,  and  am  not  speechless,  I  would  not  willingly  decline  that 
service.  I  have  better  leisure  to  write,  than  you  to  read  ;  yet  I 
would  not  willingly  oppress  you  with  too  much  letter.  God  so 
bless  you  and  your  son,  as  I  wish  to. 

Your  poor  friend,  and  Servant 
in  Christ  Jesus, 

J.    DONXE." 

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  that  God,  who  in  so  many  weaknesses  had  assi-sted 
him  with  an  unexpected  strength,  would  now  withdraw  it  in  his 
last  employment ;  professing  an  holy  ambition  to  perform  that  sa- 
cred work."  And  when,  to  the  amazement  of  some  beholders,  he 
appeared  in  the  pulpit,  many  of  them  thought  he  presented  himself 
not  to  preach  mortification  by  a  living  voice,  but  mortality  by  a 
decayed  body,  and  a  dying  face.  And  doubtless  many  did  se- 
cretly ask  that  question  in  Ezekiel.'^  "  Do  these  bones  live  ?  or 
can  that  soul  organize  that  tongue,  to  speak  so  long  time  as  the 
sand  in  that  glass  will  move  towards  its  centre,  and  measure  out 
an  hour  of  this  dying  man's  unspent  life  ?  Doubtless  it  cannot." 
And  yet,  after  some  faint  pauses  in  his  zealous  prayer,,  his  strong 
desires  enabled  his  weak  body  to  discharge  his  memory  of  his 
preconceived  meditations,  which  were  of  dying;  the  Text  being, 
'•'  To  God  the  Lord  belong  the  issues  from  death."  Many  that 
then  saw  his  tears,  and  heard  his  faint  and  hollow  voice,  profess- 

*  Chap,  xxxvii.  3. 


J 


10b  THE   LIFE   Ol^' 


,  ing  they  thought  the  Text  propheticully  chosen,  and  that  Dr. 
Donne  had  preached  his  own  Funeral  Sermon.* 

Being  full  of  joy  that  God  had  enabled  him  to  perform  this  de- 
sired duty,  he  hastened  to  Iris  house  ;  out  of  which  lie  never 
moved,  till,  like  St.  Stephen,  "  ho  was  carried  by  devout  men  to 
his  grave." 

The  next  day  after  his  Sermon,  liis  strength  being  much 
wasted,  and  his  spirits  so  spent  as  indisposed  him  to  busmess  or  to 
talk,  a  friend  that  had  often  been  a  witness  of  his  free  and  face- 
tious discourse  asked  him,  "  Whv  are  you  sad  ?"  To  whom  he 
replied,  v/ith  a  countenance  so  full  of  cheerful  gravity,  as  gave 
testimony  of  an  inu'ard  tranquillit}^  of  mind,  and  of  a  soul  willing 
to  take  a  farewell  of  this  world  ;  and  said, 

"  I  am  not  sad  ;  tut  most  of  the  niglit  past  I  have  entertained 
myself  with  many  thoughts  of  several  friends  that  have  left  me 
here,  and  are  gone  to  that  place  from  which  the}'  shall  not  re- 
turn ;  and  that  within  a  few  days  I  also  shall  go  hence,  and  be  no 
more  seen.  And  my  preparation  'iox  tliis  change  is  become  my 
nightly  meditation  upon  my  bed,  W'hich  my  infirmities  have  novv' 
made  restless  to  me.  But  at  this  present  time,  I  v/as  in  a  serious 
contemplation  of  the  providence  and  goodness  of  God  to  me  ;  to 
mc,  v.'ho  am  less  than  the  least  of  his  mercies  :  and  lookins:  back 
upon  my  life  past,  I  nov/  plainly  see  it  was  his  hand  that  [)re- 
vcnted  me  from  all  temporal  employment  ;  arid  tliat  it  was  his 
will  I  should  never  settle  nor  thrive  till  I  entered  into  the  Minis- 
try ;  in  v/hich  I  have  now  lived  almost  twenty  years — I  hope  to 
his  glory, — and  by  which,  I  most  humbly  thank  liim,  I  have  been 
enabled  to  requite  most  of  those  friends  which  showed  me  kind- 
ness when  my  fortune  was  very  lov/,  as  God  knows  it  was  : — aiid, 
— as  it  hath  occasioned  the  expression  of  my  gratitude — I  thank 
God  most  of  them  have  stood  in  need  of  my  requital.  I  havf> 
lived  to  be  useful  and  comfortable  to  my  good  Father-in-lav/,  Sir 
George  More,  v,-hose  patience  God  hatii  been  pleased  to  exercise 
with  many  temporal  crosses;  I  have  maintained  my  own  Mother, 

*  This  discourse  was  piiiited  at  London  in  1633,  in  4to.,  under  the  quaint 
title  of  "  Death's  Duel,  or  a  Consolation  to  tlie  Soule  against  the  Dying  Life 
aiici  Living  Death  of  the  Body."  Tlie  text  is  from  Fs.  Ixviii.  20.  It  is  the 
last  ditsco'ji-io  in  ihi-  third  vohimc  of  Dr.  Donne's  Sennons.  ' 


Dii.  joiiM  i;oN:\r:.  luu 


whom  it  hath  pleased  God,  after  a  plentiful  fortune  in  her  younger 
days,  to  bring  to  great  decay  in  her  ver}'-  old  age.  I  have  quieted 
the  consciences  of  many,  that  have  groaned  under  the  burthen 
of  a  wounded  spirit,  whose  prayers  I  hope  arc  available  for  me. 
I  cannot  plead  innocency  of  life,  especially  of  ray  youth  ;  but  I 
am  to  be  judged  by  a  merciful  God,  who  is  not  willing  to  sec 
what  1  have  done  amiss.  And  though  of  myself  I  have  no- 
thing to  present  to  him  but  sins  and  misery,  yet  I  know  he 
looks  not  upon  mo  now  as  I  am  of  myself,  but  as  I  am  in  my 
Saviour,  and  hath  given  me,  even  at  this  present  time,  some 
testimonies  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  t.hat  I  am  of  the  number  of  his 
Elect, :  I  am  therefore  full  of  inexpressible  joy,  and  shall  die  in 


peace.'' 


I  must  here  lock  so  far  back  as  to  tell  the  reader  t!iat  at  his  first 
return  out  of  Essex,  to  preach  his  last  Sermon,  his  old  friend  and 
Physician,  Dr.  Fox — a  man  of  great  vrorth — came  to  him  to  con- 
sult his  health  ;  and  that  after  a  sight  of  liim,  and  some  queries 
concerning  his  distempers,  he  told  him,  '•  Tiiat  by  cordials,  and 
drinking  milk  twenty  days  together,  there  was  a  probability  of 
his  restoration  to  health  ;"  but  he  passionately  denied  to  drink  it. 
Nevertheless,  Dr.  Fox,  who  loved  him  most  entirely,  v.-earied  him 
Avith  solicitations,  till  he  yielded  to  take  it  for  ten  days  :  at  the 
end  of  which  time  he  told  Dr.  Fox,  "  lie  had  drunk  it  more  to 
satisfy  him,  tlian  to  recover  his  health  ;  and  that  he  would  not 
drink  it  ten  days  longer,  upon  the  best  m.oral  assurance  of  having 
twenty  years  added  to  his  life  ;  for  he  loved  it  not ;  and  was  so 
far  from,  fearing  Death,  which  to  others  is  the  King  of  Terrors, 
that  he  longed  for  the  day  of  his  dissolution.  I 

It  is  observed,  that  a  desire  of  frjory  or  commendaiion  is  rooted 
in  tiie  very  nature  of  man  ;  and  that  those  of  the  severest  and 
most  mortified  lives,  though  they  may  become  so  Immble  as  to 
banish  self-flattery,  and  such  weeds  as  naturally  grow  there  ;  yet 
ihey  have  not  been  able  to  kill  this  desire  of  glory,  but  that  like 
our  radical  heat,  it  will  both  live  and  die  v/ith  us  ;  and  many 
think  it  should  do  so  ;  and  we  want  not  sacred  examples  to  justify 
the  desire  of  having  our  njemory  to  outlive  our  lives,  which  I  men- 
tion, because  Dr.   Donne,  by  the  persuasion  of  Dr.  Fox,  easily 


no  THE   LIFE   OF 


yielded  at  this  very  time  to  have  a  monument  made  for'him  ;  but  Dr. 
Fox  undertook  not  to  persuade  him  how,  or  what  monument  it 
should  be  ;  that  was  left  to  Dr.  Donne  himself. 

A  monument  being  resolved  upon,  Dr.  Donne  sent  for  a  Carver 
to  make  for  him  in  wood  the  figure  of  an  Urn,  giving  him  direc- 
tions for  the  compass  and  height  of  it ;  and  to  bring  with  it  a  board 
of  the  just  height  of  his  body.  "  These  being  got,  then  with- 
out delay  a  choice  Painter  was  got  to   be  in  readiness  to  draw 

his  picture,  which  was  taken  as  followeth. Several  charcoal 

fires  being  first  made  in  his  large  study,  he  brought  with  him  into 
that  place  his  winding-sheet  in  his  hand,  and  having  put  off  all  his 
clothes,  had  this  sheet  put  on  him,  and  so  tied  with  knots  at  his 
head  and  feet,  and  his  hands  so  placed  as  dead  bodies  are  usually 
fitted,  to  be  shrouded  and  put  into  their  coflin  or  grave.  Upon 
this  Urn  he  thus  stood,  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  with  so  much  of 
the  sheet  turned  aside  as  might  show  his  lean,  pale,  and  death- 
like face,  which  was  purposely  turned  towards  the  East,  from 
whence  he  expected  the  second  coming  of  his  and  our  Saviour 
Jesus."  In  this  posture  he  was  drawn  at  his  just  heiglit ;  and 
when  the  picture  was  fully  finished,  he  caused  it  to  be  set  by  his 
bed-side,  wliere  it  continued  and  became  his  hourly  object  till  his 
death,  and  was  then  given  to  his  dearest  friend  and  executor  Dr. 
Henry  King,  then  chief  Residentiary  of  St.  Paul's,  who  caused 
him  to  be  thus  carved  in  one  entire  piece  of  white  marble,*  as  it 
now  stands  in  that  Church  ;  and  by  Dr.  Donne's  own  appoint- 
ment, these  words  were  to  be  affixed  to  it  as  an  epitaph  : 

*  In  the  account-book  of  Nicholas  Stone,  are  contained  several  particulars 
concernincr  Dr.  Donne's  nrionument.  "  In  1631,"  observes  he,  "  I  made  a 
tonibe  for  Dr.  Donne  and  selte  it  up  in  St.  Paul's  London,  for  the  which  I 
was  payed  by  Doctor  Mountford  tlie  sum  of  1201.  I  took  60Z.  in  plate,  in 
part  of  payment."  Another  entry  refers  to  a  workman  employed  by  Stone 
npon  the  same  effigy.  "  1631,  Humphrey  Mayor  finislit  the  statue  for  Dr. 
Donne's  monument,  8Z."  The  figure  was  erected  within  the  choir  in  the 
south  aisle,  against  the  south  east  pier  of  the  central  tower  of  St.  Paul's ;  and 
it  stood  in  a  niche  of  black  marble,  which  was  surmounted  by  a  square  tablet, 
hnno"  with  garlands  of  fruit  and  leaves,  having  over  it  the  arms  of  the  Dean- 
ery, impaling  Donne. 


DR.  JOHN    DOxNNE.  Ill 


JOHANNES  DONNE, 

SAC.   THEOL.  PROFESS. 

POST  VARIA  STUDIA,  Q.UIBUS  AB  ANNIS 

TENERRir.IIS  FIDELITER,  NEC  INFELICITER 

INCUBUIT  ; 

INSTINCTU  ET  IMPULSU  SP.   SANCTI,  MONITU 

ET  HORTATU 

REGIS   JACOBI,  ORDINES  SACROS  AMPLEXUS, 

ANNO  SUI  JESU,  MDCXIV.  ET  SUiS  ^TATIS  XLII. 

DECANATU  HUJUS  ECCLESI.E  INDUTUS, 

XXVII.  NOVEMBRIS,  MDCXXI. 

EXUTUS  MORTE  ULTIMO  DIE  MARTII,  MDCXXXI. 

HIC  LICET  IN  OCCIDUO  CINERE,  ASPICIT  EUM 

CUJUS  NOMEN  EST  ORIENS. 

And  now,  having  brought  him  through  the  many  labyrinths  and 
perplexities  of  a  various  life,  even  to  the  gates  of  death  and  the 
grave  ;  my  desire  is,  he  may  rest,  till  I  have  told  my  Reader  that 
I  have  seen  many  pictures  of  him,  in  several  habits,  and  at  sever- 
al ages,  and  in  several  postures  :  and  I  now  mention  this,  because 
I  have  seen  one  picture  of  him,  drawn  by  a  curious  hand,  at  his 
age  of  eighteen,  with  his  sword,  and  what  other  adornments  might 
then  suit  with  the  present  fashions  of  youth  and  the  giddy  gaities 
of  that  age  ;   and  his  motto  then  was 


How  much  shall  I  be  changed. 
Before  I  am  changed  .'* 


*  "  Antes  mtierta  que  rrmdadaP  These  words  are  supposed  by  a  Spanish 
author  to  have  been  originally  written  on  the  sand  by  a  lady  promising  fidelity 
to  her  lover.  The  following  lines  were  composed  by  Mr.  Izaak  Walton,  and 
inscribed  under  the  print  taken  from  this  picture,  and  prefixed  to  an  edition  of 
Dr.  Donne's  Poems  in  1G39. 

*'  This  was  for  youth,  strength,  mirth,  and  wit,  that  time 
Most  count  their  go'den  ajre,  but  was  not  thine. 
Thine  was  thy  later  years,  so  much  refin'd 
From  youth's  dross,  mirth  and  wit,  as  thy  pure  mind 


Ji2  THE   LIFE   OF 


And  if  that  young,  and  his  now  dying  picture  vvorc  at  this  time 
set  together,  every  beholder  might  say.  Lord  !  hov/  much  is  Dr. 
Donne  already  clianged,  before  he  is  changed  !  And  the  view  of 
them  might  give  my  Reader  occasion  to  ask  himself  with  some 
amazement,  "  Lord  !  how  much  may  I  also,  that  am  nov/  in 
health,  be  changed  before  I  am  changed  ;  before  this  vile,  this 
changeable  body  shall  put  off  mortality  !"  and  therefore  to  prepare 
for  i'. — But  tins  is  not  v/rit  so  much  for  my  Reader's  memento, 
as  to  tell  him,  that  Dr.  Donne  would  often  in  his  private  discourses, 
and  often  publicly  in  his  Sermons,  mention  the  many  changes  both 
of  his  body  and  mind  ;  especially  of  his  mind  from  a  vertiginous 
giddiness  ;  and  v/ould  as  often  say,  "  His  great  and  niost  blessed 
change  v/as  from  a  temporal  to  a  spiritual  employment ;"  in 
which  he  v/as  so  happy,  that  he  accounted  the  former  part  of  his 
life  to  be  lost ;  and  the  beginning  of  it  to  be,  from  his  first  enter- 
ing into  Sacred  Orders,  and  serving  his  most  merciful  God  at  his 
altar. '^' 

Upon  Monday,  after  the  drawing  tliis  picture,  he  took  his  last 
leave  of  his  beloved  study  ;  and,  being  sensible  of  his  hourly  de- 
cay, retired  himself  to  his    bed-ohamber ;   and    that  v/cek  sent 
at  several  times  for  many  of  his  most  considerable   friends,  '.'.'itii 
whom  he  took  a  solemn  and  deliberate  farewell,  commending  to 
their  considerations  some  sentences  useful  for  the  renulation  of 
their  lives ;  and  then  dismissed  them,  as  good  Jacob  did  iiis  sons, 
with  a  spiritual  benediction.     The  Sunday  follovv'ing,  ho  appoint- 
ed his  servants,  that  if  there  were  any  business  yet  undone,  that 
concerned  him  or  themselves,  it  should   be  prepared  against  Sat- 
,  urday  next ;  for  after  that  day  he  would  not  mix  Ins  thoughts  v^itli 
-any  thing  that  concerned  this  world  ;  nor  ever  did  ;   but,  as  Job, 
.so  he  "  waited  for  the  appointed  day  of  his  dissolution." 

Thonglit  (like  the  angels)  nothing  but  the  pruise 
Of  thy  Creator,  in  those  last  best  dayy. 
Witness  this  book  thy  emblem,  which  begins 
With  love,  but  ends  with  sighs  and  tears  for  sins." 

*  The  whole  of  the  passage,  from  the  words,  "  I  must  here  look  back,"' 
down  to  "  at  his  altar,"  were  not  inserted  until  the  second  edition  of  Donne's 
Life,  nor  was  the  paragraph  contaiuiug  the  Epitaph ;  and  several  less  unpor- 
taat  variations  in  the  text  occur  b;Hvveen  that  place  and  the  end. 


DR.  JOHN    DONNE.  113 


And  now  he  was  so  happy  as  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  die, 
to  do  which,  he  stood  in  need  of  no  longer  time ;  for  he  had  studi- 
ed it  long,  and  to  so  happy  a  perfection,  that  in  a  former  sickness 
he  called  God  to  witness*  "  He  was  that  minute  ready  to  deliver 
his  soul  into  his  hands,  if  that  minute  God  would  determine  his 
dissolution."     In  that  sickness  he  begged  of  God  the  constancy  to 
be  preserved  in  that  estate  for  ever ;   and  his  patient  expectation 
to  have  his  immortal  soul  disrobed  from  her  garment  of  mortality, 
makes  me  confident,  that  he  now  had  a  modest  assurance  that  his 
prayers  were  then  heard,  and  his  petition  granted.     He  lay  fifteen 
days  earnestly  expecting  his  hourly  change ;  and  in  the  last  hour 
of  his  last  day,  as  his  body  melted  away,  and  vapoured  into  spirit, 
his  soul  having,  I  verily  believe,  some  revelation  of  the  beatifical 
vision,  he  said,  "  I  were  miserable  if  I  might  not  die;"'  and  after 
those   words,  closed   many  periods  of  his   faint   breath  by  saying 
often,    "  Thy  kingdom   come,  thy  will    be  done."     His  speech, 
which  had  long  been  his  ready  and  faithful  servant,  left  him  not 
till  the  last  minute  of  his  life,  and  then  forsook  him,  not  to  serve 
another  master — for  who  speaks  like  him, — but  died  before  him ; 
for  that  it  was  then  become   useless  to  him,  that  now  conversed 
with  God  on  Earth,  as  Angels  are  said  to  do  in  Heaven,  only  by 
thoughts  and  looks.     Being  speechless,  and  seeing  Heaven  by  that 
illumination  by  which  he  saw  it,  he  did,  as  St.  Stephen,  "  look 
stedfastly  into  it,  till  he  saw  the  Son  of  Man  standing  at  the  right 
hand  of  God  his  Father;"  and   being  satisfied  with  this  blessed 
sight,  as  his  soul  ascended,  and  his  last  breath  departed  from  him, 
he  closed  his  own  eyes,  and  then  disposed  his  hands  and  body  into 
such  a  posture,  as  required  not  the  least  alteration  by  those  that 
came  to  shroud  him.  t 

Thus  variable,  thus  virtuous  was  the  life  :  thus  excellent,  thus 
exemplary  was  the  death  of  this  memorable  man. 

He  was  buried  in  that  place  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  which  he  had 
appointed  for  that  use  some  years  before  his  death  ;  and  by  which 
he  passed  daily  to  pay  his  public  devotions  to  Almighty  God — 
who  was  then  served  twice  a  day  by  a  public  form  of  prayer  and 
praises  in  that  place  : — but  he  was  not  buried   privately,  though 

*  In  his  Book  of  Devotions  written  then. 

9 


114  THE   LIFE   OF 


ho  desired  it;  for,  beside  an  unnumbered  number  of  others,  many- 
persons  of  Nobility,  and  of  eminence  for  Learning,  who  did  lovo 
and  honour  him  in  his  life,  did  shew  it  at  his  death,  by  a  volun- 
tary and  sad  attendance  of  his  body  to  the  grave,  where  nothing 
v/as  so  remarkable  as  a  public  sorrow. 

To  which  place  of  his  burial  some  m.ournful  friend  repaired, 
and,  as  Alexander  the  Great  did  to  the  grave  of  the  famous 
iVchilles,  so  they  strewed  his  with  an  abundance  of  curious  and 
costly  flov/ers ;  which  course,  they, — who  were  never  yet  knov/n, 
— continued  morning  and  evening  for  many  days,  not  ceasing,  till 
the  stones,  that  were  taken  up  in  that  Church,  to  give  his  body 
admission  into  the  cold  earth — now  his  bed  of  rest, — were  again 
by  the  Mason's  art  so  levelled  and  firmed' as  they  had  been  for- 
merly, and  his  place  of  burial  undistinguishable  to  common  view. 

The  next  day  after  his  burial,  some  unknown  friend,  some  one 
of  the  many  lovers  and  admirers  of  his  Virtue  and  Learning, 
writ  this  Epitaph  vvith  a  coal  on  tlie  wall  over  his  grave  : — 

Reader  !  I  am  to  let  thee  know, 
Donne'' s  Body  only  lies  beloio  ; 
For,  could  the  grave  liis  Soul  comprise. 
Earth  would  be  richer  than  the  Skies  / 

Nor  was  this  all  the  honour  done  to  his  reverend  ashes ;  for,  as 
there  be  some  persons  that  v/ili  not  receive  a  reward  for  that  for 
whicli  God  accounts  himself  a  debtor;  persons  that  dare  trust 
God  with  their  charity,  and  v/ithout  a  witness ;  so  there  was  by 
some  grateful  unknov»'n  friend,  that  thought  Dr.  Donne's  memory 
ought  to  be  perpetuated,  an  hundred  marks  sent  to  his  faithful 
friends*  and  Executors,  towards  the  making  of  his  Monument. 
It  was  not  for  many  years  knov/n  by  whom  ;  but,  after  the  death 

*  Dr.  King  and  Dr.  Mountford. 

Ur.  Thomas  Moualfort,  a  Residentiary  of  St.  Puul's,  died  Feb.  27,  1G32. 
It  appears  from  Strype's  Life  of  Whitgift,  tliat  this  pei-sou  was  suspended  for 
ImvJng  clandestinely  married  Edward,  Earl  of  Hertford,  and  Frances  Pranel, 
widow  of  Ifcnry  Pranel,  Esq.  without  bans  or  license.  Upon  his  subiuission 
and  earnest  desire  to  be  absolved,  he  obtained  absolution  from  ArchbJ.^iop 
Wliitsift  himself. 


DR.   JOHN   DO.NNE.  115 


of  Dr.  Fox,  it  was  known  that  it  was  he  that  sent  it ;  and  he  lived 
to  see  as  lively  a  representation  of  his  dead  friend,  as  marble  can 
express :  a  statue  indeed  so  like  Dr.  Donne,  that — as  his  friend 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  hath  expressed  himself, — '•  It  seems  to  breathe 
faintly,  and  posterity  shall  look  upon  it  as  a  kind  of  artificial  mir- 
acle." 

^  He  was  of  stature  moderately  tall ;  of  a  str^ght  and  equally, 
proportioned  body,  to  which  all  his  words  and  actions  gave  an  un- 
expressible  addition  of  comeliness. 

The  melancholy  and  pleasant  humour  were  in  him  so  contem- 
pered,  that  each  gave  advantage  to  the  other,  and  made  his  com- 
pany one  of  the  delights  of  mankind. 

His  fancy  was  unimitably  high,  equalled  only  by  his  great  wit; 
both  being  made  useful  by  a  commanding  judgment. 

His  aspect  was  cheerful,  and  such  as  gave  a  silent  testimony 
of  a  clear  knowing  soul,  and  of  a  conscience  at  peace  with  itself. 

His  melting  eye  shewed  that  he  had  a  soft  heart,  full  of  noble 
compassion  :  of  too  brave  a  soul  to  offer  injuries,  and  too  much  a 
Christian  not  to  pardon  them  in  others. 

He  did  much  contemplate — especially  after  he  entered  into  his 
sacred  calling — the  Mercies  of  Ali;nighty  God,  the  Immortality  of 
the  soul,  and  the  Joys  of  Heaven  :  and  would  often  say  in  a 
kind  of  sacred  ecstacy, — "  Blessed  be  God  that  he  is  God,  only 
and  divinely  like  himself." 

lie  was  by  nature  highly  passionate,  but  more  apt  to  reluct  at 
the  excesses  of  it.  A  great  lover  of  the  offices  of  humanity,  and 
of  so  merciful  a  spirit,  that  he  never  beheld  the  miseries  of  man- 
kind without  pity  and  relief. 

He  v/as  earnest  and  unv/earied  in  the  search  of  knowledge, 
with  which  his  vigorous  soul  is  now  satisfied,  and  employed  in  a 
continual  praise  of  tliat  God  that  first  breathed  it  into  his  active 
body  :  that  body,  which  once  was  a  Temple  of  the  Holy  (^host, 
and  is  nov/  beconie  a  small  quantity  of  Christian  dust : — 

But  I  shell  see  it  re-animated. 

{.   W. 

Feb.  15,  1689. 


116  THE   LIFE   OF 


AN    EPITAPH, 

WRITTEN    BY 

DOCTOR  CORBET,*  LATE  BISHOP  OF  OXFORD, 

*   ON    HIS    FRIEND    DR.    DONNE. 

He  that  would  write  an  Epitaph  for  tliee,  ^ 

And  write  it  well,  must  first  begin  to  be 

Such  as  thou  wert ;   for  none  can  truly  know 

Thy  life  and  worth,  but  he  that  hath  liv'd  so  : 

He  must  have  Wit  to  spare,  and  to  hurl  down. 

Enough  to  keep  the  gallants  of  the  town. 

He  must  have  Learning  plenty ;   both  the  Laws, ' 

Civil  and  common,  to  judge  any  cause. 

Divinity,  great  store,  above  the  rest. 

Not  of  the  last  edition,  but  the  best.  ^ 

He  must  have  Language,  Travel,  all  the  Arts, 

Judgment  to  use,  or  else  he  wants  thy  parts. 

He  must  iiave  friends  the  highest,  able  to  do, 

Such  as  Mecasnas  and  Augustus  too. 

He  must  have  such  a  sickness,  such  a  death. 

Or  else  his  vain  descriptions  come  beneath. 

He  that  would  wq-ite  an  Epitaph  for  thee, 

Should  first  be  dead: — let  it  alone  for  me. 

*  Dr.  Ricliard  Corbet,  an  eminent  Divine  and  Poet,  born  at  Ewei!  in  Sur- 
rey, and  educ'dted  at  Westminster,  Avhence  he  removed  to  Clirist  Church  Col- 
lege, Oxford,  in  1597-98.  Upon  entering  into  Holy  Orders,  he  was  made 
Chaphiin  in  Ordinary  to  King  James  I. ;  and  in  July  1630,  he  was  consecrated 
Bishop  of  Oxford.  In  April  1G32,  he  wus  translated  to  tlie  See  of  Norwich, 
and  he  died  July  28th,  1635.  He  was,  according  to  Aubrey,  a  very  convivial 
man,  and  in  his  younger  years,  one  of  tjie  most  celebrated  wits  of  the  Uni- 
versity, and  his  volume  of  Poems  is  both  a  rare  and  meritorious  production. 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  117 


TO    THE    MEMORY    OF 

MY  EVER-DESIRED  FRIEND  DOCTOR  DONNE. 

AN    ELEGY 

BY    H.    KING,    LATE    BISHOP    OF    CHICHESTER. 

To  have  liv'd  eminent,  in  a  degree 
Beyond  our  loftiest  thoughts,  that  is,  like  Thee  ; 
Or  t'  have  had  too  much  merit  is  not  safe. 
For  such  excesses  find  no  epitaph. 

At  common  graves  we  have  poetic  eyes 
Can  melt  themselves  in  easy  elegies ; 
Each  quill  can  drop  his  tributary  verse, 
And  pin  it,  like  the  hatchments,  to  the  hearse ; 
But  at  thine,  poem  or  inscription — 
Rich  soul  of  wit  and  language — we  have  none. 
Indeed  a  silence  does  that  tomb  befit. 
Where  is  no  herald  left  to  blazon  it. 
Widow 'd  Invention  justly  doth  forbear 
To  come  abroad,  knowing  thou  art  not  there  : 
Late  her  great  patron,  whose  prerogative 
Maintain'd  and  cloth'd  her  so,  as  none  alive 
Must  now  presume  to  keep  her  at  thy  rate, 
Tho'  he  the  Indies  for  her  dower  estate. 
Or  else,  that  awful  fire  which  once  did  burn 
In  thy  clear  brain,  now  fallen  into  thy  urn. 
Lives  there,  to  fright  rude  empirics  from  thence, 
Which  might  profane  thee  by  their  ignorance. 
Whoever  writes  of  thee,  and  in  a  style 
Unworthy  such  a  theme,  does  but  revile 
Thy  precious  dust,  and  wakes  a  learned  spirit, 
Which  may  revenge  his  rapes  upon  thy  merit : 
For,  all  a  low-pitched  fancy  can  devise 
Will  prove  at  best  but  hallow'd  injuries. 


118  THE   L'iFE   OF 


Thou  like  the  dying  swan  didst  lately  sing, 
Thy  mournful  dirge  in  audience  of  the  King  ; 
When  pale  looks  and  faint  accents  of  thy  breath, 
Presented  so  to  life  that  piece  of  death. 
Tliat  it  v/as  fear'd  and  proplicsy'd  by  all 
Thou  thither  cam'st  to  preach  thy  funeral. 
Oh  !  had'st  thou  in  au  elegiac  knell 
Run«T  out  unto  the  world  thine  own  farewell 
And  in  thy  liigli  victorious  numbers  beat 
The  solemn  measures  of  thy  griev'd  retreat, 
Thou  might'st  the  Poet's  service  now  have  miss'd 
As  well  as  then  thou  didst  prevent  the  Priest ; 
And  never  to  the  world  beholden  be, 
So  much  as  for  an  epitaph  for  thee. 

I  do  not  like  the  omce  :  nor  is't  fit 
Thou,  who  didst  lend  our  age  sucii  sums  of  wit, 
Should'st  now  re-borrow  from  her  bankrupt  mine 
That  ore  to  bury  thee  which  first  was  thine  : 
Rather  still  leave  us  in  thy  debt ;  and  know-. 
Exalted  soul,  more  glory  'tis  to  owe 
Thy  memory  what  we  can  never  pay, 
Than  with  embased  coin  those  rites  defray. 

Commit  we  then  TJiee  to  Thyself,  nor  blame 
Our  drooping  loves,  that  tims  to  thine  own  fame 
Leave  Thee  executor,  iiince  but  thine  ov/n 
No  pen  could  do  thee  justice,  nor  bays  crovrn 
Thy  vast  deserts ;  save  that  v/e  nothing  can 
Depute,  to  be  thy  ashes'  guardian. 


So  Jewelieis  no  art  or  uietal  trust. 
To  f(»rm  the  diamond,  but  the  diamond's  dust. 


H.  K 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  119 


AN  ELEGY  ON  DR.  DONNE, 

BY   IZAAC   WALTON. 

Our  Donne  is  decid  !  and  we  may  sighing  say, 
\Yc  had  that  man,  where  language  chose  to  stay. 
And  shew  her  utmost  power.     I  would  not  praise 
Tliat,  and  his  great  wit,  which  in  pur  vain  days 
Make  oLhers  proud ;  hut  as  these  serv'd  to  unlock 
That  cabinet  his  mind,  v.'here  such  a  stock 
Of  knowledge  was  repos'd,  that  I  lament 
Our  just  and  general  cause  of  discontent. 

And  I  rejoice  I  am  not  so  severe, 
But  as  I  write  a  line,  to  weep  a  tear 
For  his  decease  ;  such  sad  extremiities 
Can  miake  such  men  as  I  write  elegies. 

And  wonder  not ;   for  v/hen  so  great  a  loss 
Falls  on  a  nation,  and  they  slight  tlie  cross, 
God  hath  rais'd  Prophets  to  av/aken  them 
From  their  dull  lethargy  ;   witness  my  pen. 
Not  us'd  to  upbraid  the  world,  though  nov/  it  must 
Freely  and  boldly,  for  the  cause  is  just. 

Dull  ago !  Oh,  I  would  spare  thee,  but  thou'rt  worse : 
Thou  art  not  only  dull,  but  hast  a  curse 
Of  black  ingratitude:  if  not,  couldst  thou 
Part  witii  this  matchless  man,  and  make  no  vow 
For  thee  and  tiiine  successively  to  pay 
Some  sad  remembrance  to  his  dying  day  ? 

Did  his  youth  scatter  Poetry,  wherein 
Lay  Love's  Philosophy  ?  was  every  sin 
Pictur'd  in  his  sharp  Satires,  made  so  foul, 
That  some  have  fear'd  sin's  shapes,  and  kept  their  soul 
Safer  by  reading  verse ;  Did  he  give  days. 
Past  marble  monuments,  to  those  whose  praise 


120  THE   LIFE   OF 


^ 


He  would  perpetuate  ?     Did  be — I  fear 
Envy  will  doubt — these  at  his  twentieth  year  ? 

But,  more  niatur'd,  did  his  rich  soul  conceive 
And  in  harmonious  holy  numbers  weave 
A  Crown  of  Sacred  Sonnets,*  fit  t'  adorn 
A  dying  martyr's  brow,  or  to  be  worn 
On  that  blest  head  of  Mary  Magdalen, 
After  she  wip'd  Christ's  feet,  but  not  till  then  ; 
Did  he — fit  for  such  penitents  as  she 
And  he  to  use — leave  us  a  Litany,")" 
Which  all  devout  men  love,  and  doubtless  shall, 
As  times  grow  better,  grow  more  classical  ? 
Did  he  write  Hymns,  for  piety  and  wit, 
Equal  to  those  great  grave  Prudentius  writ  ? 
Spake  he  all  Languages  ?     Knew  he  all  Laws  ? 
The  grounds  and  use  of  Physic ;  but,  because 
'Twas  mercenary,  wav'd  it  ?   went  to  see 
That  happy  place  of  Christ's  nativity  ? 
Did  he  return  and  preach  him  ?  preach  him  so. 
As  since  St.  Paul  none  ever  did?  they  know — 
Those  happy  souls  that  heard  him — know  this  truth. 
Did  he  confirm  thy  ag'd  ?  convert  thy  youth  ? 

*  "La  Corona."  a  poem,  written  by  Dr.  Donne,  and  consisting  of  seven  holy 
sonnets,  the  first  line  of  each  sonnet  beginning  with  the  last  line  of  the  prece- 
ding one,  the  poem  beginning  and  ending  with  the  same  line — namely 

"  Deigne  at  my  hands  this  crown  of  prayer  and  praise." 

The  snbjects  are — Annunciation — Nativitie — Temple-crucifying — Resurrection 
— Ascen.'^ion. 

t  A  poem  so  called,  written  by  Dr.  Donne,  who,  in  a  letter  to  his  friend,  Sir 
Henry  Goodyere,  gives  this  account  of  it.  "  Since  my  imprisonment  in  my 
bed  I  have  made  a  meditation  in  verse,  which  I  call  a  Litany.  The  word,  you 
know,  imports  no  other  than  supplication  ;  but  all  churches  have  one  form  of 
supplication  by  that  name.  Amongst  ancient  annals,  I  mean  some  800  years, 
I  have  met  two  Litanies  in  Latin  verse,  which  gave  me  not  the  reason  of  my 
meditatious ;  for  in  good  faith  I  thought  not  upon  them,  but  they  give  me  a 
defence,  if  any  man  to  a  Layman  and  a  Private  impute  it  as  a  fault  to  take 
Buch  divine  and  publique  names  to  his  own  little  thoughts."    {Letters,  ^c.  p.  32.) 


DR.  JOHN   DONNE.  121 


Did  he  these  wonders  ?  and  is  his  dear  loss 
Mourn'd  by  so  few  ?  few  for  so  great  a  cross. 

But  sure  the  silent  are  ambitious  all 
To  be  close  mourners  of  his  funeral. 
If  not,  in  common  pity  they  forbear 
By  repetitions  to  renew  our  care : 
Or  knowing  grief  conceiv'd  and  hid,  consumes 
Man's  life  insensibly, — as  poison's  fumes 
Corrupt  the  brain,— take  silence  for  the  way 
T'  enlarge  the  soul  from  these  walls,  mud  and  clay, — 
Materials  of  this  body — to  remain 
With  him  in  heaven,  where  no  promiscuous  pain 
Lessens  those  joys  we  have  ;   for  with  him  all 
Are  satisfied  with  joys  essential. 

Dwell  on  these  joys,  my  thoughts  !     Oh  !  do  not  call 
Grief  back,  by  thinking  on  his  funeral. 
Forget  he  loved  me  :  waste  not  my  swift  years, 
Which  haste  to  David's  seventy,  fill'd  with  fears 
And  sorrows  for  his  death  :  forget  his  parts, 
They  find  a  living  grave  in  good  men's  hearts : 
And,  for  my  first  is  daily  paid  for  sin. 
Forget  to  pay  my  second  sigh  for  him  : 
Forget  his  powerful  preaching  ;  and  forget 
I  am  his  convert.     Oh  my  frailty  !  let 
My  flesh  be  no  more  heard  ;  it  will  obtrude 
This  lethargy  :  so  should  my  gratitude, 
My  vows  of  gratitude  should  so  be  broke 
Which  can  no  more  be,  than  his  virtues,  spoke 
By  any  but  himself:   for  which  cause,  I 
Write  no  encomiums,  but  this  elegy  ; 
W^hich,  as  a  free-will  offering,  I  here  give 
Fame  and  the  world ;   and  parting  with  it,  grieve 
I  want  abilities  fit  to  set  forth 
A  monument,  as  matchless  as  his  worth. 

IZ.  WA. 

April  7,  1631. 


THE  LIFE  OF  SIR  HENRY  ¥OTTON,  KNIGHT, 


LATE  PROVOST  OF  ETON  COLLEGE. 


THE    LIFE  OF  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON 


Sir  Hexry  Wottox — whose  life  I  now  intend  to  write — was 
born  in  the  year  of  our  Redemption  1568,  in  Bocton-Hall, — com- 
monly called  Bocton,  or  Boughton-Place,  or  Palace, — in  the  Par- 
ish of  Bocton  Malherbe,*  in  the  fruitful  country  of  Kent.  Boc- 
ton-Hall being  an  ancient  and  goodly  structure,  beautifying  and 
beincr  beautified  by  the  Parish  Church  of  Bocton  Malherbe  ad- 
joining  unto  it,  and  both  seated  within  a  fair  Park  of  the  Wottons, 
on  the  brow  of  such  a  hill,  as  gives  the  advantage  of  a  large  pros- 
pect, and  of  equal  pleasure  to  all  beholders. 

But  this  House  and  Church  are  not  remarkable  for  any  thing 
so  much,  as  for  that  the  memorable  Family  of  the  Wottons  have 
so  long  inhabited  the  one,  and  now  lie  buried  in  the  other,  as  ap- 
pears by  their  many  monuments  in  that  Church  :  the  Wottons  be- 
ing a  family  that  hath  brought  forth  divers  persons  eminent  for 
wisdom  and  valour;  whose  heroic  acts,  and  noble  employments, 
both  in  England  and  in  foreign  parts,  have   adorned  themselves 

*  A  parish  situate  five  miles  westward  from  Charing,  and  about  a  mile  and 
a  half  south  of  Lenham,  almost  in  the  very  centre  of  the  county.  The  pres- 
ent state  of  this  once  princely  mansion,  is  extremely  ruinous,  but  some  frag- 
ments of  its  former  splendour  are  yet  remaining  in  the  fine  oaken  staircase, 
and  in  the  first  story  of  the  house,  where  there  is  an  immense  apartment  with 
carved  wainscot  walls  coloured  in  partitions,  having  a  ceiling  also  divided  into 
pannels,  and  painted  in  water-colours.  This  part  of  the  building  is  now  inhab- 
ited by  a  farmer,  but  much  of  its  ancient  character  is  lost  by  the  principal 
front  being  modernized,  the  large  apartments  divided,  and  the  arched  door- 
ways, bay-windov.s,  &.c.  being  blocked  up  ;  though  a  very  fine  specimen  of  the 
latter,  formed  of  octangular  panes,  is  yet  perfect.  Several  dates  cut  in  ston^, 
principally  of  the  sixteenth  century,  are  still  remaining  on  the  ruins.  The 
Church  of  Bocton  Malherbe,  dedicated  to  St.  Nicholas,  stands  nearly  in  the 
centre  of  the  Parish  ;  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Hall ;  and  within  the  rude 
dwarf  v.-all  of  flints  which  surrounds  the  building  of  Bocton  Place. 


126  THE   LIFE   OF 


and  this  nation;  which  they  have  served  abroad  faithfully,  in  the 
discharge  of  their  great  trust,  and  prudently  in  their  negociations 
with  several  Princes;  and  also  served  at  home  with  much  honour 
and  justice,  in  their  wise  managing  a  great  part  of  the  public 
affairs  thereof,  in  the  various  times  both  of  war  and  peace. 

But  lest  I  should  be  thought  by  any,  that  may  incline  either  to 
deny  or  doubt  this  truth,  not  to  have  observed  moderation  in  the 
commendation  of  this  Family  ;  and  also  for  that  I  believe  the 
merits  and  memory  of  such  persons  ought  to  be  thankfully  record- 
ed, I  shall  offer  to  the  consideration  of  every  Reader,  out  of  the 
testimony  of  their  Pedigree  and  our  Chronicles,  a  part — and  but 
a  part — of  that  just  commendation  which  might  be  from  thence 
enlarged,  and  shall  then  leave  the  indifferent  Reader  to  judge 
whether  my  error  be  an  excess  or  defect  of  commendations.* 

Sir  Robert  Wotton,  of  Bocton  Malherbe,  Knight,  was  born 
about  the  year  of  Christ  1460 :  he,  living  in  the  reign  of  King 
Edward  the  Fourth,  was  by  him  trusted  to  be  Lieutenant  of 
Guisnes,  to  be  Knight  Porter,  and  Comptroller  of  Calais,  where 
he  died,  and  lies  honourably  buried. 

Sir  Edward  Wotton  of  Bocton  Malherbe,  Knight, — son  and  heir 
of  the  said  Sir  Robert — was  born  in  the  year  of  Christ  1489,  in 
the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh ;  he  was  made  Treasurer 
of  Calais,  and  of  the  Privy  Council  to  King  Henry  the  Eighth, 
who  offered  him  to  be  Lord  Chancellor  of  England  ;  but,  saith 
Holinshed,j"  out  of  a  virtuous  modesty,  he  refused  it. 

Thomas  Wotton  of  Bocton  Malherbe,  Esquire,  son  and  heir 
of  the  said  Sir  Edward,  and  the  father  of  our  Sir  Henry,  that  oc- 
casions this  relation,  was  born  in  the  year  of  Christ  1521.  He 
was  a  gentleman  excellently  educated,  and  studious  in  all  the 
Liberal  Arts  ;  in  the  knowledge  whereof  he  attained  unto  a  great 
perfection  ;  who,  though  he  had — besides  those  abilities,  a  very 
noble  and  plentiful  estate,  and  the  ancient  interest  of  his  prede- 

*  Hollingshed  informs  us  that  the  family  of  the  Wottons  was  very  ancient, 
and  that  "  Some  persons  of  that  snrname  for  their  singularities  of  wit  and 
learning,  for  their  honour  and  government  in  and  of  the  realm,  about  the  prince 
and  elsewhere,  at  home  and  abroad,  deserve  such  commendations,  that  they 
merit  niveo  signari  lapillo.^' 

t  la  his  Chronicle. 


SIR   HENRY    VVUTTON.  127 

cessors — many  invitations  from  Queen  Elizabetii  to  change  his 
country  recreations  and  retirement  for  a  Court,  ofiering  him  a 
Kniu^hthood, — she  was  then  with  him  at  his  Bocton  Hall — and  that 
to  be  but  as  an  earnest  of  some  more  honourable  and  more  prof- 
itable  employment  under  her  ;  yet  he  humbly  refused  both,  being 
"a  man  of  great  modesty,  of  a  most  plain  and  single  heart,  of  an 
ancient  freedom,  and  integrity  of  mind."  A  commendation  which 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  took  occasion  often  to  remember  with  great 
gladness,  and  thankfully  to  boast  himself  the  son  of  such  a  fa- 
ther; from  whom  indeed  he  derived  that  noble  ingenuity  that  was 
ahvays  practised  by  himself,  and  which  he  ever  both  commended 
and  cherished  in  others.  This  Thomas  was  also  remarkable  for 
hospitality,  a  great  lover  and  much  beloved  of  his  country  ;  to 
which  may  justly  be  added,  that  he  was  a  cherisher  of  learning, 
as  appears  by  that  excellent  Antiquary  Mr.  William  Lambarde,* 
in  his  Perambulation  of  Kent. 

This  Thomas  had  four  sons,  .Sir  Edward,  Sir  James,  Sir  John, 
and  Sir  Henry. 

Sir  Edward  was  knighted  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  made  Comp- 
troller of  Her  Majesty's  Household.  ''He  v>'as,"  saith  Camden, 
'•  a  man  remarkable  for  many  and  great  employments  in  the  State, 
durin.T  her  rei<xn,  and  sent  several  tim.es  Ambassador  into  foreign 
nations.  After  her  death,  he  was  by  King  James  made  Comp- 
trolier  of  his  Household,  and  called  to  be  of  his  Privy  Council, 
and  by  him  advanced  to  be  Lord  Wotton,  Baron  of  Merley  in 
Kent,  and  made  Lord  Lieutenant  of  that  County." 

Sir  James,  the  second  son,  may  be  numbered  among  the  mar- 
tial men  of  his  age,  who  was,  in  the  thirty-eighth  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's reign — with   Robert,  Earl  of  Sussex,  Count  Lodowick  of 

*  William  Luir.barde,  an  eminent  Lav/yei-  and  Antiquary,  was  the  son  of 
au  Alderman  of  London,  and  was  born  Oct.  18th,  1536.  In  1556,  he  entered 
Lincoln's  Inn,  and  studied  the  law  under  Lawrence  Nowel!,  brother  to  the 
Dean  ol"  St.  Faui's.  In  1597,  he  was  made  Keeper  of  the  Rolls  by  Chancel- 
lor Egerton  ;  and  in  1600,  Queen  Elizabeth  appointed  him  to  be  Keeper  of  the 
Records  in  the  Tower.  He  died  Aug.  19th,  1601,  and  his  principal  works  are 
a  collection  and  Latin  Translation  of  the  Saxon  Laws,  a  Discourse  of  the 
English  CourtLi  of  Justice,  another  on  the  Office  of  Justices,  and  the  Peram- 
hululion  of  K'jnt. 


128  THE   LIFE  OF 


Nassau,  Don  Christophoro,  son  of  Antonio,  King  of  Portugal,  and 
divers  other  gentlemen  of  nobleness  and  valour — knighted  in  the 
field  near  Cadiz  in  Spain,  after  they  had  gotten  great  honour 
and  riches,  besides  a  notable  retaliation  of  injuries,  by  taking  that 
town. 

Sir  John,  being  a  gentleman  excellently  accomplished,  both  by 
learning  and  travel,  was  knighted  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  by 
her  looked  upon  with  more  than  ordinary  favour,  and  with  inten- 
tions  of  preferment ;  but  death  in  his  younger  years  put  a  period 
to  his  growing  hopes. 

Of  Sir  Henry  my  following  discourse  shall  give  an  account. 

The  descent  of  these  fore-named  Wottons  was  all  in  a  direct 
line,  and  most  of  them  and  their  actions  in  the  memory  of  those 
with  whom  we  have  conversed  ;  but  if  I  had  looked  so  far  back 
as  to  Sir  Nicholas  Wotton,  who  lived  in  the  reign  of  King  Richard 
the  Second,  or  before  him  upon  divers  others  of  great  note  in  their 
several  ages,  I  might  by  some  be  thought  tedious ;  and  yet  others 
may  more  justly  think  me  negligent,  if  I  omit  to  mention  Nicho- 
las Wotton,  the  fourth  son  of  Sir  Robert,  whom  I  first  named. 

This  Nicholas  Wotton  was  Doctor  of  Law,  and  sometime  Dean 
both  of  York  and  Canterbury ;  a  man  whom  God  did  not  only 
bless  with  a  long  life,  but  with  great  abilities  of  mind,  and  an  in- 
clination to  employ  them  in  the  service  of  his  country,  as  is  testi- 
fied by  his  several  employments,*  having  been  sent  nine  times 
Ambassador  unto  foreign  Princes;  and  by  his  being  a  Privy 
Councillor  to  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  to  Edward  the  Sixth,  to 
Queen  Mary,  and  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  also,  after  he  had  been, 
during  the  wars  between  England,  Scotland,  and  France,  three 
several  times — and  not  unsuccessfully — employed  in  Committees 
for  settling  of  Peace  betwixt  this  and  those  kingdoms,  "  died," 
saith  learned  Camden,  "  full  of  commendations  for  wisdom  and 
piety."  He  was  also,  by  the  Will  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth, 
made  one  of  his  Executors,  and  Chief  Secretary  of  State  to  his 
son,  that  pious  Prince,  Edward  the  Sixth.  Concerning  which 
Nicholas  Wotton  I  shall  say  but  this  little  more ;  that  he  refused 
— being  offered  it  by  Queen  Elizabeth — to  be  Archbishop  of  Can- 


*  Camden  in  his  Britannia. 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  129 


terbury,* — and  that  he  died  not  rich,  though  he  lived  in  that  time 
of  the  dissolution  of  Abbeys. 

More  might  be  added ;  but  by  this  it  may  appear,  tliat  Sir 
Henry  Wotton  was  a  branch  of  such  a  kindred,  as  left  a  stock  of 
reputation  to  their  posterity  :  such  reputation  as  might  kindle  a 
generous  emulation  in  strangers,  and  preserve  a  noble  ambition 
"in  those  of  his  name  and  family,  to  perform  actions  worthy  of 
their  ancestors. 

And  that  Sir  Henry  Wotton  did  so,  might  appear  more  per- 
fectly than  my  pen  can  express  it,  if  of  his  many  surviving  friends, 
some  one  of  higher  parts  and  employments,  had  been  pleased  to 
have  commended  his  to  posterity ;  but  since  some  years  are  now 
past,  and  they  have  all — I  know  not  why — forborne  to  do  it,  my 
gratitude  to  the  memory  of  my  dead  friend,  and  the  renewed  request 
of  somef  that  still  live  solicitous  to  see  this  duty  performed  ; 
these  have  had  a  power  to  persuade  me  to  undertake  it ;  which 
truly  I  have  not  done  but  with  distrust  of  mine  own  abilities;  and 
yet  so  far  from  despair,  that  I  am  modestly  confident  my  humble 
language  shall  be  accepted,  because  I  shall  present  all  readers 
with  a  commixture  of  truth,  and  Sir  H!enry  Wotton's  merits. 

This  being  premised,  I  proceed  to  tell  the  reader,  that  the 
Father  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  twice  married  ;  first  to  Eliza- 
beth, the  daughter  of  Sir  John  Rudstone,  Knight ;  after  whose 
death,  though  his  inclination  was  averse  to  all  contentions,  yet 
necessitated  he  was  to  several  suits  in  Law  ;  in  the  prosecution 
whereof, — v/hich  took  up  much  of  his  time,  and  were  the  occa- 
sion of  many  discontents, — he  vv^as  by  divers  of  his  friends  ear- 
nestly persuaded  to  a  re-marriage ;  to  whom  he  has  often  an- 
swered, "  That  if  ever  he  did  put  on  a  resolution  to  marry,  he 
was  seriously  resolved  to  avoid  three  sorts  of  persons :  namely, 

Those  that  had  children  ; 

Those  that  had  Law-suits  ; 

And  those  that  were  of  his  kindred. 

And  yet,  following  his  own  Law-suits,  he  met  in  Westminster- 

*  Holinshed. 

t  Sir  Edward  Bysshe,  Ciarencieux  King  of  Arms,  Mr.  Charles  Cotton,  a5:d 
Mr.  Nic.  Oudert,  sometime  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  servant. 

10 


130  THE   LIFE   OF 


Hall  with  Mrs.  Eleonora  .Morton,  Widow  to  Robert  Morton,  of 
Kent,  Esquire,  who  was  also  engaged  in  several  suits  in  Law  : 
and  he  observing  her  comportment  at  the  time  of  hearing  one  of 
her  causes  before  the  Judges,  could  not  but  at  the  same  time  both 
compassionate  her  condition,  and  affect  her  person  ;  for  the  tears 
of  lovers,  or  beauty  dressed  in  sadness,  are  observed  to  have  in 
them  a  charming  eloquence,  and  to  become  very  often  too  strong 
to  be  resisted :  which  I  mention,  because  it  proved  so  with  this 
Thomas  Watton  ;  for  although  there  were  in  her  a  concurrence 
of  all  those  accidents,  against  which  he  had  so  seriously  resolved, 
yet  his  affection  to  her  grew  then  so  strong,  that  he  resolved  to 
solicit  her  for  a  wife,  and  did,  and  obtained  her. 

By  her — who  was  the  daughter  of  Sir  William  Finch,  of  East- 
well,  in  Kent, — he  had  only  Henry  his  youngest  son.  His 
Mother  undertook  to  be  tutoress  unto  him  during  much  of  his 
childhood  ;  for  whose  care  and  pains  he  paid  her  each  day  with 
such  visible  signs  of  future  perfection  in  Learning,  as  turned  her 
employment  into  a  pleasing  trouble  ;  which  she  was  content  to 
continue,  till  his  Father  took  him  into  his  own  particular  care, 
and  disposed  of  him  to  a  Tutor  in  his  own  house  at  Bocton. 

And  when  time  and  diligent  instruction  had  made  him  fit  for  a 
removal  to  an  higher  form, — which  was  very  early, — he  was  sent 
to  Winchester-school :  a  place  of  strict  discipline  and  order,  that 
so  he  might  in  his  youth  be  moulded  into  a  method  of  living  by 
rule,  which  his  wise  father  knew  to  be  the  most  necessary  v/ay 
to  make  the  future  part  of  his  life  both  happy  to  himself,  and  use- 
ful for  the  discharge  of  all  business,  whether  public  or  private. 

And  that  he  might  be  confirmed  in  this  regularity,  he  was,  at 
a  fit  age,  removed  from  that  School,  to  be  a  Commoner  of  New. 
College  in  Oxfbrd  ;  both  being  founded  by  William  Wickham, 
Bishop  of  Winchester. 

There  he  continued  till  about  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  a"-e, 
and  WHS  then  transplanted  into  Queen's  College  :  where,  within 
that  year,  he  was  by  the  chief  of  that  College,  persuasively  en- 
joined to  write  a  play  for  their  private  use  ; — it  was  the  Tragedy 
of  Tancredo — which  was  so  interwoven  with  sentences,  and  for 
he  method  and  exact  personating  those  humours,  passions  and 
dispositions,  which   he  proposed  to  represent,  so  performed,  that 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  131 


the  gravest  of  that  society  declared,  he  had,  in  a  sliglit  employ- 
ment, given  an  early  and  a  solid  testimony  of  his  future  abilities. 
And  though  there  may  be  some  sour  dispositions,  which  may  think 
thi<  not  worth  a  memorial,  yet  that  wise  Knight,  Baptista  Guari- 
ni,* — whom  learned  Italy  accounts  one  of  her  ornaments, — 
thought  it  neither  an  uncomely  nor  an  unprofitable  employment 
for  his  age. 

But  I  pass  to  what  will  be  thought  more  serious. 

About  the  twentieth  year  of  his  age  he  proceeded  Master  of 
Arts  ;  and  at  that  time  read  in  Latin  three  Lectures  de  Oculo  ; 
wherein  he  having  described  the  form,  the  motion,  the  curious 
composure  of  the  Eye,  and  demonstrated  how  of  those  very  many, 
every  humour  and  nerve  performs  its  distinct  office,  so  as  the  God 
of  Order  hath  appointed,  without  mixture  or  confusion;  and  all 
this  to  the  advantage  of  man,  to  whom  the  Eye  is  given,  not  only 
as  the  body's  guide,  but  whereas  all  other  of  his  senses  require 
time  to  inform  the  soul,  this  in  an  instant  apprehends  and  warns 
him  of  danger  ;  teacning  him  in  the  very  eyes  of  others,  to  discov- 
er Wit,  Folly,  Love,  and  Hatred.  After  he  had  made  these  ob- 
servations, he  fell  to  dispute  this  Optic  question.  "  Whether  we 
see  by  the  emission  of  the  beams  from  within,  or  reception  of  the 
species  from  without  ?"  And  after  that,  and  many  other  like 
learned  disquisitions,  he,  in  the  conclusion  of  his  Lectures,  took  a 
fair  occasion  to  beautify  his  discourse  with  a  commendation  of  the 
blessing  and  benefit  of  '•  Seeing  ; — by  Vvhich  we  do  not  only  dis- 
cover Nature's  secrets,  but,  with  a  continued  content — for  the  eye 
is  never  weary  of  seeing — behold  the  great  Light  of  the  World, 
and  by  it  discover  t])c  fabric  of  the  Heavens,  and  both  the  order 
and  motion  of  the  Celestial  Orbs  ;  nay,  that  if  the  Eye  look  but 
downward,  it  may  rejoice  to  behold  the  bosom  of  the  Earth,  our 
common  mother,  embroidered  and  adorned  with  numberless  and 
various  flowers,  v.hich  man  sees  daily  grovv  up  to  perfection,  and 
then  silently  moralise  his  own  condition,  who,  in  a  short  time, — 

*  All  eminent  Italian  Poet,  born  at  Ferrara,  in  1537,  made  Professor  of 
Belles  Lettres  in  1563.  and  subsequently  entertained  by  the  Grand  Duke  Al- 
ji!-.onso  II.,  who  employt-d  him  on  several  embassies.  In  1565,  he  published 
his  famous  poem  "  11  Pa.slor  Fido :"'  and  lie  died  at  Venice,  Oct.  7th,  1612. 


132  THE   LIFE   OF 


like  those  very  flowers — decays,  withers,  and  quickly  returns 
again  to  that  Earth,  from  which  both  had  their  first  being." 

These  were  so  exactly  debated,  and  so  rhetorically  heightened, 
as,  among  other  admirers,  caused  that  learned  Italian,  Albericus 
Gentilis,*  then  Professor  of  the  Civil  Law  in  Oxford,  to  call  him 
"  Henrice  mi  Ocelle  ;"  which  dear  expression  of  his  was  also 
used  by  divers  of  Sir  Henry's  dearest  friends,  and  by  many  other 
persons  of  note  during  his  stay  in  the  University. 

But  his  stay  there  was  not  long,  at  least  not  so  long  as  his  friends 
once  intended  ;  for  the  year  after  Sir  Henry  proceeded  Master  of 
Arts,  his  Father — whom  Sir  Henry  did  never  mention  without 
this,  or  some  like  reverential  expression  ;  as,  "  That  good  man  my 
Father,"  or,  "  My  Father,  the  best  of  men  ;" — about  tliat  time, 
tliis  good  man  changed  this  for  a  better  life  ;  leaving  to  Sir  Hen- 
ry, as  to  his  other  younger  sons,  a  rent-charge  of  an  hundred 
marks  a  year,  to  be  paid  for  ever  out  of  some  one  of  his  Manors, 
of  a  nmch  greater  value. 

And  here,  though  this  good  man  be  dead,  yet  I  v/ish  a  circum- 
stance or  two  that  concerns  him,  mav  not  be  buried  without  a  re- 
latioa  ;  which  1  shall  undertake  to  do,  for  that  I  suppose  they  may 
so  much  concern  the  Reader  to  know,  that  I  may  promise  myself 
a  pardon  for  a  short  digression. 

In  the  year  of  our  Redemption  1553,  Nicholas  Wotton,  Dean  of 
Canterbury, — whom  I  formerly  mentioned,  —  being  then  Ambas- 
sador in  France,  dreamed  that  his  Nephev/,  this  Thomas  Wotton, 
v/as  inclined  to  be  a  party  in  such  a  project,  as,  if  he  were  not 
suddenly  prevented,  would  turn  both  to  the  loss  of  his  life,  and 
ruin  of  his  Family. 

Doubtless  the  good  Dean  did  v>^ell  know  that  commion  Dreams 
are  but  a  senseless  paraphrase  on  our  v/aking  thoughts,  or  of  the 
business  of  the  day  past,  or  are   the  result  of  our  over-engaged 

*  A  very  celebrated  Italian  Lawyer,  born  at  Ancona  in  1550,  and  educated 
at  Perugia.  About  1572,  he  left  his  country  Vv'ith  his  father  and  brotlier,  tliey 
being  of  the  reformed  religion,  and  whilst  the  two  former  settled  in  Germany, 
he  came  into  England,  and  v/as  admitted  of  New  Inn  Hall,  Oxford,  in  1380, 
through  the  patronuge  of  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  then  Chancellor 
of  that  University.  In  1587,  Queen  Elizabeth  made  him  Professor  of  Civil 
Law,  and  it  is  suj)posed  that  he  died  at  O.xford,  about  April  1611. 


SIR  HENRY    WOTTON.  133 

affections,  when  we  betake  ourselves  to  rest ;  and  knew  that  the 
observation  of  them  may  turn  to  silly  superstitions,  as  they  too 
often  do.  But,  though  he  might  know  all  this,  and  might  also  be- 
lieve that  prophecies  are  ceased  ;  yet  doubtless  he  could  not  but 
consider,  that  all  dreams  are  not  to  be  neglected  or  cast  away 
without  all  consideration  ;  and  did  therefore  rather  lay  this  Dream 
aside,  than  intend  totally  to  lose  it ;  and  dreaming  the  same  again 
the  night  following,  when  it  became  a  double  Dream,  like  that  of 
Pharaoh, — of  which  double  Dreams  the  learned  have  made  many 
observations, — and  considering  that  it  had  no  dependence  on  his 
waking  thoughts,  much  less  on  the  desires  of  his  heart,  then  he 
did  more  seriously  consider  it ;  and  remembered  that  Almighty 
God  was  pleased  in  a  Dream  to  reveal  and  to  assure  Monica,*  the 
Mother  of  St.  Austin,  "That  he,  her  son,  for  whom  she  wept  so 
bitterly  and  prayed  so  much,  should  at  last  become  a  Christian  :" 
This,  I  believe,  the  good  Dean  considered  :  and  considering  also 
thai  Almighty  God, — though  the  causes  of  Dreams  be  often  un- 
known— hath  even  in  these  latter  times  also  by  a  certain  iilumi- 
nation  of  the  Soul  in  sleep,  discovered  many  things  that  human 
wisdom  could  not  foresee ;  upon  these  considerations  he  resolved 
to  use  so  prudent  a  remedy  by  way  of  prevention,  as  might  intro- 
duce no  great  inconvenience  either  to  himself  or  to  his  Nephew. 
And  to  that  end  he  wrote  to  the  Queen, — 'twas  Queen  Mary, — 
and  besought  her,  "  That  she  would  cause  his  Nephew,  Thomas 
Wotton,  to  be  sent  for  out  of  Kent ;  and  that  the  Lords  of  her 
Council  might  interrogate  him  in  some  such  feigned  questions,  as 
micfht  give  a  colour  for  his  commitment  into  a  favourable  prison ; 
declaring  that  he  would  acquaint  her  Majesty  with  the  true  rea- 
son of  his  request,  when  he  should  next  become  so  happy  as  to  see 
and  speak  to  her  Majesty." 

It  was  done  as  the  Dean  desired  :  and  in  prison  I  must  leave 
Mr.  Wotton,  till  I  have  told  the  Reader  what  followed. 

At  this  time  a  marriage  was  concluded  betwixt  our  Queen 
Mary,  and  Philip,  King  of  Spain  ;  and  though  this  was  concluded 
with  the  advice,  if  not  by  the  persuasion,  of  her  Privy  Council,  as 
having  many  probabilities  of  advantage  to  this  nation ;  yet  divers 

*  St.  Austin's  Confession. 


134  THE   LIFE   OF 


persons  of  a  contrary  persuasion  did  not  only  declare  against  it, 
but  also  raised  forces  to  oppose  it :  believing — as  they  said — ^^it 
would  be  a  means  to  bring  England  to  be  under  a  subjection  to 
Spain,  and  make  those  of  this  nation  slaves  to  strangers. 

And  of  this  number,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  of  Boxley- Abbey  in 
Kent, — betwixt  whose  family  and  the  family  of  the  Wottons  there 
had  been  an  ancient  and  entire  friendship, — v/as  the  principal 
actor  ;  who  having  persuaded  many  of  the  Nobility  and  Gentry 
— especially  of  Kent — to  side  with  him,  and  he  being  defeated, 
and  taken  prisoner,  was  legally  arrainged  and  condemned,  and 
lost  his  life  :  so  did  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  and  divers  others,  espe- 
cially many  of  the  Gentry  of  Kent,  who  were  there  in  several 
places  executed  as  Wyat's  assistants. 

And  of  this  number,  in  all  probability,  had  Mr.  Wotton  been, 
if  he  had  not  been  confined  ;  for  though  he  could  not  be  ignorant 
that  "  another  man's  Treason  makes  it  mine  by  concealing  it," 
yet  he  durst  confess  to  his  Uncle,  when  he  returned  into  England, 
and  then  came  to  visit  him  in  prison,  '■'  That  he  had  more  than  an 
intimation  of  Wyat's  intentions;"  and  thought  he  had  not  con- 
tinued actually  innocent,  if  his  Uncle  had  not  so  happily  dreamed 
him  into  a  prison  ;  out  of  which  place  when  he  was  delivered  by 
the  same  hand  that  caused  his  commitment,  they  both  considered 
the  Dream  more  seriously,  and  then  both  joined  in  praising  God 
for  it ;  "  That  God  who  ties  himself  to  no  rules,  either  in  pre- 
venting of  evil,  or  in  showing  of  mercy  to  those,  whom  of  good 
pleasure  he  hath  chosen  to  love." 

And  this  Dream  was  the  m.ore  considerable,  because  that  God, 
who  in  the  days  of  old  did  use  to  speak  to  his  people  in  Visions, 
did  seem  to  speak  to  many  of  this  Family  in  dreams;  of  which 
I  will  also  give  the  reader  one  short  particular  of  this  Thomas 
Wotton,  whose  Dreams  did  usually  prove  true,  both  in  foretelling 
things  to  come,  and  discovering  things  past ;  and  the  particular 
is  this. — This  Thomas,  a  little  before  his  death,  dreamed  that  the 
University  Treasury  was  robbed  by  Townsmen  and  poor  Scholars, 
and  that  the  number  was  five  ;  and  being  that  day  to  write  to  his 
son  Henry  at  Oxford,  he  thought  it  v/orth  so  much  pains,  as  by  a 
postscript  in  his  letter  to  make  a  slight  enquiry  of  it.  The  letter 
— which  was  writ  out  of  Kent,  and   dated  three  days  before — 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  135 

came  to  his  son's  hands  the  very  morning  after  the  night  in  which 
the  robbery  was  committed  ;  and  when  the  City  and  University 
were  both  in  a  perplexed  inquest  of  the  thieves,  then  did  Sir 
Henry  Wotton  show  his  Father's  letter,  and  by  it  such  light  was 
given  of  this  work  of  darkness,  that  the  five  guilty  persons  were 
presently  discovered  and  apprehended,  without  putting  the  Uni- 
versity to  so  much  trouble  as  the  casting  of  a  figure.* 

And  it  may  yet  be  more  considerable  that  this  Nicholas  and 
Thomas  V/otton  should  both — being  men  of  holy  lives,  of  even 
tempers,  and  much  given  to  fasting  and  prayer — foresee  and  fore- 
tell the  verv  days  of  their  own  death.  Nicholas  did  so,  beino^ 
then  seventy  years  of  age,  and  in  perfect  health.  Thomas  did 
the  like  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age  ;  who  being  then  in  Lon- 
don,— where  he  died, — and  foreseeing  his  death  there,  gave  direc- 
tion in  what  manner  his  body  should  be  carried  to  Bocton  ;  and 
though  he  thought  his  Uncle  Nicholas  worthy  of  that  noble  mon- 
ument which  he  built  for  him  in  the  Cathedral  Church  of  Canter- 
bury ;  yet  this  humble  man  gave  direction  concerning  himself,  to 
be  buried  privately,  and  especially  without  any  pomp  at  his  fune- 
ral. This  is  some  account  of  this  family,  v/hich  seemed  to  be 
beloved  of  God. 

But  it  may  now  seem  more  than  time,  that  I  return  to  Sir 
Henry  Wotton  at  Oxford  ;  where,  after  his  Optic  Lectui-e,  he 
was  taken  into  such  a  bosom  friendship  with  the  learned  Albericus 
Gentilis, — whom  I  formerly  named, — tliat,  if  it  had  been  possible, 
Gentilis  v.-ould  have  breathed  all  his  excellent  knowledge,  both  of 
the  Mathematics  and  Law,  into  the  breast  of  his  dear  Harry,  for 
so  Gentilis  used  to  call  him  :  and  though  he  was  not  able  to  do 
that,  yet  there  was  in  Sir  Henry  such  a  propensity  and  connatu- 
ralness  to  the  Italian  language,  and  those  studies  whereof  Gentilis 
was  a  great  master,  that  the  friendship  between  them  did  daily 
increase,  and   proved  daily  advantageous  to  Sir  Henry,  for  the 

*  Of  the  robbery  here  mentioned,  no  account  whatever  is  recorded  in  the 
annals  of  the  University. 

Judicial  AslroIog:y  was  much  in  use  long  after  this  time.  Its  predictions 
were  received  v/ith  reverential  av/e  ;  and  men,  even  of  the  most  enliglifcned 
understandings,  Vv^ere  inclined  to  believe  that  the  conjunctions  and  oppositions 
of  the  planets  had  no  little  influence  in  the  affairs  of  the  vrorld. 


136  THE   LIFE   OF 


improvement  of  him  in  several  sciences  during  his  stay  in  the 
University. 

From  which  place,  before  I  shall  invite  the  reader  to  follow 
him  into  a  foreign  nation,  though  I  must  omit  to  mention  divers 
persons  that  were  then  in  Oxford,  of  memorable  note  for  learning, 
and  friends  to  Sir  Henry  Wotton  ;  yet  I  must  not  omit  the  mention 
of  a  love  that  was  there  begun  betwixt  him  and  Dr.  Donne,  some- 
time  Dean  of  St.  Paul's ;  a  man  of  whose  abilities  I  shall  forbear 
to  say  any  thing,  because  he  who  is  of  this  nation,  and  pretends 
to  learning  or  ingenuity,  and  is  ignorant  of  Dr.  Donne,  deserves 
not  to  know  him.  The  friendship  of  these  two  I  must  not  omit  to 
mention,  being  such  a  friendship  as  was  generously  elemented ; 
and  as  it  was  begun  in  their  youth,  and  in  an  University,  and 
there  maintained  by  correspondent  inclinations  and  studies,  so  it 
lasted  till  age  and  death  forced  a  separation. 

In  Oxford  he  stayed  till  about  two  years  after  his  Father's 
death ;  at  which  time  he  was  about  the  twenty-second  year  of 
his  age  ;  and  having  to  his  great  wit  added  the  ballast  of  learning, 
and  knowledge  of  the  Arts,  he  then  laid  aside  his  books,  and 
betook  himself  to  the  useful  library  of  travel,  and  a  more  general 
conversation  with  mankind  ;  employing  the  remaining  part  of  his 
youth,  his  industry,  and  fortune,  to  adorn  his  mind,  and  to  pur- 
chase the  rich  treasure  of  foreign  knowledge  :  of  which  both  for 
the  secrets  of  Nature,  the  dispositions  of  many  nations,  their 
several  laws  and  languages,  he  v.-as  the  possessor  in  a  very  large 
measure  ;  as  I  shall  faithfully  make  to  appear,  before  I  take  my 
pen  from  the  following  narration  of  his  life. 

In  his  travels,  which  was  almost  nine  years*  before  his  return 
into  England,  he  stayed  but  one  year  in  France,  and  most  of  that 
in  Geneva,  where  he  became  acquainted  with  Theodore  Beza,t — 

*  Or  rather,  six  years.  The  writers  of  the  Biographia  Britamiica  explain 
the  mistake  by  supposing  that  the  tail  of  the  1)  should  be  turned  upwards  to 
make  it  6.  It  appears  from  a  letter  to  Lord  Zouch,  dated  July  10,  1592,  that 
he  had  been  abroad  three  years.  He  probably  returned  in  1595,  as  he  was 
appointed  Secretary  to  the  Earl  of  Essex,  after  his  return,  in  1596,  when  he 
was  in  the  27th  or  28th  year  of  his  age. 

t  One  of  the  most  celebrated  promoters  of  the  Reformation,  born  at  Vezelai, 
a  small  town  of  Nivernais,  in  France,  June  2-lthj  1519.     He  was  educated 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  137 


then  very  aged ; — and  with  Isaac  Casaubon,*  in  whose  house,  if 
I  be  rightly  informed,  Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  lodged,  and  there 
contracted  a  most  worthy  friendship  with  that  man  of  rare  learn- 
ing and  ingenuity. 

Three  of  the  remaining  eight  years  were  spent  in  Germany, 
ihe  other  live  in  Italy, — the  stage  on  which  God  appointed  he 
should  act  a  great  part  of  his  life  ; — where,  both  in  Rome,  Ven- 
ice, and  Florence,  he  became  acquainted  with  the  most  emi- 
nent men  for  learning  and  all  manner  of  Arts;  as  Picture, 
Sculpture,  Chemistry,  Architecture,  and  other  manual  Arts  ;  even 
Arts  of  inferior  nature  ;  of  all  which  he  was  a  most  dear  lover, 
and  a  most  excellent  judge. 

He  returned  out  of  Italy  into  England  about  the  thirtieth  year 
of  his  age,  being  then  noted  by  many  both  for  his  person  and 
comportment :  for  indeed  he  was  of  a  choice  shape,  tall  of  stat- 
ure, and  of  a  most  persuasive  behaviour  ;  which  was  so  njixed 
with  sweet  discourse  and  civilities,  as  gained  him  much  love  from 
all  persons  with  whom  he  entered  into  an  acquaintance. 

And  whereas  he  was  noted  in  his  youth  to  have  a  sharp  wit, 
and  apt  to  jest ;  that,  by  time,  travel,  and  conversation,  was  so 
polished,  and  made  so  useful,  that  his  company  seemed  to  be  one 
of  the  delights  of  mankind ;  insomuch  as  Robert  Earl  of  Essex 

under  the  famous  Reformer  Melchior  V/olmar,  from  whom  he  derived  his 
Protestant  principles.  He  was  not  in  orders,  though  he  held  some  church  pre- 
ferments, but  in  1548  he  resigned  them,  retired  to  Geneva,  married  and  ab- 
jured Popery.  In  1549,  he  was  made  Greek  Professor  at  Lausanne,  and  in 
1556,  published  his  Translation  of  the  new  Testament,  and  his  Defence  of 
the  burning  of  Servetus.  He  was  a  powerful  assistant  to  Calvin,  and  after  his 
death  became  head  of  the  reformed  party.  He  died  Oct.  I3tli,  1605,  having 
given  great  encouragement  to  the  Puritans,  though  his  letters  to  Vvhitgift 
evince  a  high  regard  for  the  Church  of  England. 

*  Isaac  Casaubon,  the  best  Grecian  of  his  time,  was  born  at  Geneva,  Feb. 
18th,  1559,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  became  Greek  Professor  there. 
About  1597,  he  read  Lectures  on  the  Belles  Lettres,  at  Geneva,  and  in  1600, 
at  Paris;  when  Henry  IV.  of  France  made  him  his  Librarian,  though  lie 
vainly  endeavoured  to  draw  him  from  the  Pro!  estant  faith.  In  October,  IGIO, 
he  came  to  England  with  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  and  was  received  with  great  dis- 
tinction by  King  James  I.,  who  preferred  him  in  the  C'hurclj,  and  gave  him  a 
pension.  He  died  July  1st,  1614,  and  v>?as  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where 
Bishop  Morton  erected  a  monument  to  him. 


138  THE   LIFE  OF 


— then  one  of  the  darlings  of  Fortune,  and  in  greatest  favour 
with  Queen  Elizabeth — invited  him  first  into  a  friendship,  and, 
after  a  knowledge  of  his  great  abilities,  to  be  one  of  his  Secreta- 
ries ;  the  other  being  Mr.  Henry  Cuflfe,*  sometime  of  Merlon  Col- 
lege  in  Oxford, — and  there  also  the  acquaintance  of  Sir  Henry 
Wotton  in  his  youth, — Mr.  CuiTe  being  then  a  man  of  no  common 
note  in  the  University  for  his  learning  ;  nor,  after  his  removal 
from  that  place,  for  the  great  abilities  of  his  mind,  nor  indeed  foi 
the  fatalness  of  his  end. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton,  being  now  taken  into  a  serviceable  friend- 
ship with  the  Earl  of  Essex,  did  personally  attend  his  counsels 
and  employments  in  two  voyages  at  sea  against  the  Spaniard, 
and  also  in  that — which  was  the  Earl's  last — into  Ireland  ;  that 
voyage,  wherein  he  then  did  so  much  provoke  the  Queen  to  an- 
ger, and  worse  at  his  return  into  England  ;  upon  whose  immove- 
able favour  the  Earl  had  built  such  sandy  hopes,  as  encouraged 
him  to  those  undertakings,  which,  with  the  help  of  a  contrary  fac- 
tion, suddenly  caused  his  commitment  to  the  Tower. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  observing  this,  though  he  was  not  of  that 
faction — for  the  Earl's  followers  were  also  divided  into  their  sev- 
eral interests — which  encouraged  the  Earl  to  those  undertakino-s 
which  proved  so  fatal  to  him  and  divers  of  his  confederation,  yet, 
knowing  Treason  to  be  so  comprehensive,  as  to  take  in  even  cir- 
cumstances, and  out  of  them  to  make  such  positive  conclusions, 
as  subtle  Statesmen  shall  project,  either  for  their  revenge  or 
safety  ;  considering  this,  he  thought  prevention,  by  absence  out 
of  England,  a  better  security,  than  to  stay  in  it,  and  there  plead 
his  innocency  in  a  prison.  Therefore  did  he,  so  soon  as  the 
Earl  was  apprehended,  very  quickly,  and  as  privately,  glide 
through  Kent  to  Dover,  without  so  much  as  looking  toward  his 
native  and  beloved  Bocton  ;  and  was,  by  the  help  of  favoura- 
ble winds,  and  liberal  payment  of  the  mariners,  within  sixteen 

*  This  unfortunate  wit  and  scholar,  was  born  at  Hinton  St.  George,  in  Som- 
ersetshire, about  15G0,  and  entered  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  in  1576,  from 
which  he  was  expelled  for  some  sarcasms  on  the  Founder.  His  learning  and 
abilities  being  very  considerable,  he  was  received  into  Merton  College,  and  he 
was  made  Greek  Professor;  but  his  restless  disposition  induced  him  to  follow 
the  Earl  of  Essex  to  Cadiz. 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  139 

hours  after  his  departure  from  London,  set  upon  the  French 
shore ;  where  he  heard  shortly  after,  that  the  Earl  was  ar- 
raigned,  condemned,  and  beheaded ;  and  that  his  friend  Mr. 
CufFe  was  hanged,  and  divers  other  persons  of  eminent  quality 
executed. 

.  The  times  did  not  look  so  favourably  upon  Sir  Henry  Wotton, 
as  to  invite  his  return  into  England  :  having  therefore  procured 
of  Sir  Edward  Wotton,  his  elder  brother,  an  assurance  that  his 
annuity  should  be  paid  him  in  Italy,  thither  he  went,  happily  re- 
newing his  intermitted  friendship  and  interest,  and  indeed  his 
great  content  in  a  new  conversation  with  his  old  acquaintance  in 
that  nation,  and  more  particularly  in  Florence, — which  City  is 
not  more  eminent  for  the  Great  Duke's  Court,  than  for  the  great 
recourse  of  men  of  choicest  note  for  learning  and  arts, — in  which 
number  he  there  met  with  his  old  friend  Signior  Vietta,  a  gentle- 
man of  Venice,  and  then  taken  to  be  Secretaiy  to  the  Great 
Duke  of  Tuscany. 

After  some  stay  in  Florence,  he  went  the  fourth  time  to  visit 
Rome,  where,  in  the  English  College  he  had  very  many  friends  ; 
— their  humanity  made  them  really  so,  though  they  knew  him  to 
be  a  dissenter  from  many  of  their  principles  of  religion  ;  and 
having  enjoyed  their  company,  and  satisfied  himself  concerning 
some  curiosities  that  did  partly  occasion  his  journey  thither,  he 
returned  back  to  Florence,  where  a  most  notable  accident  befel 
him  ;  an  accident  that  did  not  only  find  new  employment  for  his 
choice  abilities,  but  did  introduce  him  to  a  knowledge  and  interest 
with  our  King  James,  then  King  of  Scotland ;  which  I  shall  pro- 
ceed to  relate. 

But  first  I  am  to  tell  the  Reader,  that  though  Queen  Elizabeth, 
or  she  and  her  Council,  v/ere  never  willincr  to  declare  her  sue- 
cessor ;  yet  James,  then  King  of  the  Scots,  was  confidently  be- 
lieved by  most  to  be  the  man  upon  whom  the  sweet  trouble  of 
Kingly  government  would  be  imposed  ;  and  the  Queen  declining 
very  fast,  both  by  age  and  visible  infirmities,  those  that  were  of 
tlie  Romish  persuasion  in  point  of  religion, — even  Rome  itself, 
and  those  of  this  nation, — knov/ing  that  the  dealli  of  the  Queen 
and  the  establishing  of  her  successor,  Vvcre  taken  to  bo  critical 
days  for  destroying  or  establishing  the  Protestant  religion  in  this 


140  THE   LIFE   OF 


nation,  did  therefore  improve  all  opportunities  for  preventing  a 
Protestant  Prince  to  succeed  her.  And  as  the  Pope's  Excommu- 
nication of  Queen  Elizabeth,  had  both  by  the  judgment  and  prac- 
tice of  the  Jesuited  Papist,  exposed  her  to  be  vvarrantably  de- 
stroyed ;  so,  if  we  may  believe  an  angry  adversary,  a  secular 
Priest*  against  a  Jesuit — you  may  believe,  that  about  that  time 
there  were  many  endeavours,  first  to  excommunicate,  and  then  to 
shorten  the  life  of  Kin^  James. 

Immediately  after  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  return  from  Rome  to 
Florence, — which  was  about  a  year  before  the  death  of  Queen 
Elizabeth, — Ferdinandf  the  Great  Duke  of  Florence,  had  inter- 
cepted certain  letters,  that  discovered  a  design  to  take  away  the 
life  of  James,  the  then  King  of  Scots.  The  Duke  abhorring  this 
fact,  and  resolving  to  endeavour  a  prevention  of  it,  advised  with 
his  Secretary  Vietta,  by  what  means  a  caution  might  be  best 
given  to  that  King ;  and  after  consideration  it  was  resolved  to  be 
done  by  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  whom  Vietta  first  commended  to  the 
Duke,  and  the  Duke  had  noted  and  approved  of  above  all  the 
English  that  frequented  his  Court. 

Sir  Henry  was  gladly  called  by  his  friend  Vietta  to  the  Duke, 
who,  after  much  profession  of  trust  and  friendship,  acquainted 
him  with  the  secret ;  and  being  well  instructed,  dispatched  him 
into  Scotland  with  letters  to  the  King,  and  with  those  letters  such 

*  Watson  in  his  Quodiibets. 

William  Watson,  a  secular  priest,  wrote  a  "  Decacordon  of  ten  Qnodlibet- 
ieal  Questions,"  in  which  he  discloses  the  character  and  conduct  of  the  Jesuits; 
txhibiting  in  proper  colours  their  arts  of  equivocation  and  mental  reservation. 
Yet  tiiis  man,  so  acute  in  discerning  the  errors  of  others,  was  hanged  in  IL'OS, 
for  High  Treason,  along  with  William  Clark,  a  Popish  priest,  and  George 
Brook,  brother  to  Lord  Cobham,  for  conspiring  the  death  of  James  L  He  had 
deceived  his  accomplices  by  instructing  them,  "  That  the  King,  before  his  cor- 
onation, was  not  an  actual  but  a  pohtical  king,  and  tlierefore  no  treason  could 
be  committed  against  him." 

t  First  of  that  name  of  tlie  House  of  Medicis,  was  intended  for  tlie  Church, 
and  was  created  a  Cardinal  by  Pius  IV.  in  15G3.  In  1587,  on  the  death  of 
his  elder  brother,  PVancis-Maria,  Duke  of  Tuscany,  be  resigned  the  purple,  at 
the  age  of  52,  and  married  Catherine  of  Lorraine,  daughter  of  the  Duke 
Charles  II.  He  died  Feb.  22nd,  1608-9,  having  governed  with  great  mildness, 
being  a  wise  and  domestic  Prince. 


SIR   HENRY  WOTTON.  141 

Italian  antidotes  against  poison,  as  the  Scots  till  then  had  been 
strangers  to. 

Having  parted  from  the  Duke,  he  took  up  the  name  and  lan- 
guage of  an  Italian ;  and  thinking  it  best  to  avoid  the  line  of 
English  intelligence  and  danger,  he  posted  into  Norway,  and 
through  that  country  towards  Scotland,  where  he  found  the  King 
at  Stirling.  Being  there,  he  used  means,  by  Bernard  Lindsey, 
one  of  the  King's  Bed-chamber,  to  procure  him  a  speedy  and 
private  conference  with  his  Majesty  ;  assuring  him,  '-  That  the 
business  which  he  was  to  negociate  was  of  such  consequence,  as 
had  caused  the  Great  Duke  of  Tuscany  to  enjoin  him  suddenly 
to  leave  his  native  country  of  Italy,  to  impart  it  to  his  King." 

This  being  by  Bernard  Lindsey  made  known  to  the  King,  the 
King,  after  a  little  wonder— mixed  with  jealousy — to  hear  of  an 
Italian  Ambassador,  or  messenger,  required  his  name, — which 
was  said  to  be  Octavio  Baldi, — and  appointed  him  to  be  heard 
privately  at  a  fixed  hour  that  evening. 

When  Octavio  Baldi  came  to  the  Presence-chamber  door,  he 
was  requested  to  lay  aside  his  long  rapier — which,  Italian-like, 
he  then  wore ; — and  being  entered  the  chamber,  he  found  there 
with  the  King  three  or  four  Scotch  Lords  standing  distant  in  sev- 
eral corners  of  the  chamber :  at  the  sight  of  whom  he  made  a 
stand  ;  which  the  King  observing,  "  bade  him  be  bold,  and  deliver 
his  message ;  for  he  would  undertake  for  the  secrecy  of  all  that 
were  present."  Then  Did  Octavio  Baldi  deliver  his  letters  and 
his  message  to  the  King  in  Italian  ;  which  when  the  King  had 
graciously  received,  after  a  little  pause,  Octavio  Baldi  steps  to 
the  table,  and  whispers  to  the  King  in  his  own  language,  that  he 
was  an  Englishman,  beseeching  him  for  a  more  private  confer- 
ence with  his  Majesty,  and  that  he  might  be  concealed  during 
his  stay  in  that  nation ;  which  was  promised  and  really  per- 
formed by  the  King,  during  all  his  abode  there,  which  was  about 
three  months  ;  all  which  time  was  spent  with  much  pleasantness 
to  the  King,  and  with  as  much  to  Octavio  Baldi  himself,  as  that 
country  could  afford  ;  from  which  he  departed  as  true  an  Italian 
as  he  came  thither. 

To  the  Duke  at  Florence  he  returned  with  a  fair  and  grateful 
account  of  his  employment ;  and  within  some  few  months   after 


142  THE   LIFE  OF 


his  return,  tliere  came  certain  news  to  Florence,  that  Queen 
Elizabeth  was  dead  :  and  James,  King  of  the  Scots,  proclaimed 
Kins:  of  Eno^land.     The  Duke  knowing  travel  and  business  to  be 

DO  O 

the  best  schools  of  wisdom,  and  that  Sir  Henry  Wotton  had  been 
tutored  in  both,  advised  him  to  return  presently  to  England,  and 
there  joy  the  King  with  his  new  and  better  title,  and  wait  there 
upon  Fortune  for  a  better  employment. 

When  King  James  came  into  England,  he  found  amongst  other 
of  the  late  Queen's  officers,  Sir  Edward,  who  was,  after  Lord 
Wotton,  Comptroller  of  the  House,  of  whom  he  demanded,  "  If 
he  knew  one  Henry  Wotton,  that  had  spent  much  time  in  foreign 
travel  ?"  The  Lord  replied  he  knew  him  well,  and  that  he  was 
his  brother.  Then  the  King,  asking  where  he  then  was,  was  an- 
swered, at  Venice  or  Florence  ;  but  by  late  letters  from  thence 
he  understood  he  would  suddenly  be  at  Paris.  "  Send  for  him," 
said  the  King,  ''  and  when  he  shall  come  into  England,  bid  him 
repair  privately  to  me."  The  Lord  Wotton,  after  a  little  wonder, 
asked  the  King,  "  If  he  knew  him  ?"  To  which  the  King  answer- 
ed, "  You  must  rest  unsatisfied  of  that  till  you  bring  the  gentle- 
man to  me." 

Not  many  months  after  this  discourse,  the  Lord  Wotton  brought 
liis  brother  to  attend  the  King,  who  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  bade 
him  welcome  by  the  name  of  Octavio  Baldi,  saying,  he  was  the 
most  honest,  and  therefore  the  best  dissembler  that  he  ever  met  with  : 
and  said,  "  Seeing  I  know  you  neither  want  learning,  travel,  nor 
experience,  and  that  I  have  had  so  real  a  testimony  of  your  faith- 
fulness and  abilities  to  manage  an  ambassage,  I  have  sent  for  you 
to  declare  my  purpose  ;  which  is,  to  make  use  of  you  in  that  kind 
hereafter."  And  indeed  the  King  did  so,  most  of  those  two  and 
twenty  years  of  his  reign  ;  but  before  he  dismissed  Octavio  Baldi 
from  his  present  attendance  upon  him,  he  restored  him  to  his  old 
name  of  Henry  Wotton,  by  which  he  then  knighted  him. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  King  having  resolved  according  to  his 
Motto — Beati  pacijici — to  have  a  friendship  with  his  neighbour 
Kingdoms  of  France  and  Spain  ;  and  also,  for  divers  weighty 
reasons,  to  enter  into  an  alliance  with  the  State  of  Venice,  and  to 
that  end  to  send  Ambassadors  to  those  several  places,  did  propose 
the  chpjce  of  these  employments  to  Sir  Henry  Wotton  ;  who, 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  143 

considering  tiie  smallness  of  his  own  estate, — which  he  never 
took  care  to  augment, —  and  knowing  the  Courts  of  great  Princes 
lo  be  sumptuous,  and  necessarily  expensive,  inclined  most  to  that 
of  Venice,  as  being  a  place  of  more  retirement,  and  best  suiting 
with  his  genius,  who  did  ever  love  to  join  with  business,  study 
and  a  trial  of  natural  experiments ;  for  both  which,  fruitful  Italy, 
that  darling  of  Nature,  and  cherisher  of  all  arts,  is  so  justly 
famed  in  all  parts  of  the  Christian  world. 

Sir  Henry  having,  after  some  short  time  and  consideration,  re- 
solved upon  Venice,  and  a  large  allowance  being  appointed  by 
the  King  for  his  voyage  thither,  and  a  settled  maintenance  during 
his  stay  there,  he  left  England,  nobly  accompanied  through 
France  to  Venice,  by  gentlemen  of  the  best  families  and  breeding 
that  this  nation  afforded  :  they  were  too  many  to  name;  but  these 
two,  for  the  following  reasons,  may  not  be  omitted.  Sir  Albertus 
Morton*,  his  Nephew,  who  went  his  Secretary  ;  and  William 
Bedel,y  a  man  of  choice  learning,  and  sanctified  wisdom,  who 
v/ent  his  Chaplain. 

And  though  his  dear  friend  Dr.  Donne — then  a  private  gentle- 
man— was  not  one  of  the  number  that  did  personally  accompany 
him  in  this  voyage,  yet  the  reading  of  this  following  letter,  sent 
by  him  to  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  the  morning  before  he  left  England, 
may  testify  he  wanted  not  his  friend's  best  wishes  to  attend  him. 

SIR, 

After  those  reverend  papers,  whose  soul  is 

Our  good  and  great  King^s  lov\l  hand  and  feared  name  : 

*  The  son  of  George  Morton,  of  Esture,  in  Kent,  elected  Scholar  of  King's 
College,  Cambridge,  in  1602.  After  his  employment  under  Sir  H.  Wotton,  he 
was  thrice  agent  in  Savoy,  Secretary  to  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  in  Heidelberg, 
and  agent  for  the  King  to  the  Princes  of  the  Union.  He  also  became  a  Clerk 
of  the  Council,  and  was  knighted  in  1671.  He  died  in  the  Parish  of  St.  Mar- 
garet, Westminster,  about  November  1625,  having  been  elected  a  Burgess  in 
Parliament  for  the  University  of  Cambridge  ;  and  he  left  a  widow  and  one  son. 

t  William  Bedel,  an  excellent  Prelate,  was  born  at  Black  Notley,  in  Essex, 
and  educated  at  Emanuel  College,  Cambridge,  of  which  he  became  Fellow,  in 
1593.  Much  of  his  memoirs  is  given  in  the  text ;  he  died  Feb.  7th,  1641,  in 
the  house  of  an  Irish  Minister,  whither  the  rebels  had  conveyed  him.  In  his 
life  by  Bishop  Burnet,  is  an  interesting  account  of  his  Irish  translation  of  the 
Scriptures. 


144  THE   LIFE   OF 


By  which  to  you  he  derives  much  of  his, 
And,  how  he  may,  makes  you  almost  the  sa?ne : 

A  taper  of  his  torch  ;  a  copy  writ 

From  his  original,  and  a  fair  beam 

Of  the  same  warm  and  dazzling  Sun,  though  it 

Must  in  another  sphere  his  virtue  stream  : 

After  those  learned  payers,  which  your  hand 
Hath  stored  with  notes  of  use  and  pleasure  too  : 
From,  which  rich  treasury  you  may  cojnmand 
Fit  matter  whether  you  will  write  or  do  : 

After  those  loving  papers  which  friends  send 
With  glad  grief  to  your  sea-ward  steps  farewell, 
And  thicken  on  you  now  as  prayers  ascend 
To  Heaven  on  troops  at  a  good  jnan^s  passing-bell  : 

Admit  this  honest  paper,  and  allow 
It  such  an  audience  as  yourself  would  ask  ; 
What  you  would  say  at  Venice,  this  says  now, 
And  has  for  nature  what  you  have  for  task. 

To  swear  much  love  ;  nor  to  be  changed  before 
Honour  alone  will  to  your  fortune  fit ; 
Nor  shall  I  then  honour  your  fortune  more. 
Than  I  have  done  your  honour  wanting  wit. 

But  His  an  easier  load — though  both  oppress — 
To  want,  than  govern  greatness  ;  for  we  are 
In  that,  our  own  and  only  business  ; 
In  this,  we  must  for  others^  vices  care. 

'  Tis  therefore  well  your  spirits  now  are  placed 

In  their  last  furnace,  in  activity. 

Which  fits  them  ;  Schools,  and  Courts,  and  Wars  overpast 

To  touch  and  taste  in  any  best  degree. 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  145 


For  mc  / — if  there  he  such  a  thing  as  I — 
Fortune — if  there  he  such  a  thing  as  she — 
Finds  that  I  hear  so  well  her  tyranny^ 
That  she  thinks  nothing  else  so  fit  for  me. 

But  though  she  part  us,  to  hear  my  oft  prayers 
For  your  increase,  God  is  as  near  me  here : 
And,  to  send  you  what  I  shall  heg,  his  stairs 
In  length  and  ease  are  alike  every  where. 


J.  Donne.* 


Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  received  by  the  State  of  Venice  with 
much  honour  and  gladness,  both  for  that  he  delivered  his  ambas- 
sage  most  elegantly  in  the  Italian  language,  and  came  also  in 
such  a  juncture  of  time,  as  his  master's  friendship  seemed  useful 
for  that  Republic.  The  time  of  his  coming  thither  was  about  the 
year  1604,  Leonardo  Donate  being  then  Duke ;  a  wise  and  re- 
solved man,  and  to  all  purposes  such — Sir  Henry  Wotton  would 
often  say  it — as  the  State  of  Venice  could  not  then  have  wanted ; 
there  having  been  formerly,  in  the  time  of  Pope  Clement  the 
Eighth,  some  contests  about  the  privileges  of  Churchmen,  and  the 
power  of  the  Civil  Magistrates ;  of  vv^hich,  for  the  information  of 
common  readers,  I  shall  say  a  little,  because  it  may  give  light  to 
some  passages  that  follow. 

About  the  year  1603,  the  Republic  of  Venice  made  several  in- 
junctions against  lay-persons  giving  lands  or  goods  to  the  Church, 
without  licence- from  the  Civil  Magistrate  ;  and  in  that  inhibition 
they  expressed  their  reasons  to  be,  "  For  that  when  any  goods  or 
land  once  came  into  the  hands  of  the  Ecclesiastics,  it  was  not 
subject  to  alienation :  by  reason  whereof — the  lay-people  being 
at  their  death  charitable  even  to  excess, — the  Clergy  grew  every 
day  more  numerous,  and  pretended  an  exemption  from  all  public 
service  and  taxes,  and  from  all  secular  judgment ;  so  that  the 
burden  grew  thereby  too  heavy  to  be  born  by  the  Laity." 

*  In  the  first  edition  of  this  Life,  the  whole  of  the  passages  from  "  And 
though  his  dear  friend,"  to  "  Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  received,"  are  wanting. 

11 


146  THE   LIFE  OF 


Another  occasion  of  difference  was,  that  about  this  time  com- 
plaints were  justly  made  by  the  Venetians  against  two  Clergy, 
men.  the  Abbot  of  Nervesa,  and  a  Canon  of  Vicenza,  for  commit- 
ting such  sins  as  I  think  not  fit  to  name  :  nor  are  these  mentioned 
with  an  intent  to  fix  a  scandal  upon  any  calling  ;  for  holiness  is 
not  tied  to  Ecclesiastical  Orders, — and  Italy  is  observed  to  breed 
the  most  virtuous  and  most  vicious  men  of  any  nation.  These 
two  having  been  long  complained  of  at  Rome  in  the  name  of  the 
State  of  Venice,  and  no  satisfaction  being  given  to  the  Venetians, 
they  seized  the  persons  of  this  Abbot  and  Canon,  and  committed 
them  to  prison. 

Tlie  justice  or  injustice  of  such,  or  the  like  power,  then  used 
by  the  Venetians,  had  formerly  had  some  calm  debates  betwixt 
the  former  Pope  Clement  the  Eighth,*  and  that  Republic :  I  say, 
calm,  for  he  did  not  excommunicate  them ;  considering, — as  I 
conceive, — that  in  the  late  Council  of  Trent,  it  was  at  last — after 
many  politic  disturbances  and  delays,  and  endeavours  to  preserve 
the  Pope's  present  power, — in  order  to  a  general  reformation  of 
those  many  errors,  which  were  in  time  crept  into  the  Church,  de- 
clared by  that  Council,  "  That  though  discipline  and  especial 
Excommunication  be  one  of  the  chief  sinews  of  Church-covern- 
ment,  and  intended  to  keep  men  in  obedience  to  it ;  for  which  end 
it  v/as  declared  to  be  very  profitable  ;  yet  it  was  also  declared, 
and  advised  to  be  used  with  great  sobriety  and  care,  because  ex- 
perience had  informed  them,  that  when  it  was  pronounced  unad- 
visedly  or  rashly,  it  became  more  contemned  than  feared."  And, 
though  this  was  the  advice  of  that  Council  at  the  conclusion  of  it, 
which  was  not  many  years  before  this  quarrel  with  the  Vene- 


*  Originally  named  Hippolito  Aldobrandini,  was  born  at  Fano,  1536,  studied 
at  Ferrara  and  Bologna,  was  made  Cardinal  by  Si.xtus  V.,  and  in  Januarv 
1592,  succeeded  Innocent  IX.  as  Pontiff'.  He  converted  Henry  IV.  of  France, 
with  many  more  to  the  Roman  faith,  and  advanced  Bellarmine,  Baronius,  and 
other  learned  men  to  be  Cardinals.  After  a  reign  of  piety,  moderation,  and 
wisdom,  he  died  in  March  1605;  and  was  succeeded  by  Leo  XI.  v.'ho  lived 
only  twenty-nine  days  after.  His  successor  was  Camillo  Borghese,  commonly 
called  Pope  Paul  V.  He  was  born  at  Rome,  in  1552,  and  being  an  eminent 
Doctor  of  the  Civil  Law,  he  rose  rapidly  in  the  Papal  favour,  until  he  was 
created  Cardinal  by  Clement  VIII.     He  died  at  Rome,  in  January,  1G21. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  147 


tians  ;*  yet  this  prudent,  paiient  Pope  Clement  dying,  Pope  Paul 
the  Fifth,  who  succeeded  Iiim, — though  not  immediately,  yet  in 
the  same  year, — being  a  man  of  a  much  hotter  temper,  brought  this 
difference  with  the  Venetians  to  a  much  higher  contention ;  ob- 
jecting those  late  acts  of  that  State  to  be  a  diminution  of  his  just 
power,  and  limited  a  time  of  twenty-four  days  for  their  revocation  ; 
threatening  if  he  were  not  obeyed,  to  proceed  to  the  Excommuni- 
cation of  the  Republic,  who  still  offered  to  shew  both  reason  and 
ancient  custom  to  warrant  their  actions.  But  this  Pope,  contrary 
to  his  predecessor's  moderation,  required  absolute  obedience  with- 
out disputes. 

Thus  it  continued  for  about  a  year,  the  Pope  still  threatening 
Excommunication,  and  the  Venetians  still  answering  him  with  fair 
speeches,  and  no  cjmpliance  ;  till  at  last  the  Pope's  zeal  to  the 
Apostolic  See  did  make  him  to  excommunicate  the  Duke,  the 
whole  Senate,  and  all  their  dominions,  and,  that  done,  to  shut  up 
all  their  Churches;  charging  the  whole  clergy  to  forbear  all  sa- 
cred offices  to  the  Venetians,  till  their  obedience  should  render 
them  capable  of  Absolution. 

But  this  act  of  the  Pope's  did  but  the  more  confirm  the  Vene- 
tians in  their  resolution  not  to  obey  him  :  and  to  tiiat  end,  upon 
the  hearing  of  the  Pope's  interdict,  they  presently  published,  by 
sound  of  trumpet,  a  Proclamation  to  this  effect : 

"  That  whosoever  hath  received  from  Rome  any  copy  of  a 
papal  Interdict,  published  there,  as  well  against  the  Law  of  God, 
as  against  the  honour  of  this  nation,  shall  presently  render  it  to 
the  Council  of  Ten,  upon  pain  of  Death.  And  made  it  loss  of 
estate  and  Nobility,  but  to  speak  in  behalf  of  the  Jesuits." 

Then  was  Duado  their  Anibassador  called  home  from  P.ome, 
and  the  Inquisition  presently  suspended  by  order  of  the  State  : 
and  the  flood-gates  being  thus  set  open  any  man  that  had  a  pleas- 
ant or  scoffing  wit,  might  safely  vent  it  against  the  Pope,  either  by 
free  speaking,  or  by  libels  in  print ;  and  both  became  very  pleas- 
ant to  the  people,*}" 

*  This  passage  from  the  wordsj  "  I  say,  calm,"  Sec  was  not  in  the  first  edi- 
tion. 

t  From  "  But  this  act  of  the  Pope's"  to  "  very  pleasant  to  tlie  people,"  did 
not  appear  in  the  first  edition. 


148  THE   LIFE   OF 


Matters  tlius  heightened,  the  State  advised  with  Father  Paul,  a 
holy  and  learned  Friar, — tlie  author  of  the  "  History  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Trent," — whose  advice  was,  "Neither  to  provoke  the  Pope, 
nor  lose  their  own  right:"  he  declaring  publicly  in  print,  in  the 
name  of  the  State,  "  That  the  Pope  was  trusted  to  keep  two  keys, 
one  of  Prudence  and  the  other  of  Power  :  and  that,  if  they  were 
not  both  used  together.  Power  alone  is  not  effectual  in  an  Excom- 
munication." 

And  thus  these  discontents  and  oppositions  continued,  till  a  re- 
port was  blown  abroad,  that  the  Venetians  were  all  turned  Prot- 
estants ;  which  was  believed  by  many,  for  that  it  was  observed 
that  the  English  Ambassador  was  so  often  in  conference  with  the 
Senate,  and  his  Chaplain  Mr.  Bedel,  more  often  with  Father  Paul, 
whom  the  people  did  not  take  to  be  his  friend  :  and  also,  for  that 
the  Republic  of  Venice  was  known  to  give  commission  to  Greg- 
ory Justiniano,  then  their  Ambassador  in  England,  to  make  all 
these  proceedings  known  to  the  King  of  England,  and  to  crave  a 
promise  of  his  assistance,  if  need  should  require :  and  in  the 
mean  time  they  required  the  King's  advice  and  judgment ;  which 
was  the  same  that  he  gave  to  Pope  Clement,  at  his  first  coming  to 
the  Crown  of  England  ; — that  Pope  then  moving  him  to  an  union 
with  the  Roman  Church  ; — namely,  "  To  endeavour  the  calling 
of  a  free  Council,  for  the  settlement  of  peace  in  Christendom ; 
and  that  he  doubted  not  but  that  the  French  King,  and  divers 
other  Princes,  would  join  to  assist  in  so  good  a  work  ;  and,  in 
the  mean  time,  the  sin  of  this  breach,  both  with  his  and  the  Ve- 
netian dominions,  must  of  necessity  lie  at  the  Pope's  door." 

In  this  contention — which  lasted  almost  two  years — the  Pope 
grew  still  higher,  and  the  Venetians  more  and  more  resolved  and 
careless ;  still  acquainting  King  James  with  their  proceedings, 
which  was  done  by  the  help  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Mr.  Bedel, 
and  Padre  Paulo,  whom  the  Venetians  did  then  call  to  be  one  of 
their  consulters  of  State,  and  with  his  pen  to  defend  their  just 
cause  ;  which  was  by  him  so  performed,  that  the  Pope  saw  plainly 
he  had  weakened  his  power  by  exceeding  it,  and  offered  the  Ve- 
netians absolution  upon  very  easy  terms;  which  the  Venetians 
still  slighting,  did  at  last  obtain  by  that  which  was  scarce  so 
much  as  a  shew  of  acknowledging  it :  for  they  made  an  order, 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  149 


that  in  that  day  in  wiiich  they  were  absolved,  there  should  be  no 
public  rejoicing,  nor  any  bonfires  that  night,  lest  the  common 
people  might  judge,  that  they  desired  an  absolution,  or  were  ab- 
solved for  committing  a  fault. 

These  contests  were  the  occasion  of  Padre  Paulo's  knowledge 
and  interest  with  King  James ;  for  whose  sake  principally,  Padre 
Paulo  compiled  that  eminent  History  of  the  remarkable  Council 
of  Trent ;  which  history  was,  as  fast  as  it  was  written,  sent  in 
several  sheets  in  letters  by  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Mr.  Bedel,  and 
others,  unto  King  James,  and  the  then  Bishop  of  Canterbury,  into 
England,  and  there  first  made  public,  both  in  English  and  the 
universal  language. 

For  eight  years  after  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  going  into  Italy,  he 
stood  fair  and  highly  valued  in  the  King's  opinion  ;  but  at  last 
became  much  clouded  by  an  accident,  which  I  shall  proceed  to 
relate. 

At  his  first  going  Ambassador  into  Italy,  as  he  passed  through 
Germany,  he  stayed  some  days  at  Augusta  ;  where  having  been 
in  his  former  travels  well  known  by  many  of  the  best  note  for 
learning  and  ingeniousness, — those  that  are  esteemed  the  virtuosi 
of  that  nation, — with  whom  he  passing  an  evening  in  merriments, 
was  requested  by  Christopher  Flecamore  to  write  some  sentence 
in  his  Albo  ; — a  book  of  white  paper,  which  for  that  purpose 
many  of  the  German  gentry  usually  carry  about  them  : — and 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  consenting  to  the  motion,  took  an  occasion, 
from  some  accidental  discourse  of  the  present  company,  to  write 
a  pleasant  definition  of  an  Ambassador  in  these  very  words  : 

'-  Legatiis  est  vir  bonus,  peregre  missus  ad  inentiendiim  Reipiih- 
Ucce,  causa. ^' 

Which  Sir  Henry  Wotton  could  have  been  content  should  have 
been  thus  Englished  : 

"  An  Ambassador  is  an  honest  man,  sent  to  lie  abroad  for  the 
good  of  his  country." 

But  the  word  for  lie — being  the  hinge  upon  which  the  conceit 
was  to  turn — was  not  so  expressed  in  Latin,  as  would  admit — in 
the  hands  of  an  enemy  especially — so  fair  a  construction  as  Sir 


150  THE   LIFE   OF 


Henry  thought  in  English.  Yet  as  it  was,  it  slept  quietly  among 
other  sentences  in  tliis  Aibo,  almost  eight  years,  till  by  accident 
it  fell  into  tlie  hands  of  Jasper  Scioppius,*  a  Romanist,  a  man  of 
a  restless  spirit  and  a  malicious  pen  ;  who,  with  books  against 
King  James,  prints  this  as  a  principle  of  that  religion  professed 
by  the  King,  and  his  Ambassador  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  then  at  Ven- 
ice ;  and  in  Venice  it  was  presently  after  written  in  several  glass- 
windows,  and  spitefully  declared  to  be  Sir  Henry  Wotton's. 

This  coming  to  the  knowledge  of  King  James,  he  apprehended 
it  to  be  such  an  oversight,  such  a  weakness,  or  worse,  in  Sir 
Henry  V\'^otton,  as  caused  the  King  to  express  much  wrath  against 
him  :  and  this  caused  Sir  Henry  Wotton  to  write  two  apologies, 
one  to  Velserusf — one  of  the  chiefs  of  Augusta — in  the  univer- 
sal language,  which  he  caused  to  be  printed,  and  given  and  scat- 
tered in  the  most  remarkable  places  both  of  Germany  and  Italy, 
as  an  antidote  against  the  venomous  books  of  Scioppius  ;  and 
another  Apology  to  King  James  ;  which  v/ere  both  so  ingenious, 
so  clear,  and  so  choicely  eloquent,  that  his  Majesty — who  was  a 
pure  judge  of  it — could  not  forbear  at  the  receipt  thereof,  to  de- 
clare publicly,  "  That  Sir  Henry  Wotton  had  commuted  suffi- 
ciently for  a  G-reater  offence. " 

And  nov/,  as  broken  bones  well  set  become  stronger,  so  Sir 
Henry  Wotton  did  not  only  recover,  but  was  much  more  con- 
firmed in  his  ]\iajesty's  estimation  and  favour  than  formerly  he 
had  been. 

And,  as  that  man  of  great  wit  and  useful  fancy,  his  friend  Dr. 
Donne,  gave  in  a  Will  of  his — a  Will  of  conceits — his  Reputa- 
tion to  his  Friends,  and  his  Industry  to  his  Foes,  because  from 

*  A  learned  writer,  born  in  Germany  about  1576,  who  turned  Romanist  in 
1599,  on  reading  the  Annals  of  Baronius.  He  recommended  the  extirpation 
of  Protestants  to  the  CathoHc  Princes,  and  wrote  with  much  rancour  against 
King  James,  ScaHger,  Casaubon,  &c.  Towards  the  end  of  liis  life  he  pre- 
tended to  projihecy,  and  sent  some  of  his  predictions  to  Cardinal  Mazarine, 
who  disregarded  tliem.     He  died  in  1G49,  at  Padua. 

t  Mark  Velser,  or  Welser,  was  born  at  Augsburg,  June  20,  1558,  of  a  noble 
and  ancient  German  family.  He  pursued  his  studies  at  Rome  under  the  cele- 
brated Muretus,  and  upon  his  return  into  his  native  city,  having  acquired  great 
reputation  at  the  bar,  became  one  of  its  first  magistrates,  and  was  very  learn- 
ed himself,  and  a  great  patron  of  learned  men.     He  died  in  1614. 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTOX.  151 

thence  he  received  both :  so  those  friends,  that  in  this  time  of  trial 
laboured  to  excuse  this  facetious  freedom  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton's, 
were  to  him  more  dear,  and  by  him  more  highly  valued  ;  and 
those  acquaintance,  that  urged  this  as  an  advantage  against  him, 
caused  him  bv  this  error  to  srovv  both  more  wise,  and — which  is 
the  best  fruit  error  can  bring  forth — for  the  future  to  become  more 
industriously  v/atchful  over  his  tongue  and  pen. 

I  have  told  you  a  part  of  his  employment  in  Italy ;  where,  not- 
withstandinfy  the  death  of  his  favourer,  th.e  Duke  Leonardo  Do- 
nato,*  \A\o  had  an  undissembled  affection  for  him,  and  the  mali- 
cious accusation  of  Scioppius,  yet  his  interest — as  though  it  had 
been  an  entailed  love — was  still  found  to  live  and  increase  in  all 
the  succeeding  Dukes  during  his  employment  to  that  State,  which 
was  almost  twenty  years  ;  all  which  time  he  studied  the  disposi- 
tions of  those  Dukes,  and  the  other  Consulters  of  State  ;  well 
knowing  that  he  who  negociates  a  continued  business,  and  neg- 
lects the  study  of  dispositions,  usually  fails  in  his  proposed  ends. 
But  in  this  Sir  Henry  Wotton  did  not  fail ;  for,  by  a  fine  sorting 
of  lit  presents,  curious,  and  not  costly  entertainments,  always 
sweetened  by  various  and  pleasant  discourse — with  which,  and 
his  choice  application  of  stories,  and  his  elegant  delivery  of  all 
these,  even  in  their  Italian  language,  he  first  got,  and  still  pre- 
served, such  interest  in  the  State  of  Venice,  that  it  was  observed 
— such  was  either  his  merit  or  his  modesty — they  never  denied 
him  any  request. 

But  all  this  shows  but  his  abilities,  and  his  fitness  for  that  em- 
ployment :  it  will  therefore  be  needful  to  tell  the  Reader,  what 
use  he  made  of  the  interest  which  these  procured  him  :  and 
tiiat  indeed  was  rather  to  oblige  others  than  to  enrich  him.self :  he 
still  endeavouring  that  the  reputation  of  the  English  might  be 
maintained,  both  in  the  German  Empire  and  in  Italy  ;  where 
many  gentlemen,  whom  travel  liad  invited  into  that  nation,  re- 
ceived  from  him  cheerful  entertainments,  advice  for  their  beha- 
viour,  and,  by  his  interest,  shelter  or  dediverance  from  those  acci- 
dental storms  of  adversity  which  usually  attend  upon  travel. 

And  because  these  things  may  appear  to  the  Reader  to  be  but 

*  Doge  of  Venice  from  IGOG  to  July,  1612. 


152  THE   LIFE   OF 


generals,  I  shall  acquaint  him  with  two  particular  examples  ;  one 
of  his  merciful  disposition,  and  one  of  the  nobleness  of  his  mind ; 
which  shall  follow. 

There  had  been  many  English  Soldiers  brought  by  Command- 
ers of  their  own  country,  to  serve  the  Venetians  for  pay  against 
the  Turk  ;  and  those  English,  having  by  irregularities,  or  im- 
providence, brouglit  themselves  into  several  galleys  and  prisons. 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  became  a  petitioner  to  that  State  for  their  lives 
and  enlargement ;  and  his  request  \vas  granted  :  so  that  those — 
which  were  many  hundreds,  and  there  made  the  sad  examples  of 
human  misery,  by  hard  imprisonment  and  unpitied  poverty  in  a 
strange  nation — were  by  his  means  released,  relieved,  and  in  a 
comfortable  condition  sent  to  thank  God  and  him,  for  their  lives 
and  liberty  in  their  own  country. 

And  this  I  have  observed  as  one  testimony  of  the  compassionate 
nature  of  him,  wlio  was,  during  his  stay  in  those  parts,  as  a  city 
of  refuge  for  the  distressed  of  this  and  other  nations. 

And  for  that  which  I  offer  as  a  testimony  of  the  nobleness  of 
his  mind,  I  shall  make  way  to  the  Reader's  clearer  understanding 
of  it,  by  telling  him,  that  beside  several  other  foreign  employ- 
ments, Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  sent  thrice  Ambassador  to  the  Re- 
public of  Venice.  And  at  his  last  going  thither,  he  was  employed 
Ambassador  to  several  of  the  German  Princes,  and  more  particu- 
larly to  the  Emperor  Ferdinando  the  Second  ;  and  that  his  em- 
ployment to  him,  and  those  Princes,  was  to  incline  them  to 
equitable  conditions  for  the  restoration  of  the  Queen  of  Bohemia 
and  her  descendants,  to  their  patrimonial  inheritance  of  the  Pal- 
atinate. 

This  was,  by  his  eight  months'  constant  endeavours  and  at- 
tendance upon  the  Emperor,  his  Court  and  Council,  brought  to  a 
probability  of  a  successful  conclusion,  without  bloodshed.  But 
there  were  at  that  time  two  opposite  armies  in  the  field  ;  and  as 
they  were  treating,  there  was  a  battle  fought,*  in  the  managery 
whereof  there  w  ere  so  many  miserable  errors  on  the  one  side, — so 
Sir  Flenry  Wotton  expresses  it  in  a  dispatch  to  the  King — and  so  ad- 
vantageous events  to  the  Emperor,  as  put  an  end  to  all  present  hopes 


*  Tlie  battle  of  Prague. 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  153 

of  a  successful  treaty  ;  so  that  Sir  Henry,  seeing  the  face  of  peace 
altered  by  that  victor}-,  prepared  for  a  removal  from  that  Court; 
and  at  his  departure  from  the  Emperor,  was  so  bold  as  to  remem- 
ber him,  "  That  the  events  of  every  battle  move  on  the  unseen 
wheels  of  Fortune,  which  are  this  moment  up,  and  down  the  next  : 
•and  therefore  humbly  advised  him  to  use  his  victory  so  soberly, 
as  still  to  put  on  thoughts  of  peace."  Which  advice,  though  it 
seemed  to  be  spoken  with  some  passion, — his  dear  mistress  the 
Queen  of  Bohemia,'''  being  concerned  in  it — was  yet  taken  in 
good  part  by  the  Emperor ;  who  replied,  "  That  he  would  con- 
sider his  advice.  And  though  he  looked  on  the  King  his  master, 
as  an  abettor  of  his  enemy,  the  Palsgrave  ;  yet  for  Sir  Henry 
himself,  his  behaviour  had  been  such  during  the  manage  of  the 
Treaty,  that  he  took  him  to  be  a  person  of  much  honour  and  mer- 
it; and  did  therefore  desire  him  to  accept  of  that  Jewel,  as  a  tes- 

*  The  phrase  "  his  dear  mistress"  compels  the  appearance  here  of  his  well 
known  verses  "  to  the  most  illustrious  Princesse,  the  Ladie  Elizabeth." 

'•  You  meaner  beauties  of  the  night, 
That  poorly  satisfy  our  eyes 
?vIore  by  your  number  than  your  light, 
You  common  people  of  the  skies, 

What  are  you  when  the  sun  shall  rise? 

You  curious  chanters  of  the  wood, 
Tliat  wurble  forth  dame  Nature's  lays, 
Thinking  your  voices  understood 
By  your  weak  accents ;  what's  your  praiae, 
When  Philomel  her  voice  shall  raise  ; 

You  violets  that  first  apjiear, 
By  your  pure  purple  mantles  known, 
Like  the  proud  virgins  of  the  year. 
As  if  the  spring  were  all  your  own. 

What  are  you  when  the  rose  is  blown  ? 

So  when  my  mistress  shall  be  seen. 
In  form  and  beauty  of  her  mind, 
By  virtue  first,  then  choice  a  Queen, 
Tell  me,  if  she  were  not  design'd 
The  eclipse  and  glory  of  her  kind  ?" 


154  THE   LIFE    OF 


timony  of  his  good  opinion  of  him :"  which  was  a  jewel  of  Dia- 
monds of  more  value  than  a  thousand  pounds. 

This  Jewel  was  received  with  all  outward  circumstances  and 
terms  of  honour  by  Sir  Henry  Wotton.  But  the  next  morning,  at 
his  departing  from  Vienna,  he,  at  his  taking  leave  of  the  Countess 
of  Sabrina — an  Italian  Lady,  in  whose  house  the  Emperor  had 
appointed  him  to  be  lodged,  and  honourably  entertained — acknowl- 
edged  her  merits,  and  besought  her  to  accept  of  that  Jewel,  as  a 
testimony  of  his  gratitude  for  her  civilities ;  presenting  her  with 
the  same  that  was  given  him  by  the  Emperor  :  which  being  sud- 
denly discovered,  and  told  to  the  Emperor,  was  by  him  taken  for 
a  high  affront,  and  Sir  Henry  Wotton  told  so  by  a  messenger. 
To  which  he  replied,  "  That  though  he  received  it  with  thankful- 
ness, yet  he  found  in  himself  an  indisposition  to  be  the  better  for 
any  gift  that  came  from  an  enemy  to  his  Royal  Mistress,  the 
Queen  of  Bohemia  ;"  for  so  she  was  pleased  he  should  always  call 
her.  Many  other  of  his  services  to  his  Prince  and  this  nation 
might  be  insisted  upon  ;  as  namely,  his  procurations  of  privileges 
and  courtesies  with  the  German  Princes,  and  the  Republic  of 
Venice,  for  the  English  Merchants :  and  what  he  did  by  di- 
rection of  King  James  with  the  Venetian  State,  concerning  the 
Bishop  of  Spalato's*  return  to  the  Church  of  Rome.  But  for  the 
particulars  of  these,  and  many  more  that  I  meant  to  make  known, 
1  want  a  view  of  some  papers  that  might  inform  me, — his  late 
Majesty's  Letter-Office  having  now  suffered  a  strange  alienation, 
— and  indeed  I  want  time  too ;  for  the  Printer's  press  stays  for 
what  is  written  :  so  that  I  must  haste  to  bring  Sir  Henry  Wotton 
in  an  instant  from  Venice  to  London,  leaving  the  reader  to  make 
up  what  is  defective  in  this  place,  by  the  small  supplement  of  the 
Inscription   under   his  Arms,t  which  he  left    at  all  those  houses 

*  Marcus  Antonius  de  Dominis,  Archbishop  of  Spalatro,  in  Dalmalia,  and 
ill  the  territory  of  Venice,  was  born  at  Arba,  about  15G1.  He  came  to  Eng- 
land with  Mr.  Bedel,  in  1617,  and,  on  professing  himself  a  convert  to  the  Prot- 
estant faith,  was  made  Dean  of  Windsor.  He  was,  however,  persuaded  by  the 
Ambassador  Gondamar,  to  return  to  Rome,  and  his  former  religion :  but  though 
the  promise  of  a  Cardinal's  hat  was  held  out  to  him,  he  was  seized  by  the  In- 
quisition, and  died  in  prison,  in  1625. 

t  A  painted  shield,  with  the  titles  of  the  Ambassador  written  below  it,  called 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  155 

where  he  rested,  or  lodged,  when  he  returned  from  his  last  Em- 
bassy into  England. 

Henricus  Wottonius  Anglo- Cantianus,  Thomas  optimi  viri films 
natu  minimus,  a  Serenissimo  Jacobo  I.  Mag.  Brit.  Rege,  in  eques- 
trem  titulum  adscitus,  ejusdemque  ter  ad  Rempiihlica?n  Venetam  Le- 
gatus  Ordtnarius,  semel  ad  ConfoRderatarum  Provinciarum  Ordines 
in  Juliacensi  negotio.  Bis  ad  Carolum  Emanuel,  Sabaudias  Du- 
cem  ;  semel  ad  Unitos  Superioris  Germanise  Principes  in  Conven- 
tii  Heilbrunensi.  poslremo  ad  Arcliiducem  Leopold um,  Ducem 
Wittembergensem,  Civitates  LnperiaJes,  Argentinam,  Ulmamque, 
et  ipsum  Romanorum  Imperatorem  Ferdinandum  Secundum,  Le- 
gatus  Extraordinarius,  tandem  hoc  didicit, 

Animas  jieri  sapientiores  quiescendo. 

To  London  he  came  the  year  before  King  James  died  ;  who 
having,  for  the  reward  of  his  foreign  service,  promised  him  the 
reversion  of  an  office,  vvhich  was  fit  to  be  turned  into  present 
money,  which  he  wanted,  for  a  supply  of  his  present  necessities  ; 
and  also  granted  him  the  reversion  of  the  Master  of  the  Rolls 
place,  if  he  outlived  charitable  Sir  Julius  CEEsar,*  who  then  pos- 
sessed it,  and  then  grown  so  old  that  he  was  said  to  be  kept  alive 
beyond  Nature's  course,  by  the  prayers  of  those  many  poor  which 
he  daily  relieved. 

But  these  were  but  in  hope  ;  and  his  condition  required  a  pres- 
ent support :  for  in  the  beginning  of  these  employments  he  sold 
to  his  elder  brother,  the  Lord  Wotton,  the  rent-charge  left  by  his 
good  father  ;  and — which  is  worse — was  now  at  his  return  in- 
debted to  several  persons,  whom  he  was  not  able  to  satisfy,  but  by 

a  Lodcrinsr  Scutcheon,  was  commonly  hung  over  the  door  of  the  house  in  which 
the  Envoy  resided  ;  a  custom  derived  probably  from  the  ancient  times  of  chiv- 
alry, when  the  knights  who  were  to  appear  in  a  tournament  suspended  their 
arms  at  the  windows  of  their  dwellings. 

*  An  eminent  Civilian,  descended  from  a  very  ancient  Italian  family,  and 
born  at  Tottenham,  in  Middlesex,  in  1557,  his  father  being  Physician  to  the 
Queens  Mary  and  Elizabeth.  He  was  educated  at  Magdalen  Hall,  Oxford ; 
but  he  took  his  D.C.L.  degree  at  Paris.  In  1563  he  was  made  Master  of  the 
Requests,  Judge  of  the  Admiralty,  and  Master  of  St.  Catherine's  Hospital ; 
King  James  I.  knighted  him,  made  him  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and 
Master  of  the  Rolls.     He  died  in  1636. 


156  THE   LIFE   OF 


the  King's  payment  of  hia  arrears,  due  for  his  foreign  employ- 
ments. He  liad  brought  into  England  many  servants,  of  which 
some  were  German  and  Italian  Artists  :  this  was  part  of  his  con- 
dition, \vi\o  had  many  times  hardly  sufficient  to  supply  the  occa- 
sions of  the  day  :  for  it  may  by  no  means  be  said  of  his  providence, 
as  himself  said  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  wit,  "  That  it  was  the  very 
measure  of  congruity,"  he  being  always  so  careless  of  money,  as 
though  our  Saviour's  words,  "  Care  not  for  to-morrow,"  wej  e  to 
be  literally  understood. 

But  it  pleased  the  God  of  Providence,  that  in  this  juncture  of 
time,  the  Provostship  of  his  Majesty's  College  of  Eton,  became 
void  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Thomas  Murray,*  for  which  there  were, 
as  the  place  deserved,  many  earnest  and  powerful  suitorsf  to  the 
King.  And  Sir  Flenry,  v/ho  had  for  many  years — like  Sisyphus 
— rolled  the  restless  stone  of  a  State-employment,  knowing  experi- 
mentally that  the  great  blessing  of  sweet  content  was  not  to  be 
found  in  multitudes  of  men  or  business,  and  tliat  a  College  was 
the  fittest  place  to  nourish  holy  thoughts,  and  to  afford  rest  both  to 
his  body  and  mind,  which  his  agC'— being  now  almost  threescore 
years — seemed  to  require,  did  therefore  use  his  own,  and  the  in- 
terest of  all  his  friends  to  procure  that  place.  By  which  means, 
and  quilting  the  King  of  liis  promised  reversionary  offices,  and  a 
piece  of  honest  policy, — which  I  have  not  time  to  relate, — he  got 
a  grant  of  it  from  his  Majesty. 

And  this  was  a  fair  satisfaction  to  his  mind  ;  but  money  was 
wanting  to  furnish  him  with  those  necessaries  which  attend  re- 
moves, and  a  settlement  iti  such  a  place  ;  and,  to  procure  that,  he 
wrote  to  his  old  friend  Mr.  Nicholas  Pey,:}:  for  his  assistance.  Of 
which  Nicholas  Pey  I  shall  here  say  a  little,  for  the  clearing  of 
some  passages  that  I  shall  mention  hereafter. 

*  He  was  a  native  of  Scotland,. Tutor  and  Secretary  to  Prince  Charles.  His 
zeal  in  opposing  the  marriage  of  the  Prince  with  the  Infanta  of  Spain,  occa- 
sioned his  imprisonment  for  sometime,  along  v.'ith  Dr.  George  Hackwell,  Arch- 
deacon of  Surrey,  the  author  of  "  A  Discourse  against  the  Spanish  Match." 
He  died  April  1,  1G23. 

t  Among  other  unsuccessful  candidates  at  this  time  was  the  great  Lord  Ba- 
con, as  appears  from  a  letter  written  by  him  to  Mr.  Secretary  Conway,  dated 
Gray's  Inn,  March  25,  1623. 

t  One  of  the  Clerks  of  t!ic  Kitchen. 


r^ 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  157 

He  was  in  his  youth  a  Clerk,  or  in  some  such  way  a  servant  to 
the  Lord  Wotton,  Sir  Henry's  brother ;  and  by  him,  when  he  was 
Comptroller  of  the  King's  Household,  was  made  a  great  officer  in 
his  Majesty's  house.  This  and  other  favours  being  conferred  upon 
Mr.  Pey — in  whom  there  was  a  radical  honesty — were  always 
.thankfully  acknowledged  by  him,  and  his  gratitude  expressed  by 
a  willing  and  unwearied  serviceableness  to  that  family  even  till 
his  death.  To  him  Sir  Henry  Wotton  wrote,  to  use  all  his  interest 
at  Court,  to  procure  five  hundred  pounds  of  his  arrears,  for  less 
would  not  settle  him  in  the  College  ;  and  the  want  of  such  a  sum 
"  wrinkled  his  face  with  care  ;" — 'twas  his  own  expression, — and, 
that  money  being  procured,  he  should  the  next  day  after  find  him 
in  his  College,  and  "  Invidice,  remedium'''  writ  over  his  study  door. 
This  money,  being  part  of  his  arrears,  was  by  his  own,  and 
the  help  of  honest  Nicholas  Pey's  interest  in  Court,  quickly  pro- 
cured him,  and  he  as  quickly  in  the  College  ;  the  place^  where 
indeed  his  happiness  then  seemed  to  have  its  beginning  /  the  Col- 
lege being  to  his  mind  as  a  quiet  harbour  to  a  sea-faling  man 
after  a  tempestuous  voyage ;  where,  by  the  bounty  of  the  pious 
Founder,  his  very  food  and  raiment  were  plentifully  provided  for 
him  in  kind,  and  more  money  than  enough ;  where  he  was  freed 
from  all  corroding  cares,  and  seated  on  such  a  rock,  as  the  waves 
of  want  could  not  probably  shake  :  where  he  might  sit  in  a  calm, 
and,  looking  down,  behold  the  busy  multitude  turmoiled  and  toss- 
ed in  a  tempestuous  sea  of  trouble  and  dangers ;  and — as  Sir 
William  Davenant  has  happily  expressed  the  like  of  another  per- 
son— 

Laugh  at  the  graver  husiness  of  the  State, 
Which  speaks  men  rather  icise  than  fortunate. 

Being  thus  settled  according  to  the  desires  of  his  heart,  his  first 
study  was  the  Statutes  of  the  College ;  by  which  he  conceived 
himself  bound  to  enter  into  Holy  Orders,  which  he  did,  being  made 
Deacon  with  all  convenient  speed.  Shortly  after  which  time,  as 
he  came  in  his  surplice  from  the  Church-service,  an  old  friend,  a 
per.son  of  quality,  met  him  so  attired,  and  joyed  him  of  his  new 
habit.  To  whom  Sir  Henry  Wotton  replied,  "  I  thank  God  and  the 


158  TPxE   LIFE   OF 


King,  by  whose  goodness  I  now  am  in  this  condition  ;  a  condition 
which  that  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth  seemed -to  approve  ;  who, 
after  so  many  remarkable  victories,  when  his  glory  was  great  in 
the  eyes  of  all  men,  freely  gave  up  his  Crown,  and  the  many  cares 
that  attended  it,  to  Philip  his  Son,  making  a  iioly  retreat  to  a 
Cloisteral  life,  where  he  might,  by  devout  meditations,  consult 
with  God, — which  the  rich  or  busy  men  seldom  do — and  have 
leisure  both  to  examine  the  errors  of  his  life  past,  and  prepare  for 
that  great  day,  wherein  all  flesh  must  make  an  account  of  their 
actions  :  and  after  a  kind  of  tempestuous  life,  I  now  have  the  like 
advantage  from  him,  '  that  makes  the  outgoings  of  the  morning  to 
praise  him  ;'  even  from  my  God,  whom  I  daily  magnify  for  this 
particular  mercy  of  an  exemption  from  business,  a  quiet  mind, 
and  a  liberal  maintenance,  even  in  this  part  of  my  life,  when  my 
age  and  infirmities  seem  to  sound  me  a  retreat  from  the  pleasures 
of  this  world,  and  invite  me  to  contemplation,  in  which  I  have 
ever  taken  the  greatest  felicity." 

And  now  to  speak  a  little  of  the  employment  of  his  time  in  the 
College.  After  his  customary  public  Devotions,  his  use  was  to 
retire  into  his  Study,  and  there  to  spend  some  hours  in  reading 
the  Bible,  and  Authors  in  Divinity,  closing  up  his  meditations 
with  private  prayer  ;  this  was,  for  the  most  part,  his  employment 
in  the  forenoon.  But  when  he  was  once  sat  to  dinner,  then  no- 
thing but  cheerful  thoughts  possessed  his  mind,  and  those  still 
increased  by  constant  company  at  his  table,  of  such  persons  as 
brought  thither  additions  both  of  learning  and  pleasure  :  but  some 
part  of  most  days  was  usually  spent  in  Philosophical  conclusions. 
Nor  did  he  forget  his  innate  pleasure  of  Angling,  which  he  would 
usually  call,  "  his  idle  time  not  idly  spent ;"  saying  often,  "  he 
would  rather  live  five  May  months  than  forty  Decembers." 

He  was  a  great  lover  of  his  neighbours,  and  a  bountiful  enter- 
tainer  of  them  very  often  at  his  table,  where  his  meat  was  choice, 
and  his  discourse  better. 

He  was  a  constant  cherisher  of  all  those  youths  in  that  School, 
in  whom  he  found  cither  a  constant  diligence,  or  a  genius  that 
prompted  them  to  learning  ;  for  whose  encouragement  he  was — 
beside  many  other  things  of  necessity  and  beauty — at  the  charge 
of  setting  up  in  it  two  rows  of  pillars,  on  which  he  caused  to  be 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTOX.  159 

choicely  drawn  the  pictures  of  divers  of  the  most  famous  Greek 
and  Latin  Historians,  Poets,  and  Orators  ;  persuading  them  not 
to  neirlect  Rhetoric,  because  ••'  Ahnio-htv  God  has  left  mankind 
atfections  to  be  wrought  upon  :"  And  he  would  often  say,  "That 
none  despised  Eloquence,  but  such  dull  souls  as  were  not  capable 
of  it."  He  would  also  often  make  choice  of  some  observations 
out  of  those  Historians  and  Poets  ;  and  would  never  leave  the 
School,  without  dropping  some  choice  Greek  or  Latin  apophthegm 
or  sentence,  that  might  be  worthy  of  a  room  in  the  memory  of  a 
growing  scholar.* 

He  was  pleased  constantly  to  breed  up  one  or  more  hopeful 
youths,  which  he  picked  out  of  the  School,  and  took  into  his  own 
domestic  care,  and  to  attend  him  at  his  meals  :  out  of  whose  dis- 
course and  behaviour,  he  gathered  observations  for  the  better 
completing  of  his  intended  work  of  Education  :  of  which,  by  his 
still  striving  to  make  the  whole  better,  he  lived  to  leave  but  part 
to  posterity. 

He  was  a  great  enemy  to  wrangling  disputes  of  Religion  ;  con- 
cerning which  I  shall  say  a  little,  both  to  testify  that,  and  to  show 
the  readiness  of  his  wit. 

Having  at  his  being  in  Rome  made  acquaintance  with  a 
pleasant  Priest,  who  invited  him  one  evening  to  hear  their  Vesper 
music  at  Church  ;  the  Priest  seeing  Sir  Henry  stand  obscurely  in 
a  corner,  sends  to  him  by  a  boy  of  the  Choir  this  question,  writ 
in  a  small  piece  of  paper  ;  "  Where  w^as  your  religion  to  be 
found  before  Luther  ?"  To  which  question  Sir  Henry  presently 
underwrit,  "  My  Religion  was  to  be  found  then,  where  yours 
is  not  to  be  found  now,  in  the  written  word  of  God."' 

The  next  Vesper,  Sir  Henry  went  purposely  to  the  same  Church, 
and  sent  one  of  the  Choir  boys  with  this  question  to  his  honest, 
pleasant  friend,  the  Priest :  -'  Do  you  believe  all  those  many  thou- 
sands of  poor  Christians  were  damned,  that  were  excommunicated 
because  the  Pope  and  the  Duke  of  Venice  could  not  agree  about 
their  temporal  powder  ?  even  those  poor  Christians  that  knew  not 
why  they  quarrelled.  Speak  your  conscience."  To  which  he 
underwrit  in  French,  '■  Monsieur,  excusez-moi." 

*  This  paragraph  was  uot  in  the  first  edition,  neither  was  the  one  beginning 
"  The  next  Ves'per." 


160  THE   LIFE   OF 


To  one  that  asked  him,  "  Whether  a  Papist  may  be  saved  V 
he  replied,  "  You  may  be  saved  without  knowing  tliat.  Look  to 
yourself." 

To  another,  whose  earnestness  exceeded  his  knowledge,  and  was 
still  railing  against  the  Papists,  he  gave  this  advice  :  "  Pray,  Sir, 
ibrbear  till  you  have  studied  the  points  better :  for  the  wise 
Italians  have  this  Proverb  ;  '  He  that  understands  amiss  con- 
cludes worse.'  And  take  heed  of  thinking,  the  farther  you  go 
from  the  Church  of  Rome,  the  nearer  you  are  to  God." 

And  to  another  that  spake  indiscreet  and  bitter  words  against 
Arminius,  I  heard  him  reply  to  this  purpose  : 

"  In  my  travel  towards  Venice,  as  I  passed  through  Germany, 
I  rested  almost  a  year  at  Leyden,  wliere  I  entered  into  an  ac- 
quaintance with  Arminius,* — then  the  Professor  of  Divinity  in 
that  University, — a  man  much  talked  of  in  this  age,  which  is 
made  up  of  opposition  and  controversy.  And  indeed,  if  I  mistake 
not  Arminius  in  his  expressions, — as  so  weak  a  brain  as  mine  is 
may  easily  do, — then  I  know  I  differ  from  him  in  some  points  ; 
yet  I  profess  my  judgment  of  him  to  be,  that  he  was  a  man  of 
most  rare  learning,  and  I  knew  him  to  be  of  a  most  strict  life,  and 
of  a  most  meek  spirit.  And  that  he  M-as  so  mild  appears  by  his 
proposals  to  our  Master  Perkinsf  of  Cambridge,  from  whose  book, 
'  Of  the  Order  and  Causes  of  Salvation' — which  first  was  writ  in 
Latin — Arminius  took  the  occasion  of  writing  some  queries  to  him 
concerning  the  consequents  of  his  doctrine ;  intending  them,  'lis 
said,  to  come  privately  to  Mr.  Perkins'  own  hands,  and  to  receive 
from  him  a  like  private  and  a  like  loving  answer.  But  Mr. 
Perkins  died  before  these  queries  came  to  him,  and  'tis  tiiought 
Arminius  meant  them  to  die  with  him ;   for  though  he  lived  long 


*  James  Arminius,  born  in  15G0,  at  Oudewater,  studied  at  Leyden,  Geneva, 
and  Padua.  Being  employed  to  answer  Theodore  Beza  on  Predestination,  he 
became  a  convert  to  tlie  very  tenets  he  was  endeavouring  to  refute  ;  and  the 
principal  features  of  his  persuasion  were,  a  denial  of  election,  a  belief  in  the 
free-will  of  man  to  attain  salvation,  and  an  idea  that  Christians  may  fall  away, 
and  be  lost.  The  violent  disputes  in  wliich  these  principles  involved  him, 
preyed  upon  his  spirits,  and  brought  on  an  illness,  of  which  he  died  in  1609. 

t  Mr.  William  Perkins,  was  of  Christ  College  in  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, where  lie  died  in  1602.  He  was  minister  of  St.  Andrew's  parish,  in 
Cambridge,  and  had  the  character  of  a  learned,  pious,  and  laborious  preacher. 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  161 

after,  I  have  heard  he  forbore  to  publish  them  :  but  since  his 
death  his  sons  did  not.  And  'tis  pity,  if  God  had  been  so  pleased, 
that  Mr.  Perkins  did  not  live  to  see,  consider,  and  answer  those 
proposals  himself;  for  he  was  also  of  a  most  meek  spirit,  and  of 
great  and  sanctified  learning.  And  though,  since  their  deaths, 
many  of  high  parts  and  piety  have  undertaken  to  clear  the  con- 
troversy ;  yet  for  the  most  part  they  have  rather  satisfied  them- 
selves, than  convinced  the  dissenting  party.  And,  doubtless, 
many  middle-witted  men,  which  yet  may  mean  well,  many  schol- 
ars that  are  in  the  highest  form  for  learning,  which  yet  may 
preach  well,  men  that  are  but  preachers,  and  shall  never  know, 
till  they  come  to  Heaven,  where  the  questions  stick  betwixt 
Arminius  and  the  Church  of  England, — if  there  be  any, — -will 
yet  in  this  world  be  tampering  with,  and  thereby  perplexing  the 
controversy,  and  do  therefore  justly  fall  under  the  reproof  of  St. 
Jude,  for  being  biisy-bodies,  and  for  meddling  with  things  they 
understand  not." 

And  here  it  offers  itself — I  think  not  unfitly — to  tell  the  Reader, 
that  a  friend  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  being  designed  for  the  em- 
ployment of  an  Ambassador,  came  to  Eton,  and  requested  from 
him  some  experimental  rules  for  his  prudent  and  safe  carriage  in 
his  negociations ;  to  whom  he  smilingly  gave  this  for  an  infallible 
aphorism ;  "  That,  to  be  in  safety  himself,  and  serviceable  to  his 
country,  he  should  always,  and  upon  all  occasions,  speak  the  truth, 
— it  seems  a  State  paradox — for,  says  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  you 
shall  never  be  believed  ;  and  by  this  means  your  truth  will  secure 
yourself,  if  you  shall  ever  be  called  to  any  account ;  and  it  will 
also  put  your  adversaries — who  will  still  hunt  counter — to  a  loss 
in  all  their  disquisitions  and  undertakings." 

Many  more  of  this  nature  might  be  observed  ;  but  they  must 
be  laid  aside :  for  I  shall  here  make  a  little  stop,  and  invite  the 
Reader  to  look  back  with  me,  whilst,  according  to  my  promise,  I 
shall  say  a  little  of  Sir  Albertus  Morton,  and  Mr.  William  Bedel, 
whom  I  formerly  mentioned. 

I  have  told  you  that  are  my  Reader,  that  at  Sir  Henry  Wot- 
ton's first  going  Ambassador  into  Italy,  his  Cousin,  Sir  Albertus 
Morton,  went  his  Secretary  :  and  I  am  next  to  tell  you,  that  Sir 
Albertus  died  Secretary  of  State  to  our  late  King ;  but  cannot, 

12 


162  THE   LIFE   OF 


am  not  able  to  express  the  sorrow  that  possessed  Sir  Henry  Wot- 
ton,  at  his  first  hearing  the  news  that  Sir  Albertus  was  by  death 
lost  to  him  and  tliis  world.  And  yet  the  Reader  may  partly  guess 
by  these  following  expressions :  the  first  in  a  letter  to  his  Nicho- 
las Pey,  of  which  this  that  foUoweth  is  a  part. 

"  And,  my  dear  Nich.  when  I  had  been  here  almost  a  fort- 
night, in  the  midst  of  my  great  contentment,  I  received  notice  of 
Sir  Albertus  Morton  his  departure  out  of  this  world,  who  was 
dearer  to  me  than  mine  own  being  in  it :  what  a  wound  it  is  to 
my  heart,  you  that  knew  him,  and  know  me,  will  easily  believe : 
but  our  Creator's  will  must  be  done,  and  unrepiningly  received 
by  his  own  creatures,  who  is  the  Lord  of  all  Nature  and  of  all 
Fortune,  when  he  laketh  to  himself  now  one,  and  then  another, 
till  that  expected  day,  wherein  it  shall  please  him  to  dissolve  the 
whole,  and  wrap  up  even  the  Heaven  itself  as  a  scroll  of  parch- 
ment. This  is  the  last  philosopliy  tliat  we  must  study  upon  earth  ; 
let  us  therefore,  that  yet  remain  here,  as  our  days  and  friends 
waste,  reinforce  our  love  to  each  other  ;  which  of  all  virtues,  both 
spiritual  and  moral,  liath  the  highest  privilege,  because  death 
itself  cannot  end  it.     And  my  good  Nich."  &;c. 

This  is  a  part  of  his  sorrow  thus  expressed  to  his  Nich.  Pey: 
the  other  part  is  in  this  following  Elegy,  of  which  the  Reader 
may  safely  conclude  it  was  too  hearty  to  be  dissembled. 


TEARS 

WEPT    AT    THE    GRAVE    OF    SIR    ALBERTUS    MORTON, 
BY    HENRY    WOTTON. 

Silence,  in  truth  would  speak  my  sorrow  hest, 
For  deepest  wounds  can  least  their  feelings  tell : 
Yet,  let  me  harrow  from  mine  own  unrest, 
A  time  to  bid  him.,  luhor.i  I  lov^d,  farewell. 

Oh,  my  unhappy  lines  !  you  that  before 

Have  served  my  youth  to  vent  some  wanton  cries, 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  163 

And  now,  congeaVd  with  griefs  can  scarce  implore 
Strength,  to  accent,  "  Here  my  Alhertus  UesJ^ 

This  is  that  sahle  stone,  this  is  the  cave 
And  loomh  of  earth,  that  doth  his  corse  embrace: 
While  others  sing  his^  praise,  let  me  engrave 
These  bleeding  numbers  to  adorn  the  place. 

Here  will  I imint  the  characters  of  woe  ; 
Here  will  I  pay  my  tribute  to  the  dead  ; 
And  here  my  faithful  tears  in  showers  shall  jlow, 
To  humanize  thejiints  on  which  I  tread. 

iVIiere,  though  I  mourn  my  matchless  loss  alone, 
And  none  between  my  iveakness  judge  and  me  ; 
Yet  even  these  pensive  walls  allow  my  moan, 
Whose  doleful  echoes  to  my  plaints  agree. 

But  is  he  gone  ?  and  live  I  rhyming  here, 
As  if  some  Muse  icould  listen  to  my  lay  ? 
When  all  distun'd  sit  waiting  for  their  dear. 
And  bathe  the  banks  where  he  was  wont  to  play. 

Dwell  then  in  endless  bliss  with  happy  souls, 
Discharg' d  from  Nature^  s  and  from  Fortune^  s  trust  ; 
Whilst  on  this  fuid  globe  my  hour-glass  rolls, 
And  runs  the  rest  of  my  remaining  dust. 

IT.  W. 

This  concerning  his  Sir  Alhertus  Morton, 

And  for  what  I  shall  say  concerning  Mr.  William  Bedel,  I  must 
prepare  the  Reader  by  lolling  liim,  that  when  King  James  sent 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  Ambassador  to  the  State  of  Venice,  he  sent 
also  an  Ambassador  to  the  Kin<T  of  France,  and  another  to  the 
King  of  Spain.  With  the  Ambassador  of  France  went  Joseph 
Hall,  late  Bishop  of  Norwich,  whose  many  and  useful  works 
speak  his  great  merit:  with  the  Ambassador  to  Spain  went  James 
Wadsworth ;  and  with  Sir  Henry  Wotton  went  William  Bedel. 


164  THE   LIFE  OF 


These  three  Chaplains  to  these  three  Ambassadors  were  all 
bred  in  one  University,  all  of  one  College,*  all  beneficed  in  one 
Diocese,  and  all  most  dear  and  entire  friends.  But  in  Spain,  Mr. 
Wadsworth  met  with  temptations,  or  reasons,  such  as  were  so 
powerful  as  to  persuade  him — who  of  the  three  was  formerly  ob- 
served to  be  the  most  averse  to  that  Religion  that  calls  itself  Cath- 
olic— to  disclaim  himself  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England, 
and  to  declare  himself  for  the  Church  of  Rome,  discharging 
himself  of  his  attendance  on  the  Ambassador,  and  betaking  him- 
self to  a  monasterial  life,  in  which  he  lived  very  regularly  and  so 
died.'|- 

When  Dr.  Hall,  the  late  Bishop  of  Norwich,  came  into  Eng- 
land, he  wrote  to  Mr.  Wadsworth, — it  is  the  first  Epistle  in  his 
printed  Decades, — to  persuade  his  return,  or  to  shew  the  reason 
of  his  apostacy.  The  letter  seemed  to  have  in  it  many  sweet 
expressions  of  love  ;  and  yet  there  was  in  it  some  expres- 
sion that  was  so  unpleasant  to  Mr.  Wadsworth,  that  he  chose 
rather  to  acquaint  his  old  friend  Mr.  Bedel  with  his  motives;  by 
which  means  there  passed  betwixt  Mr.  Bedel  and  Mr.  Wadsworth, 
divers  letters  which  be  extant  in  print,  and  did  well  deserve  it ;  for 
in  them  there  seems  to  be  a  controversy,  not  of  Religion  only,  but 
who  should  answer  each  other  with  most  love  and  meekness ; 
which  I  mention  the  rather,  because  it  too  seldom  falls  out  to  be 
so  in  a  book -war. 

There  is  yet  a  little  more  to  be  said  of  Mr.  Bedel,  for  the 
greater  part  of  which  the  Reader  is  referred  to  tiiis  following  let- 
ter of  Sir  Henry  Wotton's,  written  to  our  late  King  Cimrles  the 
First : 

"  May  it  please  Your  most  Gracious  Majesty, 

"  Having  been  informed  that  certain  persons  have,  by  the  good 
wishes  of  tlie  Archbishop  of  Armagh,  been  directed  hither,  with  a 
most  humble  petition  unto  your  Majesty  that  you  will  be  pleased 
to  make  Mr.  William  Bedel — now  resident  upon  a  small  benefice 
in  Suffolk — Governor  of  your  College  at  Dublin,  for  the  good  of 

*  Emaiinel  College  in  Cambridoje. 

1  lie  had  been  appointed  to  teach  the  Infanta  English,  when  the  match 
between  her  and  Prince  Charles  was  supposed  to  be  concluded. 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  165 

that  Society ;  and  myself  being  required  to  render  unto  your 
Majesty  some  testimony  of  the  said  William  Bedel  who  was  long 
my  Chaplain  at  Venice,  in  the  time  of  my  first  employment  there, 
I  am  bound  in  all  conscience  and  truth — so  far  as  your  Majesty 
will  vouchsafe  to  accept  my  poor  judgment — to  affirm  of  him,  that 
I  think  hardly  a  fitter  man  for  that  charge  could  have  been  pro- 
pounded unto  your  Majesty  in  your  whole  kingdom,  for  singu- 
lar erudition  and  piety,  conformity  to  the  rites  of  the  Church, 
and  zeal  to  advance  the  cause  of  God,  wherein  his  travails 
abroad  were  not  obscure  in  the  time  of  the  Excommunication 
of  the  Venetians. 

"  For  it  may  please  your  Majesty  to  know,  that  this  is  the  man 
whom  Padre  Paulo  took,  I  may  say,  into  his  very  soul,  with  whom 
he  did  communicate  the  inwardest  thoughts  of  his  heart ;  from 
whom  he  professed  to  have  received  more  knowledge  in  all  Di- 
vinity, both  scholastical  and  positive,  than  from  any  that  he  had 
ever  practised  in  his  days ;  of  which  all  the  passages  were  well 
known  to  the  King  your  Father,  of  most  blessed  memory.  And 
so,  with  your  Majesty's  good  favour,  I  will  end  this  needless 
office  ;  for  the  general  fame  of  his  learning,,  his  life  and  Chris- 
tian temper,  and  those  religious  labours  which  himself  hath 
dedicated  to  your  Majesty,  do  better  describe  him  than  I  am  able. 

Your  Majesty's 
Most  humble  and  faithfnl  servant, 

H.    WoTTON.'' 

To  this  letter  I  shall  add  this  :  that  he  was — to  the  great 
joy  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton — made  Governor  of  the  said  college  ;* 
and  that,  after  a  fair  discharge  of  his  duty  and  trust  there  he  was 
thence  removed  to  be  Bishop  of  Kilmore.f  In  both  places  his 
life  was  so  holy,  as  seemed  to  equal  the  primitive  Christians :  for 
as  they,  so  he  kept  all  the  Ember-weeks,  observed — besides  his 
private  devotions — the  canonical  hours  of  prayer  very  strictly, 
and  so  he  did  all  the  Feasts  and  Fast-days  of  his  mother,  the 
Church  of  England.  To  which  I  may  add,  that  his  patience  and 
charity  were  both  such,  as  shewed  his  aflections  were  set  upon 
things  that  are  above  ;  for  indeed  his  whole  life  brought  forth  the 

*  Aug.  1627.  t  Sept.  3,  1629. 


166  THE   LIFE   OF 


fruits  of  the  spirit ;  there  being  in  him  such  a  remarkable  meek- 
ness,  that  as  St.  Paul  advised  his  Timothy  in  the  election  of  a 
Bishop,  '•'  That  he  have  a  good  report  of  those  that  be  without  ;"* 
so  had  he  :  for  those  that  were  without,  even  those  that  in  point 
of  Religion  were  of  the  Roman  persuasion, — of  which  there  were 
very  many  in  his  Diocese, — did  yet — such  is  the  Power  of  visible 
piety — ever  look  upon  him  with  respect  and  reverence,  and  testi- 
fied it  by  a  concealing,  and  safe  protecting  him  from  death  in  the 
late  horrid  rebellion  in  Ireland,  v/hen  the  fury  of  the  wild  Irish 
knew  no  distinction  of  persons :  and  yet,  there  and  then  he  was 
protected  and  cherished  by  those  of  a  contrary  persuasion  ;  and 
there  and  then  he  died,  not  by  violence  or  misusage,  but  by  grief 
in  a  quiet  prison  (1629).  And  with  him  was  lost  many  of  his 
learned  writings  which  were  thought  worthy  of  preservation  ;  and 
amongst  the  rest  was  lost  the  Bible,  which  by  many  years  labour, 
and  conference,  and  study,  he  had  translated  into  the  Irish  tongue, 
with  an  intent  to  have  printed  it  for  public  use. 

More  might  be  said  of  Mr.  Bedel,  who,  I  told  the  Reader,  was 
Sir  Henry  Wotton's  first  Chaplain ;  and  much  of  his  second 
Chaplain,  Isaac  Bargrave,t  Doctor  in  Divinity,  and  the  late 
learned  and  hospitable  Dean  of  Canterbury  ;  as  also  of  the  merits 
of  many  others,  that  had  the  happiness  to  attend  Sir  Henry  in  his 
foreign  employments  :  but  the  Reader  may  think  that  in  this  di- 
gression I  have  already  carried  him  too  far  from  Eton  College,  and 
therefore  I  shall  lead  him  back  as  gently  and  as  orderly  as  I  may  to 
that  place,  for  a  further  conference  concerning  Sir  Henry  Wotton. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  had  proposed  to  himself,  before  he  entered 
into  his  Collegiate  life,  to  write  the  Life  of  Martin  Luther,  and  in 
it  the  History  of  the  Reformation,  as  it  was  carried  on  in  Ger- 
many :  for  the  doing  of  which  he  had  many  advantages  by  his 
several  Embassies  into  those  parts,  and  his  interest  in  the  several 
Princes  of  the  Empire  ;  by  whose   means  he  had  access  to  the 

*  1  Tim.  iii.  7. 

t  Dean  of  Canterbury,  born  at  Bridge,  in  Kent,  in  1586,  and  educated  at 
Clare  Hall,  Cambridge.  He  was  fined  lOOOZ.  at  the  commencement  of  the 
Civil  Wars,  for  being  a  member  of  the  Convocation;  and,  in  1642,  Colonel 
Sandys,  whom  he  had  saved  from  execution,  threw  him  into  the  Fleet,  which 
canned  his  death  in  January.  ]G43. 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  167 

Records  of  all  the  Hans  Towns,  and  the  knowledge  of  many  secret 
passages  that  fell  not  under  common  view  ;  and  in  these  he  had 
made  a  happy  progress,  as  was  well  known  to  his  worthy  friend  Dr. 
Duppa,  the  late  reverend  Bishop  of  Salisbury.  But  in  the  midst 
of  this  design,  his  late  Majesty  King  Charles  the  First,  that  knew 
the  value  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  pen,  did,  by  a  persuasive  loving 
violence — to  which  may  be  added  a  promise  of  500/.  a  year — 
force  him  to  lay  Luther  aside,  and  betake  himself  to  write  the 
history  of  England ;  in  which  he  proceeded  to  write  some  short 
characters  of  a  few  Kings,  as  a  foundation  upon  which  he  meant 
to  build  ;  but  for  the  present,  meant  to  be  more  large  in  the  story 
of  Henry  the  Sixth,  the  Founder  of  that  College,  in  which  he 
then  enjoyed  all  the  worldly  happiness  of  his  present  being.  But 
Sir  Henry  died  in  the  midst  of  this  undertaking,  and  the  footsteps 
of  his  labours  are  not  recoverable  by  a  more  than  common  dili- 
gence.* 

This  is  some  account  both  of  his  inclination  and  the  employ- 
ment of  his  time  in  the  College,  where  he  seemed  to  have  his 
youth  renewed  by  a  continual  conversation  with  that  learned  so- 
ciety, and  a  daily  recourse  of  other  friends  of  choicest  breeding 
and  parts ;  by  which  that  great  blessing  of  a  cheerful  heart  was 
still  maintained  :  he  beinir  always  free,  even  to  the  last  of  his 
days,  from  that  peevishness  which  usually  attends  age. 

And  yet  his  mirth  was  sometimes  damped  by  the  remembrance 
of  divers  old  debts,  partly  contracted  in  his  foreign  employments, 
for  which  his  just  arrears  due  from  the  King  would  have  made 
satisfaction  :  but  being  still  delayed  with  Court-promises,  and 
finding  some  decays  of  health,  he  did,  about  two  years  before  his 
death,  out  of  a  Christian  desire  that  none  should  be  a  loser  by  him, 
make  his  last  Will ;  concerning  which  a  doubt  still  remains, 
namely,  whether  it  discovered  more  holy  wit,  or  conscionable 
policy.  But  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  his  chief  design,  was  a 
Christian  endeavour  that  his  debts  might  be  satisfied. 

And  that  it  may  remain  as  such  a  testimony,  and  a  legacy  to 
those  that  loved  him,  I  shall  here  impart  it  to  the  reader,  as  it  was 
found  written  with  his  own  hand. 

•     *  The  passages  from,  "  for  I  shall  here  make  a  little  stop"  in  page  148  to 
Ibis  place  wore  not,  in  the  first  edition. 


168  THE  LIFE  OF 


"  In  the  name  of  God  Almighty  and  All-merciful,  I  Henry 
Wotton,  Provost  of  his  Majesty's  College  by  Eton,  being  mindful 
of  mine  own  mortality,  which  the  sin  of  our  first  parents  did  bring 
upon  all  flesh,  do  by  this  last  Will  and  Testament  thus  dispose  of 
myself,  and  the  poor  things  I  shall  leave  in  this  world.  My  Soul 
I  bequeath  to  the  Immortal  God  my  Maker,  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  my  blessed  Redeemer  and  Mediator,  through  his  all 
sole-sufficient  satisfaction  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  and  ef- 
ficient for  his  elect ;  in  the  number  of  whom  I  am  one  by  his 
mere  grace,  and  thereof  most  unremoveably  assured  by  his  Holy 
Spirit,  the  true  eternal  Comforter.  My  body  I  bequeath  to  the 
earth,  if  I  shall  end  my  transitory  days,  at  or  near  Eton,  to  be 
buried  in  the  Chapel  of  the  said  College,  as  the  Fellows  shall  dis- 
pose thereof,  with  whom  I  have  lived — my  God  knows — in  all 
loving  affection  ;  or  if  I  shall  die  near  Bocton  Malherbe,  in  the 
County  of  Kent,  then  I  wish  to  be  laid  in  that  Parish-Church,  as 
near  as  may  be  to  the  sepulchre  of  my  good  father,  expecting  a 
joyful  resurrection  with  him  in  the  day  of  Christ." 

After  this  account  of  his  faith,  and  this  surrender  of  his  soul  to 
that  God  that  inspired  it,  and  this  direction  for  the  disposal  of  his 
body,  he  proceeded  to  appoint  that  his  Executors  should  lay  over 
his  grave  a  marble  stone,  plain,  and  not  costly  :  and  considering 
that  time  moulders  even  marble  to  dust, — for — *Monuments  them- 
selves must  die ;  therefore  did  he — waving  the  common  way — ■ 
think  fit  rather  to  preserve  his  name — to  which  the  son  of  Sirach 
adviseth  all  men — by  a  useful  Apophthegm,  than  by  a  large  enu- 
meration of  his  descent  or  merits,  of  both  which  he  might  justly 
have  boasted  ;  but  he  was  content  to  forget  them,  and  did  choose 
only  this  prudent,  pious  sentence  to  discover  his  disposition,  and 
preserve  his  memory. 

It  was  directed  by  him  to  be  thus  inscribed  ; 

Hie  jacet  hujus  Sententice  j)rimus  Author  : 

DISPUTANDI     PRURITUS     ECCLESIARUM     SCABIES. 

Nomen  alias  gucere. 
*  Juven.  Sat.  x.  146. 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  169 

Whicli  may  be  Englished  thus  : 

Here  lies  the  first  Author  of  this  sentence : 

THE  ITCH  OF    DISPUTATION  WILL  PROVE 
THE  SCAB  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

Inquire  his  Name  elsewhere.  ^ 

And  if  any  shall  object,  as  I  think  some  have,  that  Sir  Henry 
Wotton  was  not  the  first  author  of  this  sentence  :  but  that  this,  or 
a  sentence  like  it,  was  long  before  his  time  ;  to  him  I  answer, 
that  Solomon  says,  "  Nothing  can  be  spoken,  that  hath  not  been 
spoken  ;  for  there  is  no  new  thing  under  the  sun."  But  grant, 
that  in  his  various  reading  he  had  met  with  this,  or  a  like  sentence, 
yet  reason  mixed  with  charity  should  persuade  all  Readers  to  be- 
lieve, that  Sir  Henry  Wotton 's  mind  was  then  so  fixed  on  that 
part  of  the  communion  of  Saints  which  is  above,  that  an  holy 
lethargy  did  surprise  his  memory.  For  doubtless,  if  he  had 
not  believed  himself  to  be  the  first  author  of  what  he  said,  he 
was  too  prudent,  first  to  own,  and  then  expose  it  to  public  view  and 
censure  of  every  critic.  And  questionless  it  will  be  charity  in 
all  Readers  to  think  his  mind  was  then  so  fixed  on  Heaven,  that 
a  holy  zeal  did  transport  him  ;  and  that,  in  this  sacred  ecstacy, 
his  thoughts  were  then  only  of  the  Church  Triumphant,  into 
which  he  daily  expected  his  admission  ;  and  that  Almighty  God 
was  then  pleased  to  make  him  a  Prophet,  to  tell  the  Church  Mil- 
itant, and  particularly  that  part  of  it  in  this  nation,  where  the 
weeds  of  controversy  grow  to  be  daily  both  more  numerous  and 
more  destructive  to  humble  piety ;  and  where  men  have  con- 
sciences  that  boggle  at  ceremonies,  and  yet  scruple  not  to  speak 
and  act  such  sins  as  the  ancient  humble  Christians  believed  to  be 
a  sin  to  think;  and  where,  our  reverend  Hooker  says,  "former 
simplicity,  and  softness  of  spirit,  is  not  now  to  be  found,  because 
Zeal  hath  drowned  Charity,  and  Skill,  Meekness."  It  will  be 
good  to  think,  that  these  sad  changes,  have  proved  this  Epitaph  to 
be  a  useful  caution  unto  us  of  this  nation ;  and  the  sad  effects 
thereof  in  Germany  have  proved  it  to  be  a  mournful  truth. 


170  THE    LIFE    OF 


This  by  way  of  observation  concerning  his  Epitaph  ;  the  rest 
of  his  Will  follows  in  his  own  words  : 

"  Further,  I  the  said  Henry  Wotton,  do  constitute  and  ordain  to 
be  joint  E.xecutors  of  this  my  last  Will  and  Testament,  my  two 
grand-nephews,  Albert  Morton,  second  son  to  Sir  Robert  Morton, 
Knight,  late  deceased,  and  Thomas  Bargrave,  eldest  son  to  Dr. 
Bargrave,  Dean  of  Canterbur\^,  husband  to  my  right  virtuous  and 
only  Niece.     And  I  do  pray  the  foresaid  Dr.  Bargrave,  and  Mr. 
Nicholas  Pey,  my  most  faithful  and  chosen  friends,  together  v.-ith 
Mr.  John   Harrison,*  one   of  the    Fellows  of  Eton   College,   best 
acquainted  with  my  books,  and  pictures,  and  other  utensils,  to  be 
Supervisors  of  this  my  last  Will  and  Testament.     And  I  do  pray 
the  foresaid  Dr.  Bargrave,  and  Mr.  Nicholas  Pev,  to  be  solicitors 
for  such  arrearages  as  shall  appear  duo  unto  me  from  his  Maj- 
esty's  Exchequer  at  the  time  of  my  death  ;  and  to  assist  my  fore- 
named  Executors  in  some  reasonable  and  conscientious  satisfac- 
tion of  my  creditors,  and  discharge  of  my  legacies  now  specified  ; 
or  that  shall  be  hereafter  added  unto  this  my  Testament,  by  any 
Codicil  or  Schedule,  or  left  in  the  hands,  or  in  any  memorial  with 
the  aforesaid  Mr.  John  Harrison.     And  first,  to  my  most  dear 
Sovereign  and  Master,  of  incomparable  goodness, — in  whose  gra- 
cious opinion  I  have  ever  had  some  portion,  as  far  as  the  interest 
of  a  plain  honest  man — I  leave  four  pictures  at  large  of  those 
Dukes  of  Venice,  in  whose  time  I  u^as  there  employed,  with  their 
names  written  on  the  back  side,  which  hang  in  my  great  ordinary 
Dining  room,  done  after  the  life  by  Edoardo  Fialetto :  likewise  a 
table  of  the  Venetian  College,  where  Ambassadors  had  their  au- 
dience, hanging  over  the  mantle  of  the  chimney  in  the  said  room, 
done  by  the  same  hand,  which  containeth  a  draught  in  little,  well 
resembling  the  famous  Duke  Leonardo  Donato,  in  a  time  which 
needed  a  wise  and  constant  man.     Item.     The  picture  of  a  Duke 
of  Venice,  hanging  over  against  the  door,  done  either  by  Titiano, 
or  some  other  principal  hand,  long  before  my  time.     Most  humbly 

*  Elected  Fellow  of  Eton  College,  October  28tli,  1636.  lie  was  proba- 
bly that  "learned  and  emuient  Divine,"  whom  Anthony  "Wood  mentions  as 
the  Author  of  *'  A  Vindication  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  or  the  Manifestation  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  true  Meiisiah  already  come."     Loud.  1656.  8vo. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  171 

beseeching  his  Majesty,  that  the  said  pieces  may  remain  in  some 
corner  of  any  of  his  houses,  for  a  poor  memorial  of  his  most 
humble  vassal. 

*'  Item.  I  leave  his  said  Majesty  all  the  papers  and  negociations 
of  Sir  Nich.  Throgmorton,*  Knight,  during  his  famous  employ- 
ment under  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  Scotland,  and  in  France  ;  which 
contain  divers  secrets  of  State,  that  perchance,  his  Majesty  will 
think  fit  to  be  preserved  in  his  Paper-Office,  after  they  have  been 
perused  and  sorted  by  Mr.  Secretary  Windebank,  with  whom  I 
have  heretofore,  as  I  remember,  conferred  about  them.  They 
were  committed  to  my  disposal  by  Sir  Arthur  Throgmorton,  his 
Son,  to  whose  worthy  memory  I  cannot  better  discharge  my  faith, 
than  bv  assio-nincr  them  to  the  highest  place  of  trust.     Item.  1 

.<  o  o  or 

leave  to  our  most  gracious  and  virtuous  Queen  Mary,  Dioscorides, 
with  the  plants  naturally  coloured,  and  the  text  translated  by 
Matthiolo,  in  the  best  language  of  Tuscany,  whence  her  said  Maj- 
esty is  lineally  descended,  for  a  poor  token  of  my  thankful  devo- 
tion, for  the  honour  she  was  once  pleased  to  do  my  private  Study 
with  her  presence.  I  leave  to  the  most  hopeful  Prince,  the  pic- 
ture of  the  elected  and  crowned  Queen  of  Bohemia,  his  Aunt,  of 
clear  and  resplendent  virtues,  through  the  clouds  of  her  fortune. 
To  my  Lord's  Grace  of  Canterbury  nov/  being,  I  leave  my  pic- 
ture of  Divine  Love,  rarely  copied  fi'om  one  in  the  King's  gal- 
leries, of  my  presentation  to  his  Majesty  ;  beseeching  him  to  re- 
ceive it  as  a  pledge  of  my  humble  reverence  to  his  great  wisdom. 
And  to  the  most  worthy  Lord  Bishop  of  London,  Lord  High 
Treasurer  of  EnMand,  in  true  admiration  of  his  Christian  sim- 
plicity  and  contempt  of  earthly  pomp,  I  leave  a  picture  of  He- 
raclitus  bewailiniz,  and  Democritus  lauo;hincr  at  the  world  :  most 
humbly  beseeching  the  said  Lord  Archbishop  his  Grace,  and  the 
Lord  Bishop  of  London,  of  both  whose  favours  I  have  tasted  in 
my  life-time,  to  intercede  v.'ith  our  most  gracious  Sovereign  after 

*  An  eminent  Statesman  and  Ambassador  in  the  Court  of  Elizabetli,  whose 
daughter  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  married,  fie  was  imprisoned  in  the  Tower,  as 
a  party  in  Wyatt's  insurrection,  but  was  acquitted  for  want  of  evidence  ;  and 
being  greatly  esteemed  by  Secretary  Walsingham,  he  was  employed  in  Em- 
bassies, both  to  France  and  Scotland.  He  died  in  February,  1571,  being  ta- 
ken ill  in  the  house  of  Treasurer  Cecil,  and  not  without  suspicion  of  poison. 


172  THE   LIFE   OF 


my  death,  in  the  bowels  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  out  of  compassionate 
memory  of  my  long  services, — wherein  I  more  studied  the  public 
honour  than  mine  own  utility, — some  order  may  be  taken  out  of 
my  arrears  due  in  the  Exchequer,  for  such  satisfaction  of  my 
creditors,  as  those  whom  I  have  ordained  Supervisors  of  this  my 
last  Will  and  Testament  shall  present  unto  their  Lordships,  with- 
out their  further  trouble :  hoping  likewise  in  his  Majesty's  most 
indubitable  goodness,  that  he  will  keep  me  from  all  prejudice, 
which  I  may  otherwise  suffer  by  any  defect  of  formality  in  the 

demand   of  my  said  arrears.     To for  a  poor  addition  to  his 

Cabinet,  I  leave,  as  emblems  of  his  attractive  virtues  and  obli- 
ging nobleness,  my  great  Loadstone,  and  a  piece  of  Amber,  of 
both  kinds  naturally  united,  and  only  differing  in  degree  of  con- 
coction,  which  is  thought  somewhat  rare.  Item.  A  piece  of 
Chrystal  Sexangular — as  they  grow  all — grasping  divers  several 
things  within  it,  which  I  bought  among  the  Rhoetian  Alps,  in  the 
very  place  where  it  grew  ;  recommending  most  humbly  unto  his 
Lordship,  the  reputation  of  my  poor  name  in  the  point  of  my 
debts,  as  I  have  done  to  the  forneamed  Spiritual  Lords,  and  am 
heartily  sorry  that  I  have  no  better  token  of  my  humble  thank- 
fulness to  his  honoured  person.  Item.  I  leave  to  Sir  Francis 
Windebank,  one  of  his  Majesty's  principal  Secretaries  of  State, 
— whom  I  found  my  great  friend  in  point  of  necessity, — the  four 
Seasons  of  old  Bassano,  to  hang  near  the  eye  in  his  Parlour, — be- 
ing in  little  form, — which  I  bought  at  Venice,  where  I  first 
entered  into  his  most  worthy  acquaintance. 

"  To  the  above-named  Dr.  Bargrave,  Dean  of  Canterbury,  I 
leave  all  my  Italian  Books  not  disposed  in  this  Will.  I  leave  to 
him  likewise  my  Viol  de  Gamba,  which  hath  been  twice  with  me 
in  Italy,  in  which  country  I  first  contracted  with  him  an  unre- 
moveable  affection.  To  my  other  Supervisor,  Mr.  Nicholas  Pey, 
I  leave  my  Chest,  or  Cabinet  of  Instruments  and  Engines  of  all 
kinds  of  uses :  in  the  lower  box  whereof,  are  some*  fit  to  be  be- 
queathed to  none  but  so  entire  an  honest  man  as  he  is.  I  leave 
him  likewise  forty  pounds  for  his  pains  in  the  solicitation  of  my 
arrears ;  and  am  sorry  that  my  ragged  estate  can  reach  no  fur- 

*  In  it  were  Italian  locks,  pick-locks,  screws  to  force  open  doors,  and  many 
things  of  worth  and  rarity,  that  he  had  gathered  in  his  foreign  travel. 


SIR  HENRY   WOTTON.  173 

iher  to  one  that  hath  taken  such  care  for  me  in  the  same  kind, 
during  all  my  foreign  employments.  To  the  Library  of  Eton 
College,  I  leave  all  my  Manuscripts  not  before  disposed,  and  to 
each  of  the  Fellows  a  plain  Ring  of  Gold,  enamelled  black,  all 
save  the  verge,  with  this  motto  within,  "  Amor  unit  o?nnia.'' 
■  "  This  is  my  last  Will  and  Testament,  save  what  shall  be 
added  by  a  Schedule  thereunto  annexed,  written  on  the  First  of 
October,  in  the  present  Year  of  our  Redemption,  1637,  and  sub- 
scribed by  myself,  with  the  testimony  of  these  Witnesses, 

Henry  Wotton." 

Nich.  Oudert, 

Geo.  Lash." 

And  now,  because  the  mind  of  man  is  best  satisfied  by  the 
knowledge  of  events,  I  think  fit  to  declare,  that  every  one  that 
was  named  in  his  Will  did  gladly  receive  their  legacies :  by 
which,  and  his  most  just  and  passionate  desires  for  the  payment 
of  his  debts,  they  joined  in  assisting  the  Overseers  of  his  Will  ;* 
and  by  their  joint  endeavours  to  the  King, — than  whom  none  was 
more  willing — conscionable  satisfaction  was  given  for  his  just 
debts. 

The  next  thing  wherewith  I  shall  acquaint  the  Reader  is,  that 
he  went  usually  once  a  year,  if  not  oftener,  to  the  beloved  Bocton 
Hall,  where  he  would  say,  "  He  found  a  cure  for  all  cares,  by 
the  cheerful  company,  v/hich  he  called  the  living  furniture  of  that 
place  ;  and  a  restoration  of  his  strength,  by  the  connaturalness  of 
that  which  he  called  his  genial  air." 

He  yearly  went  also  to  Oxford.  But  the  Summer  before  his 
death  he  changed  that  for  a  journey  to  Winchester  College,  to 
which  School  he  was  first  removed  from  Bocton,  And  as  he  re- 
turned from  Winchester  towards  Eton  College,  said  to  a  friend, 
his  companion  in  that  journey  ;  '•'  How  useful  was  that  advice  of 
a  holy  Monk,  who  persuaded  his  friend  to  perform  his  customary 
devotions  in  a  constant  place,  because  in  that  place  we  usually 
meet  with  those  very  thoughts  which  possessed  us  at  our  last 

*  The  Will  is  recorded  in  the  Prerogative  Court  of  Canterbury,  in  the  vol- 
ume marked  Coventry,  Article  8:  it  was  proved  Jan.  18th,  1639-40,  before 
Sir  Henry  Marten. 


174  THE   LIFE   OF 


being  there !  And  I  find  it  thus  far  experimentally  true,  that  at 
my  now  being  in  that  School,  and  seeing  that  very  place  where 
I  sat  when  I  was  a  boy,  occasioned  me  to  remember  those  very 
thoughts  of  my  youth  which  then  possessed  me :  sweet  thoughts 
indeed,  that  promised  my  growing  years  numerous  pleasures, 
without  mixtures  of  cares  :  and  those  to  be  enjoyed,  when  time — 
which  I  therefore  thought  slow-paced — had  changed  my  youth 
into  manhood.  But  age  and  experience  have  taught  me  that 
those  were  but  empty  hopes ;  for  I  have  always  found  it  true,  as 
my  Saviour  did  foretell,  '  sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.' 
Nevertheless,  I  saw  there  a  succession  of  bovs  usins  the  same 
recreations,  and,  questionless,  possessed  with  the  same  thoughts 
that  then  possessed  me.  Thus  one  generation  succeeds  another, 
both  in  their  lives,  recreations,  hopes,  fears,  and  death." 

After  his  return  from  Winchester  to  Eton,  which  was  about 
five  months  before  his  death,  he  became  much  more  retired  and 
contemplative :  in  which  time  he  was  often  visited  by  Mr.  John 
Hales,* — learned  Mr.  John  Hales, — then  a  Fellow  of  that  Col- 
lege, to  whom  upon  an  occasion  he  spake  to  this  purpose :  "  I 
have,  in  my  passage  to  my  grave,  met  with  most  of  those  joj'^s  of 
which  a  discoursive  soul  is  capable ;  and  been  entertained  with 
more  inferior  pleasures  than  the  sons  of  men  are  usually  made 
partakers  of:  nevertheless,  in  this  voyage  I  have  not  always 
floated  on  the  calm  sea  of  content  j  but  have  often  met  with  cross 

*  Mr.  John  Hales,  of  Eton,  coinmonly  called  "  the  Ever-Memorable,"  and 
"  the  Walking  Library,"  from  his  extensive  erudition,  was  Greek  Professor  of 
the  University  of  Oxford,  and  was  born  at  Bath  in  the  year  1584.  He  en- 
tered Corpus  Christi  College  at  the  age  of  15,  whence  he  was  elected  a  Fel- 
low of  Merton  in  1606,  Sir  Henry  Saville  having  discovered  his  prodigious 
talents.  In  1613,  he  left  Oxford  for  a  Fellowship  at  Eton  ;  and  in  1618,  he 
attended  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  the  Ambassador  of  James  I.  to  the  Synod  of 
Dort,  of  the  proceedings  of  which,  he  v/rote  a  faithful  and  regular  narrative  in 
a  series  of  Letters.  In  1638,  Archbishop  Laud  made  him  one  of  his  Chap- 
lains :  and,  in  the  following  year,  a  Canon  of  Windsor  ;  he  suffered  much  from 
his  attachment  to  the  Royal  cause,  and  v.'as  obliged  to  sell  his  collection  of 
books  at  a  low  price,  notv.'ithstanding  which,  and  the  assistance  of  some 
friends,  he  died  in  extreme  distress  at  Eton,  on  the  19th  of  May,  1656. 

The  passage  concerning  Mr.  Hales  is  wholly  omitted  in  the  first  edition  of 
the  Life  of  Wotton. 


SIR   HEx\RY    WOTTON.  175 

winds  and  storms,  and  with  many  troubles  of  mind  and  tempta- 
tions to  evil.  And  yet,  though  I  have  been,  and  am  a  man  com- 
passed about  with  human  frailties,  Almighty  God  hath  by  his 
grace  prevented  me  from  making  shipwreck  of  faith  and  a  good 
conscience,  the  thought  of  which  is  now  the  joy  of  my  heart,  and 
I  most  humbly  praise  him  for  it :  and  I  humbly  acknowledge  that 
it  was  not  myself,  but  he  that  hath  kept  me  to  this  great  age,  and 
let  him  take  the  glory  of  his  great  mercy.  And,  my  dear  friend, 
I  now  see  that  I  draw  near  my  harbour  of  death  ;  that  harbour 
that  will  secure  me  from  all  the  future  storms  and  waves  of  this 
restless  world  ;  and  I  praise  God  I  am  willing  to  leave  it,  and 
expect  a  better  ;  that  world  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness  ;  and 
I  long  for  it !" 

These  and  the  like  expressions,  were  then  uttered  by  him  at 
the  beginning  of  a  feverish  distemper,  at  which  time  he  was  also 
troubled  with  an  Asthma,  or  short  spitting :  but  after  less  than 
twenty  fits,  by  the  help  of  familiar  physic  and  a  spare  diet,  this 
fever  abated,  yet  so  as  to  leave  him  much  vv^eaker  than  it  found 
him  ;  and  his  Asthma  seemed  also  to  be  overcome  in  a  good  de- 
gree by  his  forbearing  tobacco,   which,  as  many  thoughtful  men 
do,  he  also  had  taken   somewhat  immoderately.     This  was  his 
then  present  condition,  and  thus  he  continued  till  about  the  end 
of  October,  1639,  which  was  about  a  month  before  his  death,  at 
which  time  he  again  fell  into  a  fever,  which  though  he  seemed  to 
recover,  yet  these  still  left  him  so  weak,  that  they,  and  those  other 
common  infirmities  that  accompany  age,  were  wont  to  visit  him 
like  civil  friends,  and  after  some  short  time  to  leave  him, — came 
now  both  oftener  and  vvith  more  violence,  and  at  last  took  up  their 
constant  habitation  with  him,  still  weakening  his  body  and  abating 
his  clieerfulness ;  of  both  which  he  grev/  more  sensible,  and  did 
the  oftener  retire  into  his  Study,  and  there  made  many  papers 
that  had  passed  his  pen,  both  in  the  days  of  his  youth  and  in  the 
busy  part  of  his  life,  useless,  by  a  fire  made  there  to  that  purpose. 
These,  and  several  unusual  expressions  to  his  servants  and  friends, 
seemed  to  foretell  that  the  day  of  his  death  drew  near  ;  for  which 
he  seemed  to  those  many  friends  that  observed   him,  to  be  well 
prepared,  and  to  be  both  patient  and  free  from  all  fear,  as  several 
of  his  letters  writ  on  this  his  last  sick-bed  may  testify.     And  thus 


176  THE   LIFE  OF 


he  continued  till  about  the  beginning  of  December  following,  at 
which  time  he  was  seized  more  violently  with  a  Quotidian  fever ; 
in  the  tenth  fit  of  which  fever,  his  better  part,  that  part  of  Sir 
Henry  Wotton  which  could  not  die,  put  off  mortality  with  as 
much  content  and  cheerfulness  as  human  frailty  is  capable  of, 
being  then  in  great  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  in  perfect  peace  with 
God  and  man. 

And  thus  the  circle  of  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  life — that  circle 
which  began  at  Bocton,  and  in  the  circumference  thereof  did  first 
touch  at  Winchester  School,  then  at  Oxford,  and  after  upon  so 
many  remarkable  parts  and  passages  in  Christendom — that  circle 
of  his  Life  was  by  Death  thus  closed  up  and  completed,  in  the 
seventy  and  second  year  of  his  age,  at  Eton  College ;  where,  ac- 
cording to  his  Will,  he  now  lies  buried,  with  his  Motto  on  a  plain 
Grave-stone  over  him  -{dying  worthy  of  his  name  and  family, 
worthy  of  the  love  and  favour  of  so  many  Princes,  and  persons 
of  eminent  wisdom  and  learning,  worthy  of  the  trust  committed 
unto  him,  for  the  service  of  his  Prince  and  Countryj 

And  all  Readers  are  requested  to  believe,  that  he  was  worthy 
of  a  more  worthy  pen,  to  have  preserved  his  Memory,  and  com- 
mended his  Merits  to  the  imitation  of  posterity. 

Iz.  Wa. 


AN 

ELEGY  ON  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON, 

WRIT    BY 

MR.  ABRAHAM  COWLEY. 

What  shall  we  say,  since  silent  now  is  he, 
Who  when  he  spoke  all  things  would  silent  be  ? 
Who  had  so  many  languages  in  store, 
That  only  Fame  shall  speak  of  him  in  more. 
Whom  England  now  no  more  return 'd,  must  see  ; 
He's  gone  to  Heaven,  on  his  fourth  embassy. 


SIR   HENRY   WOTTON.  177 


On  earth  he  travell'd  often,  not  to  say, 
He'd  been  abroad  to  pass  loose  time  away  ; 
For  m  whatever  land  he  chanced  to  come. 
He  read  the  men  and  manners  ;   brhiging  home 
Their  wisdom,  learning,  and  their  piety, 
As  if  he  went  to  conquer,  not  to  see. 
So  well  he  understood  the  most  and  best 
Of  tongues  that  Babel  sent  into  the  West ; 
Spoke  them  so  truly,  that  he  had,  you'd  swear, 
Not  only  liv'd,  but  been  born  every-where. 
Justly  each  nation's  speech  to  him  was  known, 
Who  for  the  world  was  made,  not  us  alone  : 
Nor  ought  the  language  of  that  man  be  less, 
Who  in  his  breast  had  all  things  to  express. 
We  say  that  learning's  endless,  and  blame  Fate 
For  not  allowing  life  a  longer  date, 
He  did  the  utmost  bounds  of  Knowledge  find, 
And  found  them  not  so  large  as  was  his  mind  : 
But,  like  the  brave  Pellean  youth,  did  moan, 
Because  that  Art  had  no  more  worlds  than  one. 
And  when  he  saw  that  he  through  all  had  past, 
He  died — lest  he  should  idle  grow  at  last. 

A.  Cowley. 


13 


THE  LIFE  OF  MR.  RICHARD  HOOKER, 

THE  AUTHOR  OF  THOSE  LEARNED  BOOKS  OF  THE 
LAWS  OF  ECCLESIASTICAL  POLITY. 


INTRODUCTION. 


I  HAVE  been  persuaded,  by  a  friend  whom  I  reverence,  and  ought  to  obey, 
to  write  the  Life  of  Richard  Hooker,  the  happy  Author  of  Five — if  not 
jnore — of  the  eight  learned  books  of  "  The  Laws  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity.'" 
And  though  I  have  undertaken  it,  yet  it  hath  been  with  some  unwillingness : 
because  I  foresee  that  it  must  prove  to  me,  and  especially  at  this  time  of  my 
acre,  a  work  of  much  labour  to  enquire,  consider,  research,  and  determine 
what  is  needful  to  be  known  concerning  him.  For  I  knew  him  not  in  his  life, 
and  must  therefore  not  only  look  back  to  his  death, — now  sixty-four  years  past 
— but  almost  fifty  years  beyond  that,  even  to  his  childhood  and  youth ;  and 
gather  thence  such  observations  and  prognostics,  as  may  at  least  adorn,  if  not 
prove  necessary  for  the  completing  of  what  I  have  undertaken. 

This  trouble  I  foresee,  and  foresee  also  that  it  is  impossible  to  escape  cen- 
sures ;  against  which  I  will  not  hope  my  v/ell-meaning  and  diligence  can  pro- 
tect me, — for  I  consider  the  age  in  wliich  I  live — and  shall  therefore  but  in- 
treat  of  my  Reader  a  suspension  of  his  censures,  till  I  have  made  known  un- 
to him  some  reasons,  which  I  myself  would  now  gladly  believe  do  make  me  in 
some  measure  fit  for  this  undertaking:  and  if  these  reasons  shall  not  acquit  me 
from  all  censures,  they  may  at  least  abate  of  their  severity,  and  this  is  all  I 
can  probably  hope  for.     My  reasons  follow. 

About  forty  year  past — for  I  am  now  past  the  seventy  of  my  age — I  began 
a  happy  affinity  with  William  Cranmer, — now  v/ith  God, — grand-nephew  un- 
to the  great  Archbishop  of  that  name  ;  a  family  of  noted  prudence  and  reso- 
lution ;  with  him  and  two  of  his  sisters  I  had  an  entire  and  free  friendship : 
one  of  them  was  the  wife  of  Dr.  Spencer,*  a  bosom  friend  and  sometime 
com-pupil  with  Mr.  Hooker  in  Corpus  Christi  College  in  Oxford,  and  after 
President  of  the  same.  I  name  them  here,  for  that  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
mention  them  in  the  following  discourse,  as  also  George  Cranmer,  their  broth- 
er, of  whose  useful  abilities  my  Reader  have  a  more  authentic  testimony  than 
my  pen  can  purchase  for  him,  by  that  of  our  learned  Camden  and  others. 

This  William  Cranmer  and  his  two  fore-named  sisters  had  some  affinity, 
and  a  most  familiar  friendship,  with  Mr.  Hooker,  and  had  had  some  part  of 

*  A  native  of  Suffolk,  one  of  the  Clerks  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford,  and  Greek 
Reader.  He  entered  into  Orders,  became  a  noted  Preacher,  Chaplain  to  James  I.,  and  a 
great  admirer  of  Richard  Hooker  and  the  famous  Dr.  John  Reynolds,  the  latter  of  whom 
he  succeeded  as  Master  of  his  College.  About  four  years  after  Hooker's  death,  he  pub- 
lished the  Five  Books  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  with  a  Preface ;  and  dying  on  April  3rd, 
1614,  was  buried  at  Oxford. 

PART.  II.  '^ 


182  INTRODUCTION. 


their  education  with  him  in  his  house,  when  he  was  parson  of  Bishop's-Boume 
near  Canterbury ;  in  which  City  their  good  father  then  Uved.  They  had,  I 
say,  a  part  of  their  education  with  him  as  myself,  since  that  time,  a  happy 
cohabitation  with  them  ;  and  having  some  years  before  read  part  of  Mr. 
Hooker's  works  with  great  hking  and  satisfaction,  my  affection  to  them  made 
me  a  diligent  inquisitor  into  many  things  that  concerned  him  ;  as  namely,  of 
his  persons,  his  nature,  the  management  of  his  time,  his  wife,  his  family,  and 
the  fortune  of  him  and  his.  Which  enquiry  hath  given  me  much  advantage 
in  the  knowledge  of  what  is  now  under  my  consideration,  and  intended  for  the 
satisfaction  of  my  Reader. 

I  had  also  a  friendship  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Usher,*  the  late  learned  Arch- 
bishop of  Armagh  ;  and  with  Dr.  Morton,  the  late  learned  and  charitable 
Bishop  of  Durham ;  as  also  the  learned  John  Hales,  of  Eton"  College ;  and 
with  them  also — who  loved  the  very  name  of  Mr.  Hooker — 1  have  had  many 
discourses  concerning  him  ;  and  from  them,  and  many  others  that  have  now 
put  off  mortality,  I  might  have  had  more  informations,  if  I  could  then  have 
admitted  a  thought  of  any  fitness,  for  what  by  persuasion  I  have  now  iinder- 
taken.  But  though  that  full  harvest  be  irrecoverably  lost,  yet  my  memory 
hath  preserved  some  gleanings,  and  my  diligence  made  such  additions  to  them, 
as  I  hope  will  prove  useful  to  the  completing  of  what  I  intend :  in  the  discov- 
ery of  which  I  shall  be  faithful,  and  with  this  assurance  put  a  period  to  my 
Introduction. 

*  The  illustrious  Primate  of  Ireland,  born  in  Dublin,  Jan.  4th,  1580.  He  was  the  first 
Student  of  Trinity  College,  in  1593,  and  in  1620,  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Meath,  whence 
he  was  translated  to  Armagh,  in  1625.  In  the  Irish  Rebellion,  he  lost  every  thing  but  his 
library,  which  he  conveyed  to  England,  where  he  died  in  retirement,  March  21st.  1655-56 


f 

/ 


THE  LIFE  OF  MR.  RICHARD  HOOKER. 


It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  but  that  Richard  Hooker  was  born  at 
Heavy-tree,  near,  or  within  the  precincts,  or  in  the  City  of  Exe- 
ter; a  city  which  may  justly  boast,  that  it  was  the  birth-place  of 
him  and  Sir  Thomas  Bodley  ;  as  indeed  the  County  may,  in  which 
it  stands,  that  it  hath  furnished  this  nation  with  Bishop  Jewel,  Sir 
Francis  Drake,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  many  others,  memorable 
for  their  valour  and  learning.  He  was  born  about  the  year  of 
our  Redemption  1553,  and  of  parents  that  were  not  so  remarka- 
ble for  their  extraction  or  riches,  as  for  their  virtue  and  industry, 
and  God's  blessing  upon  both  ;  by  which  they  were  enabled  to 
educate  their  children  in  some  degree  of  learning,  of  which  our 
Richard  Hooker  may  appear  to  be  one  fair  testimony,  and  that  na- 
ture is  not  so  partial  as  always  to  give  the  great  blessings  of 
wisdom  and  learning,  and  with  them  the  greater  blessings  of  vir- 
tue and  government,  to  those  only  that  are  of  a  more  high  and 
honourable  birth. 

His  complexion, — if  we  may  guess  by  him  at  the  age  of  forty — 
was  sanguine,  with  a  mixture  of  choler  ;  and  yet  his  motion  was 
slow  even  in  his  youth,  and  so  was  his  speech,  never  expressing 
an  earnestness  in  either  of  them,  but  an  humble  gravity  suitable 
to  the  aged.  And  it  is  observed, — so  far  as  enquiry  is  able  to  look 
back  at  this  distance  of  time, — that  at  his  being  a  school-boy  he 
was  an  early  questionist,  quietly  inquisitive,  "  why  this  was,  and 
that  was  not,  to  be  remembered  1  why  this  was  granted,  and  that 
denied  ?"  This  being  mixed  with  a  remarkable  modesty,  and  a 
sweet  serene  quietness  of  nature,  and  with  them  a  quick  appre- 
hension of  many  perplexed  parts  of  learning,  imposed  then  upon 
him  as  a  scholar,  made  his  Master  and  others  to  believe  him  to 
have  an  inward  blessed  divine  light,  and  therefore  to  consider  him 
to  be  a  little  wonder.     For  in  that,  children  were  less  pregnant, 


184  THE   LIFE   OF 


less  confident  and  more  malleable,  than  in  this  wiser,  but  not 
better,  age. 

This  meekness  and  conjuncture  of  knowledge,  with  modesty 
in  his  conversation,  being  observed  by  his  School  master,  caused 
him  to  persuade  his  parents — who  intended  him  for  an  appren- 
tice— to  continue  him  at  school  till  he  could  find  out  some  means, 
by  persuading  his  rich  Uncle,  or  some  other  charitable  person,  to 
ease  them  of  a  part  of  their  care  and  charge  ;  assuring  them, 
that  their  son  was  so  enriched  with  the  blessings  of  nature  and 
grace,  that  God  seemed  to  single  him  out  as  a  special  instrument 
of  his  glory.  And  the  good  man  told  them  also,  that  he  would 
double  his  diligence  in  instructing  him,  and  would  neither  expect 
nor  receive  any  other  reward,  than  the  content  of  so  hopeful  and 
happy  an  employment. 

This  was  not  unwelcome  news,  and  especially  to  his  Mother, 
to  whom  he  was  a  dutiful  and  dear  child,  and  all  parties  were  so 
pleased  with  this  proposal,  that  it  was  resolved  so  it  should  be. 
And  in  the  mean  time!  his  Parents  and  Master  laid  a  foundation 
for  his  future  happiness,  by  instilling  into  his  soul  the  seeds  of 
piety,  those  conscientious  principles  of  loving  and  fearing  God, 
of  an  early  belief,  that  he  knows  the  very  secrets  of  our  souls ; 
that  he  punisheth  our  vices,  and  rewards  our  innocence ;  that  we 
should  be  free  from  hypocrisy,  and  appear  to  man  what  we  are  to 
God,  because  first  or  last  the  crafty  man  is  catched  in  his  own 
snare.  These  seeds  of  piety  were  so  seasonably  planted,  and  so 
continually  watered  with  the  daily  dew  of  God's  blessed  Spirit, 
that  his  infant  virtues  grew  into  such  holy  habits,  as  did  make 
him  grow  daily  into  more  and  more  favour  both  with  God  and 
man  ;  which,  with  the  great  learning  that  he  did  after  attain  to, 
hath  made  Richard  Hooker  honoured  in  this,  and  will  continue 
him  to  be  so  to  succeeding  generations./ 

This  good  School  master,  whose  name  I  am  not  able  to  recover, 
— and  am  sorry,  for  that  I  would  have  given  him  a  better  memo- 
rial in  this  humble  monument,  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  his 
scholar, — was  very  solicitous  with  John  Hooker,  then  Chamber- 
Iain  of  Exeter,  and  uncle  to  our  Richard,  to  take  his  Nephew 
into  his  care,  and  to  maintain  him  for  one  year  in  the  University, 
and  in  the  mean  time  to  use  his  endeavours  to  procure  an  admis- 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  185 

sion  for  liim  into  some  College,  though  it  were  but  in  a  mean 
degree  ;  still  urging  and  assuring  him,  that  his  charge  would  not 
continue  long ;  for  the  lad's  learning  and  manners  were  both  so 
remarkable,  that  they  must  of  necessity  be  taken  notice  of;  and 
that  doubtless  God  would  provide  him  some  second  patron,  that 
would  free  him  and  his  Parents  from  their  future  care  and 
charge. 

These  reasons,  with  the  affectionate  rhetoric  of  his  good  Mas- 
ter, and  God's  blessing  upon  both,  procured  from  his  Uncle  a 
faithful  promise,  that  lie  would  take  him  into  his  care  and  charge 
before  the  expiration  of  the  year  following,  which  was  performed 
by  him,  and  with  the  assistance  of  the  learned  Mr.  John  Jewel  ;* 
of  whom  this  may  be  noted,  that  he  left,  or  was  about  the  first  of 
Queen  Mary's  reign  expelled  out  of  Corpus  Christi  College  in 
Oxford, — of  which  he  was  a  Fellow, — for  adhering  to  the  truth 
of  those  principles  of  Religion,  to  which  he  had  assented  and 
given  testimony  in  the  days  of  her  brother  and  predecessor, 
Edward  the  Sixth ;  and  this  John  Jewel  having  within  a  short 
time  after,  a  just  cause  to  fear  a  more  heavy  punishment  than 
expulsion,  was  forced,  by  forsaking  this,  to  seek  safety  in  another 
nation  ;  and,  with  that  safety,  the  enjoyment  of  that  doctrine  and 
worship  for  which  he  suffered. 

'  But  the  cloud  of  that  persecution  and  fear  ending  with  the  life 
of  Queen  Mary,  the  affairs  of  the  Church  and  State  did  then  look 
more  clear  and  comfortable  ;  so  that  he,  and  with  him  many 
others  of  the  same  judgment,  made  a  happy  return  into  England 
about  the  first  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  in  which  year  this  John 
Jewel  was  sent  a  Commissioner  or  Visitor,  of  the  Churches  of  the 
Western  parts  of  this  kingdom,  and  especially  of  those  in  Devon- 

*  Dr.  John  Jewel,  was  born  in  the  Parish  of  Berry  Narber,  in  Devon,  May 
24th,  1522.  He  was  educated  at  Merton,  and  Corpus  Christi  Colleges,  Ox- 
ford, and  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  he  publicly  professed  tlie  Reformed  Re- 
ligion. During  the  reign  of  Mary  he  remained  abroad  ;  but  on  the  accession 
of  Elizabeth,  he  returned,  and  was  made  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  in  1559.  In  his 
controversy  with  the  Roman  Catholics,  he  published  his  famous  "  Apology  for 
the  Church  of  England,"  which  was  translated  into  several  languages,  although 
it  was  greatly  opposed  by  the  Papists.  His  fatigues  abroad,  and  his  incessant 
study,  so  much  impaired  his  constitution,  that  he  died,  Sept.  23rd,  1571. 


186  THE   LIFE   OF 


shire,  in  which  County  he  was  born  ;  and  then  and  there  he 
contracted  a  friendship  with  John  Hooker,  the  Uncle  of  our 
Richard. 

About  the  second  or  third  year  of  her  reign,  this  John  Jewel 
was  made  Bishop  of  Salisbury  ;  and  there  being  always  observed 
in  him  a  willingness  to  do  good,  and  to  oblige  his  friends,  and  now 
a  power  added  to  his  willingness ;  this  John  Hooker  gave  him  a 
visit  in  Salisbury,  and  besought  him  for  charity's  sake  to  look 
favourably  upon  a  poor  nephew  of  his,  whom  Nature  had  fitted 
for  a  scholar ;  but  the  estate  of  his  parents  was  so  narrow,  that 
they  were  unable  to  give  him  the  advantage  of  learning  ;  and 
that  the  Bishop  would  therefore  become  his  patron,  and  prevent 
him  from  being  a  tradesman,  for  he  was  a  boy  of  remarkable 
hopes.  And  though  the  Bishop  knew  men  do  not  usually  look 
with  an  indifferent  eye  upon  their  own  children  and  relations,  yet 
he  assented  so  far  to  John  Hooker,  that  he  appointed  the  boy  and 
his  School  master  should  attend  him,  about  Easter  next  following, 
at  that  place  :  which  was  done  accordingly  ;  and  then,  after  some 
questions  and  observations  of  the  boy's  learning,  and  gravity,  and 
behaviour,  the  Bishop  gave  his  Schoolmaster  a  reward,  and  took 
order  for  an  annual  pension  for  the  boy's  parents ;  promising  also 
to  take  him  into  his  care  for  a  future  preferment,  which  he  per- 
formed :  for  about  the  fifteenth  year  of  his  age,  which  was  anno 
1567,  he  was  by  the  Bishop  appointed  to  remove  to  Oxford,  and 
there  to  attend  Dr.  Cole,*  then  President  of  Corpus  Christi  College. 
Which  he  did  ;  and  Dr.  Cole  had — according  to  a  promise  made 
to  the  Bishop — provided  for  him  both  a  Tutor — which  was  said  to 
be  the  learned  Dr.  John  Reynolds,-]- — and  a  Clerk's  place  in  that 


*  Dr.  William  Cole,  1599,  exchanged  with  Dr.  Reynolds  the  Presidentship 
of  Corpus  Christi  College  for  the  Deanery  of  Lincoln,  which  he  did  not  long 
enjoy.  He  fled  into  Germany  in  the  time  of  Queen  Mary,  and  Anthony 
Wood  names  him  as  one  of  the  exiles  of  Geneva  engaged  with  Miles  Cover- 
dale,  in  a  new  translation  of  the  Bible. 

t  He  was  professor  of  Divinity  in  Oxford,  and  died  May  21st,  1607.  It  has 
been  said  that  he  was  brought  up  in  the  Romish  faith,  and  that  he  was  after- 
wards a  strong  supporter  of  the  Puritans  ;  but  Fuller  supposes  that  it  was  only 
for  the  sake  of  giving  satisfaction  to  some  of  the  more  tender  conscienccB  of  the 
Nonconformists,  since  the  virtue  of  Reynolds  was  almost  proverbial. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  187 


College  :  which  place,  though  it  were  not  a  full  maintenance,  yet, 
with  the  contribution  of  his  Uncle,  and  the  continued  pension  of 
his  patron,  the  good  Bishop,  gave  him  a  comfortable  subsistence. 
And  in  this  condition  he  continued  unto  the  eighteenth  year  of 
his  age,  still  increasing  in  learning  and  prudence,  and  so  much 
in  humility  and  piety,  that  he  seemed  to  be  filled  with  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  and  even  like  St.  John  Baptist,  to  be  sanctified  from  his 
mother's  womb,  who  did  often  bless  the  day  in  which  she  bare 
him. 

About  this  time  of  his  age  he  fell  into  a  dangerous  sickness, 
which  lasted  two  months;  all  which  time  his  Mother,  having 
notice  of  it,  did  in  her  hourly  prayers  as  earnestly  beg  his  life  of 
God,  as  Monica  the  mother  of  St.  Augustine  did,  that  he  might 
become  a  true  Christian  ;  and  their  prayers  were  both  so  heard 
as  to  be  granted.  Which  Mr.  Hooker  would  often  mention  with 
much  joy,  and  as  often  pray  that  "  he  might  never  live  to  occasion 
any  sorrow  to  so  good  a  mother ;  of  whom  he  would  often  say, 
he  loved  her  so  dearly,  that  he  would  endeavour  to  be  good,  even 
as  much  for  her's  as  for  his  own  sake.'' 

As  soon  as  he  was  perfectly  recovered  from  this  sickness,  he 
took  a  journey  from  Oxford  to  Exeter,  to  satisfy  and  see  his  good 
Mother,  being  accompanied  with  a  countryman  and  companion 
of  his  own  College,  and  both  on  foot ;  which  was  then  either 
more  in  fashion,  or  want  of  money,  or  their  humility  made  it  so : 
but  on  foot  they  went,  and  took  Salisbury  in  their  way,  purposely 
to  see  the  good  Bishop,  who  made  Mr.  Hooker  and  his  companion 
dine  with  him  at  his  own  table  :  which  Mr.  Hooker  boasted  of 
with  much  joy  and  gratitude  when  he  saw  his  mother  and  friends  : 
and  at  the  Bishop's  parting  with  him,  the  Bishop  gave  him  good 
counsel,  and  his  benediction,  but  forgot  to  give  him  money  ;  which, 
when  the  Bishop  had  considered,  he  sent  a  servant  in  all  haste  to 
call  Richard  back  to  him  :  and  at  Richard's  return,  the  Bishop 
said  to  him,  "  Richard,  I  sent  for  you  back  to  lend  you  a  horse, 
which  hath  carried  me  many  a  mile,  and,  I  thank  God  with  much 
ease  ;"  and  presently  delivered  into  his  hand  a  walking-staff,  with 
which  he  professed  he  had  travelled  through  many  parts  of  Ger- 
many. And  he  said,  "  Richard,  I  do  not  give,  but  lend  you  my 
horse  :  be  sure  you  be  honest,  and  bring  my  horse  back  to  me  at 


188  THE   LIFE   OF 


your  return  this  way  to  Oxford.  And  I  do  now  give  you  ten 
groats,  to  bear  your  cliarges  to  Exeter  ;  and  here  is  ten  groats 
more,  which  I  charge  you  to  deliver  to  your  Mother  and  tell  her 
I  send  her  a  Bishop's  benediction  with  it,  and  beg  the  continuance 
of  her  prayers  for  me.  And  if  you  bring  my  horse  back  to  me, 
I  will  give  you  ten  groats  more,  to  carry  you  on  foot  to  the 
College:  and  so  God  bless  you,  good  Richard." 

And  this,  you  may  believe,  was  performed  by  both  parties. 
But,  alas  !  the  next  news  that  followed  Mr.  Hooker  to  Oxford 
was,  that  his  learned  and  charitable  patron  had  changed  this  for  a 
better  life.  Which  happy  change  may  be  believed,  for  that  as 
he  lived,  so  he  died,  in  devout  meditation  and  prayer ;  and  in  both 
so  zealously,  that  it  became  a  religious  question,  "Whether  his 
last  ejaculations  or  his  soul,  did  first  enter  into  Heaven  ?" 

And  now  Mr.  Hooker  became  a  man  of  sorrow  and  fear  :  of 
sorrow,  for  the  loss  of  so  dear  and  comfortable  a  patron  ;  and  of 
fear  for  his  future  subsistence.  But  Dr.  Cole  raised  his  spirits 
from  this  dejection,  by  bidding  him  go  cheerfully  to  his  studies, 
and  assuring  him,  he  should  neither  want  food  nor  raiment, — 
which  was  the  utmost  of  his  hopes, — for  he  would  become  his 
patron. 

And  so  he  was  for  about  nine  months,  and  not  longer ;  for  about 
that  time  this  following  accident  did  befall  Mr.  Hooker. 

Edwin  Sandys* — sometime  Bishop  of  London,  and  after  Arch- 


*  One  of  the  Translators  of  the  Bible,  born  at  Hawkshead  in  Westmoreland 
in  1519,  and  educated  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  embraced 
the  Protestant  faith.  He  was  committed  to  the  Tower  and  Marshalsea  for 
having  preached  in  favour  of  Lady  Jane  Grey  ;  and  on  his  release  he  left  the 
kingdom,  till  the  accession  of  Elizabeth,  by  whom  he  was  made  Bishop  of 
Worcester.  In  1570,  he  was  translated  to  London,  in  1576  to  York,  and  in 
1588,  he  died  :  his  sermons  are  still  admired,  and  a  most  virtuous  character  is 
given  him  by  Fuller.  His  son,  Sir  Edward  Sandys,  Prebendary  of  York,  was 
born  about  1561,  and  is  well  known  as  the  author  of  the  tract  entitled,  '•'  Eu- 
ropae  Speculum,"  a  view  of  the  State  of  Religion  in  the  Western  Parts  of  the 
World.  He  thus  describes  the  various  contrarieties  of  the  state  and  church  of 
Rome.  "  What  pomp,  what  riot,  to  that  of  their  Cardinals?  What  severity 
of  life  comparable  to  that  of  their  Hermits  and  Capuchins?  Who  wealthier 
than  their  Prelates?  who  poorer  by  vow  and  profession  than  their  Mendicants? 
On  the  one  side  of  the  street,  a  cloister  of  Virgins :  on  the  other  a  stye  of  cour- 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  189 

bishop  of  York — had  also  been  in  the  days  of  Queen  Mary,  forced, 
by  forsaking  this,  to  seek  safety  in  another  nation ;  where,  for 
some  years.  Bishop  Jewel  and  he  were  companions  at  bed  and 
board  in  Germany  ;  and  where,  in  this  their  exile,  they  did  often 
eat  the  bread  of  sorrow,  and  by  that  means  they  there  began  such 
a  friendship,  as  lasted  till  the  death  of  Bishop  Jewel,  which  was 
in  September,  15'71.  A  little  before  which  time  the  two  Bishops 
meeting,  Jewel  had  an  occasion  to  begin  a  story  of  his  Richard 
Hooker,  and  in  it  gave  such  a  character  of  his  learning  and  man- 
ners, that  though  Bishop  Sandys  was  educated  in  Cambridge, 
where  he  had  obliged,  and  had  many  friends  ;  yet  his  resolution 
was,  that  his  son  Edwin  should  be  sent  to  Corpus  Christi  College 
in  Oxford,  and  by  all  means  be  pupil  to  Mr.  Hooker,  though  his 
son  Edwin  was  not  much  younger  than  Mr.  Hooker  then  was: 
for  the  Bishop  said,  "I  will  have  a  Tutor  for  my  son,  that  shall 
teach  him  learning  by  instruction,  and  virtue  by  example  :  and 
my  greatest  care  shall  be  of  the  last ;  and,  God  willing,  this 
Richard  Hooker  shall  be  the  man  into  whose  hands  I  will  commit 
my  Edwin."  And  the  Bishop  did  so  about  twelve  months,  or  not 
much  longer,  after  this  resolution. 

And  doubtless,  as  to  these  two,  a  better  choice  could  not  be 
made  ;  for  Mr.  Hooker  was  now  in  the  nineteenth  year  of  his 
age ;  had  spent  five  in  the  University ;  and  had,  by  a  constant, 
unwearied  diligence,  attained  unto  a  perfection  in  all  the  learned 
languages  ;  by  the  help  of  which,  an  excellent  tutor,  and  his  un- 
intermitted  studies,  he  had  made  the  subtilty  of  all  the  arts  easy 
and  familiar  to  him,  and  useful  for  the  discovery  of  such  learning 
as  lay  hid  from  common  searchers.     So  that  by  these,  added  to 


tezans,  with  public  toleration.  This  day  all  in  masks,  with  all  looseness  and 
foolery  :  to-morrow  all  in  processions,  whipping  themselves  till  the  blood  follow. 
On  one  door  an  excommunication  throwinor  to  Hell  all  transgrressours :  on  an- 
other  a  Jubilee,  or  full  discharge  from  all  transgressions.  Who  learneder  in  all 
kinds  of  sciences  than  their  .Jesuits  ?  what  thinj;  more  igrnorant  than  their  ordi- 
nary  mass-priests  ?  What  prince  so  able  to  prefer  his  servants  and  followers 
as  the  Pope,  and  in  so  great  multitude  ?  Wlio  able  to  take  deeper  or  readier 
revenge  on  his  enemies?  What  pride  equal  unto  his,  making  Kings  kiss  his 
pantofle  ?  What  humility  greater  than  his,  shriving  himself  daily  on  his  knees 
to  an  ordinary  priest  ?" 


190  THE   LIFE  OF 


his  great  reason,  and  his  restless  industry  added  to  both,  he  did 
not  only  know  more  of  causes  and  effects  ;  but  what  he  knew,  he 
knew  better  than  other  men.  And  with  this  knowledge  he  had  a 
naost  blessed  and  clear  method  of  demonstrating  what  he  knew,  to 
the  great  advantage  of  all  his  pupils, — which  in  time  were  many, 
— but  especially  to  his  two  first,  his  dear  Edwin  Sandys,  and  his 
as  dear  George  Cranmer ;  of  which  there  will  be  a  fair  testimony 
in  the  ensuing  relation. 

This  for  Mr.  Hooker's  learning.  And  for  his  behaviour,  amongst 
other  testimonies,  this  still  remains  of  him,  that  in  four  years  he 
was  but  twice  absent  from  the  Chapel  prayers ;  and  that  his  be- 
haviour there  was  such,  as  shewed  an  awful  reverence  of  that 
God  which  he  then  worshipped  and  prayed  to ;  giving  all  outward 
testimonies  that  his  affections  were  set  on  heavenly  things.  This 
was  his  behaviour  towards  God  ;  and  for  that  to  man,  it  is  observa- 
ble that  he  was  never  known  to  be  angry,  or  passionate,  or  ex- 
treme in  any  of  his  desires  ;  never  heard  to  repine  or  dispute  with 
Providence,  but,  by  a  quiet  gentle  submission  and  resignation  of 
his  will  to  the  wisdom  of  his  Creator,  bore  the  burthen  of  the  day 
with  patience ;  never  heard  to  utter  an  uncomely  word :  and  by 
this,  and  a  grave  behaviour,  which  is  a  divine  charm,  he  begot  an 
early  reverence  unto  his  person,  even  from  those  that  at  other 
times  and  in  other  companies,  took  a  liberty  to  cast  off  that  strict- 
ness of  behaviour  and  discourse  that  is  required  in  a  Collegiate 
life.  And  when  he  took  any  liberty  to  be  pleasant,  his  wit  was 
never  blemished  with  scoffing,  or  the  utterance  of  any  conceit 
that  bordered  upon,  or  might  beget  a  thought  of  looseness  in  his 
hearers.  Thus  mild,  thus  innocent  and  exemplary  was  his  beha- 
viour in  his  College  ;  and  thus  this  good  man  continued  till  his 
death,  still  increasing  in  learning,  in  patience,  and  piety. 

In  this  nineteenth  year  of  his  age,  he  was,  December  24,  1573, 
admitted  to  be  one  of  the  twenty  Scholars  of  the  Foundation;  be- 
ing elected  and  so  admitted  as  born  in  Devon  or  Hantshire  ;  out 
of  which  Counties  a  certain  number  are  to  be  elected  in  vacancies 
by  the  Founder's  Statutes.  And  now  as  he  was  much  encouraged, 
so  now  he  was  perfectly  incorporated  into  this  beloved  College, 
which  was  then  noted  for  an  eminent  Library,  strict  Students, 
and  remarkable  Scholars.     And  indeed  it  may  glory,  that  it  had 


MR.   RICHARD    HOOKER.  191 

Cardinal  Poole,*  but  more  that  it  had  Bishop  Jewel,  Dr.  John 
Reynolds,  and  Dr.  Thomas  Jackson, f  of  that  foundation.  The 
first  famous  for  his  learned  Apology  for  the  Church  of  England, 
and  his  Defence  of  it  against  Harding.:}:  The  second,  for  the 
learned  and  wise  manage  of  a  public  dispute  with  John  Hart,  of 
the  Romish  persuasion,  about  the  Head  and  Faith  of  the  Church, 
and  after  printed  by  consent  of  both  parties.  And  the  third,  for 
his  most  excellent  "  Exposition  of  the  Creed,"  and  other  treatises  ; 
all  such  as  have  given  greatest  satisfaction  to  men  of  the  greatest 
learning.  Nor  was  Dr.  Jackson  more  note-M'orthy  for  his  learn- 
ing, than  for  his  strict  and  pious  life,  testified  by  his  abundant 
love,  and  meekness,  and  charity  to  all  men. 

And  in  the  year  1576,  February  23,  Mr.  Hooker's  Grace  was 
given  him  for  Inceptor  of  Arts  ;  Dr.  Herbert  Westphaling,§  a 
man  of  note  for  learning,  being  then  Vice-Chancellor :  and  the 
Act  following  he  was  completed  Master,  which  was  anno  1577, 
his  patron  Dr.  Cole,  being  Vice  Chancellor  that  year,  and  his  dear 
friend,  Henry  Sav.ile|l  of  Merton  College,  being  then  one  of  the 

*  The  name  of  this  well  known  English  Cardinal  is  omitted  in  the  later  edi- 
tions. 

t  Dr.  Jackson,  was  born  at  Wilton  on  the  Wear,  in  Durham,  in  1579,  and 
was  educated  at  Queen's  and  Corpus  Christi  Colleges,  Oxford.  He  was  made 
Prebendary  of  Winchester  in  1G.35,  and  Dean  of  Peterborough,  in  1638  ;  he 
died  in  1640,  and  his  principal  work  is  a  "  Commentary  on  the  Creed." 

X  Dr.  Thomas  Harding,  educated  at  Winchester  school,  became  Fellow  of 
New  College,  Oxford,  in  1536.  He  was  the  first  King's  Hebrew  Professor  iu 
that  University  and  in  the  reign  of  King  Edward  VI.  he  displayed  great  zeal 
for  the  Reformed  Religion.  Under  Queen  Mary  he  abandoned  his  principles, 
and  obtained  considerable  preferment ;  a  Prebend  in  the  Church  of  Winches- 
ter, and  the  Treasurership  of  Salisbury.  On  the  accession  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth he  adhered  to  the  religion  to  which  he  had  recently  conformed,  and  fled 
beyond  sea  to  Louvain,  where  he  distinguished  himself  by  writing  against 
Bishop  Jewel's  "  Challenge."  He  had  been  Chaplain  to  the  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
father  of  Lady  Jane  Grey. 

§  A  man  of  great  piety  of  life,  and  such  gravity,  that  he  was  scarcely  ever 
seen  to  laugh.  He  was  a  native  of  Westphalia,  in  Germany:  was  Canon  of 
Christ  Church,  Vice  Chancellor  of  the  University,  and  in  1585-86,  was  conse- 
crated Bishop  of  Hereford. 

II  Sir  H.  Savile  was  born  at  Over  Bradley,  near  Halifax  iu  Yorkshire,  In^'ov. 
30th,  1547,  and  was  entered  of  Merton  College,  Oxford.  He  was  Greek  and 
Mathematical  Preceptor  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  was  one  of  the  Translatorsi 


192  THE   LIFE   OF 


Proctors.  'Twas  that  Henry  Savile,  that  was  after  Sir  Henry 
Savile,  Warden  of  Merton  College,  and  Provost  of  Eton ;  he 
which  founded  in  Oxford  two  famous  Lectures ;  and  endowed 
them  with  liberal  maintenance. 

It  was  that  Sir  Henry  Savile  that  translated  and  enlightened 
the  History  of  Cornelius  Tacitus,  with  a  most  excellent  Comment ; 
and  enriched  the  world  by  his  laborious  and  chargeable  collecting 
the  scattered  pieces  of  St.  Chrysostom,  and  the  publication  of  them 
in  one  entire  body  in  Greek  ;  in  which  language  he  was  a  most 
judicious  critic.  It  was  this  Sir  Henry  Savile  that  had  the  hap- 
piness  to  be  a  contemporary  and  familiar  friend  to  Mr.  Hooker  -, 
and  let  posterity  know  it. 

And  in  this  year  of  1577,  he  was  so  happy  as  to  be  admitted 
Fellow  of  the  College  ;  happy  also  in  being  the  contemporary 
and  friend  of  that  Dr.  John  Reynolds,  of  whom  I  have  lately  spo- 
ken, and  of  Dr.  Spencer  ;  both  which  were  after,  and  successively 
made  Presidents  of  Corpus  Christi  College  :  men  of  great  learning 
and  merit,  and  famous  in  their  generations. 

Nor  was  Mr.  Hooker  more  happy  in  his  contemporaries  of  his 
time  and  College,  than  in  the  pupilage  and  friendship  of  his  Ed- 
win Sandys  and  George  Cranmer  ;  of  whom  my  Reader  may 
note,  that  this  Edwin  Sandys  was  after  Sir  Edwin  Sandys,  and 
as  famous  for  his  "  Speculum  Europse,"  as  his  brother  George  for 
making  posterity  beholden  to  his  pen  by  a  learned  relation  and 
comment  on  his  dangerous  and  remarkable  Travels ;  and  for  his 
harmonious  translation  of  the  Psalms  of  David,  the  Book  of  Job, 
and  other  poetical  parts  of  Holy  Writ,  into  most  high  and  elegant 
verse.  And  for  Cranmer,  his  other  pupil,  I  shall  refer  my  Reader 
to  the  printed  testimonies  of  our  learned  Mr.  Camden,  of  Fynes 
Moryson'"  and  others. 

'•  This  Cranmer,"  says  Mr.  Camden  in  his  Annals  of  Queen 

of  the  Bible,  under  James  I.  who  knighted  him  in  1604.     He  died  Feb.   1 9th, 
1621-22. 

*  Mr.  Morrison,  Secretary  to  Lord  Monntjoy,  and  author  of  "  Au  Itinerary, 
containing  his  ten  Years  Travels  through  the  twelve  Dominions  of  Germany, 
Bohmerland,  Switzerland,  Denmark,  Poland,  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  ; 
divided  into  three  Parts.  London,  1617."  Fol.  Published  after  his  death, 
and  originally  written  in  Latin. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  193 

Elizabeth, — "  whose  Christian  name  was  George,  was  a  gentle- 
man of  singular  hopes,  the  eldest  son  of  Tliomas  Cranmer,  son 
of  Edmund  Cranmer,  the  Archbishop's  brother :  he  spent  much 
of  his  youth  in  Corpus  Christi  College  in  Oxford,  where  he  con- 
tinued Master  of  Arts  for  some  time  before  he  removed,  and  then 
betook  liimself  to  travel,  accompanying  that  worthy  gentleman 
Sir  Edwin  Sandys  into  France,  Germany,  and  Italy,  for  the  space 
of  three  years  ;  and  after  their  happy  return,  he  betook  himself 
to  an  employment  under  Secretary  Davison,  a  Privy  Councillor  of 
note,  who,  for  an  unhappy  undertaking,  became  clouded  and  pit- 
ied :  after  whose  fall,  he  went  in  place  of  Secretary  with  Sir 
Henry  Killegrew  in  his  Embassage  into  France  :  and  after  his 
death  he  was  sought  after  by  the  most  noble  Lord  Mountjoy,  with 
whom  he  went  into  Ireland,  where  he  remained,  until,  in  a  battle 
against  the  rebels  near  Carlingford,  an  unfortunate  wound  put  an 
end  both  to  his  life,  and  the  great  hopes  that  were  conceived  of 
him,  he  being  then  but  in  the  thirty-sixth  year  of  his  age." 

Betwixt  Mr.  Hooker  and  these  his  two  Pupils,  there  was  a  sa- 
cred friendship ;  a  friendship  made  up  of  religious  principles,  which 
increased  daily  by  a  similitude  of  inclinations  to  the  same  recre- 
ations and  studies  ;  a  friendship  elemented  in  youth,  and  in  an 
university,  free  from  self-ends,  wiiich  the  friendships  of  age  usu 
ally  are  not.  And  in  this  sweet,  this  blessed,  this  spiritual  amity, 
they  went  on  for  many  years  :  and  as  the  holy  Prophet  saith,  "  so 
thev  took  sweet  counsel  together,  and  walked  in  the  house  of 
God  as  friends."  By  which  means  they  improved  this  friendship 
to  such  a  degree  of  holy  amity,  as  bordered  upon  heaven  :  a  friend- 
sliip  so  sacred,  that  when  it  ended  in  this  world,  it  began  in  that 
next,  where  it  shall  have  no  end. 

And,  though  this  world  cannot  give  any  degree  of  pleasure 
equal  to  such  a  friendship;  yet  obedience  to  parents,  and  a  desire 
to  know  the  affairs,  manners,  laws,  and  learning  of  other  nations, 
that  they  might  thereby  become  the  most  serviceable  unto  their 
own,  made  them  put  off*  their  gowns,  and  leave  the  College  and 
Mr.  Hooker  to  his  studies,  in  which  he  was  daily  more  assiduous, 
still  enriching  his  quiet  and  capacious  soul  with  the  precious  learn- 
ing of  the  Philosophers,  Casuists,  and  Schoolmen;  and  with  them 
the  foundation  and  reason  of  all  Laws,  both  Sacred  and  Civil ; 


194  THE   LIFE   OF 


and  indeed  with  such  other  learning  as  lay  most  remote  from  the 
track  of  common  studies.  And,  as  he  was  diligent  in  these,  so  he 
seemed  restless  in  searching  the  scope  and  intention  of  God's  Spirit 
revealed  to  mankind  in  the  Sacred  Scripture  :  for  the  understand- 
ing of  which,  he  seemed  to  be  assisted  by  the  same  Spirit  with 
which  they  were  written  ;  He  that  regardeth  truth  in  the  inward 
parts,  making  him  to  understand  wisdom  secretly.  And  the  good 
man  would  often  say,  that  "  God  abhors  confusion  as  contrary  to 
his  nature  ;"  and  as  often  say,  "  That  the  Scripture  was  not  writ 
to  beget  disputations  and  pride,  and  opposition  to  government ;  but 
charity  and  humility,  moderation,  obedience  to  authority,  and 
peace  to  mankind  ;"  of  which  virtues,  he  v\^ould  as  often  say, 
"no  man  did  ever  repent  himself  on  his  death-bed."  And  that 
this  was  really  his  judgment,  did  appear  in  his  future  writings, 
and  in  all  the  actions  of  his  life.  Nor  was  this  excellent  man  a 
stranger  to  the  more  light  and  airy  parts  of  learning,  as  Music 
and  Poetry  ;  all  which  he  had  digested  and  made  useful ;  and 
of  all  Vt'hich  the  Reader  will  have  a  fair  testimony  in  what  will 
follow. 

In  the  year  1579,  the  Chancellor  of  the  University  was  given 
to  understand,  that  the  public  Hebrew  Lecture  was  not  read  ac- 
cording to  the  Statutes  ;  nor  could  be,  by  reason  of  a  distemper, 
that  had  then  seized  the  brain  of  Mr.  Kingsmill,  who  was  to  read 
it ;  so  that  it  lay  long  unread,  to  the  great  detriment  of  those  that 
were  studious  of  that  language.  Therefore  the  Chancellor  writ 
to  his  Vice-Chancellor,  and  the  University,  that  he  had  heard 
such  commendations  of  the  excellent  knowledge  of  Mr.  Richard 
Hooker  in  that  tongue,  that  he  desired  he  might  be  procured  to 
read  it :  and  he  did,  and  continued  to  do  so  till  he  left  Oxtord. 

Within  three  months  after  his  undertaking  this  Lecture, — 
namely  in  October  1579, — he  was,  with  Dr.  Reynolds  and  others 
expelled  his  College  ;  and  this  Letter,  transcribed  from  Dr.  Rey- 
nolds his  own  hand,  may  give  some  account  of  it. 

To  Sir  Francis  Knolles. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Right  Honourable,  that  I  am  enforced  to  make 
unto  you  such  a  suit,  which  I  cannot  move,  but  I  must  complain 
of  the  unrighteous  dealing  of  one  of  our  College  :  who  hath  taken 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  195 


upon  him,  against  all  law  and  reason,  to  expel  out  of  our  house  both 
me  and  Mr.  Hooker,  and  three  other  of  our  fellows,  for  doing  that 
which  by  oath  we  were  bound  to  do.  Our  matter  must  be  heard 
before  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  with  whom  I  do  not  doubt  but 
we  shall  find  equity.  Howbeit,  forasmuch  as  some  of  our  adver- 
saries have  said  that  the  Bishop  is  already  forestalled,  and  will 
not  give  us  such  audience  as  we  look  for  ;  therefore  I  am  hum- 
bly to  beseech  your  Honour,  that  you  will  desire  the  Bishop,  by 
your  letters,  to  let  us  have  justice  ;  though  it  be  with  rigour,  so  it 
be  justice  :  our  cause  is  so  good,  that  I  am  sure  we  shall  prevail 
by  it.  Thus  much  I  am  bold  to  request  of  your  honour  for  Cor- 
pus Christi  College  sake,  or  rather  for  Christ's  sake  ;  whom  I  be- 
seech to  bless  you  v.^ith  daily  increase  of  his  manifold  gifts,  and  the 
blessed  graces  of  his  Holy  Spirit. 

Your  Honour's  in  Christ  to  command, 

John  Reynolds." 
London,  October  9,  1579. 

This  expulsion  was  by  Dr.  John  Barfoote,  then  Vice-president  of 
the  College,  and  Chaplain  to  Ambrose  Earl  of  Warwick.  I  cannot 
learn  the  pretended  cause  ;  but,  that  they  were  restored  the  same 
month  is  most  certain.* 

I  return  to  Mr.  Hooker  in  his  College,  where  he  continued  his 
studies  with  all  quietness,  for  the  space  of  three  years  ;  about 
Vv'hich  time  he  entered  into  Sacred  Orders,  being  then  made  Dea- 
con  and  Priest,  and,  not  long  after,  was  appointed  to  preach  at  St. 
Paul's  Cross.f 

*  The  laler  editions  of  the  Life  of  Hooker  omit  the  account  of  this  expul- 
sion. 

t  A  pulpit  cross  formed  of  limber,  covered  with  lead,  and  mounted  upon 
stone  steps,  which  stood  in  tlie  midst  of  the  Church-yard  of  the  Cathedral ;  in 
wliich  Sermons  were  preached  by  eminent  Divines  every  Sunday  in  the  fore- 
noon, when  the  Court,  the  Magistrates  of  the  City,  and  a  vast  concourse  of 
people  usually  attended.  There  is  notice  of  its  use  so  early  as  1259,  but  it 
was  not  finished  in  the  form  here  exhibited,  until  1449,  by  Kemp,  Bishop  of 
London,  and  it  was  finally  destroyed  by  order  of  Parliament,  in  1643.  The 
Corporation  of  London  ordained  that  all  ministers  who  came  from  a  distance 
to  preach  at  this  Cross,  were  to  have  lodgings  and  provision  for  five  days ;  and 
the  Bishop  of  London  gave  them  notice  of  their  place  of  residence. 


196  THE   LIFE   OF 


In  order  to  which  Sermon,  to  London  he  came,  and  immediate- 
ly to  the  Shunamite's  House ;  which  is  a  House  so  called,  for 
that,  besides  the  stipend  paid  the  Preacher,  there  is  provision 
made  also  for  his  lodging  and  diet  for  two  days  before,  and  one 
day  after  his  Sermon.  This  house  was  then  kept  by  John  Church- 
man, sometime  a  Draper  of  good  note  in  Watling-street,  upon 
whom  poverty  had  at  last  come  like  an  armed  man,  and  brought 
him  into  a  necessitous  condition ;  which,  though  it  be  a  punish- 
ment,  is  not  always  an  argument  of  God's  disfavour  ;  for  he  was 
a  virtuous  man.  I  shall  not  yet  give  the  like  testimony  of  his 
wife,  but  leave  the  Reader  to  judge  by  what  follows.  But  to  this 
house  Mr.  Hooker  came  so  wet,  so  weary,  and  weather-beaten, 
that  he  was  never  known  to  express  more  passion,  than  against  a 
friend  that  dissuaded  him  from  footing  it  to  London,  and  for  finding 
him  no  easier  an  horse, — supposing  the  horse  trotted  when  he  did 
not ; — and  at  this  time  also,  such  a  faintness  and  fear  possessed 
him,  that  he  would  not  be  persuaded  two  days  rest  and  quietness, 
or  any  other  means  could  be  used  to  make  him  able  to  preach  his 
Sunday's  Sermon  :  but  a  warm  bed,  and  rest,  and  drink  proper 
for  a  cold,  given  him  by  Mrs.  Churchman,  and  her  diligent  at- 
tendance added  unto  it,  enabled  him  to  perform  the  office  of  the 
day,  which  was  in,  or  about  the  year  1581. 

And  in  this  first  public  appearance  to  the  world,  he  was  not  so 
happy  as  to  be  free  from  exceptions  against  a  point  of  doctrine 
delivered  in  his  Sermon  ;  which  was,  "  That  in  God  there  were 
two  wills ;  an  antecedent  and  a  consequent  will :  his  first  will, 
That  all  mankind  should  be  saved  ;  but  his  second  will  was. 
That  those  onlv  should  be  saved,  that  did  live  answerable  to  that 
degree  of  grace  which  he  had  offered  or  afforded  them."  This 
seemed  to  cross  a  late  opinion  of  Mr.  Calvin's,  and  then  taken  for 
granted  by  many  that  had  not  a  capacity  to  exam.ine  it,  as  it  had 
been  by  him  before,  and  hath  been  since  by  Master  Flenry  Mason, 
Dr.  Jackson,  Dr.  Hammond,  and  others  of  great  learning,  who 
believe  that  a  contrary  opinion  intrenches  upon  the  honour  and 
justice  of  our  merciful  God.  How  he  justified  this,  I  will  not  un- 
dertake to  declare  ;  but  it  was  not  excepted  against — as  Mr. 
Hooker  declares  in  his  rational  Answer  to  Mr.  Travers — by  John 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  197 

Elmer,*  then  Bishop  of  London,  at  this  time  one  of  his  auditors, 
and  at  last  one  of  his  advocates  too,  when  Mr.  Hooker  was  ac- 
cused for  it. 

But  the  justifying  of  this  doctrine  did  not  prove  of  so  bad  con- 
sequence, as  the  kindness  of  Mrs.  Churchman's  curing  him  of  his 
late  distemper  and  cold  ;  for  that  was  so  gratefully  apprehended 
by  Mr.  Hooker,  that  he  thought  him.self  bound  in  conscience  to 
believe  all  that  she  said  :  so  that  the  good  man  came  to  be  per- 
suaded by  her,  "that  he  was  a  man  of  a  tender  constitution  ;  and 
that  it  was  best  for  him  to  have  a  wife,  that  might  prove  a  nurse 
to  him ;  such  a  one  as  might  both  prolong  his  life,  and  make  it 
more  comfortable  ;  and  such  a  one  she  could  and  would  provide 
for  him,  if  he  thought  fit  to  marry."  And  he,  not  considering 
that  "  the  children  of  this  world  are  wiser  in  their  generation  than 
the  children  of  light;"  but,  like  a  true  Nathaniel,  fearing  no 
guile,  because  he  meant  none,  did  give  her  such  a  power  as 
Eleazar  was  trusted  with, — you  may  read  it  in  the  book  of  Gen- 
esis,— when  he  was  sent  to  choose  a  wife  for  Isaac  ;  for  even  so 
he  trusted  her  to  choose  for  him,  promising  upon  a  fair  summons 
to  return  to  London,  and  accept  of  her  choice  ;  and  he  did  so  in 
that,  or  about  the  year  following.  Now,  the  wife  provided  for 
him  was  her  daughter  Joan,  who  brought  him  neither  beauty  nor 
portion  :  and  for  her  conditions,  they  were  too  like  that  wife's, 
which  is  by  Solomon  compared  to  a  dripping  house  :  so  that  the 
good  man  had  no  reason  to  "  rejoice  in  the  wife  of  his  youth  ;" 
but  too  just  cause  to  say  with  the  holy  Prophet,  '•  Wo  is  me  that 
I  am  constrained  to  have  my  habitation  in  the  tents  of  Kedar !" 

This  choice  of  Mr.  Hooker's — if  it  were  his  choice — may  be 
wondered  at :  but  let  us  consider  that  the  Prophet  Ezekiel  says, 
"  There  is^a  wheel  within  a  Vv'heel ;"  a  secret  sacred  wheel  of 
Providence, — most  visible  in  marriages, — guided  by  his  hand, 
that  "  allows  not  the  race  to  the  swift,"  nor  "  bread  to  the  wise," 
nor  good  wives  to  good  men  :  and  He  that  can  bring  good  oujt  of 

*  The  excellent  Aylmer,  was  born  at  Ayjmer-Hall,  in  Norfolk,  in  1521,  and 
was  Tutor  to  Lady  Jane  Grey ;  he  left  England,  during  the  reign  of  Mary, 
and  went  to  Zurich.  He  returned  on  Elizabeth's  accession,  and  was  made 
Bishop  in  1576,  strictly  governing  the  Puritans  throughout  his  Prelacy.  He 
died  iu  1594. 

P/.llT.    ;!.  3 


198  THE      IFE   OF 


evil — for  mortals  are  blind  to  this  reason — only  knows  why  this 
blessing  was  denied  to  patient  Job,  to  meek  Moses,  and  to  our 
as  meek  and  patient  Mr.  Hooker.  But  so  it  was  ;  and  let  the 
Reader  cease  to  wonder,  for  affliction  is  a  divine  diet ;  which 
though  it  be  not  pleasing  to  mankind,  yet  Almighty  God  hath 
often,  very  oflen,  imposed  it  as  good,  though  bitter  physic  to  those 
children,  whose  souls  are  dearest  to  him. 

And  by  this  marriage  the  good  man  was  drawn  from  the  tran- 
quillity of  his  College ;  from  that  garden  of  piety,  of  pleasure,  of 
peace,  and  a  sweet  conversation,  into  t!ie  thorny  wilderness  of  a 
busy  world ;  into  those  corroding  cares  that  attend  a  married 
Priest,  and  a  country  Parsonage  ;  which  was  Drayton-Beauchamp 
in  Buckinghamshire,  not  far  from  Aylesbury,  and  in  tlie  Diocese 
of  Lincoln  ;  to  which  he  was  presented  by  John  Cheney,  Esq. — 
then  Patron  of  it — the  9th  of  December,  1584,  where  he  behaved 
himself  so  as  to  give  no  occasion  of  evil,  but  as  St.  Paul  adviseth 
a  minister  of  God — "  in  much  patience,  in  afflictions,  in  anguish- 
es, in  necessities,  in  poverty  and  no  doubt  in  long-suffering  ;"  yet 
troubling  no  man  with  his  discontents  and  wants. 

And  in  this  condition  he  continued  about  a  year ;  in  which  time 
his  two  pupils,  Edwin  Sandys  and  George  Cranmer,  took  a  jour- 
ney to  see  their  tutor;  where  they  found  him  with  a  book  in  his 
hand. — it  was  the  Odes  of  Horace, — he  being  then  like  humble 
and  innocent  Abel,  tending  his  small  allotment  of  sheep  in  a  com- 
mon field ;  which  he  told  his  pupils  he  was  forced  to  do  then,  for 
that  his  servant  was  gone  home  to  dine,  and  assist  his  wife  to  do 
some  necessary  household  business.  But  when  his  servant  re- 
turned and  released  him,  then  his  two  pupils  attended  him  unto 
his  house,  where  their  best  entertainment  was  his  quiet  company, 
which  was  presently  denied  them  :  for  Richard  was  called  to 
rock  the  cradle  ;  and  the  rest  of  their  welcome  was  so  like  this, 
that  they  staid  but  till  next  morning,  which  was  time  enough  to 
discover  and  pity  their  tutor's  condition  ;  and  they  having  in  that 
time  rejoiced  in  the  remembrance,  and  then  paraphrased  on 
many  of  the  innocent  recreations  of  tlieir  younger  days,  and 
other  like  diversions,  and  thereby  given  him  as  much  present 
comfort  as  they  M'ere  able,  they  were  forced  to  leave  him  to  the 
company  of  his  wife  Joan,  and  seek  themselves  a  quieter  lodging 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  199 


for  next  night.  But  at  their  parting  from  him,  Mr.  Cranmer 
said,  "  Good  tutor,  I  am  sorry  your  lot  is  fallen  in  no  better 
ground,  as  to  your  par.sonage  ;  and  more  sorry  that  your  wife 
proves  not  a  more  comfortable  companion,  after  you  have  wearied 
yourself  in  your  restless  studies."  To  whom  the  good  man  re- 
plied, '•'  INIy  dear  George,  if  Saints  have  usually  a  double  share 
in  the  miseries  of  this  life,  I,  that  am  none,  ought  not  to  repine  at 
what  my  wise  Creator  hath  appointed  for  me  :  but  labour — as  in- 
deed I  do  daily — to  submit  mine  to  his  will,  and  possess  my  soul 
in  patience  and  peace." 

At  their  return  to  London,  Edwin  Sandys  acquaints  his  father, 
who  was  then  Archbishop  of  York,  v/ith  his  Tutor's  sad  condition, 
and  solicits  for  his  removal  to  some  benefice  that  might  give  him 
a  more  quiet  and  a  more  comfortable  subsistence  ;  which,  his  fa- 
ther did  most  willingly  s^rant  him  v.iien  it  should  next  fall  into  his 
power.     And   not  long   after  this  time,  which  was  in  the  year 
158.5,  Mr.  Alvey, — !\Iaster  of  the  Temple, — died,  who  was  a  man 
of  a  strict  life,  of  great  learning,  and  of  so  venerable  behaviour, 
as  to  gain  so  high  a  degree  of  love  and  reverence  from  all  men, 
that  he  was  generally  known  by  the  name  of  Father    Alvey. 
And  at  the  Temple-reading,  next  after  the  death  of  this  Father 
Alvey,   he,  the   said   Archbishop  of  York   being  then  at  dinner 
with  the  Judges,  the  Reader,  and  the  Benchers  of  that  Society, 
met  with  a  general  condolement  for  the  death  of  Father  Alvey, 
and  with  a  high    commendation  of  his  saint-like  life,  and  of  his 
irrcat  merit  both  towards  God   and  man  ;   and  as  thev  bewailed 
his  death,  .so  they  wished  for  a  like  pattern  of  virtue  and  learn- 
ing to  succeed  him.     And  here  came  in  a   fair  occasion   for  the 
Bishop  to  commend  Mr.  Hooker  to  Father  Alvey's  place,  which  he 
did  with  .so  effectual  an  earnestness,  and  that   seconded   v/ith  so 
many  other  testimonies  of  his  worth,  that  Mr.  Hooker  was  sent 
for  from  Drayton-Beauchamp  to  London,  and  there  the   Master- 
ship of  the  Temple  proposed  unto  him  by  the  Bishop,  as  a  greater 
freedom  from  his  country  cares,  the  advantages  of  a  better  society, 
and  a  more  liberal  pension  than  his  country  Parsonage  did  afford 
him.     But  these  rea.sons  were  not  powerful  enough  to  incline  him 
to  a  willing  acceptance  of  it:  his  wish  was  rather  to  gain  a  better 
country  living,  where  he  might  see  God's  blessings  spring  out  of 


§00  THE   LIFE   OF 


the  earth,  and  be  free  from  noise, — so  he  expressed  the  desire  of 
his  heart, — and  eat  that  bread  which  he  might  more  properly  call 
his  own,  in  privacy  and  quietness.  But,  notwithstanding  this 
aversencss,  he  was  at  last  persuaded  to  accept  of  the  Bishop's 
proposal ;  and  was  by  *Patent  for  life,  made  Master  of  the  Tem- 
ple the  17th  of  March,  1585,  he  being  then  in  the  34th  year  of 
iiis  age. 

x\nd  here  I  shall  make  a  stop  ;  and,  that  the  Reader  may  the 
better  judge  of  what  follows,  give  him  a  character  of  the  times 
and  temper  of  the  people  of  this  nation,  when  Mr.  Hooker  had 
his  admission  into  this  place ;  a  place  which  he  accepted,  rather 
than  desired  :  and  yet  here  he  promised  himself  a  virtuous  quiet- 
ness, that  blessed  tranquillity  which  he  always  prayed  and  la- 
boured for,  that  so  he  might  in  peace  bring  forth  the  fruits  of 
peace,  and  glorify  God  by  uninterrupted  prayers  and  praises. 
For  this  he  always  thirsted  and  prayed  :  but  Almighty  God  did 
not  grant  it ;  for  his  admission  into  this  place  was  the  very  begin- 
ning of  those  oppositions  and  anxieties,  which  till  then  this  good 
man  was  a  stranger  to ;  and  of  which  the  Reader  may  guess  by 
what  follows. 

In  this  character  of  the  times,  I  shall  by  the  Reader's  favour, 
and  for  his  information,  look  so  far  back  as  to  the  beginning  of 
the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  a  time,  in  which  the  many  pre- 
tended titles  to  the  Crown,  the  frequent  treasons,  the  doubts  of  her 
successor,  the  late  Civil  War,  and  the  sharp  persecution  for  Re- 
ligion that  raged  to  the  effusion  of  so  much  blood  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Mary,  were  fresh  in  the  memory  of  all  men  ;  and  begot 
fears  in  the  most  pious  and  wisest  of  this  nation,  lest  the  like 
days  should  return  again  to  them,  or  their  present  posterity.  And 
the  apprehension  of  these  dangers,  begot  a  hearty  desire  of  a 
settlement  in  the  Church  and  State  ;  believing  there  v.'as  no  other 

*  This  you  may  find  in  the  Temple  Records.  William  Krmslead  was  mas- 
ter of  the  Temple  at  the  Dissolution  of  the  Priory,  and  died  2  Eliz.  (1559). 

Richard  Alvey,  Bat.  Divinity,  Pat.  13  Febr.  2  Eliz.  Magister,  sive  Custos 
Domus  et  EcclesicB  Novi  Tcmpli,  died  27  Eliz.  (1585). 

Richard  Hooker  succeeded  that  year  by  Patent,  in  termiuis,  as  Alvey  had 
it,  and  he  left  it  33  Eliz.  (1591). 

That  year  Dr.  Balgey  succeeded  Richard  Hooker. 


MR.    RICHARD    HOOKER.  201 

probable  way  left  to  make  them  sit  quietly  under  their  own  vines 
and  fig-trees,  and  enjoy  the  desired  fruit  of  their  labours.  But 
time,  and  peace,  and  plenty,  begot  self-ends:  and  these  begot  ani- 
mosities,  envy,  opposition,  and  unthankfulness  for  those  very  bless- 
ings for  which  they  lately  thirsted,  being  then  the  very  utmost  of 
their  desires,  and  even  beyond  their  hopes. 

This  was  the  temper  of  the  times  in  the  beginning  of  her 
reign  ;  and  thus  it  continued  too  long ;  for  those  very  people  that 
had  enjoyed  the  desires  of  their  hearts  in  a  Reformation  from  the 
Church  of  Rome,  became  at  last  so  like  the  grave,  as  never  to  be 
satisfied,  but  were  still  thirsting  for  more  and  more  ;  neglecting 
to  pay  that  obedience,  and  perform  those  vows,  which  they  made 
in  their  days  of  adversities  and  fear  :  so  that  in  short  time  there 
appeared  three  several  interests,  each  of  them  fearless  and  rest- 
less in  the  prosecution  of  their  designs:  they  may  for  distinction 
be  called,  the  active  Romanists,  the  restless  Non-conformists, — 
of  which  there  were  many  sorts, — and  the  passive  peaceable 
Protestant.  The  counsels  of  the  first  considered  and  resolved  on 
in  Rome  ;  the  second  both  in  Scotland,  in  Geneva,  and  in  divers 
selected,  secret,  dangerous  Conventicles,  both  there,  and  within 
the  bosom  of  our  own  nation  ;  the  third  pleaded  and  defended 
their  cause  by  established  laws,  both  Ecclesiastical  and  Civil : 
and  if  they  were  active,  it  was  to  prevent  the  other  two  from  de- 
stroying what  was  by  those  known  Laws  happily  established  to 
them  and  their  posterity. 

I  shall  forbear  to  mention  the  very  many  and  dangerous  plots 
of  the  Romanists  against  the  Church  and  State ;  because  what  is 
principally  intended  in  this  digression,  is  an  account  of  the  opin- 
ions and  activity  of  the  Non-conformists :  against  whose  judg- 
ment and  practice  Mr.  Hooker  became  at  last,  but  most  unwil- 
linglv,  to  be  ensraged  in  a  book-war  ;  a  war  which  he  maintained 

CD    »    '  DO  ' 

not  as  against  an  enemy,  but  with  the  spirit  of  meekness  and 
reason. 

In  which  number  of  Non-conformists,  though  some  might  be 
sincere,  well-meaning  men,  whose  indiscreet  zeal  might  be  so 
like  charity,  as  thereby  to  cover  a  multitude  of  their  errors; 
yet  of  this  party  there  were  many  that  were  possessed  with  a 
high  degree  of  spiritual  wickedness  :   T  mean  with  an  innate  rest- 


202  THE   LIFE   OF 


less  pride  and  malice ;  I  do  not  mean  the  visible  carnal  sins  of 
gluttony  and  drunkenness,  and  the  like, — from  which,  good  Lord, 
deliver  us ! — but  sins  of  a  higher  nature,  because  they  are  more 
unlike  God,  who  is' the  God  of  Love,  and  mercy,  and  order,  and 
peace  ;  and  more  like  the  Devil,  who  is  not  a  glutton,  nor  can  be 
drunk,  and  yet  is  a  Devil :  but  1  mean  those  spiritual  wickednesses 
of  malice  and  revenge,  and  an  opposition  to  government  :  men 
that  joyed  to  be  the  authors  of  misery,  which  is  properly  Iiis 
work  that  is  the  enemy  and  disturber  of  mankind  ;  and  thereby 
greater  sinners  than  the  glutton  or  drunkard,  though  some  will 
not  believe  it.  And  of  this  party  there  were  also  many,  whom 
prejudice  and  a  furious  zeal  had  so  blinded,  as  to  make  them  nei- 
ther to  hear  reason,  nor  adhere  to  the  ways  of  peace  :  men,  that 
were  the  very  dregs  and  pest  of  mankini  ;  men  whom  pride  and 
self-conceit  had  made  to  over-value  their  ov/n  pitiful  crooked  wis- 
dom so  much,  as  not  to  be  ashamed  to  hold  foolish  and  unman- 
nerly disputes  against  those  men  whom  they  ought  to  reverence, 
and  those  laws  which  they  ought  to  obey  ;  men,  that  laboured 
and  joyed  first  to  find  out  the  faults,  and  then  speak  evil  of  Gov- 
ernment, and  to  be  the  authors  of  confusion  ;  men,  whom  com- 
pany,  and  conversation,  and  custom  had  at  last  so  blinded,  and 
made  so  insensible  that  these  were  sins,  that  like  those  that  per- 
ished in  the  gainsaying  of  Korah,  so  these  died  without  repenting 
of  these  spiritual  wickednesses ;  of  which  the  practices  of  Cop- 
pinger  and  Hacket*  in  their  lives,  and  the  death  of  them  and 
their  adherents,  are,  God  knows,  too  sad  examples,  and  ought  to 
be  cautions  to  those  men  that  are  inclined  to  the  like  spiritual 
wickednesses. 

And  in  these  times,  which  tended  thus  to  confusion,  there  were 
also  many  of  these  scruple-mongers,  that  pretended  a  tenderness 
of  conscience,  refusinjy  to  take  an  oath  before  a  lawful  Maijis- 
trate  :  and  yet  these  very  men  in  their  secret  Conventicles  did 
covenant  and  swear  to  each  other,  to  be  assiduous  and  faithful  in 

*  Two  v.'retched  fanatics,  the  fii'st  died  in  prison  and  the  second  was  hanged 
in  1591,  his  followers  called  him  "  the  supreme  Monarch  of  the  w^orld  from 
whom  all  Princes  of  Europe  hold  their  sceptres,"  "  to  be  a  greater  prophet 
than  Moses  or  John  Baptist,  even  Jesus  Christ,  who  was  come  with  his  fan  in 
his  hand  to  judge  the  world." 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  203 


using  their  best  endeavours  to  set  up  the  Presbyterian  doctrine 
and  discipline ;  and  both  in  such  a  manner  as  they  themselves 
had  not  yet  agreed  on  ;  but  up  that  government  must.  To  which 
end  there  were  many  that  wandered  up  and  down  and  were  ac- 
tive in  sowing  discontents  and  sedition,  by  venomous  and  secret 
•murmurings,  and  a  dispersion  of  scurrilous  pamphlets  and  libels 
against  the  Church  and  State  ;  but  especially  against  the  Bishops  ; 
by  which  means,  together  with  venomous  and  indiscreet  sermons, 
the  common  people  became  so  fanatic,  as  to  believe  the  Bishops 
to  be  Antichrist,  and  the  only  obstructors  of  God's  discipline ! 
and  at  last  some  of  them  were  given  over  to  so  bloody  a  zeal, 
and  such  other  desperate  delusions,  as  to  find  out  a  text  in  the 
Revelation  of  St.  John,  that  Antichrist  was  to  be  overcome  by 
the  sword.  So  that  those  very  men,  that  began  with  tender  and 
meek  petitions,  proceeded  to  admonitions :  then  to  satirical  re- 
monstrances :  and  at  last — having,  like  Absalom,  numbered  who 
was  not,  and  who  was,  for  their  cause — they  got  a  supposed  cer- 
tainty of  so  great  a  party,  that  they  durst  threaten  first  the 
Bishops,  and  then  the  Queen  and  Parliament,  to  all  which  they 
were  secretly  encouraged  by  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  then  in  great 
favour  with  her  Majesty,  and  the  reputed  cherisher  and  patron- 
general  of  these  pretenders  to  tenderness  of  conscience  ;  his  de- 
sign being,  by  their  means,  to  bring  such  an  odium  upon  the 
Bishops,  as  to  procure  an  alienation  of  their  lands,  and  a  large 
proportion  of  them  for  himself:  which  avaricious  desire  had  at 
last  so  blinded  his  reason,  that  his  ambitious  and  greedy  hopes 
seemed  to  put  him  into  a  present  possession  of  Lambeth-House. 

And  to  these  undertakings  the  Non-conformists  of  this  nation, 
were  much  encouraged  and  heightened  by  a  correspondence  and 
confederacy  with  that  brotherhood  in  Scotland  ;  so  that  here  they 
became   so  bold,  that  one*  told   the  Queen  openly  in  a  sermon, 

*  Edward  Dering,  a  Puritan  Divine,  and  a  native  of  Kent,  educated  at 
Clirist  College,  Cambridge.  He  was  suspended  from  his  Lectureships  on  ac- 
count of  his  non -conformity,  but  he  is  commended  as  a  truly  religious  man, 
whose  pure  and  virtuous  life  was  followed  by  a  happy  death,  in  157G.  He 
wrote  some  Sermons,  and  a  Defence  of  Bishop  Jewel's  Apology  for  the 
Church. 


204  THE   LIFE   OF 


"She  was  like  an  untamed  heifer,  that  would  not  be  ruled  by 
God's  people,  but  obstructed  his  discipline."'  And  in  Scotland 
ihey  were  more  confident ;  for  there*  they  declared  her  an  Athe- 
ist, and  grew  to  such  an  height,  as  not  to  be  accountable  for  any 
thing  spoken  against  her,  nor  for  treason  against  their  own  King, 
if  it  were  but  spoken  in  the  pulpit  ;  showing  at  last  such  a  diso- 
bedience to  him,  that  his  mother  being  in  England,  and  then  in 
distress,  and  in  prison,  and  in  danger  of  death,  the  Church  denied 
the  King  their  prayers  for  her  ;  and  at  another  time,  when  he 
had  appointed  a  day  of  Feasting,  the  Church  declared  for  a  gen- 
eral Fast,  in  opposition  to  his  authority. 

To  this  height  they  were  grown  in  both  nations,  and  by  these 
means  there  was  distilled  into  the  minds  of  the  common  people 
such  other  venomous  and  turbulent  principles,  as  were  inconsis- 
tent with  the  safety  of  the  Church  and  State  :  and  these  opinions 
vented  so  daringly,  that,  beside  the  loss  of  life  and  limbs,  the  gov- 
ernors  of  the  Church  and  State  were  forced  to  use  sucii  other 
severities  as  will  not  admit  of  an  excuse,  if  it  had  not  been  to  pre- 
vent the  gangrene  of  confusion,  and  the  perilous  consequences  of 
it ;  which,  without  such  prevention,  would  have  been  first  confu- 
sion, and  then  ruin  and  misery  to  this  numerous  nation. 

These  errors  and  animosities  were  so  remarkable,  that  they 
begot  wonder  in  an  ingenious  Italian,  who  being  about  this  time 
come  newly  into  this  nation,  and  considering  them,  writ  scoffingly 
to  a  friend  in  his  own  country,  to  this  purpose  ;  "  That  the  com- 
mon people  of  England  were  wiser  than  the  wisest  of  his  nation  • 
for  here  the  very  women  and  shop-keepers  v/ere  able  to  judge  of 
Predestination,  and  to  determine  what  laws  were  fit  to  be  made  con- 
cerning Church-government ;  and  then,  what  were  fit  to  be  obeyed 
or  abolished.  That  they  were  more  able — or  at  least  thought 
so — to  raise  and  determine  perplexed  Cases  of  Conscience,  than 
the  wisest  of  the  most  learned  Colleges  in  Italy  !  That  men  of 
the  slightest  learning,  and  the  most  ignorant  of  the  common  people, 
were  mad  for  a  new,  or  super,  or  re-reformation  of  Religion  ;  and 
that  in  this  they  appeared  like  that  man,  who  would  never  cease 
to  whet  and  wliet  his  knife,  till  tliere  was  no  steel  left  to  make  i 

*  Vide  JJiahop  Spotswood's  History  of  the  Church  of  Scotland. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  '205 


useful."  And  he  concluded  his  letter  with  this  observation, 
"  That  those  very  men  that  were  most  busy  in  oppositions,  and 
disputations,  and  controversies,  and  finding  out  the  faults  of  their 
governors,  had  usually  the  least  of  humility  and  mortification,  or 
of  the  power  of  godliness.'' 

And  to  heighten  all  these  discontents  and  dangers,  there  was 
also  sprung  up  a  generation  of  godless  men  ;  men  that  liad  so 
long  given  way  to  their  own  lusts  and  delusions,  and  so  highly 
opposed  the  blessed  motions  of  His  Spirit,  and  the  inward  light  of 
their  own  consciences,  that  they  became  the  very  slaves  of  vice, 
and  had  thereby  sinned  themselves  into  a  belief  of  that  which  they 
would,  but  could  not  believe,  into  a  belief,  which  is  repugnant 
even  to  human  nature  ; — for  the  Heathens  believe  that  there  are 
many  Gods ; — but  these  had  sinned  themselves  into  a  belief  that 
there  was  no  God  !  and  so,  finding  nothing  in  themselves  but 
what  was  worse  than  nothing,  began  to  wish  what  they  were  not 
able  to  hope  for,  namely,  '•'  That  they  might  be  like  the  beasts 
that  perish  !''  and  in  wicked  company — which  is  the  Atheist's 
sanctuary — v/ere  so  bold  as  to  say  so  :  thougli  the  worst  of  man- 
kind, when  he  is  left  alone  at  midnight,  may  wish,  but  is  not  then 
able  to  think  it :  even  into  a  belief  that  there  is  no  God.  Into 
this  wretched,  this  reprobate  condition,  many  had  then  sinned 
themselves. 

And  now,  when  the  Church  was  pestered  with  them,  and  with 
all  those  other  fore-named  irregularities  ;  when  her  lands  were 
in  danger  of  alienation,  her  power  at  least  neglected,  and  her 
peace  torn  to  pieces  by  several  schisms,  and  such  heresies  as  do 
usually  attend  that  sin: — for  heresies  do  usually  out-live  their 
first  authors ; — when  the  common  people  seemed  ambitious  of 
doing  those  very  things  that  were  forbidden  and  attended  with 
most  dangers,  that  thereby  they  might  be  punished,  and  then  ap- 
plauded and  pitied  :  when  they  called  the  spirit  of  opposition  a 
tender  conscience,  and  complained  of  persecution,  because  they 
wanted  power  to  persecute  others :  when  the  giddy  multitude  raged, 
and  became  restless  to  find  out  misery  for  themselves  and  others ; 
and  the  rabble  would  herd  themselves  together,  and  endeavour  to 
govern  and  act  in  spite  of  authority: — in  this  extremity  of  fear, 
and  danger  of  the  Church  and  State,  when,  to  suppress  the  grow- 


h'jg  the  life  of 


ing  evils  of  both,  they  needed  a  man  of  prudence  and  piety,  and 
of  an  high  and  fearless  fortitude,  they  were  blest  in  all  by  John 
Whitgift,  his  being  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  ;  of  whom 
Sir  Henry  Wotton — that  knew  him  well  in  his  youth,  and  had 
studied  him  in  his  age, — gives  this  true  character  ;  "  That  he 
was  a  man  of  reverend  and  sacred  memory,  and  of  the  primitive 
t<imper  :  such  a  temper,  as  when  the  Church  by  lowliness  of  spirit 
did  flourish  in  highest  examples  of  virtue."  And  indeed  this  man 
proved  so. 

And  though  I  dare  not  undertake  to  add  to  this  excellent  and 
true  character  of  Sir  Flenry  Wotton ;  yet  I  shall  neither  do  right 
to  this  discourse,  nor  to  my  Reader,  if  I  forbear  to  give  him  a 
further  and  short  account  of  the  life  and  manners  of  this  excellent 
inan  ;  and  it  shall  be  short,  for  I  long  to  end  this  digression,  that 
I  may  lead  my  reader  back  to  Mr.  Hooker  where  we  left  him  at 
the  Temple. 

John  Wiiitgift  was  born  in  the  County  of  Lincoln,  of  a  family 
that  was  ancient ;  and  noted  to  be  both  prudent  and  affable,  and 
gentle  by  nature.  He  was  educated  in  Cambridge  ;  much  of  his 
learning  was  acquired  in  Pembroke  Hall, — where  Mr.  Bradford* 
the  Martyr  was  his  tutor ; — from  thence  he  vv^as  removed  to  Peter 
House ;  from  thence  to  be  Master  of  Pembroke  Hall ;  and  from 
thence  to  the  Mastership  of  Trinity  College.  About  which  time 
the  Queen  made  him  her  Chaplain ;  and  not  long  after  Prebend 
of  Ely,  and  then  Dean  of  Lincoln  ;  and  having  for  many  years 
past  looked  upon  him  with  much  reverence  and  favour,  gave  him 
a  fair  testimony  of  both,  by  giving  him  the  Bishoprick  of  Wor- 
cester, and — which  was  not  with  her  a  usual  favour — forgivinof 
him  his  first  fruits ;  then  by  constituting  him  Vice-President  of 
the  Principality  of  Wales.  And  having  experimented  his  wis- 
dom, his  justice,  and  moderation  in  the  manage  of  her  affairs  in 
both  these  places,  she,  in  the  twenty-sixth  of  her  reign,  1583, 
o)ade  him  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and,  not  long  after,  of  her 
Privy  Council ;  and  trusted  him  to  manage  all  her  Ecclesiastical 
affairs  and  preferments.     In  all  which  removes,  he  was  like  the 


*  A  mild  and  beneficent  man  burned  by  the  Papibts  at  Smithfield,  July  1, 
1555. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  207 

Ark,  which  left  a  blessing  on  the  place  where  it  rested  ;  and  in 
all  his  employments  was  like  Jehoiada,  that  did  good  unto  Israel. 

These  were  the  steps  of  this  Bishop's  ascension  to  this  place  of 
dignity  and  cares :  in  which  place — to  speak  Mr.  Camden's  very 
words  in  his  Annals  of  Queen  Elizabeth — ■'  he  devoutly  conse- 
crated both  his  whole  life  to  God,  and  his  painful  labours  to  the 
good  of  his  Church." 

And  jvet  in  this  place  he  met  with  many  oppositions  in  the 
regulation  of  Church  affairs,  which  were  much  disordered  at  his 
entrance,  by  reason  of  the  age  and  remissness  of  Bishop  Grindal,* 
his  immediate  predecessor,  the  activity  of  the  Non-conformists, 
and  their  chief  assistant  the  Earl  of  Leicester ;  and  indeed  by 
too  many  others  of  the  like  sacrilegious  principles.  With  these 
he  was  to  encounter ;  and  though  he  wanted  neither  courage,  nor 
a  good  cause,  yet  he  foresaw,  that  without  a  great  measure  of  the 
Queen's  favour,  it  was  impossible  to  stand  in  the  breach,  that  had 
been  lately  made  into  the  lands  and  immunities  of  the  Church,  or 
indeed  to  maintain  the  remaining  lands  and  rights  of  it.  And 
therefore  by  justifiable  sacred  insinuations,  such  as  St.  Paul  to 
Agrippa, — "Agrippa,  believest  thou?  I  know  thou  believest," 
he  wrought  himself  into  so  great  a  degree  of  favour  with  her,  as, 
by  his  pious  use  of  it,  hath  got  both  of  them  a  great  degree  of  fame 
in  this  world,  and  of  glory  in  that  into  v/hich  they  are  now  both 
entered. 

His  merits  to  the  Queen,  and  her  favours  to  him  were  such, 
that  she  called  him  "  her  little  black  husband,"  and  called  "  his 
servants  her  servants  :"  and  she  saw  so  visible  and  blessed  a  sin- 
cerity shine  in  all  his  cares  and  endeavours  for  the  Church's  and 
for  her  good,  that  she  was  supposed  to  trust  him  with  the  very 
secrets  of  her  soul,  and  to  make  him  her  confessor  ;  of  which  she 
gave   many  fair  testimonies  ;  and  of  which  one  was,  that   "  she 

*  Edmund  Grindal,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  born  in  1519,  at  Hinsing- 
liam,  in  Cumberland,  and  educated  at  Cambridge.  He  resided  at  Strasburg, 
till  the  accession  of  Elizabeth,  who  nominated  him  to  the  See  of  London, 
whence,  in  1570,  he  was  translated  to  York,  and  in  1575,  to  Canterbury. 
His  indulgence  to  the  Puritans  procured  him  the  Queen's  displeasure,  and  for 
some  time  he  was  sequestered  and  confined  to  his  house,  but  in  1582  he  re- 
signed his  office,  and  died  .July  6th,  1583. 


i>08  THE   LIFE   OF 


would  never  eat  flesh  in  Lent,  without  obtaining  a  license  from 
her  little  black  husband  :"  and  would  often  say  "  she  pitied  him 
because  she  trusted  him,  and  had  thereby  eased  herself  by  laying 
the  burthen  of  all  her  Clergy-cares  upon  his  shoulders,  which  lie 
managed  with  prudence  and  piety." 

1  shall  not  keep  myself  within  the  promised  rules  of  brevity  in 
this  account  of  his  interest  with  her  Majesty,  and  his  care  of  the 
Church's  rights,  if  in  this  digression  I  should  enlarge  to  particu- 
lars ;  and  therefore  my  desire  is,  that  one  example  may  serve  for  a 
testimony  of  both.  And,  that  the  Reader  may  the  better  under- 
stand it,  he  may  take  notice,  that  not  man}^  years  before  his  being 
made  Archbishop,  there  passed  an  Act,  or  Acts  of  Parliament,  in- 
tending the  better  preservation  of  the  Church-lands,  by  recalling  a 
power  which  v.as  vested  in  others  to  sell  or  lease  them,  by  lodging 
and  trusting  the  future  care  and  protection  of  tliem  only  in  the 
Crown  :  and  amongst  many  that  made  a  bad  use  of  this  power  or 
trust  of  the  Queen's,  the  Earl  of  Leicester  was  one  ;  and  the  Bish- 
op having,  by  his  interest  with  her  Majesty,  put  a  stop  to  the 
Earl's  sacrilegious  designs,  they  two  fell  to  an  open  opposition 
before  her ;  after  v/hich  they  both  quitted  the  room,  not  friends  in 
appearance.  But  the  Bishop  made  a  sudden  and  seasonable  re- 
turn to  her  Majesty,— for  he  found  her  alone — and  spake  to  l;er 
with  great  humility  and  reverence,  to  this  purpose. 

"I  beseech  your  Majesty  to  hear  me  with  patience,  and  to  be- 
lieve that  your's  and  the  Church's  safety  are  dearer  to  me  than 
my  life,  but  my  conscience  dearer  than  both  :  and  therefore  give 
me  leave  to  do  my  duty,  and  tell  you  that  Princes  are  deputed 
nursing  Fathers  of  the  Church,  and  owe  it  a  protection  ;  and 
therefore  God  forbid  that  you  should  be  so  much  as  passive  in 
her  ruin,  when  you  may  prevent  it ;  or  that  I  should  behold  it 
without  horror  and  detestation  ;  or  should  forbear  to  tell  your  Maj- 
esty of  the  sin,  and  danger  of  Sacrilege.  And  though  you  and 
myself  were  born  in  an  age  of  frailties,  when  the  primitive  piety 
and  care  of  the  Church's  lands  and  immunities  are  much  decay- 
ed ;  yet.  Madam,  let  me  beg  that  you  would  first  consider  that 
there  are  such  sins  as  Profaneness  and  Sacrilege  :  and  that,  if 
there  were  not,  they  could  not  have  names  in  Holy  Writ,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  Now  Testament.     And  I  beseech  you  to  consider, 


MR.   RICHARD  HOOKER.  209 


that  though  our  Saviour  said,  '  He  judged  no  man  ;'  and,  to  tes- 
tify it,  would  not  judge  nor  divide  the  inheritance  betwixt  the  two 
brethren,  nor  would  judge  the  woman  taken  in  adultery  ;  yet  in 
this  point  of  the  Church's  rights  he  was  so  zealous,  that  he  made 
himself  both  the  accuser,  and  the  judge,  and  the  executioner  too, 
to  punish  these  sins  :  witnessed,  in  that  he  himself  made  the  whip 
to  drive  the  profaners  out  of  the  Temple,  overthrew  the  tables  of 
the  money-changers,  and  drove  them  out  of  it.  And  I  beseech 
you  to  consider,  that  it  was  St.  Paul  that  said  to  those  Christians 
of  his  time  that  were  offended  with  Idolatry,  and  yet  committed 
Sacrilege  :  '  Thou  that  abhorrest  Idols,  dost  thou  commit  Sacri- 
lege V  supposing,  I  think,  Sacrilege  the  greater  sin.  This  may 
occasion  your  Majesty  to  consider,  that  there  is  such  a  sin  as  Sac- 
rilege ;  and  to  incline  you  to  prevent  the  Curse  that  will  follow 
it,  I  beseech  you  also  to  consider,  that  Constantino,  the  first  Chris- 
tian Emperor,  and  Helejia  his  Mother  ;  that  King  Edgar,  and 
Edward  the  Confessor  ;  and  indeed  many  others  of  your  prede- 
cessors, and  many  private  Christians,  have  also  given  to  God,  and 
to  his  Church,  much  land,  and  many  immunities,  which  they 
might  have  given  to  those  of  their  own  families,  and  did  not ;  but 
gave  them  for  ever  as  an  absolute  right  and  sacrifice  to  God  :  and 
with  these  immunities  and  lands  they  have  entailed  a  curse  upon 
the  alienators  of  them  :  God  prevent  your  Majesty  and  your  suc- 
cessors from  being  liable  to  that  Curse,  which  will  cleave  unto 
Church-lands  as  the  leprosy  to  the  Jews. 

"  And  to  make  you,  that  are  trusted  with  their  preservation,  the 
better  to  understand  the  danger  of  it,  I  beseech  you  forget  not, 
that,  to  prevent  these  Curses,  the  Church's  land  and  power  have 
been  also  endeavoured  to  be  preserved,  as  far  as  human  reason 
and  the  law  of  this  nation  have  been  able  to  preserve  them,  by 
an  immediate  and  most  sacred  obligation  on  the  consciences  of 
the  Princes  of  this  realm.  For  they  that  consult  Magna  Charta 
shall  find,  that  as  all  your  predecessors  v/ere  at  their  Coronation,  so 
you  also  were  sworn  before  all  the  Nobility  and  Bishops  then  pres- 
ent, and  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  in  his  stead  to  him  that 
anointed  you,  to  maintain  the  Church-lands,  and  the  rights  belong- 
ing to  it ;  and  this  you  yourself  have  testified  openly  to  God  at  the 
holy  Altar,  by  laying  your  hands  on  the  Bible  then  lying  upon  it. 


^10  THE   LIFE   OF 


And  not  only  Magna  Charta,  but  many  modern  Statutes  have  de- 
nounced a  Curse  upon  those  that  break  Magna  Charta  ;  a  Curse 
like  the  leprosy,  that  was  entailed  on  the  Jews :  for  as  that,  so 
these  Curses  have,  and  will  cleave  to  the  very  stones  of  those 
buildings  that  have  been  consecrated  to  God  ;  and  the  father's  sin 
of  Sacrilege  hath,  and  will  prove  to  be  entailed  on  his  son  and 
family.  And  now,  Madam,  what  account  can  be  given  for  the 
breach  of  this  Oath  at  the  Last  Great  Day,  either  by  your  Maj- 
esty, or  by  me,  if  it  be  wilfully,  or  but  negligently  violated,  I 
know  not. 

"  And  therefore,  good  Madam,  let  not  the  late  Lord's  exceptions 
against  the  failings  of  some  few  Clergymen  prevail  with  you  to 
punish  posterity  for  the  errors  of  the  present  age  ;  let  particular 
men  suffer  for  their  particular  errors ;  but  let  God  and  his  Church 
have  their  inheritance  :  and  though  I  pretend  not  to  prophecy, 
yet  I  beg  posterity  to  take  notice  of  what  is  already  become  visi- 
ble in  manv  families  ;  that  Church-land  added  to  an  ancient  and 
just  inheritance,  hath  proved  like  a  moth  fretting  a  garment,  and 
secretly  consumed  both  :  or  like  the  Eagle  that  stole  a  coal  from 
the  altar,  and  thereby  set  her  nest  on  fire,  which  consumed  both 
her  young  eagles  and  herself  that  stole  it.  And  though  I  shall 
forbear  to  speak  reproachfully  of  your  Father,  yet  I  beg  you  to 
take  notice,  that  a  part  of  the  Church's  rights,  added  to  the  vast 
treasures  left  him  by  his  Father,  hath  been  conceived  to  bring  an 
unavoidable  consumption  upon  both,  notwithstanding  all  his  dili- 
gency  to  preserve  them. 

*'  And  consider,  that  after  the  violation  of  those  laws,  to  which 
he  had  sworn  in  ]\Iagna  Charta,  God  did  so  far  deny  him  his  re- 
straining grace,  that  as  King  Saul,  after  he  was  forsaken  of  God, 
fell  from  one  sin  to  another  ;  so  he,  till  at  last  he  fell  into  greater 
sins  than  I  am  willing  to  mention.  Madam,  Religion  is  the  foun- 
dation and  cement  of  human  societies  ;  and  when  they  that  serve 
at  God's  Altar  shall  be  exposed  to  poverty,  then  Religion  itself 
will  be  exposed  to  scorn,  and  become  contemptible  ;  as  you  may 
already  observe  it  to  be  in  too  many  poor  Vicarages  in  this  nation. 
And  therefore,  as  vou  are  bv  a  late  Act  or  Acts  of  Parliament, 
entrusted  with  a  great  power  to  preserve  or  waste  the  Church 
lands  ;  yet  dispo.se  of  them,  for  Jesus'  sake,  as  you  have  promised 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  211 


to  men,  and  vowed  to  God,  that  is,  as  the  donors  intended  :  let 
neither  falsehood  nor  flattery  beguile  you  to  do  otherwise ;  but 
put  a  stop  to  God's  and  the  Levite's  portion,  I  beseech  you,  and 
to  the  approaching  ruins  of  his  Church,  as  you  expect  comfort  at 
the  Last  Great  Day,  for  Kings  must  be  judged.  Pardon  this 
affectionate  plainness,  my  most  dear  Sovereign,  and  let  me  beg  to 
be  still  continued  in  your  favour ;  and  the  Lord  still  continue  you 
in  His." 

The  Queen's  patient  hearing  this  affectionate  speech,  and  her 
future  care  to  preserve  the  Church's  rights,  which  till  then  had 
been  neglected,  maj-^  appear  a  fair  testimony,  that  he  made  her's 
and  the  Church's  good  the  chiefest  of  his  cares,  and  that  she  also 
thought  so.  And  of  this  there  were  such  daily  testimonies  given, 
as  begot  betwixt  them  so  mutual  a  joy  and  confidence,  that  they 
seemed  born  to  believe  and  do  good  to  each  other  ;  she  not  doubt- 
ing his  piety  to  be  more  than  all  his  opposers,  which  were  many  ; 
nor  doubting  his  prudence  to  be  equal  to  the  chiefest  of  her  Coun- 
cil, who  were  then  as  remarkable  for  active  wisdom,  as  those 
dangerous  tunes  did  require,  or  this  nation  did  ever  enjoy.  And 
in  this  condition  he  continued  twenty  years ;  in  which  time  he 
saw  some  flowings,  but  many  more  ebbings  of  her  favour  towards 
all  men  that  had  opposed  him,  especially  the  Earl  of  Leicester : 
so  that  God  seemed  still  to  keep  him  in  her  favour,  that  he  might 
preserve  the  remaining  Church-lands  and  immunities  from  Sacri- 
legious alienations.  And  this  good  man  deserved  all  the  honour 
and  pov.'er  with  which  she  gratified  and  trusted  him  ;  for  he  was 
a  pious  man,  and  naturally  of  noble  and  grateful  principles  :  he 
eased  her  of  all  her  Church-cares  by  his  wise  manacre  of  them  : 
he  gave  her  faithful  and  prudent  counsels  in  all  the  extremities 
and  dangers  of  her  temporal  affairs,  which  were  very  many  ;  he 
lived  to  be  the  chief  comfort  of  her  life  in  her  declinini?  ao;e.  and 
to  be  then  most  frequently  with  her,  and  her  assistant  at  her  pri- 
vate devotions ;  he  lived  to  be  the  greatest  comfort  of  her  soul 
upon  her  death-bed,  to  be  present  at  the  expiration  of  her  last 
breath,  and  to  behold  the  closing  of  those  eyes  that  had  long 
looked  upon  him  with  reverence  and  affection.  And  let  this  also 
bo  added,  that  he  was  the  Chief  Mounier  at  her  sad  funeral ;  nor 
let  this  be  forgotten,  that,  within  a  few  hours  after  her  death,  he 


212  TIIK   LIFE   OF 


was  the  happy  proclaimer,  that  King  James — her  peaceful  suc- 
cessor— was  heir  to  the  Crown. 

Let  me  beg  of  my  Reader  to  allow  me  to  say  a  little,  and  but 
a  little,  more  of  this  good  Bishop,  and  I  shall  then  presently  lead 
him  back  to  Mr.  Hooker ;  and  because  I  would  hasten,  I  will 
mention  but  one  part  of  the  Bishop's  charity  and  humility ;  but 
this  of  both.  He  built  a  large  Alms-house  near  to  his  own  Pal- 
ace at  Croydon  in  Surrey,  and  endowed  it  with  maintenance  for 
a  Master  and  twenty-eight  poor  men  and  women  ;  which  he 
visited  so  often,  that  he  knew  their  names  and  dispositions ;  and 
was  so  truly  humble,  that  he  called  them  Brothers  and  Sisters : 
and  whensoever  the  Queen  descended  to  that  lowliness  to  dine 
vv'ith  him  at  his  Palace  in  Lambeth, — which  was  very  often, — he 
would  usually  the  next  day  shew  the  like  lowliness  to  his  poor 
Brothers  and  Sisters  at  Croydon,  and  dine  with  them  at  his  Hos- 
pital ;  at  which  time,  you  may  believe  there  was  joy  at  the  table. 
And  at  this  place  he  built  also  a  fair  Free-school,  with  a  good 
accommodation  and  maintenance  for  the  Master  and  Scholars. 
Which  gave  just  occasion  for  Boyse  Sisi,  then  Ambassador  for  the 
P'rench  King,  and  resident  here,  at  the  Bishop's  death,  to  say, 
"  the  Bishop  had  published  many  learned  books ;  but  a  Free- 
scliool  to  train  up  youth,  and  an  Hospital  to  lodge  and  maintain 
aged  and  poor  people,  were  the  best  evidences  of  Christian  learn- 
ing that  a  Bishop  could  leave  to  posterity."  This  good  Bishop 
lived  to  see  King  James  settled  in  peace,  and  then  fell  into  an 
extreme  sickness  at  his  Palace  in  Lambeth  ;  of  which  when  the 
King  had  notice,  he  went  presently  to  visit  him,  and  found  him  in 
his  bed  in  a  declining  condition  and  very  weak  ;  and  after  some 
short  discourse  betwixt  them,  the  King  at  his  departure  assured 
him,  "  He  had  a  great  affection  for  him,  and  a  very  high  value 
for  his  prudence  and  virtues,  and  would  endeavour  to  beg  his  life 
of  God  for  tlie  good  of  his  Church."  To  which  the  good  Bishop 
replied,  -^ Pro  Ecdesia  Dei!  Pro  Ecdesia  Deif  which  were 
the  last  words  he  ever  spake  ;  therein  testifying,  that  as  in  his 
life,  so  at  his  death,  his  chiefest  care  was  of  God's  Church. 

This  John  Whitgift  was  made  Archbishop  in  the  year  1583. 
In  which  busy  place  he  continued  twenty  years  and  some  months  ; 
and  in  which  time  you  may  believe  he  had  many  trials  of  his 


MR.    RICHARD   HOOKER.  JJ13 

courage  and  patience:  but  his  motto  was  "  Vlncit  qui  patitur ;'' 
and  he  made  it  good. 

Many  of  his  trials  were  occasioned  by  the  then  powerful  Earl 
of  Leicester,  who  did  still — but  secretly — raise  and  cherish  a 
faction  of  Non-conformists  to  oppose  him  ;  especially  one  Thomas 
Cartwright,  a  man  of  noted  learning,  sometime  contemporary  with 
the  Bishop  in  Cambridge,  and  of  the  same  College,  of  which  the 
Bishop  had  been  Master :  in  which  place  there  began  some  emu- 
lations,— the  particulars  I  forbear, — and  at  last  open  and  high 
oppositions  betwixt  them  ;  and  in  which  you  may  believe  Mr. 
Cartwright  was  most  faulty,  if  his  expulsion  out  of  the  University 
can  incline  you  to  it. 

And  in  this  discontent  after  the  Earl's  death, — which  was 
1588, — Mr.  Cartwright  appeared  a  chief  cherisher  of  a  party  that 
were  for  the  Geneva  Church-government;  and,  to  effect  it,  he 
ran  himself  into  many  dangers  both  of  liberty  and  life  ;  appear- 
ing at  the  last  to  justify  himself  and  his  party  in  many  remon- 
strances, which  he  caused  to  be  printed  :  and  to  which  the  Bishop 
made  a  first  answer,  and  Cartwright  replied  upon  him  ;  and  then 
the  Bishop  having  rejoined  to  his  first  reply,  Mr.  Cartwright 
either  was,  or  was  persuaded  to  be  satisfied ;  for  he  v/rote  no 
more,  but  left  the  Reader  to  be  judge  which  had  maintained 
their  cause  with  most  charity  and  reason.  After  some  silence, 
Mr.  Cartwright  received  from  the  Bishop  many  personal  favours 
and  betook  himself  to  a  more  private  living,  which  was  at  War- 
wick, where  he  was  made  Master  of  an  Hospital,  and  lived  quiet- 
ly, and  grew  rich ;  and  where  the  Bishop  gave  him  a  licence  to 
preach,  upon  promises  not  to  meddle  with  controversies,  but  in- 
cline his  hearers  to  piety  and  moderation  :  and  this  promise  he 
kept  during  his  life,  which  ended  1602,*  the  Bishop  surviving  him 
but  some  few  months  ;  each  ending  his  days  in  perfect  charity 
with  the  other. 

And  now  after  this  long  digression,  made  for  the  information  of 
my  Reader  concerning  what  follows,  I  bring  him  back  to  vene- 
rable Mr.  Hooker,  where  we  left  him  in  the  Temple,  and  where 

*  Besides  his  controversial  Tracts,  he  wrote  a  Commentary  on  the  Proverbs, 
and  a  harmony  of  the  Gospels. 

PART  IT,  4 


214  THE   LIFE   OF 


we  shall  find  him  as  deeply  engaged  in  a  controversy  with  Wal- 
ter Travers,* — a  friend  and  favourite  of  IMr.  Cartwright's — as 
the  Bishop  had  ever  been  with  Mr.  Cartwright  himself,  and  of 
which  I  shall  proceed  to  give  this  follov/ing  account. 

And  first  this  ;  that  though  the  pens  of  Mr.  Cartwright  and 
the  Bishop  were  now  at  rest,  yet  there  was  sprung  up  a  new 
generation  of  restless  men,  that  by  company  and  clamours  be- 
came possessed  of  a  faith,  which  they  ought  to  have  kept  to 
themselves,  but  could  not :  men  that  were  become  positive  in 
asserting,  "  That  a  papist  cannot  be  saved  :"  insomuch,  that 
about  this  time,  at  the  execution  of  the  Queen  of  Scots,  the 
Bishop  that  preached  her  Funeral  Sermon — which  was  Dr.  How- 
landjj"  then  Bishop  of  Peterborough — was  reviled  for  not  being 
positive  for  her  damnation.  And  besides  this  boldness  of  their 
becoming  Gods,  so  far  as  to  set  limits  to  His  mercies,  there  was 
not  only  one  Martin  Mar-Prelate,:];  but  other  venomous  books  daily 
printed  and  dispersed  ;  books  that  were  so  absurd  and  scurrilous, 
that  the  graver  Divines  disdained  them  an  answer.  And  yet 
these  were  grown  into  high  esteem  Vv'ith  the  common  people,  till 
Tom  Nash§  appeared  against  them  all,  who  was  a  man  of  a  sharp 

*  Walter  Travers,  who  had  been  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  to 
which  Cartwright  removed,  and  he  was  also  his  intimate  friend,  and  joint 
preacher  with  him  in  Antwerp.  When  Travers  came  to  England,  lie  was 
made  Chaplain  to  Lord  Burghley,  whose  interest  procured  him  to  be  Lecturer 
at  the  Temple. 

t  Dr.  Richard  Howland,  Master  of  St.  John's  College  in  Cambridge,  and 
the  fourth  Bishop  of  Peterborough,  died  in  1600.  It  does  not  appear  that  he 
Avas  the  preacher  on  this  occasion,  for  Gunton,  in  his  "  History  of  the  Church 
of  Peterborough,"  states  that  it  was  Wickham,  Bishop  of  Lincoln. 

$  In  1588,  many  satirical  Hbels  were  published  against  the  Bishops,  written 
principally  by  a  Society  of  men  assuming  the  name  of  Martin  Mar-Prelate ; 
some  of  them  were  entitled,  "  Diotrephes,"  "  the  Minerals,"  "  the  Epistle  to 
the  Convocation-House,"  "  Have  you  any  work  for  a  Cooper?"  and  "  More 
work  for  a  Cooper,"  referring  to  the  Defence  of  the  Church  and  Bishops  of 
England,  written  by  Cowper,  Bishop  of  Winchester.  The  real  authors  of  these 
tracts,  were  John  Penry,  a  Welchman,  John  Udall,  and  other  ministers. 

§  Thomas  Nashe  wa.s  an  English  Satirical  writer,  born  about  1564,  at  Lowe- 
stofFc,  in  Suffolk,  and  educated  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  His  tracts 
are  both  rare  and  carious ;  but  the  titles  given  in  the  text  belong  all  to  one 
pamphlet,  supposed  by  Gabriel  Harvey,  to  have  been  written  by  John  Lylly. 
IIp.  died  in  London  in  1601. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  215 

wit,  and  the  master  of  a  scoffing,  satirical,  rnerry  pen,  which  he 
employed  to  discover  the  absurdities  of  those  blind,  malicious, 
senseless  pamphlets,  and  sermons  as  senseless  as  they  ;  Nash's 
answers  being  like  his  books,  which  bore  these,  or  like  titles : 
"  An  Almond  for  a  Parrot;"  "  A  Fig  for  my  Godson  ;"  ''  Come 
crack  me  this  nut,"  and  the  like  ;  so  that  this  merry  wit  made 
some  sport,  and  such  a  discovery  of  their  absurdities,  as — which 
is  strange — he  put  a  greater  stop  to  these  malicious  pamphlets, 
than  a  much  wiser  man  had  been  able. 

And  now  the  Reader  is  to  take  notice,  that  at  the  death  of 
Father  Alvey,  who  was  Master  of  the  Temple,  this  Walter 
Travers  was  Lecturer  there  for  the  Evening  Sermons,  which  he 
preached  with  great  approbation,  especially  of  some  citizens,  and 
the  younger  gentlemen  of  that  Society  ;  and  for  the  most  part 
approved  by  Mr.  Flooker  himself,  in  the  midst  of  their  oppositions. 
For  he  continued  Lecturer  a  part  of  his  time ;  Mr.  Ti'avers 
being  indeed  a  man  of  competent  learning,  of  a  winning  beha- 
viour, and  of  a  blameless  life.  But  he  had  taken  Orders  by  the 
Presbytery  in  Antwerp, — and  with  them  some  opinions,  that  could 
never  be  eradicated, — and  if  in  any  thing  he  was  transported,  it 
was  in  an  extreme  desire  to  set  up  that  government  in  this  nation  ; 
for  the  promoting  of  which  he  had  a  correspondence  with  Theo- 
dore Beza  at  Geneva,  and  others  in  Scotland  ;  and  was  one  of  the 
chiefest  assistants  to  Mr.  Cartwright  in  that  design. 

Mr.  Travers  had  also  a  particular  hope  to  set  up  this  govern- 
ment in  the  Temple,  and  to  that  end  used  his  most  zealous  endea- 
vours to  be  Master  of  it ;  and  his  being  disappointed  by  Mr. 
Hooker's  admittance,  proved  the  occasion  of  a  public  opposition 
betwixt  them  in  their  Sermons  :  many  of  which  were  concerning 
the  doctrine  and  ceremonies  of  this  Church  :  insomuch  that,  as 
St.  Paul  withstood  St.  Peter  to  his  face,  so  did  they  withstand 
each  other  in  their  Sermons  :  for,  as  one  hath  pleasantly  expressed 
it,  "  The  forenoon  Sermon  spake  Canterbury ;  and  the  afternoon 
Geneva." 

In  these  Sermons  there  was  little  of  bitterness,  but  each  party 
brought  all  the  reasons  he  was  able  to  prove  his  adversary's 
opinion  erroneous.  And  thus  it  continued  a  long  time,  till  the 
oppositions  became  so  visible,  and  the  consequences  so  dangerous, 


216  THE   LIFE   OF 


especially  in  that  place,  that  the  prudent  Archbishop  put  a  stop  to 
Mr.  Travers  his  preaching,  by  a  positive  prohibition.  Against 
which  Mr.  Travers  appealed,  and  petitioned  her  Majesty's  Privy 
Council  to  have  it  recalled  ;  where,  besides  his  patron,  the  Earl 
of  Leicester,  he  met  also  Vvith  many  assisting  friends :  but  they 
were  not  able  to  prevail  with,  or  against  the  Archbishop,  whom 
the  Queen  had  intrusted  with  all  Church-power ;  and  he  had 
received  so  fair  a  testimony  of  Mr.  Hooker's  principles,  and  of 
his  learning  and  moderation,  that  he  withstood  all  solicitations. 
But  the  denying  this  petition  of  Mr.  Travers,  was  unpleasant  to 
divers  of  his  party  ;  and  the  reasonableness  of  it  became  at  last 
to  be  so  publicly  magnified  by  them,  and  many  others  of  that 
party,  as  never  to  be  answered  :  so  that,  intending  the  Bishop's 
and  Mr.  Hooker's  disgrace,  they  procured  it  to  be  privately 
printed  and  scattered  abroad  ;  and  then  Mr.  Hooker  was  forced 
to  appear,  and  make  as  public  an  Answer  ;  which  he  did,  and 
dedicated  it  to  the  Archbishop  ;  and  it  proved  so  full  an  answer, 
an  answer  that  had  in  it  so  much  of  clear  reason,  and  writ  with 
so  much  meekness  and  majesty  of  style,  that  the  Bishop  began  to 
have  him  in  admiration,  and  to  rejoice  that  he  had  appeared  in 
his  cause,  and  disdained  not  qarnestly  to  beg  his  friendship  ;  even 
a  familiar  friendship  with  a  man  of  so  much  quiet  learning  and 
humility. 

To  enumerate  the  many  particular  points,  in  which  IVIr.  Hooker 
and  Mr.  Travers  dissented, — all,  or  m.ost  of  which  I  have  seen 
written, — would  prove  at  least  tedious:  and  therefore  I  shall 
impose  upon  my  Reader  no  more  tlian  two,  which  shall  imme- 
diately follow,  and  by  wliich  he  may  judge  of  the  rest. 

Mr.  Travers  excepted  against  Mr.  Hooker,  for  that  in  one  of 
his  Sermons  he  declared,  "  That  the  assurance  of  what  we  be- 
lieve by  the  Word  of  God  is  not  to  us  so  certain  as  that  which 
we  perceive  by  sense."  And  Mr.  Hooker  confesseth  he  said  so, 
and  endeavours  to  justify  it  by  the  reasons  following. 

"  First ;  I  taught  that  the  things  which  God  promises  in  his 
Word  are  surer  than  what  we  touch,  handle,  or  see :  but  are  we 
so  sure  and  certain  of  them  ?  If  we  be,  why  doth  God  so  often 
prove  his  promises  to  us  as  he  doth,  by  arguments  drawn  from 
our  sensible  experience  ?     For  we  must  be  surer  of  the  proof 


-MR.    RICHARD   HOOKER.  217 


than  of  the  things  proved  ;  otherwise  it  is  no  proof.  For  exam- 
ple ;  how  is  it  that  many  men  looking  on  the  moon,  at  the  same 
time,  every  one  knoweth  it  to  be  the  moon  as  certainly  as  the 
other  doth  ?  but  many  believing  one  and  the  same  promise,  have 
not  all  one  and  the  same  fulness  of  persuasion.  For  how  falleth 
it  out  that  men  being  assured  of  any  thing  by  sense,  can  be  no 
surer  of  it  than  they  are ;  when  as  the  strongest  in  faith  that  liv- 
eth  upon  the  earth  hath  always  need  to  labour,  strive,  and  pray, 
that  his  assurance  concerning  heavenly  and  spiritual  things  may 
grow,  increase,  and  be  augmented  ?"' 

The  Sermon,  that  gave  him  the  cause  of  this  his  justification, 
makes  the  case  more  plain,  by  declaring  "  That  there  is,  besides 
this  certainty  of  evidence,  a  certainty  of  adherence."  In  which 
having  most  excellently  demonstrated  what  the  certainty  of  ad- 
herence is,  he  makes  this  comfortable  use  of  it,  "  Comfortable,^' 
he  says,  "  as  to  weak  believers,  who  suppose  themselves  to  be 
faithless,  not  to  believe,  when  notwithstanding  they  have  their  ad- 
herence ;  the  Holy  Spirit  hath  his  private  operations,  and  work- 
eth  secretly  in  them,  and  effectually  too,  though  they  want  the  in- 
ward testimony  of  it." 

Tell  this,  saith  he,  to  a  man  that  hath  a  mind  too  much  dejected 
by  a  sad  sense  of  his  sin  ;  to  one  that,  by  a  too  severe  judging  of 
himself,  concludes  that  he  wants  faith,  because  he  wants  the  com- 
fortable assurance  of  it ;  and  his  answer  will  be,  do  not  persuade 
me  against  my  knowledge,  against  whst  I  find  and  feel  in  myself: 
I  do  not,  I  know,  I  do  not  believe.— -Mr.  Hooker's  own  words  fol- 
low.—-' Well  then,  to  favour  such  men  a  little  in  their  weakness, 
let  that  be  granted  which  they  do  imagine ;  be  it,  that  they  ad- 
here not  to  God's  promises,  but  are  faithless  and  without  belief: 
but  are  they  not  grieved  for  their  unbelief?  They  confess  tl.ey 
are  ;  do  they  not  Avish  it  might,  and  also  strive  that  it  may  be 
otherwise?  We  know  they  do.  Whence  cometh  this,  but  from 
a  secret  love  and  liking,  that  they  have  of  those  things  believed  ? 
For  no  man  can  love  those  things  which  in  his  own  opinion  are 
not ;  and  if  they  think  those  things  to  be,  which  they  show  they 
love,  when  they  desire  to  believe  them  ;  then  must  it  be,  that,  by 
desiring  to  believe,  they  prove  themselves  true  believers  :  tor 
without  faith  no  man   thinketh  that  things  believed  are  :  which 


218  THE  LIFE   OF 


argument  all  the  subtilties  of  infernal  powers  will  never  be  able 
to  dissolve."  This  is  an  abridgement  of  part  of  the  reasons  Mr. 
Hooker  gives  for  his  justification  of  this  his  opinion,  for  which  he 
was  excepted  against  by  Mr.  Travers. 

Mr.  Hooker  was  also  accused  by  Mr.  Travers,  for  that  he  in 
one  of  his  Sermons  had  declared,  "  That  he  doubted  not  but  that 
God  was  merciful  to  many  of  our  forefathers  living  in  Popish  su- 
perstition, for  as  much  as  they  sinned  ignorantly  ;"  and  Mr. 
Hooker  in  his  answer  professeth  it  to  be  his  judgment,  and  de- 
clares  his  reasons  for  this  charitable  opinion  to  be  as  folio weth. 

But  first,  he  states  the  question  about  Justification  and  Works, 
and  how  the  foundation  of  Faith  without  works  is  overthrown ; 
and  then  he  proceeds  to  discover  that  way  which  natural  men 
and   some   others   have   mistaken  to  be  the  way,  by  which  they 
hope  to  attain  true  and  everlasting  happiness  :  and  having  discov- 
ered the  mistaken,  he  proceeds   to   direct   to  that  true  way,  by 
which,  and  no  other,  everlasting  life  and  blessedness  is  attainable. 
And  these  two  ways  he  demonstrates  thus ; — they  be  liis  own 
words  that  follow  : — "  That,  the  way  of  Nature  ;  this,  the  w^ay 
of  Grace  ;  the  end  of  that  way.  Salvation  merited,  pre-supposing 
the  righteousness  of  men's  works ;  their  righteousness,  a  natural 
ability  to  do  them  ;    that  ability,  the  goodness  of  God,  which 
created  them  iii  such  perfection.     But  the  end  of  this  way,  Sal- 
vation bestowed   upon  men  as  a  gift :    pre-supposing  not  their 
righteousness,  but  the  forgiveness  of  their  unrighteousness,  Justi- 
fication ;  their  justification,  not  their  natural  ability  to  do  good, 
but  their  hearty  sorrow  for  not  doing,  and  unfeigned  belief  in 
Him,  for  whose  sake  not-doers  are  accepted,  which  is  their  Voca- 
tion ;  their  vocation,  the  election  of  God,  taking  them  out  of  the 
number  of  lost  children :  their  Election,  a  Mediator  in  whom  to 
be  elected  ;  this  mediation,  inexplicable  mercy  :  this  mercy,  sup- 
posing their  misery  for  whom  He  vouchsafed  to  die,  and  make 
Himself  a  Mediator." 

And  he  also  declareth,  "  There  is  no  meritorious  cause  for  our 
Justification,  but  Christ :  no  effectual,  but  his  mercy  ;"  and  says 
also,  "  We  deny  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  abuse, 
disannul  and  annihilate  the  benefit  of  his  passion,  if  by  a  proud 
imagination  we  believe  we  can  merit  everlasting  life,  or  can  be 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  219 


worthy  of  it."  This  belief,  he  declareth,  is  to  destroy  the  very 
essence  of  our  Justification ;  and  he  makes  all  opinions  that  bor- 
der upon  this  to  be  very  dangerous.  "  Yet  nevertheless," — and 
for  this  he  was  accused, — "  considering  how  many  virtuous  and 
just  men,  how  many  Saints  and  Martyrs  have  had  their  danger- 
ous opinions,  amongst  which  this  was  one,  that  they  hoped  to 
make  God  some  part  of  amends,  by  voluntary  punishments  which 
they  laid  upon  themselves :  because  by  this,  or  the  like  erroneous 
opinions,  which  do  by  consequence  overthrow  the  merits  of  Christ, 
shall  man  be  so  bold  as  to  write  on  their  graves,  '  Such  men  are 
damned  ;  there  is  for  them  no  Salvation  V  St.  Austin  says,  Er- 
rare  possum,  Hcereticus  esse  nolo.  And  except  we  put  a  difference 
betwixt  them  that  err  ignorantly,  and  them  that  obstinately  per- 
sist in  it,  how  is  it  possible  that  any  man  should  hope  to  be  saved  ? 
Give  me  a  Pope  or  Cardinal,  whom  great  afflictions  have  made  to 
know  himself,  whose  heart  God  hath  touched  with  true  sorrow  for 
all  his  sins,  and  filled  with  a  love  of  Christ  and  his  Gospel ; 
whose  eyes  are  willingly  open  to  see  the  truth,  and  his  mouth 
ready  to  renounce  all  error, — this  one  opinion  of  merit  excepted, 
which  he  thinketh  God  will  require  at  his  hands  ; — and  because 
he  v/anteth,  trembleth,  and  is  discouraged,  and  yet  can  say.  Lord, 
cleanse  me  from  all  my  secret  sins !  shall  I  think,  because  of  this, 
or  a  like  error,  such  men  touch  not  so  much  as  the  hem  of  Christ's 
garment  ?  If  they  do,  wherefore  should  I  doubt,  but  that  virtue 
may  proceed  from  Christ  to  save  them  ?  No,  I  will  not  be  afraid 
to  say  to  such  a  one.  You  err  in  your  opinion  ;  but  be  of  good 
comfort ;  you  have  to  do  with  a  merciful  God,  who  will  make  the 
best  of  that  little  which  you  hold  well ;  and  not  with  a  captious 
sophister,  who  gathereth  the  worst  out  of  every  thing  in  which 
you  are  mistaken." 

But  it  will  be  said,  says  Mr.  Hooker,  the  admittance  of  merit  in 
any  degree  overthroweth.the  foundation,  excludeth  from  the  hope 
of  mercy,  from  all  possibility  of  salvation.  (And  now  Mr.  Hook- 
er's own  words  follow). 

"  What,  though  they  hold  the  truth  sincerely  in  all  other  parts 
of  Christian  faith ;  although  they  have  in  some  measure  all  the 
virtues  and  graces  of  the  Spirit,  although  they  have  all  other  to- 
kens of  God's  children  in  them  ?  although  they  be  far  from  having 


220  THE   LIFE   OF 


any  proud  opinion,  that  they  shall  be  saved  by  the  worthiness  of 
their  deeds  ?  although  the  only  thing,  that  troubleth  and  molesteth 
them,  be  a  little  too  much  dejection,  somevvliat  too  great  a  fear 
arising  from  an  erroneous  conceit,  that  God  will  require  a  worthi- 
ness in  them,  which  they  are  grieved  to  find  wanting  in  themselves  ? 
although  they  be  not  obstinate  in  this  opinion  ?  although  they  be 
willing,  and  would  be  glad  to  forsake  it,  if  any  one  reason  were 
brought  sufficient  to  disprove  it  ?  although  the  only  cause  why 
they  do  not  forsake  it  ere  they  die,  be  their  ignorance  of  that 
means  by  which  it  might  be  disproved  ?  although  the  cause  why 
the  ignorance  in  this  point  is  not  removed,  be  the  want  of  know- 
ledge  in  such  as  should  be  able,  and  are  not,  to  remove  it  ?  Let 
me  die,"  says  Mr.  Hooker,  '•  if  it  be  ever  proved,  that  simply  an 
error  doth  exclude  a  Pope  or  Cardinal  in  such  a  case  utterly  from 
hope  of  life.  Surely,  I  must  confess,  that  if  it  be  an  error  to  think 
that  God  may  be  merciful  to  save  men,  even  when  they  err,  my 
greatest  comfort  is  my  error ;  were  it  not  for  the  love  I  bear  to 
this  error,  I  would  never  wish  to  speak  or  to  live." 

I  was  willing  to  take  notice  of  these  two  points,  as  supposing 
them  to  be  very  material ;  and  that,  as  they  are  thus  contracted, 
they  may  prove  useful  to  my  Reader ;  as  also  for  that  the  an- 
swers be  arguments  of  Mr.  Hooker's  great  and  clear  reason,  and 
equal  charity.  Other  exceptions  were  also  made  against  him  by 
Mr.  Travers,  as  "  That  he  prayed  before,  and  not  after,  his  Ser- 
mons ;  that  in  his  prayers  he  named  Bishops ;  that  he  kneeled, 
both  when  he  prayed,  and  when  he  received  the  Sacrament;" 
and — says  Mr.  Hooker  in  his  Defence — "other  exceptions  so  like 
these,  as  but  to  name,  I  should  have  thought  a  greater  fault  than 
to  commit  them." 

And  it  is  not  unworthy  the  noting,  that,  in  the  manage  of  so 
great  a  controversy,  a  sharper  reproof  than  this,  and  one  like  it, 
did  never  fall  from  the  happy  pen  of  this  humble  man.  That  like 
it  was  upon  a  like  occasion  of  exceptions,  to  which  his  answer 
was,  "  your  next  argument  consists  of  railing  and  of  reasons :  to 
your  railing  I  say  nothing ;  to  your  reasons  I  say  what  follows." 
And  1  am  glad  of  this  fair  occasion  to  testify  the  dove-like  temper 
of  this  meek,  this  matchless  man.  And  doubtless,  if  Almighty 
God  had  blest  the  Dissenters  from  the  ceremonies  and  discipline 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  221 

of  this  Church,  with  a  like  measure  of  wisdom  and  humility,  in- 
stead of  their  pertinacious  zeal,  then  obedience  and  truth  had 
kissed  each  other;  then  peace  and  piety  had  flourished  in  our  na- 
tion,  and  this  Church  and  State  had  been  blessed  like  Jerusalem, 
that  is  at  unity  with  itself;  but  this  can  never  be  expected,  till 
God  shall  bless  the  common  people  of  this  nation  with  a  belief, 
that  Schism  is  a  sin,  and  they  not  fit  to  judge  what  is  Schism : 
and  bless  them  also  with  a  belief,  that  there  inay  be  offences  ta- 
ken which  are  not  given,  and,  that  laws  are  not  made  for  private 
men  to  dispute,  but  to  obey. 

And  this  also  may  be  worthy  of  noting,  that  these  exceptions  of 
Mr.  Travers  against  Mr.  Hooker  proved  to  hefelix  error ,  for  they 
were  the  cause  of  his  transcribing  those  few  of  his  Sermons,  which 
we  now  see  printed  with  his  books ;  and  of  his  "  Answer  to  Mr. 
Travers  his  Supplication;"  and  of  his  most  learned  and  useful 
"Discourse  of  Justification,  of  Faith,  and  Works:"  and  by  their 
transcription  they  fell  into  such  hands  as  have  preserved  them 
from  being  lost,  as  too  many  of  his  other  matchless  writings  were  : 
and  from  these  I  have  gathered  many  observations  in  this  discourse 
of  his  life. 

After  the  publication  of  his  "  Answer  to  the  Petition  of  Mr. 
Travers,"  Mr.  Hooker  grew  daily  into  greater  repute  with  the 
most  learned  and  wise  of  the  nation  ;  but  it  had  a  contrary  effect 
in  very  many  of  the  Temple,  that  were  zealous  for  Mr.  Travers, 
and  for  his  Church-discipline ;  insomuch,  that  though  Mr.  Trav- 
ers left  the  place,  yet  the  seeds  of  discontent  could  not  be  rooted 
out  of  that  Society,  by  the  great  reason,  and  as  great  meekness, 
of  this  humble  man :  for  though  the  chief  Benchers  gave  him 
much  reverence  and  encouragement,  yet  he  there  met  with  many 
neglects  and  oppositions  by  those  of  Master  Travers'  judgment; 
insomuch  that  it  turned  to  his  extreme  grief:  and,  that  he  might 
unbeguile  and  win  them,  he  designed  to  write  a  deliberate,  sober 
treatise  of  the  Church's  power  to  make  Canons  for  the  use  of  cere- 
monies, and  by  law  to  impose  an  obedience  to  them,  as  upon  her 
children ;  and  this  he  proposed  to  do  in  "  Eight  Books  of  the  law 
of  Ecclesiastical  Polity ;"  intending  therein  to  shew  such  argu- 
ments as  should  force  an  assent  from  all  men,  if  reason,  delivered 
in  sweet  language,  and  void  of  any  provocation,  were  able  to  do 


222  THE   LIFE   OF 


it :  and,  that  he  might  prevent  all  prejudice,  he  wrote  before  it  a 
large  Preface,  or  Epistle  to  the  Dissenting  Brethren,  wherein 
there  were  such  bowels  of  love,  and  such  a  commixture  of  tliat 
love  with  reason,  as  was  never  exceeded  but  in  Holy  Writ ;  and 
particularly  by  that  of  St.  Paul  to  his  dear  brother  and  fellow-la- 
bourer Philemon  :  than  which  none  ever  was  more  like  this  epis- 
tle of  Mr.  Hooker's.  So  that  his  dear  friend  and  companion  in 
his  studies,  Dr.  Spencer,  might,  after  his  death,  justly  say,  "  What 
admirable  height  of  learning,  and  depth  of  judgment,  dwelt  in  the 
lowly  mind  of  this  truly  humble  man  ; — great  in  all  wise  men's 
eyes,  except  his  own  ;  with  what  gravity  and  majesty  of  speech 
his  tongue  and  pen  uttered  heavenly  mysteries ;  whose  eyes,  in 
the  humility  of  his  heart,  were  always  cast  down  to  the  ground; 
how  all  things  that  proceeded  from  him  were  breathed  as  from  the 
Spirit  of  Love  ;  as  if  he,  like  the  bird  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Dove, 
had  wanted  gall ; — let  those  that  knew  him  not  in  his  person, 
judge  by  these  living  images  of  his  soul,  his  writings." 

The  foundation  of  these  books  was  laid  in  the  Temple ;  but  he 
found  it  no  fit  place  to  finish  what  he  had  there  designed;  he 
therefore  earnestly  solicited  the  Archbishop  for  a  remove  from 
that  place;  to  whom  he  spake  to  this  purpose  :  "  My  Lord,  when 
I  lost  the  freedom  of  my  cell,  which  was  my  College,  yet  I  found 
some  degree  of  it  in  my  quiet  country  parsonage  :  but  I  am  weary 
of  the  noise  and  oppositions  of  this  place ;  and  indeed  God  and 
Nature  did  not  intend  me  for  contentions,  but  for  study  and  quiet- 
ness. My  Lord,  my  particular  contests  with  Mr.  Travers  here 
have  proved  the  more  unpleasant  to  me,  because  I  believe  him  to 
be  a  good  man  ;  and  that  belief  hath  occasioned  me  to  examine 
mine  own  conscience  concerning  his  opinions  ;  and,  to  satisfy  that, 
I  have  consulted  tlie  Scripture,  and  other  laws,  both  human  and 
divine,  whether  the  conscience  of  him,  and  others  of  his  judgment, 
ought  to  be  so  far  complied  with,  as  to  alter  our  frame  of  Church- 
government,  our  manner  of  God's  worship,  our  praising  and  pray- 
ing to  him,  and  our  established  ceremonies,  as  often  as  his,  and 
other  tender  consciences  shall  require  us.  And  in  this  examina- 
tion, I  have  not  only  satisfied  myself,  but  have  begun  a  Treatise, 
in  which  I  intend  a  justification  of  the  Laws  of  our  Ecclesiastical 
Polity  ;  in  which  design  God  and  his  holy  Angels  shall  at  the 


MK.   RICHARD   ilOOKER.  223 

last  great  Day  bear  me  that  witness  which  my  conscience  now 
does ;  that  my  meaning  is  not  to  provoke  any,  but  rather  to  satisfy 
all  tender  consciences :  and  I  shall  never  be  able  to  do  this,  but 
where  I  may  study,  and  pray  for  God's  blessing  upon  my  endeav- 
ours, and  keep  myself  in  peace  and  privacy,  and  behold  God's 
blessing  spring  out  of  my  mother  earth,  and  cat  my  own  bread 
without  oppositions  ;*  and  therefore,  if  your  Grace  can  judge  me 
worthy  of  such  a  favour,  let  me  beg  it,  that  I  may  perfect  what  I 
have  ben;un." 

About  this  time  the  Parsonage  or  Rectory  of  Boscum.  in  the 
Diocese  of  Sarum,  and  six  miles  from  that  City,  became  void. 
The  Bishop  of  Sarum  is  Patron  of  it ;  but  in  the  vacancy  of  that 
See, — which  was  three  years  betwixt  the  translation  of  Bishop 
Pierce  to  the  See  of  York,  and  Bishop  Caldwell's  admission  into 
it^ — the  disposal  of  that,  and  all  benefices  belonging  to  that  See, 
durino-  this  said  vacancy,  came  to  be  disposed  of  by  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury :  and  he  presented  Richard  Hooker  to  it  in 
the  year  1591,  And  Richard  Hooker  was  also  in  the  said  year 
instituted,  July  17.  to  be  a  Minor  Prebend  of  Salisbury,  the  corps 
to  it  being  Nether- Haven,  about  ten  miles  from  that  City ;  which 
prebend  was  of  no  great  value,  but  intended  chiefly  to  make  him 
capable  of  a  better  preferment  in  that  church.  In  this  Boscum 
he  continued  till  he  had  finished  four  of  his  eight  proposed  books 


*  111  some  of  the  later  editions  of  the  Life  of  Hooker,  this  paragraph  is  thus 
altered — "  And  in  this  examination  :  I  have  not  only  satisfied  myself,  but  have 
begun  a  treatise  in  which  I  intend  the  satisfaction  of  others,  by  a  demonstra- 
tion of  the  reasonableness  of  our  Laws  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity ;  and  therein 
laid  a  hopeful  foundation  for  the  Church's  peace ;  and  so  as  not  to  provoke 
your  adversary,  Mr.  Cartwright,  nor  Mr.  Travers,  whom  1  take  to  be  mine — 
but  not  mine  enemy — God  knows  this  to  be  ray  meaning.  To  which  end  I 
have  searched  many  boolis,  and  spent  many  thoughtful  hours  ;  and  I  hope  not 
in  vain,  for  I  write  to  reasonable  men.  But  my  Lord,  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
finish  what  I  have  begun,  unless  I  be  rr?moved  into  some  quiet  country  parson- 
ao-e,  where  I  may  see  God's  blessings  spring  out  of  my  mother  earth,  and  eat 
mine  own  bread  iu  peace  and  privacy.  A  place  where  I  may,  without  dis- 
turbance, meditate  my  approaching  mortality  and  that  great  account,  which 
all  flesh  must  at  the  last  great  day  give  to  the  God  of  all  Spirits.  This  is  my 
design  ;  and  as  those  are  the  designs  of  my  heart,  so  they  shall,  by  God's  assist- 
ance, be  the  constant  endeavours  of  the  uncertain  remainder  of  my  life." 


224  THE  LIFE  OF 


of  "  The  Laws  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity,"  and  these  were  entered 
into  the  Register-Book  in  Stationers'  Hall,  the  9th  of  March, 
1592,  but  not  published  till  the  year  1594,  and  then  were  with 
the  before-mentioned  large  and  affectionate  Preface,  which  he  di- 
rects to  them  that  seek — as  they  term  it — the  reformation  of  the 
Laws  and  Orders  Ecclesiastical  in  the  Church  of  England ;  of 
which  books  I  shall  yet  say  nothing  more,  but  that  he  continued 
his  laborious  diligence  to  finish  the  remaining  four  during  his  life  ; 
— of  all  which  more  properly  hereafter  ; — but  at  Boscum  he  fin- 
ished and  published  but  only  the  first  four,  being  then  in  the  39th 
year  of  his  age. 

He  left  Boscum  in  the  year  1595,  by  a  surrender  of  it  into  the 
hands  of  Bishop  Caldwell  :  and  he  presented  Benjamin  Russell, 
who  was  instituted  into  it  the  23rd  of  June  in  the  same  year. 

The  Parsonage  of  Bishop's  Bourne  in  Kent,  three  miles  from 
Canterbury,  is  in  that  Archbishop's  gift :  but,  in  that  latter  end  of 
the  year  1594,  Dr.  William  Redman,  the  Rector  of  it,  was  made 
Bishop  of  Norwich  ;  by  which  means  the  power  of  presenting  to 
it  was  pro  ea  vice  in  the  Queen ;  and  she  presented  Richard 
Hooker,  whom  she  loved  well,  to  this  good  living  of  Bourne,  the 
7tli  July,  1595  ;  in  which  living  he  continued  till  his  death,  with- 
out any  addition  of  dignity  or  profit. 

And  now  having  brought  our  Richard  Hooker  from  his  birth- 
place, to  this  where  he  found  a  grave,  I  shall  only  give  some  ac- 
count of  his  books  and  of  his  behaviour  in  this  Parsonage  of 
Bourne,  and  then  give  a  rest  both  to  myself  and  my  Reader. 

His  first  four  books  and  large  epistle  have  been  declared  to  be 
printed  at  his  being  at  Boscum,  anno  1594.  Next  I  am  to  tell, 
that  at  the  end  of  these  four  books  there  was,  when  he  first 
printed  them,  this  Advertisement  to  the  Reader.  "  I  have  for 
some  causes,  thought  it  at  this  time  more  fit  to  let  go  these  first 
four  books  by  themselves,  than  to  stay  both  them  and  the  rest,  till 
the  whole  might  together  be  published.  Such  generalities  of  the 
cause  in  question  as  arc  here  handled,  it  will  be  perhaps  not 
amiss  to  consider  apart,  by  way  of  introduction  unto  the  books 
that  are  to  follow  concerning  particulars  ;  in  the  meantime  the 
Reader  is  requested  to  mend  the  Printer's  errors,  as  noted  under- 
neath." 


MR.   HlCllARD   HOOKER.  J225 


And  I  am  next  to  declare,  that  his  Fifth  Book — which  is  larger 
than  his  first  four — was  first  also  printed  by  itself,  anno  1597,  and 
dedicated  to  his  patron — for  till   then  he  chose  none — the  Arch- 
bishop.    These  books  were  read  with  an  admiration  of  their  ex- 
cellency  in  this,  and  their  just  fame  spread  itself  also  into  foreign 
nations.     And  I  have  been  told,  more  than  forty  years  past,  that 
either  Cardinal  Allen,*  or  learned  Dr.  Stapleton,f — both  English- 
men,  and  in  Italy  about  the  time  when  Mr.  Hooker's  four  books 
were  first  printed, — meeting  with  this  general  fame  of  them,  were 
desirous  to  read  an  author,  that  both  the  reformed  and  the  learned 
of  their  own  Romish  Church  did   so  much  magnify  ;  and  there- 
fore caused  them  to  be  sent  for  to  Rome  :  and  after  reading  them, 
boasted  to  the  Pope, — which  then  was  Clement  the   Eighth, — 
'•  That  though  he  had  lately  said,  he  never  met  with  an  English 
book,  whose  writer  deserved  the  name  of  author ;  yet  there  now 
appeared  a  wonder  to  them,  and  it  would  be  so  to  his  Holiness,  if 
it  were  in  Latin  :  for  a  poor  obscure  English  Priest  had  writ  four 
such  books  of  Laws,  and  Church  polity,  and   in  a  style  that  ex- 
pressed such  a  grave  and  so  humble  a  majesty,  with  such  clear 
demonstration  of  reason,  that  in  all  their   readings  they  had  not 
met  v/ith  any  that  exceeded  him  :  and  this  begot  in   the  Pope  an 
earnest  desire  that  Dr.  Stapleton  should  bring  the  said  four  books, 
and,  looking  on  the  English,  read  a  part  of  them  to  him  in  Latin ; 
which  Dr.  Stapleton  did.  to  the  end  of  the  first  book  ;  at  the  con- 
clusion of  which,  the  Pope  spake  to  this  purpose  :  '  There  is  no 
learning  that  this  man  hath  not  searched   into,  nothing  too  hard 
for  his  understanding  :  this  man  indeed  deserves  the  name  of  an 
author :  his  books  will  get  reverence  by  age  ;  for  there  is  in  them 
such  seeds  of  eternity,  that  if  the  rest  be  like  this,  they  shall  last 
till  the  last  fire  shall  consume  all  learninn;.'  " 

*  He  was  for  some  time  Fellow  of  Oriel  College,  and  principal  of  St.  Mary- 
Hall.  He  was  made  a  Cardinal  by  Pope  SixtusV.  in  1587.  In  1589,  he  was 
appointed  Archbishop  of  Mechlin  in  Brabant,  and  died  about  1594. 

t  It  is  ascertained  by  Bishop  King's  letter  to  Walton,  that  it  was  Dr.  Staple- 
ton  who  introduced  the  works  of  Hooker  to  the  Pope.  Thomas  Stapleton  was 
a  Romish  Divine,  born  in  1535,  at  Henfield,  in  Sussex,  and  educated  at  Win- 
chester, and  New  College,  Oxford  ;  but  he  left  England  on  account  of  his  re- 
ligion, and  became  Professor  of  Divinity  at  Douay.  He  died  at  Louvain,  in 
1598,  and  his  works  form  four  volumeo  iu  folio. 


22(j  THE   LIFE   OE 


Nor  was  this  high,  the  only  testimony  and  commendations 
given  to  his  books  ;  for  at  ihe  first  coming  of  King  James  into 
this  kingdom,  he  enquired  of  the  Archbishop  Whitgift  for  his 
friend  Mr.  Hooker,  that  writ  the  books  of  Church-polity  ;  to  which 
the  answer  was,  that  he  died  a  year  before  Queen  Elizabeth, 
who  received  the  sad  news  of  his  death  with  very  much  sorrow  ; 
to  which  the  King  replied,  "  And  I  receive  it  with  no  less,  that  I 
shall  want  the  desired  happiness  of  seeing  and  discoursing  with 
that  man,  from  whose  books  I  have  received  such  satisfaction  : 
indeed,  my  Lord,  I  have  received  more  satisfaction  in  reading  a 
leaf  or  paragraph,  in  Mr.  Hooker,  though  it  were  but  about  the 
fashion  of  Churches,  or  Church-Music,  or  the  like,  but  especially 
of  the  Sacraments,  than  I  have  had  in  the  reading  particular  large 
treatises  written  but  of  one  of  those  subjects  by  others,  though 
very  learned  men :  and  I  observe  there  is  in  Mr.  Hooker  no  af- 
fected language  :  but  a  grave,  comprehensive,  clear  manifesta- 
tion of  reason,  and  that  backed  with  the  authority  of  the  Scrip, 
ture,  the  Fathers,  and  Schoolmen,  and  with  all  Law  both  sacred 
and  civil.  And,  though  many  others  write  well,  yet  in  the  next 
age  they  will  be  forgotten  ;  but  doubtless  there  is  in  every  page 
of  Mr.  Hooker's  book  the  picture  of  a  divine  squI,  such  pictures 
of  truth  and  reason,  and  drawn  in  so  sacred  colours,  that  they 
shall  never  fade,  but  give  an  immortal  memory  to  the  author." 
And  it  is  so  truly  true,  that  the  King  thought  what  he  spake,  that, 
as  the  most  learned  of  the  nation  have,  and  still  do  mention  Mr. 
Hooker  with  reverence ;  so  he  also  did  never  mention  him  but 
with  the  epithet  of  learned,  or  judicious,  or  reverend,  or  venerable 
Mr.  Hooker. 

Nor  did  his  son,  our  late  King  Charles  the  First,  ever  mention 
him  but  with  the  same  reverence,  enjoining  his  son,  our  now  gra- 
cious King,  to  be  studious  in  Mr.  Hooker's  books.  And  our 
learned  antiquaiy  Mr.  Camden,*  mentioning  the  death,  the  modes- 
ty, and  other  virtues  of  Mr.  Hooker,  and  magnifying  his  books, 
wished,  "  that,  for  the  honour  of  this,  and  benefit  of  other  nations, 
they  were  turned  into  the  Universal  Language."  Which  work, 
though  undertaken  by  many,  yet  they  have  been  weary,  and  for- 


*  In  his  Annals,  5299. 


MR.   RICHARD    HOOKER.  227 


saken  it :  but  the  Reader  may  now  expect  it,  having  been  long 
since  begun  and  lately  finished,  by  the  happy  pen  of  Dr.  Earle,* 
now  Lord  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  of  whom  I  may  justly  say, — and 
let  it  not  offend  him.  because  it  is  such  a  truth  as  ought  not  to  be 
concealed  from  posterity,  or  those  that  now  live,  and  yet  know  him 
not, — that  since  Mr.  Hooker  died,  none  have  lived  whom  God 
liaLii  blessed  with  more  innocent  wisdom,  more  sanctified  learning, 
or  a  more  pious,  peaceable,  primitive  temper  :  so  that  this  ex- 
cellent person  seems  to  be  only  like  himself,  and  our  venerable 
Richard  Hooker,  and  only  fit  to  make  the  learned  of  all  nations 
happy,  in  knowing  what  hath  been  too  long  confined  to  the  lan- 
guage of  our  little  island. 

There  might  be  many  more  and  just  occasions  taken  to  speak 
of  his  books,  which  none  ever  did  or  can  commend  too  much  ; 
but  I  decline  them,  and  hasten  to  an  account  of  his  Christian 
behaviour  and  death  at  Bourne  ;  in  which  place  he  continued  his 
customary  rules  of  mortification  and  self-denial ;  was  much  in 
fasting,  frequent  in  meditation  and  prayers,  enjoying  those  blessed 
returns,  which  only  men  of  strict  lives  feel  and  know,  and  of 
which  men  of  loose  and  godless  lives  cannot  be  made  sensible ; 
for  spiritual  things  are  spiritually  discerned. 

At  his  entrance  into  this  place,  his  friendship  vv-as  much  sought 
for  by  Dr.  Hadrian  Saravia,f  then,  or  about  that  time,  made  one 
of  the  Prebends  of  Canterbury  ;  a  German  by  birth,  and  some- 
time a  pastor  both  in  Flanders  and  Holland,  where  he  had  studied, 
and  well  considered  the  controverted  points  concerning  Episco- 

*  Dr.  John  Earle,  Author  of  the  "  Microcosmography,  or  a  piece  of  the 
World,  discovered  in  Essays  and  characters,"  was  born  at  York,  m  1601 ;  was 
educated  at  Oxford,  and  was  Tutor  to  Prince  Charles.  In  the  Civil  Wars,  he 
lost  both  his  property  and  preferments,  and  attended  the  King  abroad  as  his 
Chaplain.  In  1662,  this  very  amiable  man  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Wor- 
cester. He  died  at  Oxford,  1665.  His  translation  of  Hooker's  Polity,  was 
never  printed. 

t  A  Protestant  Divine,  and  Professor  of  Divinity  at  Leyden,  born  at  Artois 
in  1531,  came  to  England  in  1587.  He  was  the  bosom  friend  of  Whitgift, 
and,  having  been  master  of  the  Free  Grammar  School  of  Southampton,  pro- 
duced some  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  his  time.  Dr.  Saravia  was  one  of 
the  Translators  of  King  James's  Bible,  and  died  in  1613.  His  Tracts  have 
been  printed,  both  in  Latin  and  English. 


228  THE   LIFE   OF 


pacy  and  sacrilege ;  and  in  England  had  a  just  occasion  to 
declare  his  judgment  concerning  both,  unto  his  brethren  ministers 
of  the  Low  Countries  ;  which  was  excepted  against  by  Theodore 
Beza  and  others;  against  whose  exceptions  he  rejoined,  and 
thereby  became  the  happy  author  of  many  learned  tracts  writ  in 
Latin,  especially  of  three ;  one,  of  the  "  Degrees  of  Ministers," 
and  of  the  "  Bishops'  superiority  above  the  Presbytery;"  a  sec- 
ond, "against  Sacrilege;"  and  a  third  of  "Christian  Obedience 
to  Princes  ;"  the  last  being  occasioned  by  Gretzerus  the  Jesuit.* 
And  it  is  observable,  that  when,  in  a  time  of  church-tumults, 
Beza  gave  his  reasons  to  the  Chancellor  of  Scotland  for  the  abro- 
gation of  Episcopacy  in  that  nation,  partly  by  letters,  and  more 
fully  in  a  treatise  of  a  three- fold  Episcopacy, — which  he  calls 
divine,  human,  and  satanical, — this  Dr.  Saravia  had,  by  the  help 
of  Bishop  Whitgift,  made  such  an  early  discovery  of  their  inten- 
tions, that  he  had  almost  as  soon  answered  that  Treatise  as  it 
became  public  ;  and  he  therein  discovered  how  Beza's  opinion  did 
contradict  that  of  Calvin's  and  his  adherents ;  leaving  them  to 
interfere  with  themselves  in  point  of  Episcopacy.  But  of  these 
tracts  it  will  not  concern  me  to  say  more,  than  that  they  were 
most  of  them  dedicated  to  his,  and  the  Church  of  England's 
watchful  patron,  John  Whitgift,  the  Archbishop  ;  and  printed  about 
the  time  in  which  Mr.  Hooker  also  appeared  first  to  the  world, 
in  the  publication  of  his  first  four  books  of  "  Ecclesiastical  Polity." 
This  friendship  being  sought  for  by  this  learned  Doctor  you 
may  believe  was  not  denied  by  Mr.  Hooker,  who  was  by  fortune 
so  like  him,  as  to  be  engaged  against  Mr.  Travers,  Mr.  Cart- 
wright,  and  others  of  their  judgment,  in  a  controversy  too  like 
Dr.  Saravia's  ;  so  that  in  this  year  of  1595,  and  in  this  place  of 
Bourne,  these  two  excellent  persons  began  a  holy  friendship, 
increasing  daily  to  so  high  and  mutual  affections,  that  their  two 
wills  seemed  to  be  but  one  and  the  same  ;  and  their  designs  both 
for  the  glory  of  God,  and  peace  of  the  Church,  still  assisting  and 
improving  each  other's  virtues,   and  the  desired  comforts  of  a 


*  A  most  learned  Jesuit.  He  read  theological  lectures  at  Ingolstadt,  where 
he  died  in  1625,  aged  63  years.  His  works  were  published  at  Ratisbon,  in 
1734,  in  13  vol.  fol. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  22i) 


peaceable  piety  ;    which  1   have  willingly  mentioned,  because  it 
gives  a  foundation  to  some  tilings  that  follow. 

This  Parsonage  of  Bourne  is  from  Canterbury  three  miles, 
and  near  to  the  common  road  that  leads  from  that  City  to  Dover  ; 
in  which  Parsonage  J\Ir.  Plooker  had  not  been  twelve  months,  but 
his  books,  and  the  innocency  and  sanctity  of  his  life  became  so 
remarkable,  that  many  turned  out  of  the  road,  and  others — 
scholars  especially — went  purposely  to  see  the  man,  whose  life 
and  learning  were  so  much  admired  :  and  alas  !  as  our  Saviour 
said  of  St.  John  Baptist,  "What  went  they  out  to  see  ?  a  man 
clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen  ?"  No,  indeed  :  but  an  obscure, 
harmless  man  ;  a  man  in  poor  clothes,  his  loins  usually  girt  in  a 
coarse  gow^n,  or  canonical  coat ;  of  a  mean  stature,  and  stooping, 
and  yet  more  lowly  in  the  thoughts  of  his  soul  ;  his  body  worn 
out,  not  with  age  ;  but  study  and  holy  mortifications ;  his  face 
full  of  heat-pimples,  begot  by  his  unactivity  and  sedentary  life. 
And  to  this  true  character  of  his  person,  let  me  add  this  of  his 
disposition  and  behaviour  :  God  and  Nature  blessed  him  with  so 
blessed  a  bashfulness,  that  as  in  his  younger  days  his  pupils  might 
easily  look  him  out  of  countenance ;  so  neither  then,  nor  in  his 
age,  did  he  ever  willingly  look  any  man  in  the  face :  and  was  of 
so  mild  and  humble  a  nature,  that  his  poor  Parish-Clerk  and  he 
did  never  talk  but  with  both  their  hats  on,  or  both  off,  at  the  same 
time  :  and  to  this  may  be  added,  that  though  he  was  not  purblind, 
yet  he  was  short  or  weak-sighted  ;  and  where  he  fixed  his  eyes 
at  the  beginning  of  his  sermon,  there  they  continued  till  it  was 
ended  :  and  the  Reader  has  a  liberty  to  believe,  that  his  modesty 
and  dim  sight  were  some  of  the  reasons  why  he  trusted  Mrs. 
Churchman  to  choose  his  wife. 

This  Parish-Clerk  lived  till  the  third  or  fourth  year  of  the  late 
Lonij  Parliament  :  betwixt  which  time  and  Mr.  Hooker's  death 
there  had  come  many  to  see  the  place  of  his  burial,  and  the 
Monument  dedicated  to  his  memory  by  Sir  William  Cowper,  who 
still  lives  ;  and  the  poor  Clerk  had  many  rewards  for  shewing 
Mr.  Hooker's  grave  place,  and  his  said  Monument,  and  did  always 
hear  Mr.  Hooker  mentioned  with  commendations  and  reverence  : 
to  all  which  he  added  his  own  knowledo;e  and  observations  of  his 
humility  and  holiness  ;  and  in  all  which  discourses  the  poor  man 

PART  II.  5 


230  THE   LIFE   OF 


was  still  mo)-e  confirmed  in  his  opinion  of  J\Ir.  Hooker's  virtues 
and  learning.  But  it  so  fell  out,  that  about  the  said  third  or  fourtii 
year  of  the  Long  Parliament,  the  then  present  Parson  of  Bourne 
was  sequestered, — you  may  guess  why, — and  a  Genevan  Minister 
put  into  his  good  living.  This,  and  other  like  sequestrations, 
made  the  Clerk  express  himself  in  a  wonder,  and  say,  "  They 
had  sequestered  so  many  good  men,  that  he  doubted,  if  his  good 
master  Mr.  Ilooker  had  lived  till  now,  they  would  have  seques- 
tered him  too  !" 

It  was  not  long  before  this  intruding  Minister  had  made  a  party 
in  and  about  the  said  Parish,  that  were  desirous  to  receive  the 
Sacrament  as  in  Geneva  ;  to  which  end,  the  day  was  appointed 
for  a  select  company,  and  forms  and  stools  set  about  the  altar,  or 
commjunion-table,  for  them  to  sit  and  eat  and  drink  :  but  when 
they  went  about  this  work,  there  was  a  want  of  some  joint-stools, 
which  the  Minister  sent  the  Clerk  to  fetch,  and  then  to  fetch  cush- 
ions,— but  not  to  kneel  upon. — When  the  Clerk  saw  them  begin  to 
sit  down,  he  began  to  wonder  ;  but  the  Minister  bade  him  "  cease 
wondering,  and  lock  the  Church-door :"  to  whom  he  replied, 
"  Pray  take  you  the  keys,  and  lock  me  out :  I  will  never  come 
more  into  this  Church  ;  for  all  men  will  say,  my  miaster  Hooker 
was  a  good  man,  and  a  good  scholar ;  and  I  am  sure  it  was  not 
used  to  be  thus  in  his  days:"  and  report  says  the  old  man  went 
presently  home  and  died ;  I  do  not  say  died  immediately,  but 
Vv'itliin  a  few  days  after.* 

But  let  us  leave  this  grateful  Clerk  in  his  quiet  grave,  and  re- 
turn to  Mr.  Hooker  liimsclf,  continuing  our  observations  of  his 
Ciiristian  behaviour  in  this  place,  where  he  gave  a  holy  valedic- 
tion to  all  the  pleasures  and  allurements  of  earth ;  possessing  his 
soul  in  a  virtuous  quietness,  which  he  maintained  by  constant 
study,  prayers,  and  meditations.  Flis  use  v/as  to  preach  once 
every  Sunday,  and  he,  or  his  Curate,  to  catechise  after  the  sec- 

*  Our  biographer  has  lamented  that  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  recover  the 
name  of  Mr.  Hooker's  worthy  school-master.  That  of  his  grateful  parish- 
clerk  Avas  Sampson  Horton.  It  appears  from  the  parish-register  of  Bishop's- 
Bourne,  that  '•  Sampson  Horton  was  buried  the  9th  of  May  1648,  an  aged 
man  who  had  been  clarke  to  this  parish,  by  his  own  relation,  threescore 
ye  ares. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  231 

ond  Lesson  in  the  Evening  Prayer.  His  sermons  were  neither 
long  nor  earnest,  but  uttered  with  a  grave  zeal,  and  an  humble 
voice  :  his  eyes  always  fixed  on  one  place,  to  prevent  imagination 
from  v/andering  ;  insomuch  that  he  seemed  to  study  as  he  spake. 
The  design  of  his  Sermons — as  indeed  of  all  his  discourses — was 
to  shew  reasons  for  what  he  spake  ;  and  with  these  reasons  such 
a  kind  of  rhetoric,  as  did  rather  convince  and  persuade,  than 
frighten  men  into  piety  ;  studying  not  so  much  for  matter, — 
which  he  never  wanted,— r-as  for  apt  illustrations,  to  inform  and 
teach  his  unlearned  hearers  by  familiar  examples,  and  then  make 
them  better  by  convincing  applications  ;  never  labouring  by  hard 
words,  and  then  by  heedless  distinctions  and  subdistinctions,  to 
amuse  his  hearers,  and  get  glory  to  himself;  but  glory  only  to 
God.  Which  intention,  he  would  often  say,  was  as  discernible 
in  a  Preacher,  "  as  a  natural  from  an  artificial  beauty." 

He  never  failed  the  Sunday  before  every  Ember-week  to  give 
notice  of  it  to  his  parishioners,  persuading  them  both  to  fast,  and 
then  to  double  their  devotions  for  a  learned  and  a  pious  Clergy, 
but  especially  the  last ;  saying  often,  "  That  the  life  of  a  pious 
Clergyman  was  visible  rhetoric ;  and  so  convincing,  that  the  most 
godless  men — though  they  would  not  deny  themselves  the  enjoy- 
ment of  their  present  lusts — did  yet  secretly  wish  themselves  like 
those  of  the  strictest  lives."  And  to  what  he  persuaded  others, 
he  added  his  own  example  of  fasting  and  prayer ;  and  did  usually 
every  Ember-week  take  from  the  Parish-Clerk  the  key  of  the 
Church-door,  into  which  place  he  retired  every  day,  and  locked 
himself  up-  for  many  hours  ;  and  did  the- like  most  Fridays  and 
other  days  of  fasting. 

He  would  by  no  means  omit  the  customary  time  of  Procession, 
persuading  all,  both  rich  and  poor,  if  they  desired  the  preserva- 
tion of  love,  and  their  parish  rights  and  liberties,  to  accompany 
him  in  his  perambulation  ;  and  most  did  so  :  in  which  perambu- 
lation he  would  usually  express  more  pleasant  discourse  than  at 
other  times,  and  would  then  always  drop  some  loving  and  face- 
tious observations  to  be  remembered  against  the  next  year,  espe- 
cially by  the  boys  and  young  people ;  still  inclining  them,  and 
all  his  present  parishioners,  to  meekness,  and  mutual  kindness  and 


232  THE   LIFE   OF 


love ;  because  "  Love  thinks  not  evil,  but  covers  a  multitude  of 
infirmities." 

He  was  diligent  to  enquire  who  of  his  Parish  were  sick,  or  any- 
ways distressed,  and  would  often  visit  them,  unsent  for ;  sup- 
posing that  the  fittest  time  to  discover  to  them  those  errors,  to 
which  health  and  prosperity  had  blinded  them.  And  having  by 
pious  reasons  and  prayers  moulded  them  into  holy  resolutions  for 
the  time  to  come,  he  would  incline  them  to  confession  and  bewail- 
ing their  sins,  with  purpose  to  forsake  them,  and  then  to  receive 
the  Communion,  both  as  a  strengthening  of  those  holy  resolutions, 
and  as  a  seal  betwixt  God  and  them  of  his  mercies  to  their  souls, 
in  case  that  present  sickness  did  put  a  period  to  their  lives. 

And  as  he  was  thus  watchful  and  charitable  to  the  sick,  so  he 
was  as  diligent  to  prevent  law-suits  ;  still  urging  his  parishioners 
and  neighbours  to  bear  with  each  other's  infirmities,  and  live  in 
love,  because,  as  St.  John  says,  "  He  that  lives  in  love,  lives  in 
God  ;  for  God  is  love."  And  to  maintain  this  holy  fire  of  love 
constantly  burning  on  the  altar  of  a  pure  heart,  his  advice  was 
to  watch  and  pray,  and  always  keep  themselves  fit  to  receive  the 
Communion,  and  then  to  receive  it  often  ;  for  it  was  both  a  con- 
firming and  strengthening  of  their  graces.  iThis  was  his  advice  ; 
and  at  his  entrance  or  departure  out  of  any  house,  he  would 
usually  speak  to  the  whole  family,  and  bless  them  by  name  ;  in- 
somuch, that  as  he  seemed  in  his  youth  to  be  taught  of  God,  so 
he  seemed  in  this  place  to  teach  Iiis  precepts  as  Enoch  did,  by 
walking  v/ith  him  in  all  holiness  and  humility,  making  each  day 
a  step  towards  a  blessed  eternity.  '  And  though,  in  this  weak  and 
declining  age  of  the  world,  such  examples  are  become  barren, 
and  almost  incredible ;  yet  let  his  memory  be  blessed  with  this 
true  recordation,  because  he  that  praises  Richard  Hooker,  praises 
God  who  hath  given  such  gifts  to  men  ;  and  let  this  humble  and 
affectionate  relation  of  him  become  such  a  pattern,  as  may  invite 
posterity  to  imitate  these  his  virtues. 

This  was  his  constant  behaviour  both  at  Bourne,  and  in  all  the 
places  in  which  he  lived  :  thus  did  he  walk  with  God,  and  tread 
the  footsteps  of  primitive  piety  ;  and  yet,  as  that  great  example 
of  meekness  and  purity,  even  our  blessed  Jesus,  was  not  free  from 
false  accusations,  no  more  was  this  disciple  of  his,  this  most  hum- 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  233 

ble,  most  innocent,  holy  man.  His  was  a  slander  parallel  to  that 
of  chaste  Susannah's  by  the  wicked  Elders  ;  or  that  against  St. 
Athanasius,  as  it  is  recorded  in  his  life, — for  this  holy  man  had 
heretical  enemies, — a  slander  which  this  age  call  trepa?ining .'* 
The  particulars  need  not  a  repetition  ;  and  that  it  was  false,  needs 
no  other  testimony  than  the  public  punishment  of  his  accusers, 
and  their  open  confession  of  his  innocency.  It  was  said  that  the 
accusation  was  contrived  by  a  dissenting  brother,  one  that  endured 
not  Church-ceremonies,  hating  him  for  his  book's  sake,  which  he 
was  not  able  to  answer  ;  and  his  name  hath  been  told  me ;  but  I 
have  not  so  much  confidence  in  the  relation,  as  to  make  my  pen 
fix  a  scandal  on  him  to  posterity ;  I  shall  rather  leave  it  doubtful 
till  the  great  day  of  revelation.  But  this  is  certain,  that  he  lay 
under  the  great  charge,  and  the  anxiety  of  this  accusation,  and 
kept  it  secret  to  himself  for  many  months  ;  and  being  a  helpless 
man,  had  lain  longer  under  this  heavy  burthen,  but  that  the  Pro- 
tector of  the  innocent  gave  such  an  accidental  occasion,  as  forced 
him  to  make  it  known  to  his  two  dearest  friends,  Edwin  Sandys 
and  George  Cranmer,  who  were  so  sensible  of  their  tutor's  suffer- 
ings, that  they  gave  themselves  no  rest,  till  by  their  disquisitions 
and  diligence  they  had  found  out  the  fraud,  and  brought  him  the 
welcome  news,  that  his  accusers  did  confess  they  had  wronged 
him,  and  begged  his  pardon.  To  which  the  good  man's  reply 
was  to  this  purpose  :  "  The  Lord  forgive  them  ;  and  the  Lord 
bless  you  for  this  comfortable  news.  Now  have  I  a  just  occasion 
to  say  with  Solomon,  '  Friends  are  born  for  the  days  of  adversity  ;' 
and  such  you  have  proved  to  me.  And  to  my  God  I  say,  as  did 
the  Mother  of  St.  John  Baptist,  '  Thus  hath  the  Lord  dealt  with 
me,  in  the  day  wherein  he  looked  upon  me,  to  take  away  my  re- 
proach among  men.'  And,  O  my  God  !  neither  my  life,  nor  my 
reputation,  are  safe  in  my  own  keeping  ;  but  in  thine,  who  didst 
take  care  of  me  when  I  yet  hanged  upon  my  mother's  breast. 
Blessed  are  they  that  put  their  trust  in  thee,  O  Lord !  for  when 
false  witnesses  were  risen  up  against  me  ;  when  shame  was 
ready  to  cover  my  face ;  when  my  nights  were  restless ;  when 

*  "  Can  there  be  any  of  friendship  in  snares,  hooks  and  trepans  ?" 
"  Nothing  but  gins,  and  snares  and  trapans  for  souls." — Dr.  South. 


234  THE   LIFE  OF 


ray  soul  thirsted  for  a  deliverance,  as  the  hart  panteth  after  the 
rivers  of  water ;  then  thou,  Lord,  didst  hear  my  complaints,  pity 
my  condition,  and  art  now  become  my  deliverer  ;  and  as  long  as 
I  live  I  will  hold  up  my  hands  in  this  manner,  and  magnify  thy 
mercies,  who  didst  not  give  me  over  as  a  prey  to  mine  enemies : 
the  net  is  broken,  and  they  are  taken  in  it.  Oh  !  blessed  are 
they  that  put  their  trust  in  thee !  and  no  prosperity  shall  make 
me  forget  those  days  of  sorrow,  or  to  perform  those  vows  that  I 
have  made  to  thee  in  the  days  of  my  affliction  ;  for  with  such 
sacrifices,  thou,  O  God !  art  v/ell  pleased ;  and  I  will  pay 
them."* 

Thus  did  the  joy  and  gratitude  of  this  good  man's  heart  break 
forth  ;  and  it  is  observable,  that  as  the  invitation  to  this  slander 
was  his  meek  behaviour  and  dove-like  simplicity,  for  which  he  was 
remarkable  ;  so  his  Christian  charity  ought  to  be  imitated.  For 
though  the  spirit  of  revenge  is  so  pleasing  to  mankind,  that  it  is 
never  conquered  but  by  a  supernatural  grace,  revenge  being 
indeed  so  deeply  rooted  in  human  nature,  that  to  prevent  the  ex- 
cesses of  it, — for  men  would  not  know  moderation, — Almighty 
God  allows  not  any  degree  of  it  to  any  man,  but  says  "  vengeance 
is  mine :"  and  though  this  be  said  positively  by  God  himself,  yet 
this  revenge  is  so  pleasing,  that  man  is  hardly  persuaded  to  sub- 
mit the  manage  of  it  to  the  time,  and  justice,  and  wisdom  of  his 


*  "  A  certain  lewd  woman  came  to  his  chamber,  and  solicited  his  charity 
under  this  cogent  argument,  '  that  if  he  should  deny  her,  she  would  lay  base 
attempts  to  his  charge  ;'  and  by  this  means,  at  several  times,  she  had  gotten 
money  from  him  ;  until  at  last  Providence  was  pleased  to  concern  itself  for  the 
righting  wronged  innocence.  It  so  fell  out,  that  this  woman  came  to  him 
when  his  two  dear  friends  Mr.  Sandys  and  Mr.  Cranmcr  were  with  him  : 
wondering  to  see  such  a  person  come  with  so  much  confidence,  they  inquired 
of  their  tutor  the  occasion  of  it,  who  in  a  little  time  tells  them  the  truth  of  the 
whole  abuse.  Upon  which  they  contrive  a  way  to  be  present  in  his  chamber, 
where  they  might  hear  the  whole  discourse  at  her  next  coming.  An  opportu- 
nity soon  offered,  and  the  lewd  v/oman  persisting  in  her  threats  of  laying  ill 
things  to  his  charge,  if  she  was  denied  what  she  came  for,  money,  his  two 
friends  stepped  forth  from  behind  the  curtains  to  her  confusion  and  the  shame 
of  those  who  had  employed  her  in  so  vile  an  action  ;  for  his  slanderers  were 
punished  for  this  their  vile  attempt,  who  at  their  suffering  showed  a  penitent 
behaviour,  and  made  an  open  confession." — Princess  Worthies  of  Devon. 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  235 

Creator,  but  would  hasten  to  be  his  own  executioner  of  it.  And 
yet  nevertheless,  if  any  man  ever  did  wholly  decline,  and  leave 
this  pleasing  passion  to  the  time  and  measure  of  God  alone,  it  was 
this  Richard  Hooker,  of  whom  I  write  :  for  when  his  slanderers 
v/ere  to  suffer,  he  laboured  to  procure  their  pardon  ;  and  when 
that  was  denied  him,  his  reply  was,  '•  That  however  he  would 
fast  and  pray  that  God  would  give  them  repentance,  and  patience 
to  undergo  their  punishment."  And  his  prayers  were  so  far  re- 
turned into  his  bosom,  that  the  first  was  granted,  if  we  may  be- 
lieve a  penitent  behaviour,  and  an  open  confession.  And  'tis  ob- 
servable, that  after  this  time  he  would  often  say  to  Dr.  Saravia, 
"  Oh  !  with  what  quietness  did  I  enjoy  my  soul,  after  I  was  free 
from  the  fears  of  my  slander  !  And  how  much  more  after  a  con- 
flict and  victory  over  my  desires  of  revenge !" 

About  the  year  1600,  and  of  his  age  forty-six,  he  fell  into  a 
long  and  sharp  sickness,  occasioned  by  a  cold  taken  in  his  pas- 
sage by  water  betwixt  London  and  Gravesend,  from  the  malignity 
of  v/hich  he  was  never  recovered  ;  for  after  that  time,  till  his 
death,  he  was  not  free  from  thoughtful  days  and  restless  nights : 
but  a  submission  to  His  will  that  makes  the  sick  man's  bed  easy, 
by  giving  rest  to  his  soul,  made  his  very  languishment  comfort- 
able :  and  yet  all  this  time  he  was  solicitous  in  his  study,  and  said 
often  to  Dr.  Saravia — who  saw  him  daily,  and  was  the  chief  com- 
fort of  his  life, — "  That  he  did  not  beg  a  long  life  of  God  for  any 
other  reason,  but  to  live  to  finish  his  three  remaining  books  of 
Polity  ;  and  then,  '  Lord,  let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace ;'  " 
which  was  his  usual  expression.  And  God  heard  his  prayers, 
though  he  denied  the  Church  the  benefit  of  them,  as  completed 
by  himself;  and  'tis  thought  he  hastened  his  own  death,  by  has- 
tening to  give  life  to  his  books.  But  this  is  certain,  that  the 
nearer  he  was  to  his  death,  the  more  he  grew  in  humility,  in  holy 
thoughts,  and  resolutions. 

About  a  month  before  his  death,  this  good  man,  that  never 
knew,  or  at  least  never  considered,  the  pleasures  of  the  palate, 
became  first  to  lose  his  appetite,  and  then  to  have  an  averseness 
to  all  food,  insomuch  that  he  seemed  to  live  some  intermitted 
weeks  by  the  smell  of  meat  only,  and  yet  still  studied  and  writ. 
And  now  hi.s  guardian  angel  seemed  to  forctel  him  that  the  day 


236  THE   LIFE   OF 


of  his  dissolution  drew  near ;  for  which  his  vigorous  soul  ap- 
peared to  thirst. 

In  this  time  of  his  sickness  and  not  many  days  before  his  death, 
his  house  was  robbed ;  of  which  he  having  notice,  his  question 
was,  "  Are  my  books  and  written  papers  safe  ?"  And  being  an- 
swered that  they  were  ;  his  reply  was,  "  Then  it  matters  not ; 
for  no  other  loss  can  trouble  me." 

About  one  day  before  his  death.  Dr.  Saravia,  who  knew  the 
very  secrets  of  his  soul, — for  they  were  supposed  to  be  confes- 
sors to  each  other, — came  to  him,  and,  after  a  conference  of  the 
benefit,  the  necessity,  and  safety  of  the  Church's  absolution,  it 
was  resolved  the  Doctor  should  give  him  both  that  and  the  Sacra- 
ment the  following  day.  To  which  end  the  Doctor  came,  and, 
after  a  short  retirement  and  privacy,  they  two  returned  to  the 
company  :  and  then  the  Doctor  gave  him,  and  some  of  those 
friends  which  were  with  him,  the  blessed  Sacrament  of  the  body 
and  blood  of  our  Jesus.  Which  being  performied,  the  Doctor 
thought  he  saw  a  reverend  gaiety  and  joy  in  his  face  ;  but  it 
lasted  not  long  ;  for  his  bodily  infirmities  did  return  suddenly, 
and  became  more  visible,  insomuch  that  the  Doctor  apprehended 
death  ready  to  seize  him  ;  yet,  after  some  amendment,  left  him 
at  night,  with  a  promise  to  return  early  the  day  following  ;  which 
he  did,  and  then  found  him  better  in  appearance,  deep  in  contem- 
plation, and  not  inclinable  to  discourse;  which  gave  the  Doctor 
occasion  to  require  his  present  thoughts.  To  which  he  replied, 
'•'That  he  was  meditating  the  number  and  nature  of  Angels,  and 
their  blessed  obedience  and  order,  without  which,  peace  could  not 
be  in  Heaven  :  and  Oh  !  that  it  mio-ht  be  so  on  Earth !"  After 
which  words,  he  said,  "  I  have  lived  to  see  this  world  is  made  up 
of  perturbations  ;  and  I  have  been  long  preparing  to  leave  it,  and 
gathering  comfort  for  the  dreadful  hour  of  making  my  account 
with  God,  which  1  now  apprehend  to  be  near  :  and  though  1  have 
by  his  grace  loved  him  in  my  youth,  and  feared  him  in  mine  age, 
and  laboured  to  have  a  conscience  void  of  offence  to  him,  and  to 
all  men  ;  yet  if  thou,  O  Lord  !  be  extreme  to  mark  what  I  have 
done  amiss,  who  can  abide  it  ?  And  therefore,  where  I  have 
failed,  Lord,  shov/  mercy  to  me ;  for  I  plead  not  my  righteous- 
ness, but  the  forgiveness  of  my  unrighteousness,  for  His  merits, 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  237 

who  died  to  purchase  pardon  for  penitent  sinners.  And  since  I 
owe  thee  a  death,  Lord,  let  it  not  be  terrible,  and  then  take  thine 
own  time  :  I  submit  to  it :  let  not  mine,  O  Lord  !  but  let  thy  will 
be  done."  With  which  expression  he  fell  into  a  dangerous  slum- 
ber ;  dangerous  as  to  his  recovery,  yet  recover  he  did,  but  it  was 
to  speak  only  these  few  words :  "  Good  Doctor,  God  hath  heard 
my.  daily  petitions,  for  I  am  at  peace  with  all  men,  and  he  is  at 
peace  with  me ;  and  from  that  blessed  assurance,  I  feel  that  in- 
ward joy,  which  this  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  from  me  : 
my  conscience  beareth  me  this  witness,  and  this  witness  makes 
the  thoughts  of  death  joyful.  I  could  wish  to  live  to  do  the  Church 
more  service  ;  but  cannot  hope  it,  for  my  days  are  past  as  a 
shadow  that  returns  not."  More  he  would  have  spoken,  but  his 
spirits  failed  him ;  and,  after  a  short  conflict  betwixt  Nature  and 
Death,  a  quiet  sigh  put  a  period  to  his  last  breath,  and  so  he  fell 
asleep.  And  now  he  seems  to  rest  like  Lazarus  in  Abraham's 
bosom.  Let  me  here  draw  his  curtain,  till  with  the  most  glori- 
ous company  of  the  Patriarchs  and  Apostles,  the  most  Noble 
Army  of  I\Iartyrs  and  Confessors,  this  most  learned,  most  hum- 
ble, holy  man  shall  also  awake  to  receive  an  eternal  tranquillity, 
and  with  it  a  greater  degree  of  glory,  than  common  Christians 
shall  be  made  partakers  of. 

In  the  mean  time.  Bless,  O  Lord !  Lord,  bless  his  brethren, 
the  Clergy  of  this  nation,  with  effectual  endeavours  to  attain,  if 
not  to  his  great  learning,  yet  to  his  remarkable  meekness,  his 
godly  simplicity,  and  his  Christian  moderation  ;  for  these  will 
bring  peace  at  the  last.  And,  Lord,  let  his  most  excellent  writings 
be  blest  with  what  he  designed,  when  he  undertook  them  :  which 
was,  glory  to  thee,  O  God !  on  high,  peace  in  thy  Church,  and 
goodwill  to  mankind.     Amen,  Amen. 

IZAAK  WALTON. 


238  THE   LIFE   OF 


This  following  Epitaph  was  long  since  presented  to  the  world, 
in  memory  of  Mr.  Hooker,  by  Sir  William  Cowper,  who  also 
built  him  a  fair  Monument  in  Bourne  Church,  and  acknowl- 
edges him  to  have  been  his  spiritual  father. 

Though  nothing  can  be  spoke  worthy  his  fame. 

Or  the  remembrance  of  that  precious  name, 

Judicious  Hooker  ;  though  this  cost  be  spent 

On  him,  that  hath  a  lasting  monument 

In  his  own  books  :  yet  ought  we  to  express. 

If  not  his  worth,  yet  our  respectfulness. 

Church-Ceremonies  he  maintain'd  ;  then  why 

Without  all  ceremony  should  he  die  ? 

Was  it  because  his  life  and  death  should  be 

Both  equal  patterns  of  humility  ? 

Or  that  perhaps  this  only  glorious  one 

Was  above  all,  to  ask,  why  had  he  none  ? 

Yet  he,  that  lay  so  long  obscurely  low, 

Doth  now  preferr'd  to  greater  honours  go. 

Ambitious  men,  learn  hence  to  be  more  wise, 

Humility  is  the  true  way  to  rise : 

And  God  in  me  this  lesson  did  inspire, 

To  bid  this  humble  man,  "  Friend,  sit  up  higher." 


AN 

APPENDIX 


TO    THE 


LIFE  OF  MR.  RICHARD  HOOKER. 


And  now,  having  by  a  long  and  laborious  search  satisfied  myself,  and  I  hope 
my  Reader,  by  imparting  to  him  the  true  relation  of  Mr.  Hooker's  hfe,  I  am 
desirous  also  to  acquaint  him  with  some  observations  that  relate  to  it,  and 
which  could  not  properly  fall  to  be  spoken  till  after  his  death  :  of  which  my 
Reader  may  expect  a  brief  and  true  account  in  the  foUovv^ing  Appendix. 

And  first,  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  but  that  he  died  in  the  forty -seventh,  if  not 
in  the  forty-sixth  year  of  his  age  :  which  I  mention,  because  many  have  be- 
lieved him  to  be  more  aged :  but  I  have  so  examined  it,  as  to  be  confident  I 
mistake  not :  and  for  the  year  of  his  death,  Mr.  Camden,  who  in  his  Annals 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  1599,  mentions  him  with  a  high  commendation  of  his  life 
and  learning,  declares  him  to  die  in  the  year  1599  ;  and  yet  in  that  inscription 
of  his  Monument,  set  up  at  the  charge  of  Sir  William  Cowper,  in  Bourne 
Church,  where  Mr.  Hooker  was  buried,  his  death  is  there  said  to  be  in  anno 
1  G0.3  ;  but  doubtless  both  are  mistaken  ;  for  I  have  it  attested  under  the  hand 
of  Vv'illiam  Somner,  the  Archbishop's  Registrar  for  the  Province  of  Canterbury, 
that  Richard  Hooker's  Will  bears  date  October  2Gth  in  anno  1600,  and  that  it 
was  proved  the  third  of  December  following.* 

And  that  at  his  death  he  left  four  daughters,  Alice,  Cicely,  Jane  and  Mar- 
garet ;  that  he  gave  to  each  of  them  an  hundred  pounds  ;  that  he  left  Joan, 
his  wife,  his  sole  executrix  ;  and  that,  by  his  inventory  his  estate — a  great  part 
of  it  being  in  books — came  to  10921.  9s.  2d.  which  v/as  much  more  than  he 
thought  himself  worth  ;  and  which  was  not  got  by  his  care,  much  less  by  the 
good  housewifery  of  his  wife,  but  saved  by  his  trusty  servant,  Thomas  Lane, 

*  And  the  Reader  may  take  notice,  that  since  I  first  writ  this  Appendix  to  the  Life  of 
Mr.  Hooker,  Mr.  Fulman,  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  hath  shewed  me  a  good  authority  for 
the  very  day  and  hour  of  Mr.  Hooker's  death,  in  one  of  his  books  of  Polity,  which  had 
been  Archbishop  Laud's.  In  whicii  book,  beside  many  considerable  marginal  notes  of 
some  passages  of  his  time,  under  the  Bishop's  own  hand,  there  is  also  written  in  the  title- 
page  of  that  book — which  now  is  Mr.  Fuhnan's — this  attestation  : 

Ricardus  Hooker  vir  summis  doctrince  dotibus  ornatiis,  de  Ecclesia  prmcipue  uinglicana 
optime  meritvs,  obiit  J^ovemh,  2,  circiter  horam  secundam  postmeridianam,  Anno  1600. 


240  APPENDIX   TO   THE   LIFE   OF 

that  was  wiser  than  his  master  in  getting  money  for  him,  and  more  frugal  than 
his  mistress  in  keeping  of  it.  Of  which  Will  of  Mr.  Hooker's  I  shall  say  no 
more,  but  that  his  dear  friend  Thomas,  the  father  of  George  Cranmer, — of 
whom  I  have  spoken,  and  shall  have  occasion  to  say  more, — was  one  of  the 
witnesses  to  it 

One  of  his  elder  daughters  was  married  to  one  Chalinor,  sometime  a  School- 
master in  Cliichester,  and  are  both  dead  long  since.  Margaret,  his  youngest 
daughter,  was  married  unto  Ezekiel  Charke,  Bachelor  in  Divinity,  and  Rector 
of  St.  Nicholas  in  Harbledown  near  Canterbury,  who  died  about  sixteen  years 
past,  and  had  a  son  Ezekiel,  now  living,  and  in  Sacred  Orders  ;  being  at  this 
time  Rector  of  Waldron  in  Sussex.  She  left  also  a  daughter,  with  botii  whom 
I  liave  spoken  not  many  months  past,  and  find  her  to  be  a  widow  in  a  condi- 
tion that  wants  not,  but  very  far  from  abounding.  And  these  two  attested  unto 
me,  that  Richard  Hooker,  their  grandfather,  had  a  sister,  by  name  Elizabeth 
Harvey,  that  lived  to  the  age  of  121  years,  and  died  in  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber, 1G63. 

For  his  other  tv.'o  daughters  I  can  learn  little  certaint\^,  but  have  heard  they 
both  died  before  they  were  marriageable.  And  for  his  wife,  she  was  so  unlike 
Jephtha's  daugliter,  that  she  staid  not  a  comely  time  to  bewail  her  widowhood  ; 
nor  lived  long  enouglito  repent  her  second  marriage  ;  for  wliich,  doubtless,  she 
would  have  found  cause,  if  there  had  been  but  four  months  betwixt  Mr.  Hook- 
er's and  her  death.  But  she  is  dead,  and  let  her  other  infirmities  be  buried 
with  her. 

Thus  nnich  briefly  for  his  age,  the  year  of  his  death,  his  estate,  his  wife,  and 
his  children.  I  am  next  to  speak  of  his  books  ;  concerning  which  I  shall  have 
a  necessity  of  being  longer,  or  shall  neither  do  right  to  myself,  or  my  Reader, 
which  is  chiefly  intended  in  this  Appendix. 

I  have  declared  in  his  Life,  that  he  proposed  Eight  Books,  and  that  his  first 
Four  were  printed  anno  1594,  and  his  Fifth  book  first  printed,  and  alone,  anno 
1597;  and  that  he  lived  to  finish  tlie  remaining  Three  of  the  proposed  Eight: 
but  whether  we  have  the  last  Three  as  finished  by  himself,  is  a  just  and  ma- 
terial question, ;  concerning  which  I  do  declare,  that  I  have  been  told  almost 
forty  years  past,  by  one  that  very  well  knew  Mr.  Hooker  and  the  aflairs  of  his 
family,  that,  about  a  month  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Hooker,  Bishop  Whitgift, 
then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  sent  one  of  his  Ciiaplains  to  enquire  of  Mrs. 
Hooker,  for  the  three  remaining  books  of  Polity,  writ  by  her  husband :  of 
which  sh.e  would  not,  or  could  not,  give  any  account :  and  that  about  three 
months  after  that  time  the  Bishop  procured  her  to  be  sent  for  to  London,  and 
then  by  his  procurement  she  was  to  be  examined  by  some  of  her  Majesty's 
Council,  concerning  the  disposal  of  those  books:  but, by  way  of  preparation  for 
the  next  day's  examination,  the  Bishop  invited  her  to  Lambeth,  and  after  some 
friendly  questions,  she  confessed  to  him,  that  one  Mr.  Charke,  and  anotiier 
Minister  that  dwelt  near  Canterbury,  came  to  her,  and  desired  that  they  might 
go  into  her  husband's  study,  and  look  upon  some  of  his  writings ;  and  that 
there  they  two  burnt  and  tore  many  of  them,  assuring  her,  that  they  were 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  241 

v/ritings  not  fit  to  be  seen  ;  and  that  she  knew  nothing  more  concerning  them. 
Her  lodging  was  then  in  King  street  in  Westminster,  where  she  was  found 
next  morning  dead  in  her  bed,  and  her  new  husband  suspected  and  questioned 
for  it ;  but  he  was  declared  innocent  of  her  death. 

And  I  declare  also,  that  Dr.  John  Spencer, — mentioned  in  the  Life  of  Mr. 
Hooker, — who  was  of  Mr.  Hooker's  College,  and  of  his  time  there,  and  be- 
twixt whom  there  was  so  friendly  a  friendship,  that  they  continually  advised 
together  in  all  their  studies,  and  particularly  in  what  concerned  these  books 
of  Polity — this  Dr.  Spencer,  the  Three  perfect  books  being  lost,  had  delivered 
into  his  hands — I  think  by  Bishop  Whitgift — the  imperfect  books,  or  first  rough 
draughts  of  them,  to  be  made  as  perfect  as  they  might  be  by  him,  who  both 
knew  Mr.  Hooker's  hand-writing,  and  was  best  acquainted  with  his  intentions. 
And  a  fair  testimony  of  this  may  appear  by  an  Epistle,  first,  and  usually 
printed  before  Mr.  Hooker's  Five  books, — but  omitted,  I  know  not  why,  in  the 
last  impression  of  the  Eight  printed  together  in  anno  16G2,  in  which  the  Pub- 
lishers seem  to  impose  the  three  doubtful  books,  to  be  the  undoubted  books  of 
Mr.  Hooker, — with  these  two  letters,  J.  S.  at  the  end  of  the  said  Epistle,  which 
was  meant  for  this  John  Spencer:  in  which  Epistle  the  Reader  may  find  these 
words,  which  may  give  some  authority  to  what  I  have  here  written  of  his  last 
Three  books. 

"  And  though  Mr.  Hooker  hastened  his  own  death  by  hastening  to  give  life 
to  his  books,  yet  he  held  out  with  his  eyes  to  behold  these  Benjamins,  these 
sons  of  his  right  hand,  though  to  him  they  proved  Benonies,  sons  of  pain  and 
sorrow.  But  some  evil-disposed  minds,  whether  of  malice  or  covetousness,  or 
wicked  blind  zeal,  it  is  uncertain,  as  soon  as  they  were  born,  and  their  father 
dead,  smothered  them,  and  by  conveying  the  perfect  copies,  left  unto  us  no- 
thing but  the  old,  imperfect,  mangled  draughts,  dismembered  into  pieces ;  no 
favour,  no  grace,  not  the  shadow  of  themselves  remaining  in  them.  Had  the 
father  lived  to  behold  them  thus  defaced,  he  might  rightly  have  named  them 
Benonies,  the  sons  of  sorrow :  but  being  the  learned  will  not  suffer  them  to  die 
and  be  buried,  it  is  intended  the  world  shall  see  them  as  they  are  ;  the  learned 
will  find  in  them  some  shadows  and  resemblances  of  their  father's  face.  God 
grant,  that  as  they  were  with  their  brethren  dedicated  to  the  Church  for  mes- 
sengers of  peace  :  so,  in  the  strength  of  that  little  breath  of  life  that  remaineth 
in  them,  they  may  prosper  in  their  work,  and,  by  satisfying  the  doubts  of  such 
as  are  willing  to  learn,  they  may  help  to  give  an  end  to  the  calamities  of 
these  our  civil  wars."  J.  S. 

And  next  the  Reader  may  note,  that  this  Epistle  of  Dr.  Spencer's  was  writ 
and  first  printed  within  four  years  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Hooker,  in  which 
time  all  diligent  search  had  been  made  for  the  perfect  copies  ;  and  tlien  grant- 
ed not  recoverable,  and  therefore  endeavoured  to  be  completed  out  of  Mr. 
Hooker's  rough  draughts,  as  is  expressed  by  the  said  Dr.  Spencer  in  the  said 
Epistle,  since  whose  death  it  is  now  fifty  years. 

And  I  do  profess  by  the  faith  of  a  Christian,  that  Dr.  Spencer's  wife — who 
was  my  Aunt,  and  Sister  to  George  Cranmer,  of  whom  I  liave  spoken — told 


242  APPENDIX   TO   THE   LIFE   OF 


me  forty  years  since,  in  these,  or  in  words  to  this  purpose  :  "  That  lier  husband 
had  made  up,  or  finished  Mr.  Hooker's  last  Three  books  ;  and  that  upon  her 
husband's  death-bed,  or  in  his  last  sickness,  he  gave  them  into  her  hand,  with 
a  charge  that  they  should  not  be  seen  by  any  man,  but  be  by  her  delivered 
into  the  hands  of  the  then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury",  which  was  Dr.  Abbot,  or 
unto  Dr.  King,  then  Bishop  of  London,  and  that  she  did  as  he  enjoined  her." 

I  do  conceive,  that  from  Dr.  Spencer's,  and  no  other  copy,  there  have  been 
divers  transcripts  ;  and  I  know  that  these  were  to  be  found  in  several  places  ; 
as  namely,  in  Sir  Thomas  Bodley's  Library;  in  that  of  Dr.  Andrews,  late 
Bishop  of  Winton  ;  in  the  late  Lord  Conway's  ;  in  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury's ;  and  in  the  Bishop  of  Armagh's ;  and  in  many  others:  and  most  of 
these  pretended  to  be  the  Author's  own  hand,  but  much  disagreeing,  being  in- 
deed altered  and  diminished,  as  men  have  thought  fittest  to  make  Mr.  Hook- 
er's judgment  suit  with  their  fancies,  or  give  authority  to  their  corrupt  designs ; 
and  for  proof  of  a  part  of  this,  take  these  following  testimonies. 

Dr.  Barnard,  sometime  Chaplain  to  Dr.  Usher,  late  Lord  Archbishop  of  Ar- 
magh, hath  declared  in  a  late  book,  called  "  Clavi  Trabales,"  printed  by  Rich- 
ard Hodgkinson,  anno  16G1,  that,  in  his  search  and  examination  of  the  said 
Bishop's  manuscripts,  he  found  the  Three  written  books  which  were  supposed 
the  Sixth,  Seventh,  and  Eighth  of  Mr.  Hooker's  books  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity ; 
and  that  in  the  said  Three  books — now  printed  as  Mr.  Hooker's — there  are  so 
many  omissions,  that  ihey  amount  to  many  paragraphs,  and  which  cause  many 
incoherencies :  the  omissions  are  set  down  at  large  in  tlie  suid  printed  book,  to 
which  I  refer  the  Reader  for  the  whole  ;  but  think  fit  in  this  place  to  insert 
this  following  short  part  of  some  of  the  said  omissions. 

First,  as  there  could  be  in  natural  bodies  no  inolion  of  any  thing,  unless 
there  were  some  first  which  moved  all  things,  and  continued  unmoveable  ; 
even  so  in  politic  societies  there  must  be  some  unpunishable,  or  else  no  man 
shall  suffer  punishment :  for  sith  punishments  proceed  always  from  superiors, 
to  whom  the  administration  of  justice  belongeth  ;  which  administration  must 
have  necessarily  a  fountain,  that  deriveth  it  to  all  others,  and  receiveth  not 
from  any,  because  otherwise  the  course  of  justice  should  go  infinitely  in  a  circle, 
every  superior  having  his  superior  without  end,  which  cannot  be  :  therefore  a 
well-spring,  it  foUoweth,  there  is :  a  supreme  head  of  justice,  whereunto  all  are 
subject,  but  itself  in  subjection  to  none.  Which  kind  of  pre-eminency  if  some 
ought  to  have  in  a  kingdom,  who  but  a  King  shall  have  it  ?  Kings,  therefore, 
or  no  man,  can  have  lawful  power  to  judge. 

If  private  men  ofiend,  there  is  the  Magistrate  over  them,  which  judgeth  ;  if 
Magistrates,  they  have  their  Prince  ;  if  Princes,  there  is  Heaven,  a  tribunal, 
before  which  they  shall  appear ;  on  earth  they  are  not  accountable  to  any. 
Here,  says  the  Doctor,  it  breaks  off  abruptly. 

And  I  have  these  words  also  attested  under  the  hand  of  Mr.  Fabian  Pliilips, 
a  man  of  note  for  his  useful  books.  "  I  will  make  oath,  if  I  shall  be  required, 
that  Dr.  Sanderson,  the  late  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  did  a  little  before  his  death 
affirm  to  me,  he  had  seen  a  manuscript  affirmed  to  him  to  be  the  handwriting 


MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  243 


of  Mr.  Richard  Hooker,  in  which  there  was  no  mention  made  of  the  Kino-  or 
supreme  governors  being  accountable  to  tlie  people.  This  I  will  make  oath, 
that  that  good  man  attested  to  me.  Fabian  Philips."* 

So  that  there  appears  to  be  both  omissions  and  additions  in  the  said  last 
Three  printed  books:  and  this  may  probably  be  one  reason  why  Dr.  Sander- 
son, the  said  learned  Bishop, — whose  writings  are  so  highly  and  justly  valued, 
— gave  a  strict  charge  near  the  time  of  his  death,  or  in  his  last  Will,  •'  Tliat 
nothing  of  his  that  was  not  already  printed,  should  be  printed  after  his  death." 

It  is  well  known  how  high  a  value  our  learned  King  James  put  upon  the 
books  writ  by  Mr.  Hooker  ;  and  known  also  that  our  late  King  Charles — the 
Martyr  for  the  Church — valued  them  the  second  of  all  books;  testified  by  his 
commending  them  to  the  reading  of  his  son  Charles,  that  now  is  our  gracious 
King:  and  you  may  suppose  that  this  Charles  the  First  was  not  a  stranger  to 
the  Three  pretended  books,  because,  in  a  discourse  with  the  Lord  Say,  in  the 
time  of  the  Long  Parliament,  when  the  said  Lord  required  the  King  to  grant 
the  truth  of  his  argument,  because  it  was  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Hooker, — 
quoting  him  in  one  of  the  three  written  books,  the  King  replied,  "  They  were 
not  allowed  to  be  ^Ir.  Hooker's  books:  but,  however,  he  v/ould  allow  them  to 
be  Mr.  Hooker's,  and  consent  to  what  his  Lordship  proposed  to  prove  out  of 
those  doubtful  books,  if  he  would  but  consent  to  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Hooker, 
in  the  other  five,  that  were  the  undoubted  books  of  Mr.  Hooker." 

In  this  relation  concerning  these  Three  doubtful  books  of  Mr.  Hooker's,  my 
purpose  was  to  enquire,  then  set  down  what  I  observed  and  know ;  which  I 
have  done,  not  as  an  engaged  person,  but  inditierently  :  and  now  leave  my 
Reader  to  give  sentence,  for  their  legitimation,  as  to  himself;  but  so  as  to 
leave  others  the  same  liberty  of  believing,  or  disbelieving  them  to  be  IMr. 
Hooker's:  and  'tis  observable,  that  as  Mr.  Hooker  advised  with  Dr.  Spencer, 
in  the  design  and  manage  of  these  books ;  so  also,  and  chiefly,  with  his  dear 
pupil,  George  Cranmer, — whose  sister  was  the  wife  of  Dr.  Spencer — of  which 
this  following  letter  may  be  a  testimony,  and  doth  also  give  authority  to  some 
things  mentioned  both  in  this  Appendix  and  in  the  Life  of  Mr.  Hooker,  and  is 
therefore  added.  I.  W. 

*  A  Barrister  of  eminence,  particularly  noted  for  his  loyalty,  born  at  Prestbury  in  Glou- 
cestershire, in  1601.  He  died  in  1690 ;  and  was  the  Author  of  several  excellent  I^aw 
Trac'      as  well  as  one  asserting  that  Charles  I.  '"as  a  martyr  for  his  people. 


GEORGE    CRANMER'S 

LETTER  UNTO  MR.  RICHARD  HOOKER, 

FEBRUARY,  1598.* 


What  posterity  is  likely  to  judge  of  these  matters  concerning  Church-disci- 
pline, we  may  the  better  conjecture,  if  we  call  to  mind  what  our  own  age, 
within  few  years,  upon  better  experience,  hath  already  judged  concerning  the 
same.  It  may  be  remembered,  that  at  first,  the  greatest  part  of  the  learned 
in  the  land  were  either  eagerly  affected,  or  favourably  inclined  that  way. 
The  books  then  written  for  the  most  part  savoured  of  the  disciplinary  style  ;  it 
sounded  every  where  in  pulpits,  and  in  common  phrase  of  men's  speech.  The 
contrary  part  began  to  fear  they  had  taken  a  wrong  course  ;  many  which  im- 
pugned the  discipline,  yet  so  impugned  it,  not  as  not  being  the  better  form  of 
government,  but  as  not  being  so  convenient  for  our  state,  in  regard  of  danger- 
ous innovations  thereby  likely  to  grow :  one  mant  alone  there  was  to  speak  of, 
— whom  let  no  suspicion  of  flattery  deprive  of  his  deserved  commendation — 
who,  in  the  defiance  of  the  one  part,  and  courage  of  the  other,  stood  in  the 
gap  and  gave  others  respite  to  prepare  themselves  to  the  defence,  which,  by 
the  sudden  eagerness  and  violence  of  their  adversaries,  had  otherwise  been 
prevented,  wherein  God  hath  made  good  unto  him  his  own  impress,  Viiicit  qui 
patitur :  for  what  contumelious  indignities  he  hath  at  their  hands  sustained, 
the  world  is  witness ;  and  what  reward  of  honour  above  his  adversaries  God 
hath  bestowed  upon  him,  themselves — though  nothing  glad  thereof, — must 
needs  confess.  Now  of  late  years  the  heat  of  men  towards  the  discipline  is 
greatly  decayed  ;  their  judgments  begin  to  sway  on  the  other  side  ;  the  learned 
have  weighed  it,  and  found  it  light ;  wise  men  conceive  some  fear,  lest  it  prove 
not  only  not  the  best  kind  of  government,  but  the  very  bune  and  destruction 
of  all  government.  The  cause  of  this  change  in  men's  opinions  may  be  drawn 
from  the  general  nature  of  error,  disguised  and  clothed  with  the  name  of  truth  ; 
which  did  mightily  and  violently  possess  men  at  first,  but  afterwards,  the 
weakness  thereof  being  by  time  discovered,  it  lost  that  reputation,  which  be- 
fore it  had  gained.  As  by  the  outside  of  an  house  the  passers-by  are  often- 
times deceived,  till  they  see  the  conveniency  of  the  rooms  within  ;  so,  by  the 

*  This  admirable  dissertalion  originally  appeared  in  1642,  entitled  "  Concerning  the  New 
Church  Discipline  ;  an  excnllent  Letter  written  by  Mr.  George  Cranmer,  to  Mr.  F.  II." 
T  .John  Whitgift,  the  Archbishop. 


GEORGE  CRANMER'S   LETTER.  245 

very  name  of  discipline  and  reformation,  men  were  drawn  at  first  to  cast  a 
fancy  towards  it,  but  now  they  have  not  contented  themselves  only  to  pass  by 
and  behold  afar  off  the  fore-front  of  this  reformed  house  ;  they  have  entered 
in,  even  at  the  special  request  of  the  master- workmen  and  chief-builders  there- 
of: they  have  perused  the  rooms,  the  lights,  the  conveniences,  and  they  find 
them  not  answerable  to  that  report  which  was  made  of  them,  nor  to  that  opin- 
ion which  upon  report  they  had  conceived  :  so  as  now  the  discipline,  which  at 
first  triumphed  over  all,  being  unmasked,  beginneth  to  droop,  and  hang  down 
her  head. 

The  cause  of  change  in  opinion  concerning  the  discipline  is  proper  to  the 
learned,  or  to  such  as  by  them  have  been  instructed.  Another  cause  there  is 
more  open,  and  more  apparent  to  the  view  of  all,  namely,  the  course  of  prac- 
tice, which  the  Reformers  have  had  with  us  from  the  beginning.  The  first 
degree  was  only  some  small  difference  about  the  cap  and  surplice  ;  but  not 
such  as  either  bred  division  in  the  Church,  or  tended  to  the  ruin  of  the  govern- 
ment established.  This  was  peaceable  ;  the  next  degree  more  stirring.  Ad- 
monitions were  directed  to  the  Parliament  in  peremptory  sort  against  our 
whole  form  of  regiment.  In  defence  of  them,  volumes  were  published  in 
English  and  in  Latin :  yet  this  was  no  more  than  writing.  Devices  were  set 
on  foot  to  erect  the  practice  of  the  discipline  without  authority ;  yet  herein 
some  regard  of  modesty,  some  moderatioxi  was  used.  Behold  at  length  it 
brake  forth  into  open  outrage,  first  in  writing  by  Martin  ;*  in  whose  kind  of 
dealing  these  things  may  be  observed  :  1.  That  whereas  Thomas  Cartwright 
and  others  his  great  masters,  had  always  before  set  out  the  discipline  as  a 
Queen,  and  as  the  daughter  of  God  ;  he  contrariwise,  to  make  her  more  ac- 
ceptable to  the  people,  brought  her  forth  as  a  Vicet  upon  the  stage.  2.  This 
conceit  of  his  was  grounded — as  may  be  supposed — upon  this  rare  policy,  that 
seeing  the  discipline  was  by  writing  refuted,  in  Parliament  rejected,  hi  secret 
comers  hunted  out  and  decried,  it  was  imagined  that  by  open  railing, — which 
to  the  vulgar  is  commonly  most  plausible, — the  State  Ecclesiastical  might  have 
been  drawn  into  such  contempt  and  hatred,  as  the  overthrow  thereof  should 
have  been  most  grateful  to  all  men,  and  in  a  manner  desired  by  all  the  com- 
mon people.  3.  It  may  be  noted — and  this  I  know  myself  to  be  true — how 
some  of  them,  although  they  could  not  for  shame  approve  so  lewd  an  action, 
yet  were  content  to  lay  hold  on  it  to  the  advancement  of  their  cause,  by 
acknowledging  therein  the  secret  judgments  of  God  against  the  Bishops,  and 
hoping  that  some  good  might  be  wrought  thereby  for  his  Church  ;  as  indeed 
there  was,  though  not  according  to  their  construction.  For  4thly,  contrary  to 
their  expectation,  that  railing  spirit  did  not  only  not  further,  but  extremely  dis- 

*  Gregory  Martin,  born  at  MaxfieUl  near  Winchelsea,  admitted  of  St.  John's  Coll.  Oxford, 
1557,  embraced  the  Roman  Catholic  Religion  and  was  ordained  priest  at  Douay,  1573.  The 
Rheims  translation  of  the  Vulgate  has  been  ascribed  entirely  to  him.  He  died  at  Rhcims 
inl5«2. 

t  Vice  was  the  fool  of  the  old  moralities,  with  his  dagger  of  lath,  a  long  coat,  and  a  cap 
with  a  pair  of  ass's  ears. 

PART  II.  6 


246  GEORGE  CRANMER'S   LETTER 

grace  and  prejudice  their  cause,  when  it  was  once  perceived  from  how  low 
degrees  of  contradiction,  at  first,  to  what  outrage  of  contumely  and  slander, 
they  were  at  length  proceeded :  and  were  also  likely  to  proceed  further. 

A  further  degree  of  outrage  was  also  in  fact :  certain*  prophets  did  arise, 
who  deeming  it  not  possible  that  God  should  suffer  that  to  be  undone,  which 
they  did  so  fiercely  desire  to  have  done,  namely,  that  his  holy  saints,  the  fa- 
vourers and  fathers  of  the  discipline,  should  be  enlarged,  and  delivered  from 
persecution  ;  and  seeing  no  means  of  deliverance  ordinary,  were  fain  to  per- 
suade themselves  that  God  must  needs  raise  some  extraordinary  means  ;  and 
being  persuaded  of  none  so  well  as  of  themselves,  they  forthwith  must  needs 
be  the  instruments  of  this  great  work.  Hereupon  they  framed  unto  them- 
selves an  assured  hope,  that,  upon  their  preaching  out  of  a  peascart  in  Cheap- 
side,  all  the  multitude  would  have  presently  joined  unto  them,  and  in  amaze- 
ment of  mind  have  asked  them,  Virifratres,  quid  agimus  ?  whereunto  it  is 
likely  they  would  have  returned  an  answer  far  unlike  to  that  of  St.  Peter : 
"  Such  and  such  are  men  unworthy  to  govern  ;  pluck  them  down :  such  and 
such  are  the  dear  children  of  God  ;  let  them  be  advanced." 

Of  two  of  these  men  it  is  meet  to  speak  with  all  commiseration  ;  yet  so, 
that  others  by  their  example  may  receive  instruction,  and  withal  some  light 
may  appear,  what  stirring  affections  the  discipline  is  like  to  inspire,  if  it  light 
upon  apt  and  prepared  minds. 

Now  if  any  man  doubt  of  what  society  they  were  ;  or  if  the  Reformers  dis- 
claim them,  pretending  that  by  them  they  M^ere  condemned ;  let  these  points 
be  considered.  1.  Whose  associates  were  they  before  they  entered  into  this 
frantic  passion  ?  Whose  sermons  did  they  frequent  ?  Whom  did  they  ad- 
mire? 2.  Even  when  they  were  entering  into  it.  Whose  advice  did  they  re- 
quire ?  and  when  they  were  in,  Whose  approbation  ?  Whom  advertised  they 
of  their  purpose?  Whose  assistance  by  prayer  did  they  request?  But  we 
deal  injuriously  with  them  to  lay  this  to  their  charge  ;  for  they  reproved  and 
condemned  it.  How  !  did  they  disclose  it  to  the  Magistrate,  that  it  might  be 
suppressed?  or  were  they  not  rather  content  to  stand  aloof  off",  and  see  the 
end  of  it,  as  being  loath  to  quench  that  spirit?  No  doubt  these  mad  practi- 
tioners were  of  their  society,  with  whom  before,  and  in  the  practice  of  their 
madness,  they  had  most  affinity.     Hereof  read  Dr.  Bancroft's  book.t 

A  third  inducement  may  be  to  dislike  of  the  discipline,  if  we  consider  not 
only  how  far  the  Reformers  themselves  have  proceeded,  but  what  others  upon 
tlieir  foundations  liave  built.     Here  come  the   Brownistst  in  the  first  rank. 


*  Hacket  and  Coppinger. 

t  Entitled  "  A  Survey  of  the  pretended  holy  Discipline,  to  which  is  prefixed  a  Sermon, 
preached  against  the  Puritans,  at  St.  Paul's  Cross,  Feb.  9,  158H-9,  from  the  following  text: 
'  Dearly  beloved,  believe  not  every  Spirit,  but  try  the  Spirits  whether  they  be  of  God,  for 
many  false  Projthcts  have  gone  out  into  the  world.'    1  John,  iv.  1." 

X  Robert  Brown,  a  person  of  a  good  family  in  Rutlandshire,  educated  at  Corpus  Chrisli 
College  in  Cambridge,  was  the  founder  of  a  sect  of  Puritans  who  took  their  name  from 
him.    He  wrote  several  tracts  in  support  of  his  oi»inions,  and  sustained  various  persecu- 


UNTO   MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  247 

their  lineal  descendants, wlio  have  seized  upon  a  number  of  strange  opinions; 
whereof,  although  their  ancestors,  the  Reformers,  were  never  actually  possess- 
ed, yet,  by  right  and  interest  from  them  derived,  the  Brownists  and  Barrow- 
ists*  have  taken  possession  of  them :  for  if  the  positions  of  the  Reformers  be 
true,  I  cannot  see  how  the  main  and  general  conclusions  of  Brownism  should 
be  false  ;  for  upon  these  two  points,  as  I  conceive,  they  stand. 

1.  That,  because  we  have  no  Church,  they  are  to  sever  themselves  from 
us.  2.  That  without  Civil  authority  they  are  to  erect  a  Church  of  their  own. 
And  if  the  former  of  these  be  true,  the  latter,  I  suppose,  will  follow :  for  if 
above  all  things  men  be  to  regard  their  salvation ;  and  if  out  of  the  Church 
there  be  no  salvation  ;  it  followeth,  that,  if  we  have  no  Church,  we  have  no 
means  of  salvation  ;  and  therefore  separation  from  us  in  that  respect  is  both 
lawful  and  necessary,  as  also,  that  men,  so  separated  from  the  false  and  coun- 
terfeit Church,  are  to  associate  themselves  unto  some  Church;  not  to  ours; 
to  the  Popish  much  less ;  therefore  to  one  of  their  own  making.  Nov/  the 
ground  of  all  these  inferences  being  this.  That  in  our  Church  there  is  no 
means  of  salvation,  is  out  of  the  Reformer's  principles  most  clearly  to  be 
proved.  For  wheresoever  any  matter  of  faith  unto  salvation  necessary  is  de- 
nied, there  can  be  no  means  of  salvation  ;  but  in  the  Church  of  England,  the 
discipline,  by  them  accounted  a  matter  of  faith,  and  necessary  to  salvation,  is 
not  only  denied,  but  impugned,  and  the  professors  thereof  oppressed.     Ergo. 

Again, — but  this  reason  perhaps  is  weak, — every  true  Church  of  Christ  ac- 
knowiedgeth  the  whole  Gospel  of  Christ :  the  discipline,  in  their  opinion,  is  a 
part  of  the  Gospel,  and  yet  by  our  Church  resisted.     Ergo. 

Again,  the  discipline  is  essentially  united  to  the  Church  :  by  which  term 
essentially,  they  must  mean  either  an  essential  part,  or  an  essential  property. 
Both  which  ways  it  must  needs  be,  that  where  that  essential  discipline  is  not, 
neither  is  there  any  Church.  If  therefore  between  them  and  the  Brownists 
there  should  be  appointed  a  solemn  disputation,  whereof  with  us  they  have  been 
oftentimes  so  earnest  challengers ;  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  other  answer 
they  could  possibly  frame  to  these  and  the  like  arguments,  \vherewith  they 
may  be  pressed,  but  fairly  to  deny  the  conclusion, — for  all  the  premises  are 
tiieir  own — or  rather  ingeniously  to  reverse  their  own  principles  before  laid, 
whereon  so  foul  absurdities  have  been  so  firmly  built.  What  further  proofs 
you  can  bring  out  of  their  high  words,  magnifying  the  discipline,  I  leave  to 
your  better  remembrance:  but,  above  all  points,  I  am  desirous  this  one  should 

tions,  having  been  committed  at  different  times  to  thirty -two  prisons,  in  some  of  which  he 
could  not  see  his  liand  at  broad  day.  Before  his  removal  with  his  followers  to  iliddleburg 
in  Zealand,  he  became  disgusted  with  their  divisions  and  disputes  ;  and  though  he  had 
gone  a  further  distance  than  any  of  the  Puritans  did,  he  renounced  his  principles  of  sep- 
aration, being  promoted  Ijy  his  relation,  Lord  Burghley,  to  a  benefice,  that  of  Achurch  in 
Northamptonshire.  He  died  in  a  prison  in  1G30,  in  the  80th  year  of  his  age,  having  been 
sent  thither  by  a  justice  of  the  peace  for  assaulting  a  constable,  who  was  executing  a  war- 
rant against  him. 

*  So  denominated  from  Henry  Barrow,  a  layman,  and  noted  sectary,  who  suffered  death 
for  publishing  seditious  books  against  the  Queen  and  the  State. 


^48  GEORGE   CRANMER'S   LETTER 

be  strongly  enforced  against  them,  because  it  wringeth  them  most  of  all,  and 
is  of  all  others — for  aught  I  see — the  most  unanswerable.  You  may  notwith- 
standing say,  that  you  would  be  heartily  glad  these  their  positions  might  be 
salved,  as  the  Brownists  might  not  aj^pear  to  have  issued  out  of  their  loins : 
but  until  that  be  done,  they  must  give  us  leave  to  think  that  they  have  cast 
the  seed  wheieout  these  tares  are  grown. 

Another  sort  of  men  there  are,  which  have  been  content  to  run  on  with  the 
Reformers  for  a  time,  and  to  make  them  poor  instruments  of  their  own  de- 
signs. These  are  a  sort  of  godless  politics,  who,  perceiving  the  plot  of  disci- 
pline to  consist  of  these  two  parts,  the  overthrow  of  Episcopal,  and  erection 
of  Presbyterial  authority  ;  and  that  this  latter  can  take  no  place  till  the  former 
be  removed  ;  are  content  to  join  with  them  in  the  destructive  part  of  discipline, 
bearing  them  in  hand,  that  in  the  other  also  they  shall  find  them  as  ready. 
But  when  time  shall  come,  it  maybe  they  would  be  as  loath  to  be  yoked  with 
that  kind  of  regiment,  as  now  they  are  willing  to  be  released  from  this.  These 
men's  ends  in  all  their  actions  is  distraction ;  their  pretence  and  colour,  ref- 
ormation. Those  things  which  under  this  colour  they  have  effected  to  their 
own  good  are,  1.  By  maintaining  a  contrary  faction,  they  have  kept  the  Cler- 
gy always  in  awe,  and  thereby  made  them  more  pliable,  and  willing  to  buy 
their  peace.  2.  By  maintaining  an  opinion  of  equality  among  Ministers,  they 
have  made  way  to  their  own  purposes  for  devouring  Cathedral  Churches,  and 
Bishops'  livings.  3.  By  exclaiming  against  abuses  in  the  Church,  they  have 
carried  their  own  corrupt  dealings  in  the  Civil  Stale  more  covertly.  For  such 
is  the  nature  of  the  multitude,  that  they  are  not  able  to  apprehend  many 
tilings  at  once ;  so  as  being  possessed  with  a  dislike  or  liking  of  any  one  thing, 
many  other  in  the  mean  time  may  escape  them  without  being  perceived. 
4.  They  have  sought  to  disgrace  the  clergy,  in  entertaining  a  conceit  in  men's 
minds,  and  confirming  it  by  continual  practice.  That  men  of  learning,  and  es- 
jiecially  of  the  Clergy,  which  are  employed  in  the  chiefest  kind  of  learning, 
are  not  to  be  admitted,  to  matters  of  State,  contrary  to  the  practice  of  all  well- 
governed  commonwealths,  and  of  our  own  till  these  late  years. 

A  third  sort  men  there  are,  though  not  descended  from  the  Reformers,  yet 
ill  part  raised  and  greatly  strengthened  by  them  ;  namely,  the  cursed  crew  of 
Atheists.  This  also  is  one  of  those  points,  which  I  am  desirous  you  should 
handle  most  effectually,  and  strain  yourself  therein  to  all  points  of  motion  and 
affection ;  as  in  that  of  the  Brownists,  to  all  strength  and  sinews  of  reason. 
This  is  a  sort  most  damnable,  and  yet  by  the  general  suspicion  of  the  world  at 
this  day  most  common.  The  causes  of  it,  which  are  in  the  parties  themselves, 
although  you  handle  in  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  book,  yet  here  again  they 
may  be  touched:  but  the  occasions  of  help  and  furtherance,  which  by  the  Re- 
formers have  been  yielded  unto  them,  are,  as  I  conceive  two  ;  namely,  sense- 
less preaching,  and  disgracing  of  tiie  Ministry  :  for  how  should  not  men  dare 
to  impugn  that,  which  neither  by  force  of  reason,  nor  by  authority  of  persons, 
is  maintained?  But  in  the  parties  themselves  these  two  causes  I  conceive  of 
Atheism  :  1.  More  abundance  of  wit  than  judgment,  and  of  witty  than  judi- 


UNTO    MR.    RICHARD    HOOKER.  249 

cious  learning  ;  whereby  they  are  more  inclined  to  contradict  any  thing,  than 
willing  to  be  informed  of  the  truth.     They  are  not  therefore  men  of  sound 
learning  for  the  most  part,  but  smatterers  ;  neither  is  their  kind  of  dispute  so 
much  by  force  of  argument,  as  by  scoffing  ;  which  humour  of  scoffing    and 
turning  matters  most  serious  into  merriment,  is  now  become  so  common,  as 
we  are  not  to  marvel  what  the  Prophet  means  by  the  seat  of  scorners,  nor 
what  the  Apostles,  by  foretelling  of  scorners  to  come  ;  for  our  own  age  hath 
verified  their  speech  unto  us  :  which  also  may  be  an  argument  against  these 
scoffers  and  Atheists  themselves,  seeing  it  hath  been  so  many  ages  ago  fore- 
told, that  such  men  the  latter  days  of  the  world  should  afford  :  which  could 
not  be  done  by  any  other  spirit,  save  that  whereunto  things  future  and  present 
are  alike.     And  even  for  the  main  question  of  the  resurrection,  whereat  they 
stick  so  mightily,  was  it  not  plainly  foretold,  that  men  should  in  the  latter 
times  say,  "  Where  is  the  promise  of  his  coming  ?"     Against  the  creation,  the 
ark,  and  divers  other  point?,  exceptions  are  said  to  be  taken,  the  ground  where- 
of is  superfluity  of  wit,  without  ground  of  learning  and  judgment.     A  second 
cause  of  Atheism  is  sensuality,  which  maketh  men  desirous  to  remove  all  stops 
and  impediments  of  their  wicked  life  ;  among  which  because  Religion  is  thei 
chiefest,  so  as  neither  in  this  life  without  shame  they  can  persist  therein,  nor 
— if  that  be  true — without  torment  in  the  life  to  come  ;  they  therefore  whet 
their  wits  to  annihilate  the  joys  of  Heaven,  v/herein  they  see — if  any  such  be 
— they  can  have  no  part,  and  likewise  the  pains  of  Hell,  wherein  their  portion 
must  needs  be  very  great.     They  labour  therefore,  not  that  they  may  not  de- 
serve those  pains,  but  that,  deserving  them,  there  may  be  no  such  pains  to 
seize  upon  them.     But  what  conceit  can  be  imagined  more  base,  than  that 
man  should  strive  to  persuade  himself  even  against  the  secret  instinct,  no 
doubt,  of  his  own  mind,  that  his  soul  is  as  the  soul  of  a  beast,  mortal,  and  cor- 
ruptible with  the  body  ?     Against  which  barbarous  opinion  their  own  Atheism 
is  a  very  strong  argument.     For,  were  not  the  soul  a  nature  separable  from 
the  body,  how  could  it  enter  into  discourse  of  things  merely  spiritual,  and  no- 
thing at  all  pertaining  to  the  body?     Surely  the  soul  were  not  able  to  conceive 
any  thing  of  Heaven,  no  not  so  much  as  to  dispute  against  Heaven,  and 
against  God,  if  there  were  not  in  it  somewhat  heavenly,  and  derived  from  God. 
The  last  which  have  received  strength  and  encouragement  from  the  Re- 
formers are  Papists;  against  whom,  although  they  are  most  bitter  enemies, 
yet  unwittingly  they  have  given  them  great  advantage.     For  what  can  any 
enemy  rather  desire  than  the  breach  and  dissension  of  those  which  are  con- 
federates against  him  ?     Wherein  they  are  to  remember  that  if  our  commu- 
nion with  Papists  in  some  few  ceremonies  do  so  much  strengthen  them,  as  is 
pretended,  how  much  more  doth  this  division  and  rent  among  ourselves,  es- 
pecially seeing  it  is  maintained  to  be,  not  in  light  matters  only,  but  even  in 
matters  of  faith  and  salvation  ?     W^hich  over-reaching  speech  of  theirs,  because 
it  is  so  open  an  advantage  for  the  Barrowist  and  the  Papist,  we  are  to  wish 
and  hope  for,  that  they  will  acknowledge  it  to  have  been  spoken  rather  in  heat 
of  affection,  than  with  soundness  of  judgment ;  and  that  through  their  exceed- 


250  GEORGE  CRANMER'S   LETTER 

ing  love  to  that  creature  of  discipline  which  themselves  have  bred,  nourished, 
and  maintained,  their  mouth  in  commendation  of  her  did  so  often  overflow. 

From  hence  you  may  proceed — but  the  means  of  connection  I  leave  to  your- 
self— to  another  discourse,  which  I  think  very  meet  to  be  handled  either  here 
or  elsewhere  at  large  ;  the  parts  whereof  may  be  these  :  1.  That  in  this  cause 
between  them  and  us,  men  are  to  sever  the  proper  and  essential  points  and 
controversy  from  those  which  are  accidental.  The  most  essential  and  proper 
are  these  two  :  overthrow  of  the  Episcopal,  and  erection  of  Presbyterial  author- 
ity. But  in  these  two  points  whosoever  joineth  with  them,  is  accounted  of 
their  number  ;  whosoever  in  all  other  points  agreeth  with  them,  yet  thinketh 
the  authority  of  Bishops  not  unlav^ful,  and  of  Elders  not  necessary,  may  justly 
be  severed  from  their  retinue.  Those  things  therefore,  which  either  in  the 
persons,  or  in  the  laws  and  orders  themselves  are  faulty,  may  be  complained 
on,  acknowledged,  and  amended,  yet  they  no  whit  the  nearer  their  main  pur- 
pose :  for  what  if  all  errors  by  them  supposed  in  our  Liturgy  were  amended, 
even  according  to  their  own  heart's  desire  ;  if  non-residence,  pluralities,  and 
the  like,  were  utterly  taken  away  ;  are  their  lay-elders  therefore  presently 
authorised  ?  or  their  sovereign  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction  established  ? 

But  even  in  their  complaining  against  the  outward  and  accidental  matters 
in  Church-Government,  they  are  many  ways  faulty.  1.  In  their  end,  which 
they  propose  to  themselves.  For  in  declaiming  against  abuses,  their  meaning 
is  not  to  have  them  redressed,  but,  by  disgracing  the  present  state,  to  make 
way  for  their  own  discipline.  As  therefore  in  Venice,  if  any  Senator  should 
discom-se  against  the  power  of  their  Senate,  as  being  either  too  sovereign,  or 
too  weak  in  government,  Vv^ith  purpose  to  draw  their  authority  to  a  moderation, 
it  might  well  be  suffered  ;  but  not  so,  if  it  should  appear  he  spake  with  pur- 
pose to  induce  another  state  by  depraving  the  present.  So  in  all  causes  be- 
longing either  to  Church  or  Commonwealth,  we  are  to  have  regard  what  mind 
the  complaining  part  doth  bear,  whether  of  amendment  or  innovation ;  and 
accordingly  either  to  suffer  or  suppress  it.  Their  objection  therefore  is  frivo- 
lous, "  Why,  may  not  men  speak  against  abuses  ?"  Yes  ;  but  with  desire  to 
cure  the  part  affected,  not  to  destroy  the  whole.  2.  A  second  fault  is  in  their 
manner  of  complaining,  not  only  because  it  is  for  the  most  part  in  bitter  and 
reproachful  terms,  but  also  it  is  to  the  common  people,  who  are  judges  incom- 
petent and  insufhcient,  both  to  determine  any  thing  amiss,  and  for  want  of 
skill  and  authority  to  amend  it.  Which  also  discovereth  their  intent  and  pur- 
pose to  be  rather  destructive  than  corrective.  3.  Those  very  exceptions  which 
they  take  are  frivolous  and  impertinent.  Some  things  indeed  they  accuse  as 
impious ;  which  if  they  may  appear  to  be  such,  God  forbid  they  should  be 
maintained. 

Against  the  rest  it  is  only  alleged,  that  they  are  idle  ceremonies  without 
use,  and  that  better  and  more  profitable  might  be  devised.  Wherein  they  are 
doubly  deceived  ;  for  neither  is  it  a  sufficient  plea  to  say,  this  must  give  place, 
because  a  better  may  be  devised  ;  because  in  our  judgments  of  better  and 
worse,  we  oftentimes  conceive  amiss,  when  we  compare  those  things  which 


UNTO   MR.   RICHARD   HOOKER.  251 

are  in  devise  with  those  which  are  in  practice :  for  the  imperfections  of  the 
one  are  hid,  till  by  time  and  trial  they  be  discovered :  tiie  others  are  already 
manifest  and  open  to  all.  But  last  of  all, — which  is  a  point  in  my  opinion  of 
great  regard,  and  which  I  am  desirous  to  have  enlarged, — they  do  not  see  that 
for  the  most  part  when  they  strike  at  the  State  Ecclesiastical,  they  secretly 
wound  the  Civil  State,  for  personal  faults  ;  "  What  can  be  said  against  the 
Church,  which  may  not  also  agree  to  the  Commonwealth?"  In  both,  States- 
■men  have  always  been,  and  will  be  always,  men ;  sometimes  blinded  with 
error,  most  commonly  perverted  by  passions :  many  unworthy  have  been  and 
are  advanced  in  both  ;  many  worthy  not  regarded.  And  as  for  abuses,  which 
they  pretend  to  be  in  the  law  themselves ;  when  they  inveigh  against  non- 
residence,  do  they  take  it  a  matter  lawful  or  expedient  in  the  Civil  State,  for 
a  man  to  have  a  great  and  gainful  office  in  the  North,  himself  continually  re- 
maining in  the  South  ?  "  He  that  hath  an  office  let  him  attend  his  office." 
When  they  condemn  plurality  of  livings  spiritual  to  the  pit  of  Hell,  what  think 
they  of  the  infinity  of  temporal  promotions  ?  By  the  great  Philosopher,  Pol. 
lib.  ii.  cap.  9,  it  is  forbidden  as  a  thing  most  dangerous  to  Commonwealths, 
that  by  the  same  man  many  great  offices  should  be  exercised.  When  they 
deride  our  ceremonies  as  vain  and  frivolous,  were  it  hard  to  apply  their  excep- 
tions even  to  those  civil  ceremonies,  which  at  the  Coronation,  in  Parliament, 
and  all  Courts  of  Justice,  are  used?  Were  it  hard  to  argue  even  against  Cir- 
cumcision, the  ordinance  of  God,  as  being  a  cruel  ceremony  ?  against  the  Pass- 
over, as  being  ridiculous — shod,  girt,  a  staff  in  their  hand,  to  eat  a  Iamb  ? 

To  conclude :  you  may  exhort  the  Clergy, — or  what  if  you  direct  your  con- 
clusion not  to  the  Clergy  in  general,  but  only  to  the  learned  in  or  of  both  Uni- 
versities ? — you  may  exhort  them  to  a  due  consideration  of  all  things,  and  to  a 
right  esteem  and  valuing  of  each  thing  in  that  degree  wherein  it  ought  to  stand. 
For  it  oftentimes  falleth  out,  that  what  men  have  either  devised  themselves, 
or  greatly  delighted  in,  the  price  and  the  excellency  thereof  they  do  admire 
above  desert.  The  chiefest  labour  of  a  Christian  should  be  to  know,  of  a  Min- 
ister to  preach,  Christ  crucified:  in  regard  whereof,  not  only  worldly  things, 
but  things  otherwise  precious,  even  the  discipline  itself  is  vile  and  base.  Where- 
as now,  by  the  heat  of  contention,  and  violence  of  affection,  the  zeal  of  men 
towards  the  one  hath  greatly  decayed  their  love  to  the  other.  Hereunto  there- 
fore they  are  to  be  exhorted  to  preach  Christ  Crucified,  the  mortification  of  the 
flesh,  the  renewing  of  the  Spirit ;  not  those  things  which  in  time  of  strife  seem 
precious,  but — passions  being  allayed — are  vain  and  childish.  G.  C. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MR.  GEORGE  HERBERT, 


PREBENDARY  OF   SALISBURY  CATHEDRAL. 


INTRODUCTION 


TO 


THE    LIFE    OF    GEORGE    HERBERT. 


In  a  late  retreat  from  the  business  of  this  world,  and  those  many  little  cares 
with  which  I  have  too  often  cumbered  myself,  I  fell  into  a  contemplation  of 
some  of  those  historical  passages  that  are  recorded  in  Sacred  Story :  and  more 
particularly  of  what  had  passed  betwixt  our  blessed  Saviour  and  that  wonder 
of  Women,  and  Sinners,  and  Mourners,  Saint  Mary  Magdalen.  I  call  her 
Saint,  because  I  did  not  then,  nor  do  now  consider  her,  as  when  she  was  pos- 
sessed with  seven  devils ;  not  as  when  her  wanton  eyes  and  dishevelled  hair, 
were  designed  and  managed  to  charm  and  ensnare  amorous  beholders.  But  I 
did  then,  and  do  now  consider  her,  as  after  she  had  expressed  a  visible  and 
sacred  sorrow  for  her  sensualities  ;  as  after  those  eyes  had  wept  such  a  flood  of 
penitential  tears  as  did  wash,  and  that  hair  had  wiped,  and  she  most  passion- 
ately kissed  the  feet  of  her's  and  our  blessed  Jesus.  And  I  do  now  consider, 
that  because  she  loved  much,  not  only  much  was  forgiven  her:  but  that  beside 
that  blessed  blessing  of  having  her  sins  pardoned,  and  the  joy  of  knowing  her 
happy  condition,  she  also  had  from  him  a  testimony,  that  her  alabaster  box  of 
precious  ointment  poured  on  his  head  and  feet,  and  that  spikenard,  and  those 
spices  that  were  by  her  dedicated  to  embalm  and  preserve  his  sacred  body 
from  putrefaction,  should  so  far  preserve  her  own  memory,  that  these  demon- 
strations of  her  sanctified  love,  and  of  her  officious  and  generous  gratitude, 
should  be  recorded  and  mentioned  wheresoever  his  Gospel  should  be  read ;  in- 
tending thereby,  that  as  his,  so  her  name,  should  also  live  to  succeeding  gene- 
rations even  till  time  itself  shall  be  no  more. 

Upon  occasion  of  which  fair  example,  I  did  lately  look  back,  and  not  with- 
out some  content, — at  least  to  myself, — that  I  have  endeavoured  to  deserve 
the  love,  and  preserve  the  memory,  of  my  two  deceased  friends.  Dr.  Donne, 
and  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  by  declaring  the  several  employments  and  various  ac- 
cidents of  their  lives.  And  though  Mr.  George  Herbert — whose  Life  I  now 
intend  to  write — were  to  me  a  stranger  as  to  his  person,  for  I  have  only  seen 
him  ;  yet  since  he  was,  and  was  vv^orthy  to  be,  their  friend,  and  very  many 
of  his  have  been  mine,  I  judge  it  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  those  that  knew 


256  INTRODUCTION. 


any  of  them  in  their  lives,  or  do  now  know  them  by  mine,  or  their  own  wri- 
tings, to  see  tliis  conjunction  of  them  after  their  deaths  ;  without  which,  many 
things  that  concerned  them,  and  some  things  that  concerned  the  age  in  which 
they  hved,  would  be  less  perfect,  and  lost  to  posterity. 

For  these  reasons  I  have  undertaken  it ;  and  if  I  have  prevented  any  abler 
person,  I  beg  pardon  of  him  and  my  Reader. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MR.  GEORGE  HERBERT. 


George  Herbert  was  born  the  Third  day  of  April,  in  the 
Year  of  our  Redemption  1593.  The  place  of  his  birth  was  near 
to  the  Town  of  Montgomery,  and  in  that  Castle*  that  did  then 
bear  the  name  of  that  Town  and  County  :  that  Castle  was  then 
a  place  of  state  and  strength,  and  had  been  successively  happy 
in  the  Family  of  the  Herberts,  who  had  long  possessed  it ;  and 
with  it,  a  plentiful  estate,  and  hearts  as  liberal  to  their  poor  neigh- 
bours. A  family,  that  hath  been  blessed  with  men  of  remarkable 
wisdom,  and  a  willingness  to  serve  their  country,  and,  indeed,  to 
do  good  to  all  mankind  ;  for  which  they  are  eminent :  But  alas  ! 
this  family  did  in  the  late  rebellion  suffer  extremely  in  their  es- 
tates ;  and  the  heirs  of  that  Castle  sav/  it  laid  level  with  that 
earth,  that  was  too  good  to  bury  those  wretches  that  were  the 
cause  of  it. 

The  Father  of  our  George  was  Richard  Herbert,  the  son  of 
Edward  Herbert,  Knight,  the  son  of  Richard  Herbert,  Knight, 
the  son  of  the  famous  Sir  Richard  Herbert  of  Colebrook,  in  the 
County  of  Monmouth,  Banneret,  who  was  the  youngest  brother  of 
that  memorable  William  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  that  lived 
in  the  reio-n  of  our  Kino-  Edward  the  Fourth. 

His  Mother  was  Magdalen  Newport,  the  youngest  daughter  of 
Sir  Richard,  and  sister  to  Sir  Francis  Newport  of  High-Arkall,  in 
the  County  of  Salop,  Knight,  and  grandfather  of  Francis  Lord  New- 
port,  now  Controller  of  his  Majesty's  Household.     A  family  that 

*  A  fortress  first  erected  by  Roger  de  Montgomery,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury, 
under  William  I.  to  secure  liis  conquests  in  Wales,  though  it  was  twice  partly 
destroyed  by  the  Welsh.  It  stands  near  the  Severn,  on  a  gentle  ascent,  hav- 
ing a  fair  prospect  over  the  plain  beneath.  The  order  of  Parliament  for  its 
destruction  was  made  June  11th,  1649. 


258  THE   LIFE   OF 


for  their  loyalty  have  suffered  much  in  their  estates,  and  seen  the 
ruin  of  that  excellent  structure,  where  their  aneestors  have  Ions: 
lived,  and  been  memorable  for  their  hospitality. 

This  Mother  of  George  Herbert — of  whose  person,  and  wisdom, 
and  virtue,  I  intend  to  give  a  true  account  in  a  seasonable  place 
— was  the  happy  Mother  of  seven  sons  and  three  daughters, 
which  she  would  often  say  was  Job's  number,  and  Job's  distribu- 
tion ;  and  as  often  bless  God,  that  they  were  neither  defective  in 
their  shapes,  or  in  their  reason  :  and  very  often  reprove  them 
that  did  not  praise  God  for  so  great  a  blessing.  I  shall  give  the 
Reader  a  short  account  of  their  names,  and  not  say  much  of  their 
fortunes. 

Edward,  the  eldest,  was  first  made  Knight  of  the  Bath,  at  that 
glorious  time  of  our  late  Prince  Henry's  being  installed  Knight 
of  the  Garter ;  and  after  many  years  useful  travel,  and  the  at- 
tainment of  many  languages,  he  was  by  King  James  sent  Am- 
bassador resident  to  the  then  French  King,  Lewis  the  thirteenth. 
There  he  continued  about  two  years  ;  but  he  could  not  subject 
himself  to  a  compliance  with  the  humours  of  the  Duke  de 
Luisnes,  who  was  then  the  great  and  powerful  favourite  at 
Court :  so  that  upon  a  complaint  to  our  King,  he  was  called  back 
into  England  in  some  displeasure  ;  but  at  his  return  he  gave  such 
an  honourable  account  of  his  employment,  and  so  justified  his 
comportment  to  the  Duke  and  all  the  Court,  that  he  was  suddenly 
sent  back  upon  the  same  Embassy,  from  which  he  returned  in  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  our  good  King  Charles  the  First,  who 
made  him  first  Baron  of  Castle-Island,  and  not  long  after  of -Cher- 
bury  in  the  County  of  Salop.  He  was  a  man  of  great  learning 
and  reason,  as  appears  by  his  printed  book  "  De  Veritate,"  and 
by  his  "History  of  the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth,"  and  by 
several  other  tracts.* 

*  That  eloquent  and  acute  biographer,  Edmund  Lodge,  thus  truly  gives  the 
character  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury.  "  Of  that  anomalj'  of  character  by 
the  abundance  and  variety  of  which  foreigners  are  pleased  to  tell  us  that  our 
country  is  distinguished,  we  meet  with  few  examples  more  striking  than  in  tho 
subject  of  this  memoir — wise  and  unsteady ;  prudent  and  careless  ;  a  philoso- 
pher, with  ungovernable  and  ridiculou!^  prejudices  ;  a  good  hiuiioured  man,  who 
even  sought  occasions  to  shed  the  blood  of  his  fellow  creatures ;  a  deist,  with 


MR.    GEORGE   HERBERT.  259 


The  second  and  third  brothers  were  Richard  and  William,  who 
ventured  their  lives  to  purchase  honour  in  the  wars  of  the  Low 
Countries,  and  died  officers  in  that  employment.  Charles  was  the 
fourth,  and  died  fellow  of  New  College  in  Oxford.  Henry  was 
the  sixth,  who  became  a  menial  servant  to  the  Crown  in  the  days 
of  King  James,  and  hath  continued  to  be  so  for  fifty  years,  during 
all. which  time  ke  hath  been  Master  of  the  Revels ;  a  place  that  re- 
quires a  diligent  wisdom,  with  which  God  hath  blessed  him.  The 
seventh  son  was  Thomas,  who  being  made  Captain  of  a  ship  in 
that  fleet  with  which  Sir  Robert  Mansell  was  sent  ao-ainst  Aimers, 
did  there  shew  a  fortunate  and  true  EuQ-lish  valour.  Of  the 
three  sisters  1  need  not  say  more,  than  that  they  were  all  married 
to  persons  of  worth,  and  plentiful  fortunes ;  and  lived  to  be  ex- 
amples of  virtue,  and  to  do  good  in  their  generations. 

I  now  come  to  give  my  intended  account  of  George,  who  was 
the  fifth  of  those  seven  brothers. 

George  Herbert  spent  much  of  his  childhood  in  a  sweet  con- 
tent under  the  eye  and  care  of  his  prudent  Mother,  and  the  tuition 
of  a  Chaplain,  or  tutor  to  him  and  two  of  his  brothers,  in  her  own 
family, — for  she  was  then  a  widow, — where  he  continued  till 
about  the  age  of  twelve  years  ;  and  being  at  that  time  well  in- 
structed in  the  rules  of  Grammar,  he  was  not  long  after  com- 
mended to  the  care  of  Dr.  Neale,*  who  was  then  Dean  of  West- 
minster ;  and  by  him  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Ireland, f  who  was  then 
Chief  Master  of  that  School ;  where  the  beauties  of  his  pretty  be- 
haviour and  wit  shined  and  became  so  eminent  and  lovely  in  this 

superstition  too  gross  for  the  most  secluded  cloister.  These  observations  are 
not  founded  on  the  report  of  others,  but  on  the  fragment  which  reniains  of  his 
own  sketch  of  his  hfe, — a  piece  of  infinite  curiosity." 

*  It  has  been  said  of  Dr.  Richard  Neale,  that  no  one  was  more  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  distresses  as  well  as  the  conveniences  of  the  clergy,  having 
served  the  Church  as  Schoolmaster,  Curate,  Vicar,  Rector,  Master  of  the  Sa- 
voy, Dean  of  Westminster,  Clerk  of  the  Closet  to  James  I.  and  Charles  I., 
Bishop  of  Rochester,  LichfieM,  Durham,  Winchester,  and  Archbishop  of  York. 
(1631)  "  He  died,"  says  Echard,  "  full  of  years  as  he  was  full  of  honours  ;  a 
faithful  subject  to  his  prince,  an  indulgent  father  to  his  clergy,  a  bountiful 
patron  to  his  chaplains,  and  a  true  friend  to  all  that  relied  upon  him." 

t  He  was  made  Master  of  Westminster  School  in  1599,  and  continued  so  to 
1610. 


260  THE  LIFE  OF 


his  innocent  age,  that  he  seemed  to  be  marked  out  for  piety,  and 
to  become  the  care  of  Heaven,  and  of  a  particular  good  angel  to 
guard  and  guide  him.  And  thus  he  continued  in  that  School,  till 
he  came  to  be  perfect  in  the  learned  languages,  and  especially  in 
the  Greek  tongue,  in  which  he  after  proved  an  excellent  critic. 

About  the  age  of  fifteen — he  being  then  a  King's  Scholar — he 
was  elected  out  of  that  School  for  Trinity  College  in  Cambridge, 
to  which  place  he  was  transplanted  about  the  year  1G08  ;  and  his 
prudent  Mother,  well  knowing  that  he  might  easily  lose  or  lessen 
that  virtue  and  innocence,  which  her  advice  and  example  had 
planted  in  his  mind,  did  therefore  procure  the  generous  and  lib- 
eral Dr.  Nevil,*  who  was  then  Dean  of  Canterbury,  and  Master 
of  that  College,  to  take  him  into  his  particular  care,  and  provide 
him  a  Tutor  ;  which  he  did  most  gladly  undertake,  for  he  knew 
the  excellencies  of  his  mother,  and  how  to  value  such  a  friend- 
ship. 

This  was  the  method  of  his  education,  till  he  was  settled  in 
Cambridge  ;  where  we  will  leave  him  in  his  study,  till  I  have 
paid  my  promised  account  of  his  excellent  Mother  ;  and  I  will 
endeavour  to  make  it  short. 

I  have  told  her  birth,  her  marriage,  and  the  number  of  her 
children,  and  have  given  some  short  account  of  them.  I  shall 
next  tell  the  Reader,  that  her  husband  died  when  our  George  was 
about  the  age  of  four  years  :  I  am  next  to  tell,  that  she  contin- 
ued twelve  years  a  widow ;  that  she  then  married  happily  to  a 
noble  gentleman,  the  brother  and  heir  of  the  Lord  Danvers,  Earl 

*  Thomas  Nevil,  D.  D.  eminent  for  the  splendour  of  his  birth,  his  extraordi- 
naiy  piety  and  learning,  was  educated  at  Pembroke  Hall  in  the  University  of 
Cambridge.  In  1582  he  was  admitted  Master  of  Magdalen  College  in  the 
same  University,  and  in  1593  he  succeeded  Dr.  Jolin  Still  in  the  Mastership 
of  Trinity  College,  being  then  Dean  of  the  Cathedral  Church  of  Peterborough, 
over  which  he  presided  commendably  eight  years.  Upon  the  demise  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  Dr.  Nevil,  who  had  been  promoted  to  the  Deanery  of  Canterbury 
in  1597,  was  sent  by  Archbishop  Whitgift  to  King  James  in  Scotland,  in  the 
names  of  the  Bishops  and  Clergy  of  England,  to  tender  their  bounden  duties, 
and  to  understand  his  Highness's  pleasure  for  the  ordering  and  guiding  of  the 
Clergy.  The  Dean  brought  a  most  gracious  answer  of  his  Highness's  purpose, 
which  was  to  uphold  aud  mahitaiu  the  government  of  the  late  Queen,  as  she 
left  it  settled. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  261 

of  Danby,  who  did  highly  value  both  her  person  and  the  most  ex- 
cellent endowments  of  her  mind. 

In  this  time  of  her  widowhood,  she  being  desirous  to  give  Ed- 
ward, her  eldest  son,  such  advantages  of  learning,  and  other  edu- 
cation, as  might  suit  his  birth  and  fortune,  and  thereby  make  him 
the  more  fit  for  the  service  of  his  country,  did,  at  his  being  of  a 
fit  age,  remove  from  Montgomery  Castle  with  him,  and  some  of 
her  younger  sons,  to  Oxford  ;  and  having  entered  Edward  into 
Queen's  College,  and  provided  him  a  fit  tutor,  she  commended 
him  to  his  care  :  yet  she  continued  there  with  him,  and  still  kept 
him  in  a  moderate  awe  of  herself,  and  so  much  under  her  own 
eye,  as  to  see  and  converse  with  him  daily :  but  she  managed  this 
power  over  him  without  any  such  rigid  sourness,  as  might  make 
her  company  a  torment  to  her  child ;  but  with  such  a  sweetness 
and  compliance  with  the  recreations  and  pleasures  of  youth,  as  did 
incline  him  willingly  to  spend  much  of  his  time  in  the  company  of 
his  dear  and  careful  mother  ;  which  was  to  her  great  content  :  for 
she  would  often  say,  "  That  as  our  bodies  take  a  nourishment 
suitable  to  the  meat  on  which  we  feed  ;  so  our  souls  do  as  insen- 
sibly take  in  vice  by  the  example  or  conversation  with  wicked 
company  :"  and  would  therefore  as  often  say,  "  That  ignorance 
of  vice  was  the  best  preservation  of  virtue ;  and  that  the  very 
knowledge  of  wickedness  was  as  tinder  to  inflame  and  kindle  sin 
and  keep  it  burning."  For  these  reasons  she  endeared  him  to 
her  own  company,  and  continued  with  him  in  Oxford  four  years ; 
in  which  time  her  great  and  harmless  wit,  her  cheerful  gravity, 
and  her  obliging  behaviour,  gained  her  an  acquaintance  and 
friendship  with  most  of  any  eminent  worth  or  learning,  that  were 
at  that  time  in  or  near  that  University  ;  and  particularly  with  Mr. 
John  Donne,  who  then  came  accidentally  to  that  place,  in  this 
time  of  her  being  there.  It  was  that  John  Donne,  who  was  after 
Dr.  Donne,  and  Dean  of  Saint  Paul's,  London  :  and  he,  at  his 
leaving  Oxford,  writ  and  left  there,  in  verse,  a  character  of  the 
beauties  of  her  body  and  mind :  of  the  first  he  says. 

No  Spring  nor  Summer-beauty  has  such  grace, 
As  I  have  seen  in  an  Autumnal  face. 

PART  IT.  7 


2G2  THE   LIFE   OF 


Of  the  latter  he  says, 

In  all  her  ivords  to  every  hearer  jit, 
You  may  at  revels,  or  at  council  sit. 

The  rest  of  her  character  may  be  read  in  his  printed  poems,  in 
that  Elegy  which  bears  the  name  of  "  The  Autumnal  Beauty." 
For  both  he  and  she  were  then  past  the  meridian  of  man's  life. 

This  amity,  begun  at  this  time  and  place,  was  not  an  amity 
that  polluted  their  souls ;  but  an  amity  made  up  of  a  chain  of 
suitable  inclinations  and  virtues ;  an  amity  like  that  of  St.  Chry- 
sostom's  to  his  dear  and  virtuous  Olympias ;  whom,  in  his  letters, 
he  calls  his  Saint :  or  an  amity,  indeed,  more  like  that  of  St.  liie- 
rome  to  his  Paula  ;  whose  affection  to  her  was  such,  tliat  he  turned 
poet  in  his  old  age,  and  then  made  her  epitaph  :  wishing  all  his 
body  were  turned  into  tongues,  that  he  might  declare  her  just 
praises  to  posterity.  And  this  amity  betwixt  her  and  Mr.  Donne 
was  begun  in  a  happy  time  for  him,  he  being  then  near  to  the 
fortieth  year  of  his  age, — which  was  some  years  before  he  entered 
into  Sacred  Orders ; — a  time,  when  his  necessities  needed  a  daily 
supply  for  the  support  of  his  wife,  seven  children,  and  a  family. 
And  in  this  time  she  proved  one  of  his  most  bountiful  benefactors  ; 
and  he  as  grateful  an  acknowledger  of  it.  You  may  take  one 
testimony  for  what  I  have  said  of  these  two  worthy  persons,  from 
this  following  Letter  and  Sonnet. 

"  Madam, 

"  Your  favours  to  me  are  every  where  :  I  use  them,  and  have 
them.  I  enjoy  them  at  London,  and  leave  them  there  ;  and  yet 
tind  them  at  Mitcham.  Such  riddles  as  these  become  things  in- 
expressible ;  and  such  is  your  goodness.  I  was  almost  sorry  to 
find  your  servant  here  this  day,  because  I  was  loath  to  have  any 
witness  of  my  not  coming  home  last  night,  and  indeed  of  my  com- 
ing this  morning.  But  my  not  coming  was  excusable,  because 
earnest  business  detained  me  ;  and  my  coming  this  day  is  by  the 
example  of  your  St.  Mary  Magdalen,  who  rose  early  upon  Sun- 
day, to  seek  that  which  she  loved  most ;  and  so  did  L  And,  from 
her  and  myself,  I  return  sucli  thanks  as  are  due  to  one,  to  whom 
we  owe  all  the  good  opinion,  that  they,  whom  we  need  most,  have 


MR.  GEORGE   HERBERT.  263 

of  us.  By  this  messenger,  and  on  this  good  day,  I  commit  the  in- 
closed Holy  Hymns  and  Sonnets — which  for  the  matter,  not  the 
workmanship,  have  yet  escaped  the  fire — to  your  judgment,  and 
to  your  protection  too,  if  you  think  them  worthy  of  it ;  and  I  have 
appointed  this  inclosed  Sonnet  to  usher  them  to  your  happy  hand. 
Your  unworthiest  servant, 

Unless  your  accepting  him  to  be  so 

have  mended  him, 
Mitcham,  July  11,  1007.  Jo.  Donne. 

To  the  Lady  Magdalen  Herhert :  Of  St.  Mary  Magdalen. 

Her  of  your  name,  whose  fair  inheritance 

Bethina  icas,  and  jointure  Magdalo, 
An  active  faith  so  highly  did  advance, 

That  she  once  knew  more  than  the  Church  did  know, 
The  Resurrection  !  so  much  good  there  is 

Delivered  of  her,  that  some  Fathers  be 
Loth  to  believe  one  woman  could  do  this : 

But  think  these  Magdalens  were  two  or  three. 
Licrease  their  number,  Lady,  and  their  fame  : 

To  their  devotion  add  your  innocence  : 
Take  so  much  ofih^  exajujple,  as  of  the  name  ; 

The  latter  half ;  and  in  some  reco?npense 
That  they  did  harbour  Christ  himself,  a  guest. 

Harbour  these  Hymns,  to  his  dear  name  addrest. 

J.  D. 

These  Hymns  are  now  lost  to  us ;  but  doubtless  they  were  such, 
as  they  two  now  sing  in  Heaven. 

There  might  be  more  demonstrations  of  the  friendship,  and  the 
many  sacred  endearments  betwixt  these  two  excellent  persons, — 
for  I  have  many  of  their  letters  in  my  hand, — and  much  more 
might  be  said  of  her  great  prudence  and  piety:  but  my  design 
was  not  to  write  her's,  but  the  life  of  her  son ;  and  therefore  I 
shall  only  tell  my  Reader,  that  about  that  very  day  twenty  years 
that  this  letter  was  dated,  and  sent  her,  I  saw  and  heard  tliis  Mr. 
John  Donne — who  was  then  Dean  of  St.  Paul's — weep,  and  preach 


264  THE   LIFE   OF 


her  Funeral  Sermon,  in  the  Parish  Church  of  Chelsea,  near  Lon- 
don, where  she  now  rests  in  her  quiet  grave :  and  where  we  must 
now  leave  her,  and  return  to  her  son  George,  whom  we  left  in  his 
study  in  Cambridge. 

And  in  Cambridge  we  may  find  our  George  Herbert's  beha- 
viour to  be  such,  that  we  may  conclude  he  consecrated  the  first- 
fruits  of  his  early  age  to  virtue,  and  a  serious  study  of  learning. 
And  that  he  did  so,  this  following  Letter  and  Sonnet,  which  were, 
in  the  first  year  of  his  going  to  Cambridge,  sent  his  dear  Mother 
for  a  New-year's  gift,  may  appear  to  be  some  testimony. 

— "  But  1  fear  the  heat  of  my  late  ague  hath  dried  up  those 
springs,  by  which  scholars  say  the  Muses  use  to  take  up  their 
habitations.  However,  I  need  not  their  help  to  reprove  the  vanity 
of  those  many  love-poems,  that  are  daily  writ,  and  consecrated  to 
Venus ;  nor  to  bewail  that  so  few  are  writ,  that  look  towards  God 
and  Heaven.  For  my  own  part,  my  meaning — dear  Mother — is, 
in  these  Sonnets,  to  declare  my  resolution  to  be,  that  my  poor 
abilities  in  Poetry,  shall  be  all  and  ever  consecrated  to  God'-^ 
glory  :  and  I  beg  you  to  receive  this  as  one  testimony.' 


5J 


My  God,  where  is  that  ancient  heat  toioards  thee, 
Wherewith  ivhole  shoals  of  Martyrs  once  did  hum. 
Besides  their  other  Jlamcs?     Doth  Poetry 

Wear  Venus'  livery  ?  only  serve  her  turn  ? 

Why  are  not  Sonnets  made  of  thee  ?  and  lays 
Upon  thine  altar  burnt  ?     Cannot  thy  love 
Heighten  a  spirit  to  sound  out  thy  praise 

As  2cell  as  any  she  ?     Cannot  thy  Dove 

Outstrip  their  Cujnd  easily  injlight  ? 

Or,  since  thy  icays  are  deep,  and  still  the  same, 
Will  not  a  verse  run  smooth  that  hears  thy  name  ? 

Why  doth  that  fire,  which  iy  thy  j)0wer  and  might 
Each  breast  does  feel,  no  braver  fuel  choose 
Than  tha^,  ivhich  one  day,  worms  may  chance  refuse  ? 

Sure,  Lord,  there  is  enough  in  thee  to  dry 
Oceans  of  ink  ;  for  as  the  Deluge  did 
Cover  the  Earth,  so  doth  thy  Majesty  ; 

Each  cloud  distils  tliy  praise y  and  doth  forbid 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  265 

Poets  to  turn  it  to  another  use. 

Roses  and  lilies  speak  Thee  ;  and  to  make 

A  pair  of  cheeks  of  them,  is  thy  abuse. 
Why  should  I  women^s  eyes  for  crystal  take  ? 
Such  poor  invention  burns  in  their  low  mind 

Whose  fire  is  wild,  and  doth  not  upward  go 

To  praise,  and  on  thee,  Lord,  some  ink  bestow. 
Open  the  bones,  and  you  shall  nothing  find 

In  the  best  face  hut  filth  ;  when.  Lord,  in  Thee 

The  beauty  lies,  in  the  discovery. 

G.  rl. 

This  was  his  resolution  at  the  sending  this  letter  to  his  dear 
Mother,  about  which  time  he  was  in  the  seventeenth  year  of  his  age ; 
and  as  he  grew  older,  so  he  grew  in  learning,  and  more  and  more 
in  favour  both  with  God  and  man  ;  insomuch  that,  in  this  morn- 
ing of  that  short  day  of  his  life,  he  seemed  to  be  marked  out  for 
virtue,  and  to  become  the  care  of  Heaven  ;  for  God  still  kept  his 
soul  in  so  holy  a  frame,  that  he  may  and  ought  to  be  a  pattern  of 
virtue  to  all  posterity,  and  especially  to  his  brethren  of  the  Clergy, 
of  which  the  Reader  may  expect  a  more  exact  account  in  what 
will  follow. 

I  need  not  declare  that  he  was  a  strict  student,  because,  that 
he  M^as  so,  there  will  be  many  testimonies  in  the  future  part  of 
his  life.  I  shall  therefore  only  tell,  that  he  was  made  Bachelor 
of  Arts  in  the  year  1611  ;  Major  Fellow  of  the  College,  March 
15th,  1615  :  and,  that  in  that  year  he  was  also  made  Master  of 
Arts,  he  being  then  in  the  22d  year  of  his  age  ;  during  all  which 
time,  all,  or  the  greatest  diversion  from  his  study,  was  the  prac- 
tice of  Music,  in  which  he  became  a  great  master  ;  and  of  which 
he  would  say,  "  That  it  did  relieve  his  drooping  spirits,  compose 
his  distracted  thoughts,  and  raised  his  weary  soul  so  far  above 
earth,  that  it  gave  him  an  earnest  of  the  joys  of  Heaven,  before 
he  possessed  them."  And  it  may  be  noted,  that  from  his  first  en- 
trance into  the  College,  the  generous  Dr.  Nevil  was  a  cherisher 
of  his  studies,  and  such  a  lover  of  his  person,  his  behaviour,  and 
the  excellent  endowments  of  his  mind,  that  he  took  him  often  into 
his  own  company  ;   by  which  he  confirmed  his  native  gentleness : 


266  THE   LIFE   OF 


and  if  during  his  time  he  expressed  any  error,  it  was,  that  he  kept 
himself  too  much  retired,  and  at  too  great  a  distance  with  all  his 
inferiors ;  and  his  clothes  seemed  to  prove,  that  he  put  too  great  a 
value  on  his  parts  and  parentage. 

This  may  be  some  account  of  his  disposition,  and  of  the  em- 
ployment of  his  time,  till  he  was  Master  of  Arts,  which  was  anno 
1615,  and  in  the  year  1619  he  was  chosen  Orator  for  the  Univer- 
sity. His  two  precedent  Orators  were  Sir  Robert  Naunton,*  and 
Sir  Francis  Nethersole."]*  The  first  was  not  long  after  made 
Secretary  of  State,  and  Sir  Francis  not  very  long  after  his  being 
Orator,  was  made  Secretary  to  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  Queen  of 
Bohemia.  In  this  place  of  Orator  our  George  Herbert  continued 
eight  years ;  and  managed  it  with  as  becoming  and  grave  a  gai- 
ety, as  any  had  ever  before  or  since  his  time.  For  "  he  had 
acquired  great  learning,  and  was  blessed  with  a  high  fancy,  a 
civil  and  sharp  wit,  and  with  a  natural  elegance,  both  in  his  be- 
haviour, his  tongue,  and  his  pen."  Of  all  of  which  there  might 
be  very  many  particular  evidences ;  but  I  will  limit  myself  to 
the  mention  of  but  three. 

And  the  first  notable  occasion  of  shewing  his  fitness  for  this 
employment  of  Orator  was  manifested  in  a  letter  to  King  James, 
upon  the  occasion  of  his  sending  that  University  his  book  called 
"Basilicon  Doron;''  and  their  Orator  was  to  acknowledge  this 
great  honour,  and  return  their  gratitude  to  his  Majesty  for  such  a 
condescension  ;  at  the  close  of  which  letter  he  writ. 

Quid  Vaticanam  Bodieianamque  objicis  hospes  .' 
Unicus  est  nobis  Bibliotheca  Liber. 

This  letter  was  writ  in  such  excellent  Latin,  was  so  full  of  con- 

*  This  gentleman  was  born  in  Suffolk,  in  1563,  and  was  descended  from  a 
very  ancient  family  in  that  County.  He  was  educated  at  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  and  on  January  8th,  1617-18,  was  made  Secretary  of  State : 
King  James  I.  having  been  previously  so  well  pleased  with  his  eloquence  and 
learning,  as  to  appoint  him  Master  of  the  Court  of  Wards.  Sir  Robert  Naun- 
ton was  the  Author  of  the  interesting  "  Fragmenta  Regalia,  or  Observations 
on  Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  Favourites."     He  died  on  Good  Friday,  1633-34. 

t  Sir  Francis  Nethersole  was  a  native  of  Kent,  Ambassador  to  the  Princes 
of  the  Union,  and  Secretary  to  the  Queen  of  Bohemia,  and  was  equally  re- 
markable for  his  doings  and  snfTerings  in  her  behalf. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  267 

ceits,  and  all  the  expressions  so  suited  to  the  genius  of  the  King, 
that  he  inquired  the  Orator's  name,  and  then  asked  William  Earl 
of  Pembroke,  if  he  knew  him  ?  whose  answer  was  "  That  he 
knew  him  very  well,  and  that  he  was  his  kinsman ;  but  he  loved 
him  more  for  his  learning  and  virtue,  than  for  that  he  was  of  his 
name  and  family."  At  which  answer  the  King  smiled,  and 
asked  the  Earl  leave  that  he  might  love  him  too,  for  he  took  him 
to  be  the  jewel  of  that  University. 

The  next  occasion  he  had  and  took  to  shew  his  great  abilities, 
was,  with  them,  to  shew  also  his  great  affection  to  that  Church  in 
which  he  received  his  baptism,  and  of  which  he  professed  himself 
a  member ;  and  the  occasion  was  this :  There  was  one  Andrew 
Melvin,*  a  Minister  of  the  Scotch  Church,  and  Rector  of  St.  An- 
drew's ;  who,  by  a  long  and  constant  converse  with  a  discontent- 
ed part  of  that  Clergy  which  opposed  Episcopacy,  became  at  last 
to  be  a  chief  leader  of  that  faction ;  and  had  proudly  appeared  to 
be  so  to  King  James,  when  he  was  but  King  of  that  nation,  who, 
the  second  year  after  his  Coronation  in  England,  convened  a  part 
of  the  Bishops,  and  other  learned  Divines  of  his  Church,  to  attend 
him  at  Hampton-Court,  in  order  to  a  friendly  conference  with 
some  dissenting  brethren,  both  of  this  and  the  Church  of  Scotland  : 
of  which  Scotch  party  Andrew  Melvin  was  one ;  and  he  being  a 
man  of  learning,  and  inclined  to  satirical  poetry,  had  scattered 
many  malicious,  bitter  verses  against  our  Liturgy,  our  ceremo- 
nies, and  our  Church-government ;  which  were  by  some  of  that 
party  so  magnified  for  the  wit,  that  they  were  therefore  brought 
into  Westminster  School,  where  Mr.  George  Herbert,  then,  and 
often  after,  made  such  answers  to  them,  and  such  reflections  on 
him  and  his  Kirk,  as  might  unbeguile  any  man  that  was  not  too 
deeply  pre-engaged   in  such  a  quarrel. — But   to  return  to  Mr. 

*  Andrew  Melville  procured  the  Basilicou  Doron  in  Manuscript,  and  circu- 
lated it  in  Scotland,  which  produced  a  libel  against  it  and  iirst  caused  its  pub- 
lication in  1599.  This  celebrated  person,  was  born  Aug.  1,  1547,  and  was  ed- 
ucated at  the  University  of  St.  Andrews,  which  he  left  with  an  eminent  char- 
acter for  learning,  and  travelled  through  France  to  Geneva.  He  was  elected 
principal  Master  of  Glasgow  College  in  1574,  when  he  began  to  enforce  the 
Presbyterian  System  ;  and  after  much  opposition,  and  two  years  imprisonment, 
he  died  Professor  of  Divinity  to  the  Protestants  of  Sedan,  in  1621. 


268  THE   LIFE   OF 


Melvin  at  Hampton-Court  Conference  ;*  he  there  appeared  to  be 
a  man  of  an  unruly  wit,  of  a  strange  confidence,  of  so  furious  a 
zeal,  and  of  so  ungoverned  passions,  that  his  insolence  to  the  King, 
and  others ^t  this  Conference,  lost  him  both  his  Rectorship  of  St. 
Andrew's  and  his  liberty  too ;  for  his  former  verses,  and  his 
present  reproaches  there  used  against  the  Church  and  State, 
caused  him  to  be  committed  prisoner  to  the  Tower  of  London  ; 
where  he  remained  very  angry  for  three  years.  At  which  time 
of  his  commitment,  he  found  the  Lady  Arabella^  an  innocent 
prisoner  there;  and  he  pleased  himself  much  in  sending,  the  next 
day  after  his  commitment,  these  two  verses  to  the  good  lady ; 
which  I  will  underwrite,  because  they  may  give  the  Reader  a 
taste  of  his  others,  which  were  like  these. 

Causa  tibi  mecum  est  communis,  carceris,  Ara- 
Bella,  tibi  causa  est,  Araque  sacra  mihi. 

I  shall  not  trouble  my  Reader  with  an  account  of  his  enlarge- 
ment from  that  prison,  or  his  death ;  but  tell  him  Mr.  Herbert's 
verses  were  thought  so  worthy  to  be  preserved,  that  Dr.  Duport,:{: 

*  Andrew  Melville  was  not  present  at  the  celebrated  conference  held  at 
Hampton-Court,  in  the  first  year  of  King  James  I.  upon  the  complaint  of  the 
Puritans  against  the  ceremonies  and  the  liturgy  of  the  Church  of  England. 
He  was  summoned  to  appear  before  the  King  and  Council  in  1604.  In  the 
first  edition  of  "  Mr.  Walton's  Life  of  Mr.  George  Herbert,"  Melville  is  described 
to  be  "  Master  of  a  great  wit*,  a  wit  full  of  knots  and  clenches :  a  wit  sharp 
and  satirical ;  exceeded,  I  think,  by  none  of  that  nation,  but  their  Buchanan." 

t  Daughter  of  Charles  Stuart,  Earl  of  Lenox,  the  younger  brother  of  Hen- 
ty,  Earl  of  Darnley,  father  of  King  James  I.  She  was  born  at  Hampstead 
in  1577,  and  received  a  very  liberal  education  ;  added  to  which,  she  possessed 
a  large  estate,  and,  the  English  succession  being  doubtful,  she  was  supposed 
to  be  a  probable  heir  to  the  crown.  She  incurred  the  displeasure  of  James  by 
marrying  Mr.  William  Seymour,  grandson  of  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  for  which 
she  was  sent  to  the  Tower ;  and  although  she  had  made  her  escape  thence, 
she  was  overtaken,  brought  back,  and  died  there  in  1G15. 

X  James  Duport,  the  learned  son  of  a  learned  father,  John  Duport,  Master 
of  Jesus  College,  Cambridge,  was  Greek  Professor  in  that  University.  On  the 
promotion  of  Dr.  Edward  Rainbow  to  the  See  of  Carlisle,  he  was  appointed 
Dean  of  Peterborough,  and  in  1668  was  elected  Master  of  Magdalen  College, 
Cambridge. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  269 


the  learned  Dean  of  Peterborough,  hath  lately  collected  and 
caused  many  of  them  to  be  printed,  as  an  honourable  memorial 
of  his  friend  Mr.  George  Herbert,  and  the  cause  he  undertook. 

And  in  order  to  my  third  and  last  observation  of  his  great  abili- 
ties,  it  will  be  needful  to  declare,  that  about  this  time  King  James 
came  very  often  to  hunt  at  Newmarket  and  Royston,  and  was 
almost  as  often  invited  to  Cambridge,  where  his  entertainment 
was  comedies  suited  to  his  pleasant  humour ;  and  where  Mr. 
George  Herbert,  was  to  welcome  him  with  gratulations,  and  the 
applauses  of  an  Orator  ;  which  he  always  performed  so  well,  that 
he  still  grew  more  into  the  King's  favour,  insomuch  that  he  had  a 
particular  appointment  to  attend  his  Majesty  at  Royston  ;  where, 
after  a  discourse  with  him,  his  Majesty  declared  to  his  kinsman, 
the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  that  he  found  the  Orator's  learning  and 
wisdom  much  above  his  age  or  wit.  The  year  following,  the 
King  appointed  to  end  his  progress  at  Cambridge,  and  to  stay 
there  certain  days ;  at  which  time  he  Vv^as  attended  by  the  great 
Secretary  of  Nature  and  all  learning.  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  Lord 
Verulam,  and  by  the  ever-memorable  and  learned  Dr.  Andrews, 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  both  which  did  at  that  time  begin  a  de- 
sired friendship  with  our  Orator.  Upon  whom,  the  first  put  such 
a  value  on  his  judgment,  that  he  usually  desired  his  approbation 
before  he  would  expose  any  of  his  books  to  be  printed  ;  and 
thought  him  so  vv^orthy  of  his  friendship,  that  having  translated 
many  of  the  Prophet  David's  Psalms  into  English  verse,  he  made 
George  Herbert  his  patron,  by  a  public  dedication  of  them  to  him, 
as  the  best  judge  of  Divine  Poetry.  And  for  the  learned  Bishop, 
it  is  observable,  that  at  that  time  there  fell  to  be  a  modest  debate 
betwixt  them  two  about  Predestination,  and  Sanctity  of  life  ;  of 
both  of  which  the  Orator  did,  not  long  after,  send  the  Bishop  some 
safe  and  useful  aphorisms,  in  a  long  letter,  written  in  Greek ; 
which  letter  was  so  remarkable  for  the  language  and  reason  of  it, 
that,  after  the  reading  of  it,  the  Bishop  put  it  into  his  bosom,  and 
did  often  shew  it  to  many  Scholars,  both  of  this  and  foreign  na- 
tions ;  but  did  always  return  it  back  to  the  place  where  he  first 
lodged  it,  and  continued  it  so  near  his  heart  till  the  last  day  of  his 
life. 

To  this  I  might  add  the  long  and  entire  friendship  betwixt  him 


270  THE   LIFE   OF 


and  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  and  Dr.  Donne ;  but  I  have  promised  to 
contract  myself,  and  shall  therefore  only  add  one  testimony  to 
what  is  also  mentioned  in  the  Life  of  Dr.  Donne  ;  namely,  that  a 
little  before  his  death  he  caused  many  Seals  to  be  made,  and  in 
them  to  be  engraven  the  figure  of  Christ,  crucified  on  an  Anchor, — 
the  emblem  of  Hope, — and  of  which  Dr.  Donne  would  often  say, 
*'  Crux  mihi  anchora.'^ — These  Seals  he  gave  or  sent  to  most  of 
those  friends  on  which  he  put  a  value :  and,  at  Mr.  Herbert's 
death,  these  verses  were  found  wrapt  up  with  that  seal,  which 
was  by  the  Doctor  given  to  him  ; 

When  my  dear  friend  could  write  no  more, 
He  gave  this  Seal  and  so  gave  o'er. 

When  winds  and  waves  rise  highest  I  a^n  sure, 
This  Anchor  keeps  my  faith,  that,  me  secure. 

At  this  time  of  being  Orator,  he  had  learned  to  understand  the 
Italian,  Spanish,  and  French  tongues  very  perfectly  :  hoping,  that 
as  his  predecessors,  so  he  might  in  time  attain  the  place  of  a 
Secretary  of  Slate,  he  being  at  that  time  very  high  in  the  King's 
favour,  and  not  meanly  valued  and  loved  by  the  most  eminent 
and  most  powerful  of  the  Court  Nobility.  This,  and  the  love  of  a 
Court-conversation,  mixed  v/ith  a  laudable  ambition  to  be  some- 
thing more  than  he  then  was,  drew  him  often  from  Cambridge,  to 
attend  the  King  wheresoever  the  Court  was,  who  then  gave  him  a 
sinecure,  which  fell  into  his  Majesty's  disposal,  I  think,  by  the 
death  of  tlie  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph.*  It  was  the  same  that  Queen 
Elizabeth  had  formerly  given  to  her  favourite  Sir  Philip  Sidney, 
and  valued  to  be  worth  an  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  per  an- 
num. With  this,  and  his  annuity,  and  the  advantage  of  his  Col- 
lege, and  of  his  Oralorship,  he  enjoyed  his  genteel  humour  for 
clothes,  and  Court-like  company,  and  seldom  looked  towards  Cam- 
bridge, unless  the  King  were  there,  but  then  he  never  failed  ;  and, 
at  other  times,  left  the  manage  of  his  Orator's  place  to  his  learned 

*Dr.  Richard  Parry,  who  died  September  26,  1623. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  271 


friend,  Mr.  Herbert  Thorndike,  who  is  now  Prebend  of  Westmin- 
ster.* 

I  may  not  omit  to  tell,  that  he  had  often  designed  to  leave  the 
University,  and  decline  all  study,  which  he  thought  did  impair 
his  health  ;  for  he  had  a  body  apt  to  a  consumption,  and  to  fe- 
vers, and  other  infirmities,  which  he  judged  were  increased  by 
his  studies  ;  for  he  would  often  say,  "  He  had  too  thoughtful  a  wit ; 
a  wit  like  a  penknife  in  too  narrow  a  sheath,  too  sharp  for  his 
body."  But  his  Mother  v.ould  by  no  means  allow  him  to  leave 
the  University,  or  to  travel ;  and  though  he  inclined  very  much 
to  both,  yet  he  would  by  no  means  satisfy  his  own  desires  at  so 
dear  a  rate,  as  to  prove  an  undutiful  son  to  so  affectionate  a 
Mother ;  but  did  aUvays  submit  to  her  wisdom.  And  what  I  have 
now  said  may  partly  appear  in  a  copy  of  verses  in  his  printed 
poems ;  'tis  one  of  those  that  bear  the  title  of  Affliction ;  and  it 
appears  to  be  a  pious  reflection  on  God's  providence,  and  some 
passages  of  his  life,  in  which  he  says, 

Whereas  my  birth  and  spiril  rather  took 

The  loay  that  takes  the  toion  ; 
Thou  didst  betray  me  to  a  lingering  book, 

And  wrapt  me  in  a  gown  : 
I  was  entangled  in  a  world  of  strife, 
Before  I  had  the  power  to  change  my  life. 

Yet,  for  I  threaten'' d  oft  the  siege  to  raise, 

Not  simpering  all  inine  age  ; 
Thou  often  didst  loith  academic  praise 

Melt  and  dissolve  my  rage  ; 
I  took  the  sioeetenhl  pill,  till  I  came  where 
I  could  not  go  away,  nor  persevere, 

*  Mr.  Herbert  Thorndike  was  then  Fellow  of  Trinity  College.  He  was 
ejected  from  his  Fellowship  by  the  usurped  powers,  and  admitted  to  the  Rec- 
tory of  Barley  in  Hertfordshire,  July  2,  1642.  On  the  death  of  Dr.  Samuel 
Ward,  he  was  elected  to  the  Mastership  of  Sidney  College,  but  was  kept  out 
of  it  by  the  oppression  of  the  times.  For  his  sufferings  and  great  learning  he 
was  installed  Prebendary  of  Westminster,  Sept.  5,  1660.  In  the  year  follow- 
ing he  resigned  his  living  of  Barley,  and  died  in  1672.  He  assisted  Dr.  Wal- 
ton in  the  edition  of  the  Polyglot  Bible. 


272  .       THE   LIFE   OF 


Yet,  lest  perchance  I  should  too  happy  be 

In  my  unhappiness, 
Turning  my  purge  to  food,  thou  throwest  me 

Into  more  sicknesses. 
Thus  doth  thy  poioer  cross-Mas  me,  not  making 
Thine  own  gifts  good,  yet  me  from  my  ways  taking. 

Now  I  am  here,  what  thou  wilt  do  2vith  me 

None  of  my  hooks  will  show. 
I  read,  and  sigh,  and  I  wish  I  were  a  tree. 

For  the7i  sure  I  should  grow 
To  fruit  or  shade,  at  least  some  bird  would  trust 
Her  household  with  me,  and  I  loould  be  just.^ 

Yet,  though  thou  troublest  me^  I  must  be  meek, 

In  weakness  must  be  stout. 
Well,  I  will  change  my  service,  and  go  seek 

Some  other  master  out  ; 
Ah,  my  dear  God  !  though  I  am  clean  forgot. 
Let  me  not  love  thee,  if  I  love  thee  not. 

G.  n. 

In  this  time  of  Mr.  Herbert's  attendance  and  expectation  of 
some  good  occasion  to  remove  from  Cambridge  to  Court,  God,  in 
^vhom  there  is  an  unseen  chain  of  causes,  did  in  a  short  time  put 
an  end  to  the  lives  of  two  of  his  most  obliging  and  most  powerful 
friends,  Lodowick  Duke  of  Richmond,  and  James  Marquis  of 
Hamilton  ;  and  not  long  after  him  King  James  died  also,  and 
with  tliem,  all  Mr.  Herbert's  Court-hopes  :  so  that  he  presently 
betook  himself  to  a  retreat  from  London,  to  a  friend  in  Kent, 
where  he  lived  very  privately,  and  was  such  a  lover  of  solitari- 
ness, as  was  judged  to  impair  his  health,  more  than  his  study 
had  done.  In  this  time  of  retirement,  he  had  many  conflicts  with 
himself,  whether  he  should  return  to  the  painted  pleasures  of  a 
Court-life,  or  betake  himself  to  a  study  of  Divinity,  and  enter  into 
Sacred  Orders,  to  which  his  dear  mother  had  often  persuaded 
him.  These  were  such  conflicts,  as  they  only  can  know,  that 
have  endured  them  ;  for  ambitious  desires,  and  the  outward  glory 


MR.  GEORGE   HERBERT.  273 

of  this  world,  are  not  easily  laid  aside :  but  at  last  God  inclined 
him  to  put  on  a  resolution  to  serve  at  his  altar. 

He  did,  at  his  return  to  London,  acquaint  a  Court-friend  with 
his  resolution  to  enter  into  Sacred  Orders,  who  persuaded  him  to 
alter  it,  as  too  mean  an  employment,  and  too  much  below  his  birth, 
and  the  excellent  abilities  and  endowments  of  his  mind.  To 
whom  he  replied,  "  It  hath  been  formerly  judged  that  the  domes- 
tic servants  of  the  King  of  Heaven  should  be  of  the  noblest  fam- 
ilies on  earth.  And  though  the  iniquity  of  the  late  times  have 
made  clergymen  meanly  valued,  and  the  sacred  name  of  priest 
contemptible ;  yet  I  will  labour  to  make  it  honourable,  by  conse- 
crating all  my  learning,  and  all  my  poor  abilities  to  advance  the 
glory  of  that  God  that  gave  them  ;  knowing  that  I  can  never  do 
too  much  for  him,  that  hath  done  so  much  for  me,  as  to  make  me 
a  christian.  And  I  will  labour  to  be  like  my  Saviour,  by  ma- 
king  humility  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  all  men,  and  by  following  the 
merciful  and  meek  example  of  my  dear  Jesus." 

This  was  then  his  resolution  ;  and  the  God  of  constancy,  who 
intended  him  for  a  great  example  of  virtue,  continued  him  in  it, 
for  within  that  year  he  was  made  Deacon,  but  the  day  when,  or 
by  whom,  I  cannot  learn  ;  but  that  he  was  about  that  time  made 
Deacon,  is  most  certain ;  for  I  find  by  the  Records  of  Lincoln, 
that  he  was  made  Prebend  of  Layton  Ecclesia,  in  the  diocese  of 
Lincoln,  July  15th,  1626,  and  that  this  Prebend  was  given  him 
by  John,*  then  Lord  Bishop  of  that  See.  And  now  he  had  a  fit 
occasion  to  shew  that  piety  and  bounty  that  was  derived  from  his 
generous  mother,  and  his  other  memorable  ancestors,  and  the  oc- 
casion was  this. 

This  Layton  Ecclesia  is  a  village  near  to  Spalden,  in  the 
County  of  Huntingdon,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  Parish  Church 
was  fallen  down,  and  that  of  it  which  stood  was  so  decayed,  so 
little,  and  so  useless,  that  the  parishioners  could  not  meet  to  per- 
form their  duty  to  God  in  public  prayer  and  praises  ;  and  thus  it 
had  been  for  almost  twenty  years,  in  which  time  there  had  been 
some  faint  endeavours  for  a  public  collection,  to  enable  the  par- 
ishioners to  rebuild   it ;   but  with  no  success,  till  Mr.  Herbert 

*  Dr.  John  Williams,  afterwards  Archbishop  of  York,  was  then  Bisliop  of 
Lincoln,  the  last  ecclesiastic  who  was  JiOrd  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal. 


:274  THE   LIFE  OF 


undertook  it ;  and  he,  by  his  own,  and  the  contribution  of  many 
of  his  kindred,  and  other  noble  friends,  undertook  the  re-edifica- 
tion of  it ;  and  made  it  so  much  his  whole  business,  that  he 
became  restless  till  he  saw  it  finished  as  it  now  stands ;  being  for 
the  workmanship,  a  costly  Mosaic ;  for  the  form,  an  exact  cross ; 
and  for  the  decency  and  beauty,  1  am  assured,  it  is  the  most 
remarkable  Parish  Churcli  that  this  nation  affords.  He  lived  to 
see  it  so  wainscotted,  as  to  be  exceeded  by  none ;  and,  by  his 
order,  the  Reading  pew  and  Pulpit  were  a  little  distant  from  each 
other,  and  both  of  an  equal  height ;  for  he  would  often  say, 
"  They  should  neither  have  a  precedency  or  priority  of  the 
other ;  but  that  prayer  and  preaching,  being  equally  useful, 
might  agree  like  brethren,  and  have  an  equal  honour  and  esti- 
mation/"' 

Before  I  proceed  farther,  I  must  look  back  to  the  lime  of  Mr. 
Herbert's  being  made  Prebend,  and  tell  the  Reader,  that  not  long 
after,  his  Mother  being  informed  of  his  intentions  to  rebuild  that 
Church,  and  apprehending  the  great  trouble  and  charge  that  he 
was  like  to  draw  upon  himself,  his  relations  and  friends,  before  it 
could  be  finished,  sent  for  him  from  London  to  Chelsea, — where 
she  then  dwelt, — and  at  his  coming,  said,  "  George,  I  sent  for  you, 
to  persuade  you  to  commit  Simony,  by  giving  your  patron  as  good 
a  gift  as  he  has  given  to  you  ;  namely,  that  you  give  him  back  his 
prebend  ;  for,  George,  it  is  not  for  your  weak  body,  and  empty 
purse,  to  undertake  to  build  Churches."  Of  which,  he  desired 
he  might  have  a  day's  time  to  consider,  and  then  make  her  an 
answer.  And  at  his  return  to  her  the  next  day,  vv'hen  he  had  Hrst 
desired  her  blessing,  and  she  given  it  him,  his  next  request  was, 
'■'•  That  she  would  at  the  age  of  thirty-three  years,  allow  him  to 
become  an  undutiful  son  ;  for  he  had  made  a  vow  to  God,  that,  if 
he  were  able,  he  would  rebuild  that  Church."  And  then  shev/ed 
her  such  reasons  for  his  resolution,  that  she  presently  subscribed 
to  be  one  of  his  benefactors ;  and  undertook  to  solicit  William 
Earl  of  Pembroke  to  become  another,  who  subscribed  for  fifty 
pounds ;  and  not  long  after,  by  a  witty  and  persuasive  letter  from 
Mr.  Plerbert,  made  it  fifty  pounds  more.  And  in  this  nomination 
of  some  of  his  benefactors,  James  Duke  of  Lenox,  and  his 
brother,  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ought  to  be  remembered  ;  as  also  the 


MR.  GEORGE   HERBERT.  275 


bounty  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Farrer,  and  Mr.  Arthur  Woodnot ;  the 
one  a  gentleman  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Layton,  and  the  other  a 
Goldsmith  in  Foster  Lane,  London,  ought  not  to  be  forgotten  :  for 
the  memory  of  such  men  ought  to  outlive  their  lives.  Of  Mr. 
Farrer,  I  shall  hereafter  give  an  account  in  a  more  seasonable 
place ;  but  before  I  proceed  farther,  1  will  give  this  short  account 
of  Mr.  Arthur  Woodnot. 

He  was  a  man,  that  had  considered  overgrown  estates  do  often 
require  more  care  and  watchfulness  to  preserve  than  get  them, 
and  considered  that  tlierc  be  many  discontents,  that  riches  cure 
not ;  and  did  therefore  set  limits  to  himself,  as  to  desire  of  wealth. 
And  having  attained  so  much  as  to  be  able  to  shew  some  mercy 
to  the  poor,  and  preserve  a  competence  for  himself,  he  dedicated 
the  remaining  part  of  his  life  to  the  service  of  God,  and  to  be 
useful  to  his  friends  ;  and  he  proved  to  be  so  to  Mr.  Herbert ;  for 
besides  his  own  bounty,  he  collected  and  returned  most  of  the 
money  that  was  paid  for  the  rebuilding  of  that  Church  ;  he  kept 
all  the  account  of  the  charges,  and  would  often  go  dov^n  to  state 
them,  and  see  all  the  workmen  paid.  When  I  have  said,  that 
this  good  man  was  a  useful  friend  to  Mr.  Herbert's  father,  and 
to  his  mother,  and  continued  to  be  so  to  him,  till  he  closed  his 
eyes  on  his  death  bed  ;  I  will  forbear  to  say  more,  till  I  have  the 
next  fair  occasion  to  mention  the  holy  friendship  that  was  betwixt 
him  and  Mr.  Herbert.  From  whom  Mr.  Woodnot  carried  to  his 
mother  this  following  letter,  and  delivered  it  to  her  in  a  sickness, 
which  was  not  long  before  that  which  proved  to  be  her  last. 

A  Letter  of  Mr.  George  FIerbert  to  his  Mother,  in  her  Sickness. 

"  Madam, 

"  At  my  last  parting  from  you,  I  was  the  better  content,  be- 
cause 1  was  in  hope  I  should  myself  carry  all  sickness  out  of 
your  family  :  but  since  I  know  I  did  not  and  that  your  share  con- 
tinues, or  rather  increaseth,  I  wish  earnestly  that  I  were  again 
with  you  ;  and  would  quickly  make  good  my  wish,  but  that  my 
employment  does  fix  me  here,  it  being  now  but  a  month  to  our 
commencement :  wherein  my  absence,  by  how  much  it  naturally 
augmenteth  suspicion,  by  so  much  shall  it  make  my  prayers  the 


276  THE   LIFE   OF 


more  constant  and  the  more  earnest  for  you  to  the  God  of  all 
consolation. — In  the  mean  time,  I  beseech  you  to  be  cheerful,  and 
comfort  yourself  in  the  God  of  all  comfort,  who  is  not  willing  to 
behold  any  sorrow  but  for  sin. — What  hath  affliction  grievous  in  it 
more  than  for  a  moment  ?  or  why  should  our  afflictions  here,  have 
so  much  power  or  boldness  as  to  oppose  the  hope  of  our  joys  here- 
after ? — niadam,  as  tlie  earth  is  but  a  point  in  respect  of  the 
heavens,  so  are  earthly  troubles  compared  to  heavenly  joys ; 
therefore,  if  either  age  or  sickness  lead  you  to  those  joys,  con- 
sider what  advantage  you  have  over  youth  and  health,  who  are 
now  so  near  those  true  comforts.  Your  last  letter  gave  me  earthly 
preferment,  and  I  hope  kept  heavenly  for  yourself:  but  would 
you  divide  and  choose  too  ?  Our  College  customs  allow  not  that : 
and  I  should  account  myself  most  happy,  if  I  might  change  with 
you  ;  for  I  have  always  observed  the  thread  of  life  to  be  like 
other  threads  or  skeins  of  silk,  full  of  snarles  and  incumbrances. 
Happy  is  lie,  whose  bottom  is  wound  up,  and  laid  ready  for  work 
in  the  New  Jerusalem. — For  myself,  dear  Mother,  I  always  feared 
sickness  more  tiian  death,  because  sickness  hath  made  me  unable 
to  perform  those  offices  for  whicli  I  came  into  the  world,  and  must 
yet  be  kept  in  it ;  but  you  are  freed  from  that  fear,  who  have 
already  abundantly  discharged  that  part,  having  both  ordered 
your  family  and  so  brought  up  your  children,  that  they  have 
attained  to  the  years  of  discretion,  and  competent  maintenance. 
So  that  now,  if  tliey  do  not  well,  the  fault  cannot  be  charged  on 
you,  whose  example  and  care  of  them  will  justify  you  both  to  the 
world  and  your  own  conscience  ;  insomuch  that,  whether  you 
turn  your  thoughts  on  the  life  past,  or  on  the  joys  that  are  to 
come,  you  have  strong  preservatives  against  all  disquiet.  And 
for  temporal  afflictions,  I  beseech  you  consider,  all  that  can  hap- 
pen to  you  are  either  afflictions  of  estate,  or  body,  or  mind.  For 
those  of  estate,  of  what  poor  regard  ought  they  to  be  ?  since,  if 
we  had  riches,  we  are  commanded  to  give  them  away  :  so  that 
the  best  use  of  them  is,  having,  not  to  have  them.  But  perhaps, 
being  above  the  common  people,  our  credit  and  estimation  calls 
on  us  to  live  in  a  more  splendid  fashion :  but,  O  God  !  how  easily 
is  that  answered,  when  we  consider  that  the  blessings  in  the  holy 
Scripture  are  never  given  to  the  rich,  but  to  the  poor.     I  never 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  277 

find  'Blessed  be  the  rich,'  or  'Blessed  be  the  noble;'  but, 
'  Blessed  be  the  meek,'  and,  '  Blessed  be  the  poor,'  and,  '  Blessed 
be  the  mourners,  for  they  shall  be  comforted.' — And  yet,  O  God  ! 
most  carry  themselves  so,  as  if  they  not  only  not  desired,  but 
even  feared  to  be  blessed. — And  for  afflictions  of  the  body,  dear 
Madam,  remember  the  holy  Martyrs  of  God,  how  they  have  been 
burned  by  thousands,  and  have  endured  such  other  tortures,  as 
the  very  mention  of  them  might  beget  amazement :  but  their 
fiery  trials  have  had  an  end  ;  and  yours — which,  praised  be 
God,  are  less, — are  not  like  to  continue  long.  I  beseech  you,  let 
such  thoughts  as  these  moderate  your  present  fear  and  sorrow  ; 
and  know  that  if  any  of  yours  should  prove  a  Goliah-like  trouble, 
yet  you  may  say  with  David,  '  That  God,  who  hath  delivered  me 
out  of  the  paws  of  the  lion  and  bear,  will  also  deliver  me  out  of 
the  hands  of  this  uncircumcised  Philistine.' — Lastly,  for  those 
afflictions  of  the  soul  ;  consider  that  God  intends  that  to  be  as  a 
Sacred  Temple  for  b.imsclf  to  dwell  in  and  will  not  allow  any 
room  there  for  such  an  inmate  as  grief;  or  allow  that  any  sadness 
shall  be  his  competitor.  And,  above  all,  if  any  care  of  future 
things  molest  you,  remember  those  admirable  words  of  the  Psalm- 
ist,  '  Cast  thy  care  on  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  nourish  thee.'*  To 
which  join  that  of  St.  Peter,  '  Casting  all  your  care  on  the  Lord, 
for  he  careth  for  you.'f  What  an  admirable  thing  is  this,  that 
God  puts  his  shoulder  to  our  burden,  and  entertains  our  care  for 
us,  that  we  may  the  more  quietly  intend  his  service  ! — To  con- 
clude, let  me  commend  only  one  place  more  to  you :  Philipp.  iv. 
4.  St.  Paul  saith  there,  '  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  always :  and  again 
I  say,  rejoice.'  He  doubles  it  to  take  away  the  scruple  of  those 
that  might  say,  What,  shall  we  rejoice  in  afflictions  1  Yes,  I  say 
again,  rejoice  ;  so  that  it  is  not  left  to  us  to  rejoice,  or  not  rejoice  : 
but,  whatsoever  befalls  us,  we  must  always,  at  all  times,  rejoice 
in  the  Lord,  who  taketh  care  for  us.  And  it  follows  in  the  next 
verses  :  '  Let  your  moderation  appear  to  all  men  :  The  Lord  is  at 
hand  :  Be  careful  for  nothing.'  What  can  be  said  more  comfort- 
ably ?     Trouble  not  yourselves ;  God  is  at  hand,  to  deliver  us 

*  Psal.  Iv.  22  t  1  Pet.  v.  7. 

PART  II.  8 


278  THE   LIFE   OF 


from  all,   or  in  all. — Dear  Madam,   pardon  my   boldness,  and 
accept  the  good  meaning  of 

Your  most  obedient  son, 

George  Herbert." 
Trill.  Coll.  May  2otb,  1622. 

About  the  year  1629,  and  the  thirty-fourth  of  his  age,  Mr. 
Herbert  was  seized  with  a  sharp  quotidian  ague,  and  thought  to 
remove  it  by  the  change  of  air ;  to  which  end  he  went  to  Woodford 
in  Essex,  but  thither  more  chiefly  to  enjoy  the  company  of  his 
beloved  brother,  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  and  other  friends  then  of 
that  family.  In  his  house  he  remained  about  twelve  months,  and 
there  became  his  own  physician,  and  cured  himself  of  his  ague, 
by  forbearing  to  drink,  and  not  eating  any  meat,  no  not  mutton, 
nor  a  hen,  or  pigeon,  unless  they  were  salted  ;  and  by  such  a 
constant  diet  he  removed  his  ague,  but  with  inconveniences  that 
were  worse;  for  he  brought  upon  himself  a  disposition  to  rheums, 
and  other  weaknesses,  and  a  supposed  consumption.  And  it  is  to 
be  noted,  that  in  the  sharpest  of  his  extreme  fits  he  would  often 
say,  "  Lord,  abate  my  great  affliction,  or  increase  my  patience  : 
but  Lord,  I  r»epine  not ;  I  am  dumb,  Lord,  before  thee,  because  thou 
doest  it."  By  which,  and  a  sanctified  submission  to  the  will  of 
God,  he  shewed  he  was  inclinable  to  bear  the  sweet  yoke  of  Chris- 
tian discipline,  both  then  and  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  of  which 
there  will  be  many  true  testimonies. 

And  now  his  care  was  to  recover  from  his  consumption,  by  a 
change  from  Woodford  into  such  an  air  as  was  most  proper  to 
that  end.  And  his  remove  was  to  Dauntsey  in  Wiltshire,  a  noble 
house,  which  stands  in  a  choice  air ;  the  owner  of  it  then  was 
the  Lord  Danvers,  Earl  of  Danby,  who  loved  Mr.  Herbert  so 
very  much,  that  he  allowed  him  such  an  apartment  in  it,  as  might 
best  suit  with  his  accommodation  and  liking.  And  in  this  place, 
by  a  spare  diet,  declining  all  perplexing  studies,  moderate  exer- 
cise, and  a  cheerful  conversation,  his  health  was  apparently  im- 
proved to  a  good  degree  of  strength  and  cheerfulness.  And  then 
he  declared  his  resolution  both  to  marry,  and  to  enter  into  the  Sa- 
cred Orders  of  Priesthood.  These  had  long  been  the  desires  of 
his   Mother,  and   his  other   relations;   but  she  lived   not   to  see 


MR.    GEORGE   HERBERT.  279 

either,  for  she  died  in  the  year  1627.  And  though  he  was  dis- 
obedient to  her  about  Layton  Church,  yet,  in  conformity  to  her 
will,  he  kept  his  Orator's  place  till  after  her  death,  and  then  pres- 
ently declined  it ;  and  the  more  willingly,  that  he  might  be  suc- 
ceeded by  his  friend  Robert  Creighton,*  who  now  is  Dr.  Creigh- 
ton,  and  the  worthy  Bishop  of  Wells. 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  his  marriage ;  in  order  to  which,  it  will 
be  convenient  that  I  first  give  the  Reader  a  short  view  of  his  per- 
son, and  then  an  account  of  his  wife,  and  of  some  circumstances 
concerning  both. — He  was  for  his  person  of  a  stature  inclining 
towards  tallness  ;  his  body  was  very  straight,  and  so  far  from 
being  cumbered  with  too  much  flesh,  that  he  was  lean  to  an  ex- 
tremity. His  aspect  was  cheerful,  and  his  speech  and  motion  did 
both  declare  him  a  gentleman  ;  for  they  were  all  so  meek  and  obli- 
ging, that  they  purchased  love  and  respect  from  all  that  knew  him. 

These,  and  his  other  visible  virtues,  begot  him  much  love  from 
a  gentleman  of  a  noble  fortune,  and  a  near  kinsman  to  his  friend 
the  Earl  of  Danby  ;  namely,  from  Mr.  Charles  Danvers  of  Bain- 
ton,  in  the  County  of  Wilts,  Esq.  This  Mr.  Danvers  having 
known  him  long,  and  familiarly,  did  so  much  affect  him,  that  he 
often  and  publicly  declared  a  desire,  that  Mr.  Herbert  would 
marry  any  of  his  nine  daughters, — for  he  had  so  many, — but  ra- 
ther his  daughter  Jane  than  any  other,  because  Jane  was  his  be- 
loved daus^hter.  And  he  had  often  said  the  same  to  Mr.  Herbert 
himself;  and  that  if  he  could  like  her  for  a  wife,  and  she  him  for 
a  husband,  Jane  should  have  a  double  blessing  :  and  Mr.  Dan- 
vers had  so  often  said  the  like  to  Jane,  and  so  much  commended 
Mr.  Herbert  to  her,  that  Jane  became  so  much  a  platonic,  as  to 
fall  in  love  with  Mr.  Herbert  unseen. 

This  was  a  fair  preparation  for  a  marriage  ;  but,  alas !  her  fa- 
ther died  before  Mr.  Herbert's  retirement  to  Dauntsey  :  yet  some 
friends  to  both  parties  procured  their  meeting ;  at  which  time  a 
mutual  affection  entered  into  both  their  hearts,  as  a  conqueror  en- 

*  A  native  of  Scotland,  educated  at  Westminster  School  and  Trinity  Col- 
lege Cambridge,  afterwards  Greek  Professor  of  the  University.  During  the 
Civil  Wars,  lie  suffered  extremely  for  the  Royal  Cause,  and  was  an  exile  with 
Charles  II.  who  gave  him  the  Deanery  of  Wells  on  the  Restoration,  and  in 
1G70,  he  7/as  made  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells.     He  died  in  1672. 


SSD  THE  LIFE  OF 


ters  into  a  surprised  city :  and  love  having  got  such  possession, 
governed,  and  made  there  such  laws  and  resolutions,  as  neither 
party  was  able  to  resist ;  insomuch,  that  she  changed  lier  name 
into  Herbert  the  third  day  after  this  first  interview. 

This  haste  might  in  others  be  thought  a  love-frenzy,  or  worse  ; 
but  it  was  not,  for  they  had  wooed  so  like  princes,  as  to  have  se- 
lect proxies ;  such  as  were  true  friends  to  both  parties,  such  as 
well  understood  Mr.  Herbert's  and  her  temper  of  mind,  and  also 
their  estates,  so  well  before  this  interview,  that  the  suddenness 
was  justifiable  by  the  strictest  rules  of  prudence  ;  and  the  more, 
because  it  proved  so  happy  to  both  parties  ;  for  the  eternal  lover 
of  mankind  made  them  happy  in  each  other's  mutual  and  equal 
aflTections,  and  compliance ;  indeed,  so  happy,  that  there  never 
was  any  opposition  betwixt  them,  unless  it  were  a  contest  which 
should  most  incline  to  a  compliance  with  the  other's  desires.  And 
though  this  begot,  and  continued  in  them,  such  a  mutual  love,  and 
joy,  and  content,  as  was  no  way  defective  ;  yet  this  mutual  content, 
and  love,  and  joy,  did  receive  a  daily  augmentation,  by  such  daily 
obligingness  to  each  other,  as  still  added  such  new  affluences  to 
the  former  fulness  of  these  divine  souls,  as  was  only  improveable 
in  Heaven,  where  they  now  enjoy  it. 

About  three  months  after  this  marriage.  Dr.  Curie,  who  was 
then  Rector  of  Bemerton,  in  Wiltshire,  was  made  Bishop  of  Bath 
and  Wells,  and  not  long  after  translated  to  Winchester,  and  by 
that  means  the  presentation  of  a  Clerk  to  Bemerton  did  not  fall  to 
the  Earl  of  Pembroke — who  was  the  undoubted  Patron  of  it, — 
but  to  the  King,  by  reason  of  Dr.  Curie's  advancement :  but 
Philip,  then  Earl  of  Pembroke, — for  William  was  lately  dead — 
requested  the  King  to  bestow  it  upon  his  kinsman  George  Herbert ; 
and  the  King  said,  "  Most  willingly  to  Mr.  Herbert,  if  it  be 
worth  his  acceptance  f  and  the  Earl  as  willingly  and  suddenly 
sent  it  him,  without  seekinc^.  But  thou!]^h  Mr.  Herbert  had  for- 
merly  put  on  a  resolution  for  the  Clergy  ;  yet,  at  receiving  this 
presentation,  the  apprehension  of  the  last  great  account,  that  he 
was  to  make  for  the  cure  of  so  many  souls,  made  him  fast  and 
pray  often,  and  consider  for  not  less  than  a  month  :  in  which  time 
he  had  some  resolutions  to  decline  both  the  Priesthood,  and  that 
living.     And  in  this  time  of  considering,  "  he  endured,"  as  he 


MR.   GEORGE  HERBERT.  281 

would  often  say,  "  such  spiritual  conflicts,  as  none  can  think,  but 
only  those  that  have  endured  them." 

In  the  midst  of  these  conflicts,  his  old  and  dear  friend,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur Woodnot,  took  a  journey  to  salute  him  at  Bainton, — where 
he  then  was  with  his  wife's  friends  and  relations — and  was  joyful 
to  be  an  eye-witness  of  his  health  and  happy  marriage.  And 
"after  they  had  rejoiced  together  some  few  days,  they  took  a 
journey  to  Wilton,  the  famous  seat  of  the  Earls  of  Pembroke  ;  at 
which  time  the  King,  the  Earl,  and  the  whole  Court  were  there,  or 
at  Salisbury,  which  is  near  to  it.  And  at  this  time  Mr.  Herbert 
presented  his  thanks  to  the  Earl,  for  his  presentation  to  Bemerton, 
but  had  not  yet  resolved  to  accept  it,  and  told  him  the  reason  why  : 
but  that  night,  the  Earl  acquainted  Dr.  Laud,  then  Bishop  of 
London,  and  after  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  his  kinsman's 
irresolution.  And  the  Bishop  did  the  next  day  so  convince  Mr. 
Herbert,  that  the  refusal  of  it  was  a  sin,  that  a  tailor  was  sent 
for  to  come  speedily  from  Salisbury  to  Wilton,  to  take  measure, 
and  make  him  canonical  clothes  against  next  day  ;  which  the 
tailor  did  :  and  Mr.  Herbert  being  so  habited,  went  with  his  pre- 
sentation to  the  learned  Dr.  Davenant,*  who  was  then  Bishop  of 
Salisbury,  and  he  gave  him  institution  immediately, — for  Mr. 
Herbert  had  been  made  Deacon  some  years  before, — and  he  was 
also  the  same  day — which  was  April  26th  1630, — inducted  into 
the  good,  and  more  pleasant  than  healthful,  Parsonage  of  Bemer- 
ton ;   which  is  a  mile  from  Salisbury. 

I  have  now  brought  him  to  the  Parsonage  of  Bemerton,f  and  to 
the  thirty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and  must  stop  here,  and  bespeak 
the  Reader  to  prepare  for  an  almost  incredible  story,  of  the  great 
sanctity  of  the  short  remainder  of  his  holy  life  ;  a  life  so  full  of 


*  He  was,  in  1609,  Lady  Margaret's  Professor  of  Divinity  at  Cambridge, 
and  in  1621,  Bishop  of  Salisburj^  He  was  appointed  by  James  I.  to  attend 
the  Synod  of  Dort,  and  his  endeavours  to  effect  an  union  between  the  reformed 
Churches  were  zealous  and  sincere.     He  died  in  1641. 

t  The  House  and  grounds  of  this  Rectory  were  in  the  same  state  as  in  the 
time  of  Herbert,  when  the  late  Archdeacon  Coxe  was  presented  to  the  living; 
the  principal  part  of  the  former  was  single,  vAih  small  windows,  and  the  river 
Neder  flowed  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden.  Bemerton  is  two  miles  west  by 
north  of  Salisbury,  and  the  Church  is  dedicated  to  St.  Andrew. 


282  THE  LIFE  OF 


charity,  humility,  and  all  Christian  virtues,  that  it  deserves  the 
eloquence  of  St.  Chrysostom  to  commend  and  declare  it :  a  life  : 
that  if  it  were  related  by  a  pen  like  his,  there  would  then  be  no 
need  for  this  age  to  look  back  into  times  past  for  the  examples  of 

\'prmiitive_piety :  for  they  might  be  all  found  in  the  life  of  George 
Herbert.  But  now,  alas  !  who  is  fit  to  undertake  it  ?  I  confess 
I  am  not ;  and  am  not  pleased  with  myself  that  I  must ;  and  pro- 
fess myself  amazed,  when  I  consider  how  few  of  the  Clergy  lived 
like  him  then,  and  how  many  live  so  unlike  him  now.  But  it 
becomes  not  me  to  censure  :  my  design  is  ratlier  to  assure  the 
Reader,  that  I  have  used  very  great  diligence  to  inform  myself, 
that  I  might  inform  him  of  the  truth  of  what  follows  ;  and  though 
I  cannot  adorn  it  with  eloquence,  yet  I  will  do  it  with  sincerity." 
When  at  his  induction  he  Vv'as  shut  into  Bemerton  Church, 
being  left  there  alone  to  toll  the  bell, — as  the  Lav/  requires  him, — 
he  staid  so  much  longer  than  an  ordinary  time,  before  he  returned 
to  those  friends  that  staid  expecting  him  at  the  Church-door,  that 

A  his  friend  Mr.  Woodnot  looked  in  at  the  Church-window,  and  saw 
him  lie  prostrate  on  the  ground  before  the  Altar ;  at  which  time 
and  place — as  he  after  told  Mr.  Woodnot — he  set  some  rules  to 
himself,  for  the  future  manage  of  his  life ;  and  then  and  there 
made  a  vow  to  labour  to  keep  them. 

And  the  same  night  that  he  had  his  induction,  he  said  to  Mr. 
Woodnot,  "  I  now  look  back  upon  my  aspiring  thoughts,  and 
think  myself  more  happy  than  if  I  had  attained  what  then  I  so 
ambitiously  thirsted  for.  And  J  now  can  behold  the  Court  with 
an  impartial  eye,  and  see  plainly  that  it  is  made  up  of  fraud  and 
titles,  and  flattery,  and  many  other  such  empty,  imaginary, 
painted  pleasures ;  pleasures  that  are  so  empty,  as  not  to  satisfy 
when  they  are  enjoyed.  But  in  God,  and  his  service,  is  a  fulness 
of  all  joy  and  pleasure,  and  no  satiety.  And  I  will  now  use  all 
my  endeavours  to  bring  my  relations  and  dependents  to  a  love 
and  reliance  on  Him,  who  never  fails  those  that  trust  him. 
But  above  all,  I  will  be  sure  to  live  well,  because  the  virtuous 
life  of  a  Clergyman  is  the  most  powerful  eloquence  to  persuade 
all  that  see  it  to  reverence  and  love,  and  at  least  to  desire  to  live 
like  him.  And  this  I  will  do,  because  I  know  we  live  in  an  age 
that  hath  more  need  of  good  examples  than  precepts.     And  I  be- 


MB.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  283 

seech  that  God,  who  hath  honoured  me  so  much  as  to  call  me  to 
serve  him  at  his  altar,  that  as  by  his  special  grace  he  hath  put 
into  my  heart  these  good  desires  and  resolutions  ;  so  he  will,  by 
his  assisting  grace,  give  mo  ghostly  strength  to  bring  the  same  to 
good  effect.  And  I  beseech  him,  that  my  humble  and  charitable 
life  may  so  win  upon  others,  as  to  bring  glory  to  my  Jesus,  whom 
I  have  this  day  taken  to  be  my  Master  and  Governor ;  and  I  am 
so  proud  of  his  service,  that  I  will  always  observe,  and  obey,  and 
do  his  will  ;  and  always  call  him  Jesus  my  Master ;  and  I  will 
always  contemn  my  birth,  or  any  title  or  dignity  that  can  be  con- 
ferred upon  me,  when  I  shall  compare  them  with  my  title  of  being 
a  Priest,  and  serving  at  the  Altar  of  Jesus  my  Master.''  — -^ 

And  that  he  did  so,  may  appear  in  many  parts  of  his  book  of 
Sacred  Poems  :  especially  in  that  which  he  calls  "  The  Odour," 
In  which  he  seems  to  rejoice  in  the  thoughts  of  that  word  Jesus, 
and  say,  that  the  adding  these  words,  my  Master,  to  it,  and  the 
often  repetition  of  them,  seemed  to  perfume  his  mind,  and  leave 
an  oriental  fragrance  in  his  very  breath.  And  for  his  unforced 
choice  to  serve  at  God's  altar,  he  seems  in  another  place  of  his 
poems,  "The  Pearl,"  (Matth.  xiii.  45,  46,)  to  rejoice  and  say — 
"  He  knew  the  ways  of  learning ;  knew  what  nature  does  will- 
ingly, and  what,  when  it  is  forced  by  fire ;  knew  the  ways  of 
honour,  and  when  glory  inclines  the  soul  to  noble  expressions  : 
knew  the  Court;  knew  the  ways  of  pleasure,  of  love,  of  wit,  of 
music,  and  upon  what  terms  he  declined  all  these  for  the  service 
of  his  Master  Jesus  ;"  and  then  concludes,  saying. 

That,  through  these  labyrinths,  not  my  grovelling  wit, 

But  thy  silk  twist,  let  down  from  Heaven  to  me, 
Bid  both  conduct,  and  teach  me,  how  by  it 

To  climb  to  thee. 

The  third  day  after  he  was  made  Rector  of  Bemerton,  and  had 
changed  his  sword  and  silk  clothes  into  a  canonical  coat,  he  re- 
turned so  habited  with  his  friend  Mr.  Woodnot  to  Bainton  ;  and 
immediately  after  he  had  seen  and  saluted  his  wife,  he  said  to 
her — "  You  are  now  a  Minister's  v/ife,  and  must  now  so  far  for- 
get your  father's  house,  as  not  to  claim  a  precedence  of  any  of 


284  THE  LIFE  OF 


your  parishioners ;  for  you  are  to  know,  that  a  Priest's  wife  can 
challenge  no  precedence  or  place,  but  that  which  she  purchases 
by  her  obliging  humility ;  and  I  am  sure,  places  so  purchased  do 
best  become  them.  And  let  me  tell  you,  that  I  am  so  good  a 
Herald,  as  to  assure  you  that  this  is  truth."  And  she  was  so 
meek  a  wife,  as  to  assure  him,  "  it  was  no  vexing  news  to  her, 
and  that  he  should  see  her  observe  it  with  a  cheerful  willingness." 
And,  indeed,  her  unforced  humility,  that  humility  that  was  in 
her  so  original,  as  to  be  born  with  her,  made  her  so  happy  as  to 
do  so ;  and  her  doing  so  begot  her  an  unfeigned  love,  and  a  ser- 
viceable respect  from  all  that  conversed  with  her;  and  this  love 
followed  her  in  all  places,  as  inseparably  as  shadows  follow  sub- 
stances in  sunshine. 

It  was  not  many  days  before  he  returned  back  to  Bemerton,  to 
view  the  Church,  and  repair  the  Chancel :  and  indeed  to  rebuild 
almost  three  parts  of  his  house,  which  was  fallen  down,  or  decay- 
ed by  reason  of  his  predecessor's  living  at  a  better  Parsonage- 
house  ;  namely,  at  Minal,  sixteen  or  twenty  miles  from  this  place. 
At  which  time  of  Mr.  Herbert's  coming  alone  to  Bemerton,  there 
came  to  him  a  poor  old  woman,  with  an  intent  to  acquaint  him 
with  her  necessitous  condition,  as  also  with  some  troubles  of  her 
mind :  but  after  she  had  spoke  some  few  words  to  him,  she  was 
surprised  with  a  fear,  and  that  begot  a  shortness  of  breath,  so  that 
her  spirits  and  speech  failed  her  ;  which  he  perceiving,  did  so 
compassionate  her,  and  was  so  humble,  that  he  took  her  by  the 
hand,  and  said,  "  Speak,  good  mother ;  be  not  afraid  to  speak  to 
me ;  for  I  am  a  man  that  will  hear  you  with  patience ;  and  will 
relieve  your  necessities  too,  if  I  be  able  :  and  this  I  will  do  will- 
ingly ;  and  therefore,  mother,  be  not  afraid  to  acquaint  me  with 
what  you  desire."  After  which  comfortable  speech,  he  again 
took  her  by  the  hand,  made  her  sit  down  by  him,  and  understand- 
ing she  was  of  his  parish,  he  told  her  "  He  would  be  acquainted 
with  her,  and  take  her  into  his  care."  And  having  with  patience 
heard  and  understood  her  v/ants, — and  it  is  some  relief  for  a  poor 
body  to  be  but  heard  with  patience, — he,  like  a  Christian  Clergy- 
man, comforted  her  by  his  meek  behaviour  and  counsel ;  but  be- 
cause that  cost  him  nothing,  he  relieved  her  with  money  too,  and 
so  sent  her  home  with  a  cheerful  heart,  praising  God,  and  pray- 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  285 

ing  for  him.  Thus  worthy,  and — like  David's  blessed  man — 
thus  lowly,  was  Mr.  George  Herbert  in  his  own  eyes,  and  thus 
lovely  in  the  eyes  of  others. 

At  his  return  that  night  to  his  wife  at  Bainton,  he  gave  her  an 
account  of  the  passages  betwixt  him  and  the  poor  woman ;  with 
which  she  was  so  affected,  that  she  went  next  day  to  Salisbury, 
and  there  bought  a  pair  of  blankets,  and  sent  them  as  a  token  of 
iier  love  to  the  poor  woman  :  and  with  them  a  message,  "  That 
she  would  see  and  be  acquainted  with  her,  when  her  house  was 
built  at  Bemerton." 

There  be  many  such  passages  both  of  him  and  his  wife,  of 
which  some  few  will  be  related  :  but  I  shall  first  tell,  that  he 
hasted  to  get  the  Parish-Church  repaired  ;  then  to  beautify  the 
Chapel, — which  stands  near  his  house, — and  that  at  his  own  great 
charge.  He  then  proceeded  to  rebuild  the  greatest  part  of  the 
Parsonage-house,  which  he  did  also  very  completely,  and  at  his 
own  charge  ;  and  having  done  this  good  work,  he  caused  these 
verses  to  be  writ  upon,  or  engraven  in,  the  mantle  of  the  chimney 
in  his  hall. 

TO    MY    SUCCESSOR. 

If  thou  chance  for  to  find 

A  new  house  to  thy  mind, 
And  huilt  without  thy  cost  ; 

Be  good  to  the  poor, 

As  God  gives  thee  store, 
And  then  my  labour^ s  not  lost. 

We  will  now,  by  the  Reader's  favour,  suppose  him  fixed  at 
Bemerton,  and  grant  him  to  have  seen  the  Church  repaired,  and 
the  Chapel  belonging  to  it  very  decently  adorned  at  his  own  great 
charge,  which  is  a  real  truth  ; — and  having  now  fixed  him  there, 
I  shall  proceed  to  give  an  account  of  the  rest  of  his  behaviour, 
both  to  his  parishioners,  and  those  many  others  that  knew  and 
conversed  with  him. 

Doubtless  Mr.  Herbert  had  considered,  and  given  rules  to  him- 
self for  his  Christian  carriage  both  to  God  and  man,  before  he  en- 
tered into  Holy  Orders.     And  'tis  not  unlike,  but  that  he  renewed 


286  THE   LIFE   OF 


those  resolutions  at  his  prostration  before  the  holy  altar,  at  his  in- 
duction into  the  Church  of  Bemerton :  but  as  yet  he  was  but  a 
Deacon,  and  therefore  longed  for  the  next  Ember- week,  that  he 
might  be  ordained  Priest,  and  made  capable  of  administering  both 
the  Sacraments.  At  which  time  the  reverend  Dr.  Humphrey 
Henchman,*  now  Lord  Bishop  of  London, — who  does  not  mention 
him  but  with  some  veneration  for  his  life  and  excellent  learning, 
— tells  me,  "  He  laid  his  hand  on  Mr.  Herbert's  head,  and,  alas ! 
within  less  than  three  years,  lent  his  shoulder  to  carry  his  dear 
friend  to  his  grave." 

And  that  Mr.  Herbert  might  the  better  preserve  those  holy  rules 
which  such  a  Priest  as  he  intended  to  be,  ought  to  observe ;  and 
that  time  might  not  insensibly  blot  them  out  of  his  memory,  but 
that  the  next  year  might  shew  him  his  variations  from  this  year's 
resolutions;  he  therefore  did  set  down  his  rules,  then  resolved 
upon,  in  that  order  as  the  world  now  sees  them  printed  in  a  little 
book,  called  "  The  Country  Parson  ;"  in  which  some  of  his  rules 
are  : 


The.  Parsoii's  knoidedge.  The  Parson  condescending. 

The  Parson  on  Sundays.  The  Parson  in  his  journey. 

The  Parson  praying.  The  Parson  in  his  mirth. 

The  Parson  -preaching.  The  Parson  with  his  Church- 
The  Parson's  charity.  wardens. 

The  Parson  contforting  the  sick.  The  Parson  blessing  the  peo- 
The  Parson  arguing.  pie. 

And  his  behaviour  towards  God  and  man  may  be  said  to  be  a 
practical  comment  on  these,  and  the  other  holy  rules  set  down  in 
that  useful  book  :  a  book  so  full  of  plain,  prudent,  and  useful  rules, 
that  that  Country  Parson,  that  can  spare  twelve-pence,  and  yet 
wants  it,  is  scarce  excusable  ;  because  it  will  both  direct  him 
what  he  ought  to  do,  and  convince  him  for  not  having  done  it. 

*  At  the  time  Dr.  Henchman  was  Prebendary  of  SaHsbury,  of  which  See 
he  became  Bishop  in  1660,  and  in  166.3  he  was  removed  to  London.  He  was 
much  esteemed  by  King  Charles  IL,  whose  escape  at  tlie  battle  of  Worcester 
he  was  very  instrumental  in  promoting  ;  but  when  the  declaration  for  liberty 
of  conscience  was  published  in  1671-72,  this  Prelate  was  not  afraid  of  the 
King's  displeasure,  but  enjoined  his  Clergy  to  {)reach  against  Popery. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  287 

At  the  death  of  Mr.  Herbert,  this  book  fell  into  the  hands  of  his 
friend  Mr.  Woodnot ;  and  he  commended  it  into  the  trusty  hands 
of  Mr.  Barnabas  Oley,*  who  published  it  with  a  most  conscien- 
tious and  excellent  preface  ;  from  which  I  have  had  some  of  those 
trutlis,  that  are  related  in  this  life  of  Mr.  Herbert.  The  text  of 
his  first  Sermon  was  taken  out  of  Solomon's  Proverbs,  chap.  iv. 
23,  and  the  words  were,  "  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence."  In 
which  first  Sermon  he  gave  his  Parishioners  many  necessary^  holy, 
safe  rules  for  the  discharge  of  a  good  conscience,  both  to  God  and 
man ;  and  delivered  his  Sermon  after  a  most  florid  manner,  both 
with  great  learning  and  eloquence  ;  but,  at  the  close  of  this  Ser- 
mon, told  them,  "  That  should  not  be  his  constant  way  of  preach- 
ing ;  for  since  Almighty  God  does  not  intend  to  lead  men  to 
Heaven  by  hard  questions,  he  would  not  therefore  fill  their  heads 
with  unnecessary  notions ;  but  that,  for  their  sakes,  his  language 
and  his  expressions  should  be  more  plain  and  practical  in  his  fu- 
ture sermons."  And  he  then  made  it  his  humble  request,  "  That 
they  would  be  constant  to  the  Afternoon's  Service,  and  Catechi- 
sinn- :"  and  shewed  them  convincing  reasons  why  he  desired  it ; 
and  his  obliging  example  and  persuasions  brought  them  to  a  will- 
ing  comformity  to  his  desires. 

The  texts  for  all  his  future  sermons — which  God  knows,  were 
not  many — were  constantly  taken  out  of  the  Gospel  for  the  day ; 
and  he  did  as  constantly  declare  why  the  Church  did  appoint  that  j 
portion  of  Scripture  to  be  that  day  read  ;  and  in  v/hat  manner  the  '■ 
Collect  for  every  Sunday  does  refer  to  the  Gospel,  or  to  the  Epis- 
tle then  read  to  them  ;  and,  that  they  might  pray  with  understand- 
ing, he  did  usually  take  occasion  to  explain,  not  only  the  Collect 
for  every  particular  Sunday,  but  the  reasons  of  all  the  other  Col- 
lects and  Responses  in  our  Church-service ;  and  made  it  appear 
to  them,  that  the  whole  service  of  the  Church  was  a  reasonable, 
and  therefore  an  acceptable  sacrifice  to  God  :  as  namely,  that  we 
begin  with  "  Confession  of  ourselves  to  be  vile,  miserable  sinners  ;" 
and  that  we  begin  so,  because,  till  we  have  confessed  ourselves  to 
be  such,  we  are  not  capable  of  that  mercy  which  we  acknowledge 
we  need,  and  pray  for :  but  having,  in  the  prayer  of  our  Lord, 

*  A  private  Clergyman  of  Clare  Hall,  Cambridge,  who  sufiered  much  for 
his  gallant  devotion  to  the  cause  of  his  King,  Charles  I. 


288  THE   LIFE   OF 


begged  pardon  for  those  sins  which  we  have  confessed  ;  and  ho- 
ping, that  as  the  Priest  hath  declared  our  absolution,  so  by  our 
public  confession,  and  real  repentance,  we  have  obtained  that 
pardon ;  then  we  dare  and  do  proceed  to  beg  of  the  Lord,  "  to 
open  our  lips,  that  our  mouth  may  shew  forth  his  praise ;"  for  till 
then  we  are  neither  able  nor  worthy  to  praise  him.  But  this  be- 
ing supposed,  we  are  then  fit  to  say,  "  Glory  be  to  the  Father, 
and  to  the  Son,  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost;"  and  fit  to  proceed  to  a 
further  service  of  our  God,  in  the  Collects,  and  Psalms,  and  Lauds, 
that  follow  in  the  service. 

And  as  to  these  Psalms  and  Lauds,  he  proceeded  to  inform  them 
why  they  were  so  often,  and  some  of  them  daily,  repeated  in  our 
Church-service ;  namely,  the  Psalms  every  month,  because  they 
be  an  historical  and  thankful  repetition  of  mercies  past,  and  such 
a  composition  of  prayers  and  praises,  as  ought  to  be  repeated  of- 
ten, and  publicly  ;  for  with  such  sacrifice  God  is  honoured  and 
well-pleased.     This  for  the  Psalms. 

And  for  the  Plymns  and  Lauds  appointed  to  be  daily  repeated 
or  sung  after  the  first  and  second  Lessons  are  read  to  the  congre- 
gation ;  he  proceeded  to  inform  them,  that  it  was  most  reasonable, 
after  they  have  heard  the  will  and  goodness  of  God  declared  or 
preached  by  the  Priest  in  his  reading  the  two  chapters,  that  it  was 
then  a  seasonable  duty  to  rise  up,  and  express  their  gratitude  to 
Almighty  God,  for  those  his  mercies  to  them,  and  to  all  mankind  ; 
and  then  to  say  with  the  Blessed  Virgin,  "  that  their  souls  do  mag- 
nify the  Lord,  and  that  their  spirits  do  also  rejoice  in  God  their 
Saviour:"  and  that  it  was  their  duty  also  to  rejoice  with  Simeon 
in  his  song,  and  say  with  him,  "  That  their  eyes  have"  also  "seen 
their  salvation  ;"  for  they  have  seen  that  salvation  which  was  but 
prophesied  till  his  time :  and  he  then  broke  out  into  those  expres- 
sions of  joy  that  he  did  see  it;  but  they  live  to  see  it  daily  in  the 
history  of  it,  and  therefore  ought  daily  to  rejoice,  and  daily  to  of- 
fer up  their  sacrifices  of  praise  to  their  God,  for  that  particular 
mercy.  A  service,  which  is  now  the  constant  employment  of 
that  Blessed  Virgin  and  Simeon,  and  all  those  blessed  Saints  that 
are  possessed  of  Heaven :  and  where  they  are  at  this  time  inter- 
changeably and  constantly  singing,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  ; 
glory  be  to  God  on  high,  and  on  earth  peace."     And  he  taught 


MR.  GEORGE  HERBERT.  289 


them,  that  to  do  this  was  an  acceptable  service  to  God,  because 
the  Prophet  David  says  in  his  Psalms,  "  He  that  praiseth  the 
Lord  honoureth  him." 

He  made  them  to  understand  how  happy  they  be  that  are  freed 
from  the  incumbrances  of  that  law  which  our  forefathers  groaned 
under  :  namely,  from  the  legal  sacrifices,  and  from  the  many 
ceremonies  of  the  Levitical  law  ;  freed  from  Circumcision,  and 
from  the  strict  observation  of  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  and  the  like. 
And  he  made  them  know,  that  having  received  so  many  and  so 
great  blessings,  by  being  born  since  the  days  of  our  Saviour,  it 
must  be  an  acceptable  sacrifice  to  Almighty  God,  for  them  to  ac- 
knowledge those  blessings  daily,  and  stand  up  and  worship,  and 
say  as  Zacharias  did,  "Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  for 
he  hath — in  our  days — visited  and  redeemed  his  people  ;  and — 
he  hath  in  our  days — remembered,  and  shewed  that  mercy,  which 
by  the  mouth  of  the  Prophets,  he  promised  to  our  forefathers  ; 
and  this  he  hath  done  according  to  his  holy  covenant  made  with 
them."  And  he  made  them  to  understand  that  we  live  to  see  and 
enjoy  the  benefit  of  it,  in  his  Birth,  in  his  Life,  his  Passion,  his 
Resurrection,  and  Ascension  into  Heaven,  where  he  now  sits  sen- 
sible of  all  our  temptations  and  infirmities  ;  and  where  he  is  at 
this  present  time  making  intercession  for  us,  to  his  and  our  Fa- 
ther :  and  therefore  they  ought  daily  to  express  their  public  grat- 
ulations,  and  say  daily  with  Zacharias,  "Blessed  be  the  Lord 
God  of  Israel,  that  hath  thus  visited  and  thus  redeemed  his  peo- 
ple."— These  were  some  of  the  reasons,  by  which  Mr.  Herbert 
instructed  his  congregation  for  the  use  of  the  Psalms  and  Hymns 
appointed  to  be  daily  sung  or  said  in  the  Church-service. 

He  informed  them  also,  when  the  Priest  did  pray  only  for  the 
congregation,  and  not  for  himself;  and  when  they  did  only  pray 
for  him  ;  as  namely,  after  the  repetition  of  the  Creed  before  he 
proceeds  to  pray  the  Lord's  Prayer,  or  any  of  the  appointed  Col- 
lects, the  Priest  is  directed  to  kneel  down,  and  pray  for  them,  say- 
ing, "  The  Lord  be  with  you  ;"  and  when  they  pray  for  him,  say- 
ing, "  And  with  thy  spirit ;"  and  then  they  join  together  in  the 
following  Collects :  and  he  assured  them,  that  when  there  is  such 
mutual  love,  and  such  joint  prayers  oflered  for  each  other,  then 
the  holy  Angels  look  down  from  Heaven,  and  are  ready  to  carry 


290  THE   LIFE  OF 


such  charitable  desires  to  God  Almighty,  and  he  as  ready  to  re- 
ceive them  ;  and  that  a  Christian  congregation  calling  thus  upon 
God  with  one  heart,  and  one  voice,  and  in  one  reverent  and  hum- 
ble posture,  looks  as  beautifully  as  Jerusalem,  that  is  at  peace 
with  itself. 

He  instructed  them  also  why  the  prayer  of  our  Lord  was 
prayed  often  in  every  full  service  of  the  Church ;  namely,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  several  parts  of  that  service  ;  and  prayed  then, 
not  only  because  it  was  composed  and  commanded  by  our  Jesus 
that  made  it,  but  as  a  perfect  pattern  for  our  less  perfect  forms  of 
prayer,  and  therefore  fittest  to  sum  up  and  conclude  all  our  im- 
perfect pethions. 

He  instructed  them  also,  that  as  by  the  second  Commandment 
we  are  required  not  to  bow  down,  or  worship  an  idol,  or  false  God ; 
so,  by  the  contrary  rule,  we  are  to  bow  down  and  kneel,  or  stand 
up  and  worship  the  true  God.  And  he  instructed  them  why  the 
Church  required  the  congregation  to  stand  up  at  the  repetition  of 
the  Creeds  ;  namely,  because  they  thereby  declare  both  their  obe- 
dience to  the  Church,  and  an  assent  to  that  faith  into  which  they 
had  been  baptized.  And  he  taught  them,  that  in  that  shorter 
Creed  or  Doxology,  so  often  repeated  daily,  they  also  stood  up  to 
testify  their  belief  to  be,  that  "  the  God  that  they  trusted  in  was 
one  God,  and  three  persons ;  the  Father,  the  Son  and  the  Holy 
Ghost;  to  whom  they  and  the  Priest  gave  glory."  And  because 
there  had  been  heretics  that  had  denied  some  of  those  three  persons 
to  be  God,  therefore  the  congregation  stood  up  and  honoured  him, 
by  confessing  and  saying,  "  It  was  so  in  the  beginning,  is  now  so, 
and  shall  ever  be  so  world  without  end."  And  all  gave  their  as- 
seot  to  this  belief,  by  standing  up  and  saying.  Amen. 

He  instructed  them  also  what  benefit  they  had  by  the  Church's 
appointing  the  celebration  of  holidays  and  the  excellent  use  of 
them,  namely,  that  they  were  set  apart  for  particular  commemo- 
rations of  particular  mercies  received  from  Almighty  God  ;  and 
— as  reverend  Mr.  Hooker  sa5''s — to  be  the  landmarks  to  distin- 
guish times ;  for  by  them  we  are  taught  to  take  notice  how  time 
passes  by  us,  and  that  we  ought  not  to  let  the  years  pass  without 
a  celebration  of  praise  for  those  mercies  which  those  days  give  us 
occasion  to  remember,  and  therefore  they  were  to  note  that  the 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  291 

year  is  appointed  to  begin  the  25th  day  of  March ;  a  day  in 
which  we  commemorate  the  Angel's  appearing  to  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin,  with  the  joyful  tidings  that  "  she  should  conceive  and  bear  a 
son,  that  should  be  the  Redeemer  of  mankind."  And  she  did  so 
forty  weeks  after  this  joyful  salutation  ;  namely,  at  our  Christ- 
mas ;  a  day  in  which  we  commemorate  his  Birth  with  joy  and 
praise  ;  and  that  eight  days  after  this  happy  birth  we  celebrate 
his  Circumcision  ;  namely,  in  that  which  we  call  New-year's  day. 
And  that,  upon  that  day  which  we  call  Twelfth-day,  we  com- 
memorate the  manifestation  of  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Jesus 
to  the  Gentiles :  and  that  that  day  we  also  celebrate  the  memory 
of  his  goodness  in  sending  a  star  to  guide  the  three  Wise  Men 
from  the  East  to  Bethlehem,  that  they  might  there  worship,  and 
present  him  with  their  oblations  of  gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh. 
And  he — Mr.  Herbert — instructed  them,  that  Jesus  was  forty 
days  after  his  birth  presented  by  his  blessed  Mother  in  the  Tern- 
pie  ;  namely,  on  that  day  which  we  call,  "  The  Purification  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  Saint  Mary.'"  And  he  instructed  them,  that  by  the 
Lent-fast  we  imitate  and  commemorate  our  Saviour's  humiliation 
in  fasting  forty  days  ;  and  that  we  ought  to  endeavour  to  be  like 
him  in  purity  :  and  that  on  Good  Friday  we  commemorate  and 
condole  his  Crucifixion  ;  and  at  Easter  commemorate  his  glorious 
Resurrection.  And  he  taught  them,  that  after  Jesus  had  mani- 
fested himself  to  his  Disciples  to  be  "  that  Christ  that  was  cruci- 
fied, dead  and  buried  ;"  and  by  his  appearing  and  conversing 
with  his  Disciples  for  the  space  of  forty  days  after  his  Resurrec- 
tion, he  then,  and  not  till  then,  ascended  into  Heaven  in  the  sight 
of  those  Disciples  ;  namely,  on  that  day  which  we  call  the  Ascen- 
sion, or  Holy  Thursday.  And  that  we  then  celebrate  the  per- 
formance of  the  promise  which  he  made  to  his  Disciples  at  or  be- 
fore his  Ascension;  namely,  "that  though  he  left  them,  yet  he 
would  send  them  the  Holy  Ghost  to  be  their  Comforter ;"  and 
that  he  did  so  on  that  day  which  the  Church  calls  Whitsunday. 
— Thus  the  Church  keeps  an  historical  and  circular  commemo- 
ration of  times,  as  they  pass  by  us  ;  of  such  times  as  ought  to 
incline  us  to  occasional  praises,  for  the  particular  blessings  which 
we  do,  or  might  receive,  by  those  holy  commemorations. 

He  made  them  know  also  why  the  Church  hath  appointed 


292  THE  LIFE  OF 


^ 


Ember- weeks  ;  and  to  know  the  reasons  why  the  Commandments, 
and  the  Epistles  and  Gospels,  were  to  be  read  at  the  Altar,  or 
Communion  Table  :  why  the  Priest  was  to  pray  the  Litany  kneel- 
ing ;  and  why  to  pray  some  Collects  standing :  and  he  gave  them 
many  other  observations,  fit  for  his  plain  congregation,  but  not 
fit  lor  me  now  to  mention ;  for  I  must  set  limits  to  my  pen,  and 
not  make  that  a  treatise,  which  I  intended  to  be  a  much  shorter 
account  than  I  have  made  it :  but  I  have  done,  when  I  have  told 
the  Reader,  that  he  was  constant  in  catechising  every  Sunday  in 
the  afternoon,  and  that  his  catechising  was  after  his  Second  Les- 
son, and  in  the  pulpit ;  and  that  he  never  exceeded  his  half  hour, 
and  was  always  so  happy  as  to  have  an  obedient  and  a  full  con- 
gregation. 

And  to  this  I  must  add,  that  if  he  were  at  any  time  too  zealous 
in  his  Sermons,  it  was  in  reproving  the  indecencies  of  the  people's 
behaviour  in  the  time  of  divine  service ;  and  of  those  Ministers 
that  huddle  up  the  Church-prayers,  without  a  visible  reverence 
and  affection  ;  namely,  such  as  seemed  to  say  the  Lord's  prayer, 
or  a  Collect,  in  a  breath.  But  for  himself,  his  custom  was,  to 
stop  betwixt  every  Collect,  and  give  the  people  time  to  consider 
what  they  had  prayed,  and  to  force  their  desires  affectionately  to 
God,  before  he  engaged  them  into  new  petitions. 

And  by  this  account  of  his  diligence  to  make  his  parishioners 
understand  what  they  prayed,  and  why  they  praised  and  adored 
their  Creator,  I  hope  I  shall  the  more  easily  obtain  the  Reader's 
belief  to  the  following  account  of  Mr.  Herbert's  own  practice ; 
which  was  to  appear  constantly  with  his  wife  and  three  nieces — 
the  daughters  of  a  deceased  sister — and  his  whole  family,  twice 
every  day  at  the  Church-prayers,  in  the  Chapel,  which  does 
almost  join  to  his  Parsonage-house.  And  for  the  time  of  his 
appearing,  it  was  strictly  at  the  canonical  hours  of  ten  and  four : 
and  then  and  there  he  lifted  up  pure  and  charitable  hands  to  God 
in  the  midst  of  the  congregation.  And  he  would  joy  to  have 
spent  that  time  in  that  place,  where  the  honour  of  his  Master 
Jesus  dwelleth  ;  and  there,  by  that  inward  devotion  which  ha 
testified  constantly  by  an  humble  behaviour  and  visible  adoration, 
he,  like  Joshua,  brought  not  only  "  his  own  household  thus  to 
serve  the  Lord  j"  but  brought  most  of  his  parishioners,  and  many 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  293 

gentlemen  in  the  neighbourhood,  constantly  to  make  a  part  of  his 
congregation  twice  a  day  :  and  some  of  the  meaner  sort  of  his 
parish  did  so  love  and  reverence  Mr.  Herbert,  that  they  would  let 
their  plough  rest  when  Mr.  Herbert's  Saint's-bell  rung  to  prayers, 
that  they  might  also  offer  their  devotions  to  God  with  him ;  and 
would  then  return  back  to  their  plough.  And  his  most  holy  life 
was  such,  that  it  begot  such  reverence  to  God,  and  to  him,  that 
they  thought  themselves  the  happier,  when  they  carried  Mr. 
Herbert's  blessing  back  with  them  to  their  labour.  Thus  power- 
ful was  his  reason  and  example  to  persuade  others  to  a  practical 
piety  and  devotion. 

And  his  constant  public  prayers  did  never  make  him  to  neglect 
his  own  private  devotions,  nor  those  prayers  that  he  thought  him- 
self bound  to  perform  with  his  family,  which  always  were  a  set 
form,  and  not  long  ;  and  he  did  always  conclude  them  with  that 
Collect  which  the  Church  hath  appointed  for  the  day  or  week. — 
Thus  he  made  every  day's  sanctity  a  step  towards  that  kingdom, 
where  impurity  cannot  enter. 

His  chiefest  recreation  was  Music,  in  which  heavenly  art  he 
was  a  most  excellent  master,  and  did  himself  compose  many 
divine  Hymns  and  Anthems,  which  he  set  and  sung  to  his  lute  or 
viol  :  and  though  he  was  a  lover  of  retiredness,  yet  his  love  to 
Music  was  such,  that  he  went  usually  twice  every  week,  on 
certain  appointed  days,  to  the  Cathedral  Church  in  Salisbury ; 
and  at  his  return  would  say  "  That  his  time  spent  in  prayer,  and 
Cathedral-music,  elevated  his  soul,  and  was  his  Heaven  upon 
earth."  But  before  his  return  thence  to  Bemerton,  he  would 
usually  sing  and  play  his  part  at  an  appointed  private  Music- 
meeting  ;  and,  to  justify  this  practice,  he  would  often  say,  "  Re-^ 
ligion  does  not  banish  mirth,  but  only  moderates  and  sets  rules^ 
to  it." 

And  as  his  desire  to  enjoy  his  Heaven  upon  earth  drew  him 
twice  every  week  to  Salisbury,  so  his  walks  thither  were  the 
occasion  of  many  happy  accidents  to  others  ;  of  which  I  will 
mention  some  few. 

In  one  of  his  walks  to  Salisbury,  he  overtook  a  gentleman,  that 
is  still  living  in  that  City ;  and  in  their  walk  together,  Mr.  Her- 
bert took  a  fair  occasion  to  talk  with  him,  and  humbly  begged  to 

PART  II.  9 


294  THE   LIFE   OF 


be  excused,  if  he  asked  him  some  account  of  his  faith ;  and  said, 
"  I  do  this  the  rather,  because  though  you  are  not  of  my  parish, 
yet  I  receive  tythe  from  you  by  the  hand  of  your  tenant ;  and. 
Sir,  I  am  the  bolder  to  do  it,  because  I  know  there  be  some  ser- 
mon-hearers that  be  like  those  fishes,  that  always  live  in  salt 
water,  and  3^et  are  always  fresh." 

After  which  expression,  Mr.  Herbert  asked  him  some  needful 
questions,  and  having  received  his  answer,  gave  him  such  rules 
for  the  trial  of  his  sincerity,  and  for  a  practical  piety,  and  in  so 
loving  and  meek  a  manner,  that  the  gentleman  did  so  fall  in  love 
with  him,  and  his  discourse,  that  he  would  often  contrive  to  meet 
him  in  his  walk  to  Salisbury,  or  to  attend  him  back  to  Bemerton ; 
and  still  mentions  the  name  of  Mr.  George  Herbert  with  venera- 
tion, and  still  praiseth  God  for  the  occasion  of  knowing  him. 

In  another  of  his  Salisbury  walks,  he  met  with  a  neighbour 
Minister;  and  after  some  friendly  discourse  betwixt  them,  and 
some  condolement  for  the  decay  of  piety,  and  too  general  contempt 
of  the  Clergy,  Mr.  Herbert  took  occasion  to  say, 

"  One  cure  for  these  distempers  would  be,  for  the  Clergy  them- 
selves to  keep  the  Ember-weeks  strictly,  and  beg  of  their  parish- 
ioners to  join  with  them  in  fasting  and  prayers  for  a  more  religious 
Clergy." 

And  another  cure  would  be,  for  themselves  to  restore  the  great 
and  neglected  duty  of  Catechising,  on  which  the  Salvation  of  so 
many  of  the  poor  and  ignorant  lay-people  does  depend  ;  but  prin- 
cipally, that  the  Clergy  themselves  would  be  sure  to  live  unblame- 
ably ;  and  that  the  dignified  Clergy  especially  which  preach 
temperance,  would  avoid  surfeiting  and  take  all  occasions  to  ex- 
press a  visible  humility  and  charity  in  their  lives  ;  for  this  would 
force  a  love  and  an  imitation,  and  an  unfeigned  reverence  from 
all  that  knew  them  to  be  such.  (And  for  proof  of  this,  we  need 
no  other  testimony  than  the  life  and  death  of  Dr.  Lake,*  late 
Lord  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells.)  "  This,"  said  Mr.  Herbert, 
"  would  be  a  cure  for  the  wickedness  and  growing  Atheism  of 


*  Dr.  Arthur  Lake,  a  native  of  Southampton,  educated  at  Winchester 
School,  and  New  College,  Oxford  ;  he  was  made  Dean  of  Worcester  in  1608, 
and  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells  in  1616.  He  died  in  1626,  being  one  of  the 
best  Preachers  of  his  time. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  295 


our  age.  And,  my  dear  brother,  till  this  be  done  by  us,  and 
done  in  earnest,  let  no  man  expect  a  reformation  of  the  manners 
of  the  Laity ;  for  'tis  not  learning,  but  this,  this  only  that  must 
do  it ;  and,  till  then,  the  fault  must  lie  at  our  doors." 

In  another  walk  to  Salisbury,  he  saw  a  poor  man  with  a  poorer 
horse,  that  was  fallen  under  his  load  :  they  were  both  in  distress, 
and  needed  present  help ;  which  Mr.  Herbert  perceiving,  put  off 
his  canonical  coat,  and  helped  the  poor  man  to  unload,  and  after 
to  load,  his  horse.  The  poor  man  blessed  him  for  it,  and  he  bless- 
ed the  poor  man ;  and  was  so  like  the  Good  Samaritan,  that  he 
gave  him  money  to  refresh  both  himself  and  his  horse ;  and  told 
him,  "  That  if  he  loved  himself  he  should  be  merciful  to  his  beast." 
Thus  he  left  the  poor  man ;  and  at  his  coming  to  his  musical 
friends  at  Salisbury,  they  began  to  wonder  that  Mr.  George  Her- 
bert, which  used  to  be  so  trim  and  clean,  came  into  that  company 
so  soiled  and  discomposed :  but  he  told  them  the  occasion.  And 
when  one  of  the  company  told  him,  "  He  had  disparaged  himself 
by  so  dirty  an  employment,"  his  answer  was,  "  That  the  thought 
of  what  he  had  done  would  prove  music  to  him  at  midnight ;  and 
that  the  omission  of  it  would  have  upbraided  and  made  discord  in 
his  conscience,  whensoever  he  should  pass  by  that  place  :  for  if  I 
be  bound  to  pray  for  all  that  be  in  distress,  I  am  sure  that  I  am 
bound,  so  far  as  it  is  in  my  power,  to  practice  what  I  pray  for. 
And  though  I  do  not  wish  for  the  like  occasion  every  day,  yet  let 
me  tell  you,  I  would  not  willingly  pass  one  day  of  my  life  without 
comforting  a  sad  soul,  or  shewing  mercy ;  and  I  praise  God  for 
this  occasion.     And  now  let's  tune  our  instruments." 

Thus,  as  our  blessed  Saviour,  after  his  Resurrection,  did  take 
occasion  to  interpret  the  Scripture  to  Cleophas,  and  that  other  Dis- 
ciple, which  he  met  with  and  accompanied  in  their  journey  to  Em- 
maus  ;  so  Mr.  Herbert,  in  his  path  toward  Heaven,  did  daily  take 
any  fair  occasion  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  or  comfort  any  that  were 
in  affliction  ;  and  did  always  confirm  his  precepts,  by  shewing  hu- 
mility and  mercy,  and  ministering  grace  to  the  hearers. 

And  he  was  most  happy  in  his  wife's  unforced  compliance  with 
his  acts  of  Charity,  whom  he  made  his  almoner,  and  paid  con- 
stantly into  her  hand,  a  tenth  penny  of  what  money  he  received 
for  tythe,  and  gave  her  power  to  dispose  that  to  the  poor  of  his 


296  THE   LIFE   OF 


parish,  and  with  it  a  power  to  dispose  a  tenth  part  of  the  corn  that 
came  yearly  into  his  barn  :  which  trust  she  did  most  faithfully  per- 
form, and  would  often  offer  to  him  an  account  of  her  stewardship, 
and  as  often  beg  an  enlargement  of  his  bounty ;  for  she  rejoiced 
in  the  employment :  and  this  was  usually  laid  out  by  her  in  blank- 
ets and  shoes  for  some  such  poor  people  as  she  knew  to  stand  in 
most  need  of  them.  This  as  to  her  charity. — And  for  his  own,  he 
set  no  limits  to  it :  nor  did  ever  turn  his  face  from  any  that  he 
saw  in  want,  but  would  relieve  them ;  especially  his  poor  neigh- 
bours ;  to  the  meanest  of  whose  houses  he  would  go,  and  inform 
himself  of  their  wants,  and  relieve  them  cheerfully,  if  they  were 
in  distress  ;  and  would  always  praise  God,  as  much  for  being  will- 
ing, as  for  being  able  to  do  it.  And  when  he  was  advised  by  a 
friend  to  be  more  frugal,  because  he  might  have  children,  his  an- 
swer was,  "  He  would  not  see  the  danger  of  want  so  far  off:  but 
being  the  Scripture  does  so  commend  Charity,  as  to  tell  us  that 
Charity  is  the  top  of  Christian  virtues,  the  covering  of  sins,  the 
fulfilling  of  the  Law,  the  Life  of  Faith  ;  and  that  Charity  hath  a 
promise  of  the  blessings  of  this  life,  and  of  a  reward  in  that  life 
which  is  to  come :  being  these,  and  more  excellent  things  are  in 
Scripture  spoken  of  thee,  O  Charity  !  and  that,  being  all  my  tythes 
and  Church-dues  are  a  deodate  from  thee,  O  my  God !  make  me, 
O  my  God  !  so  far  to  trust  thy  promise,  as  to  return  them  back  to 
thee :  and  by  thy  grace  I  will  do  so,  in  distributing  them  to  any 
of  thy  poor  members  that  are  in  distress,  or  do  but  bear  the  image 
of  Jesus  my  Master."  "  Sir,"  said  he  to  his  friend,  "  my  wife 
hath  a  competent  maintenance  secured  her  after  my  death ;  and 
therefore,  as  this  is  my  prayer,  so  this'  my  resolution  shall,  by 
God's  grace,  be  unalterable." 

This  may  be  some  account  of  the  excellencies  of  the  active  part 
of  his  life  ;  and  thus  he  continued,  till  a  consumption  so  weakened 
him,  as  to  confine  him  to  his  house,  or  to  the  Chapel,  which  does 
almost  join  to  it ;  in  which  he  continued  to  read  prayers  constant- 
ly twice  every  day,  though  he  were  very  weak  :  in  one  of  which 
times  of  his  reading,  his  wife  observed  him  to  read  in  pain,  and 
told  him  so,  and  that  it  wasted  his  spirits,  and  weakened  him  ;  and 
he  confessed  it  did,  but  said,  his  "  life  could  not  be  better  spent, 
than  in  the  service  of  his  Master  Jesus,  who  had  done  and  suffered 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  297 


so  much  for  him.  But,"  said  he,  "I  will  not  be  wilful;  for 
though  my  spirit  be  willing,  yet  I  find  my  flesh  is  weak  ;  and 
therefore  Mr.  Bostock  shall  be  appointed  to  read  prayers  for  me 
to-morrow  ;  and  I  will  now  be  only  a  hearer  of  them,  till  this  mor- 
tal  shall  put  on  immortality."  And  Mr.  Bostock  did  the  next  day 
undertake  and  continue  this  happy  employment,  till  Mr.  Herbert's 
death.  This  Mr.  Bostock  was  a  learned  and  virtuous  man,  an  old 
friend  of  Mr.  Herbert's,  and  then  his  Curate  to  the  Church  of 
Fulston,  which  is  a  mile  from  Bemerton,  to  which  Church  Bemer- 
ton  is  but  a  Chapel  of  Ease.  And  this  Mr.  Bostock  did  also  con- 
stantly  supply  the  Church-service  for  Mr.  Herbert  in  that  Chapel, 
when  the  Music-meeting  at  Salisbury  caused  his  absence  from  it. 
About  one  month  before  his  death,  his  friend  Mr.  Farrer, — for 
an  account  of  whom  1  am  by  promise  indebted  to  the  Reader,  and 
intend  to  make  him  sudden  payment, — hearing  of  Mr.  Herbert's 
sickness,  sent  Mr.  Edward  Duncon — who  is  now  Rector  of  Friar 
Barnet  in  the  County  of  Middlesex — from  his  house  of  Gidden 
Hall,  which  is  near  to  Huntingdon,  to  see  Mr.  Herbert,  and  to 
assure  him,  he  wanted  not  his  daily  prayers  for  his  recovery  ;  and 
Mr.  Duncon  was  to  return  back  to  Gidden,  with  an  account  of  Mr. 
Herbert's  condition.  Mr.  Duncon  found  him  weak,  and  at  that 
time  lying  on  his  bed,  or  on  a  pallet ;  but  at  his  seeing  Mr.  Dun- 
con he  raised  himself  vigorously,j,saluted  him,  and  with  some  ear- 
nestness enquired  the  health  of  his  brother  Farrer ;  of  which  Mr. 
Duncon  satisfied  him,  and  after  some  discourse  of  Mr.  Farrer's 
holy  life,  and  the  manner  of  his  constant  serving  God,  he  said  to 
Mr.  Duncon, — '•'  Sir,  I  see  by  your  habit  that  you  are  a  Priest, 
and  I  desire  you  to  pray  with  me  :"  which  being  granted,  Mr. 
Duncon  asked  him,  "  What  prayers  ?"  To  which  Mr.  Herbert's 
answer  was,  "  O,  Sir !  the  prayers  of  my  Mother,  the  Church  of  ^' 
England  ;  no  other  prayers  are  equal  to  them  !  But  at  this  time, 
I  beg  of  you  to  pray  only  the  Litany,  for  I  am  weak  and  faint :" 
and  Mr.  Duncon  did  so.  After  which,  and  some  other  discourse 
of  Mr.  Farrer,  Mrs.  Herbert  provided  Mr.  Duncon  a  plain  supper, 
and  a  clean  lod^in;T,  and  he  betook  himself  to  rest.  This  Mr. 
Duncon  tells  me ;  and  tells  me,  thai,  at  his  first  view  of  Mr.  Her- 
bert, he  saw  majesty  and  humility  so  reconciled  in  his  looks  and 
behaviour,  as  begot  in  him  an  awful  reverence  for  his  person  ; 


298  THE   LIFE   OF 


and  says,  "  his  discourse  was  so  pious,  and  his  motion  so  genteel 
and  meek,  that  after  ahnost  forty  years,  yet  they  remain  still  fresh 
in  his  memory." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Duncon  left  him,  and  betook  himself  to 
a  journey  to  Bath,  but  with  a  promise  to  return  back  to  him  with- 
in five  days  ;  and  he  did  so  :  but  before  I  shall  say  any  thing  of 
what  discourse  then  fell  betwixt  them  two,  I  will  pay  my  promised 
account  of  Mr.  Farrer. 

Mr.  Nicholas  Farrer — who  got  the  reputation  of  being  called 
Saint  Nicholas  at  the  age  of  six  years — was  born  in  London,  and 
doubtless  had  good  education  in  his  youth  ;  but  certainly  was,  at 
an  early  age,  made  Fellow  of  Clare- Hall  in  Cambridge  ;  where 
he  continued  to  be  eminent  for  his  piety,  temperance,  and  learn- 
ing. About  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  he  betook  himself 
to  travel :  in  which  he  added,  to  his  Latin  and  Greek,  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  all  the  languages  spoken  in  the  Western  parts  of 
our  Christian  world  ;  and  understood  well  the  principles  of  their 
Religion,  and  of  their  manner,  and  the  reasons  of  their  worship. 
In  this  his  travel  he  met  with  many  persuasions  to  come  into  a 
communion  with  that  church  which  calls  itself  Catholic  :  but  he 
returned  from  his  travels  as  he  went,  eminent  for  his  obedience  to 
his  mother,  the  Church  of  England.  In  liis  absence  from  Eng- 
land, Mr.  Farrer's  father — who  was  a  merchant — allowed  him  a 
liberal  maintenance ;  and,  not  long  after  his  return  into  England, 
Mr.  Farrer  had,  by  the  death  of  his  father,  or  an  elder  brother,  or 
both,  an  estate  left  him,  that  enabled  him  to  purchase  land  to  the 
value  of  four  or  five  hundred  pounds  a  year  ;  the  greatest  part 
of  which  land  was  at  Little  Gidden,  four  or  six  miles  from  Hunt- 
ingdon, and  about  eighteen  from  Cambridge ;  which  place  he 
chose  for  the  privacy  of  it,  and  for  the  Hall,  which  had  the 
Parish-Church  or  Chapel,  belonging  and  adjoining  near  to  it ; 
for  Mr.  Farrer  having  seen  the  manners  and  vanities  of  the  world, 
and  found  them  to  be,  as  Mr.  Herbert  says,  "  a  nothing  between 
two  dishes,"  did  so  contemn  it,  that  he  resolved  to  spend  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life  in  mortifications,  and  in  devotion,  and  charity, 
and  to  be  always  prepared  for  death.  And  his  life  was  spent 
thus : 

He  and  his  family,  which  were  like  a  little  College,  and  about 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  299 

thirty  in  number,  did  most  of  them  keep  Lent  and  all  Ember- 
weeks  strictly,  both  in  fasting  and  using  all  those  mortifications 
and  prayers  that  the  Church  hath  appointed  to  be  then  used ;  and 
he  and  they  did  the  like  constantly  on  Fridays,  and  on  the  Vigils 
or  Eves  appointed  to  be  fasted  before  the  Saints'  days :  and  this 
frugality  and  abstinence  turned  to  the  relief  of  the  poor :  but 
this  was  but  a  part  of  his  charity  ;  none  but  God  and  he  knew 
the  rest. 

This  family,  which  I  have  said  to  be  in  number  about  thirty, 
were  a  part  of  them  his  kindred,  and  the  rest  chosen  to  be  of  a 
temper  fit  to  be  moulded  into  a  devout  life  ;  and  all  of  them  were 
for  their  dispositions  serviceable,  and  quiet,  and  humble,  and  free 
from  scandal.  Having  thus  fitted  himself  for  his  family,  he  did, 
about  the  year  1630,  betake  himself  to  a  constant  and  methodical 
service  of  God  ;  and  it  was  in  this  manner  : — He,  being  accom- 
panied with  most  of  his  family,  did  himself  use  to  read  the  com- 
mon prayers — for  he  was  a  Deacon — every  day,  at  the  appointed 
hours  of  ten  and  four,  in  the  Parish-Church,  which  was  very  near 
his  house,  and  which  he  had  both  repaired  and  adorned ;  for  it 
was  fallen  into  a  great  ruin,  by  reason  of  a  depopulation  of  the 
villaue  before  Mr.  Farrer  bought  the  manor.  And  he  did  also 
constantly  read  the  Matins  every  morning  at  the  hour  of  six, 
either  in  the  Church,  or  in  an  Oratory,  which  was  within  his  own 
house.  And  many  of  the  family  did  there  continue  with  him  after 
the  prayers  were  ended,  and  there  they  spent  some  hours  in  sing- 
ing Hymns,  or  Anthems,  sometimes  in  the  Church,  and  often  to 
an  organ  in  the  Oratory.  And  there  they  sometimes  betook 
themselves  to  meditate,  or  to  pray  privately,  or  to  read  a  part  of 
the  New  Testament  to  themselves,  or  to  continue  their  praying  or 
reading  the  Psalms;  and  in  case  the  Psalms  were  not  always 
read  in  the  day,  then  Mr.  Farrer,  and  others  of  the  congregation, 
did  at  night,  at  the  ringing  of  a  watch- bell,  repair  to  the  Church 
or  Oratory,  and  there  betake  themselves  to  prayers  and  lauding 
God,  and  reading  the  Psalms  that  had  not  been  read  in  the  day : 
and  when  these,  or  any  part  of  the  congregation,  grew  weary 
or  faint,  the  watch- bell  was  rung,  sometimes  before,  and  some- 
times after  midnight  ;  and  then  another  part  of  the  family  rose, 
and  maintained  the  watch,  sometimes  by  praying,  or  singing  lauds 


300  THE   LIFE   OF 


to  God,  or  reading  the  Psalms  ;  and  v/hen,  after  some  hours,  they 
also  grew  weary  or  faint,  then  they  rung  the  watch-bell  and  were 
also  relieved  by  some  of  the  former,  or  by  a  new  part  of  the  so- 
ciety, which  continued  their  devotions — as  hath  been  mentioned 
— until  morning.  And  it  is  to  be  noted,  that  in  this  continued 
serving  of  God,  the  Pvsalter  or  the  whole  Book  of  Psalms,  was  in 
every  four  and  twenty  hours  sung  or  read  over,  from  the  first 
to  the  last  verse  :  and  this  was  done  as  constantly  as  the  sun  runs 
his  circle  every  day  about  the  world,  and  then  begins  again  the 
same  instant  that  it  ended. 

Thus  did  Mr.  Farrer  and  his  happy  family  serve  God  day  and 
night ;  thus  did  they  always  behave  themselves  as  in  his  presence. 
And  they  did  always  eat  and  drink  by  the  strictest  rules  of  tem- 
perance ;  eat  and  drink  so  as  to  be  ready  to  rise  at  midnight,  or 
at  the  call  of  a  watch-bell,  and  perform  their  devotions  to  God. 
And  it  is  fit  to  tell  the  Reader,  that  many  of  the  Clergy,  that 
were  more  inclined  to  practical  piety  and  devotion,  than  to  doubt- 
ful and  needless  disputations,  did  often  come  to  Gidden-Hall,  and 
make  themselves  a  part  of  that  happy  society,  and  stay  a  week 
or  more,  and  then  join  with  Mr.  Farrer  and  the  family  in  these 
devotions,  and  assist  and  ease  him  or  them  in  their  watch  by 
night.  And  these  various  devotions  had  never  less  than  two  of 
the  domestic  family  in  the  night ;  and  the  watch  was  always  kept 
in  the  Church  or  Oratory,  unless  in  extreme  cold  winter  nights, 
and  then  it  was  maintained  in  a  parlour,  which  had  a  fire  in  it ; 
and  the  parlour  was  fitted  for  that  purpose.  And  this  course  of 
piety,  and  great  liberality  to  his  poor  neighbours,  Mr.  Farrer 
maintained  till  his  death,  which  was  in  the  year  1639.* 

*  The  extraordinary  course  of  life  pursued  at  Gidding,  the  strictness  of  their 
rules,  their  prayers,  literally  without  ceasing,  their  abstinence,  mortifications, 
nightly  watchings,  and  various  other  pecuharities,  gave  birth  to  censure  in 
some,  and  inflamed  the  malevolence  of  others,  but  excited  the  wonder  and  cu- 
riosity of  all.  So  that  they  were  frequently  visited  with  different  views  by  per- 
sons of  all  denominations,  and  of  opposite  opinions.  They  received  all  who 
came  with  courteous  civility ;  and  from  those  who  were  inquisitive  they  con- 
cealed nothing,  as  indeed  there  was  not  any  thing  either  in  their  opinions,  or 
their  practice,  in  the  least  degree  necessary  to  be  concealed.  Notwithstand- 
ing this,  they  were  by  some  abused  as  Papists,  by  others  as  Puritans.  Mr.  Fer- 
rar  himself,  though  possessed  of  uncommon  patience  and  resignation,  yet  in 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  301 

Mr.  Farrer's  and  Mr.  Herbert's  devout  lives  were  both  so 
noted,  that  the  general  report  of  their  sanctity  gave  them  occasion 
to  renew  that  slight  acquaintance  which  was  begun  at  their  being 
contemporaries  in  Cambridge  ;  and  this  new  holy  friendship  was 
long  maintained  without  any  interview,  but  only  by  loving  and 
endearing  letters.  And  one  testimony  of  their  friendship  and 
pious  designs,  may  appear  by  Mr.  Farrer's  commending  the 
"Considerations  of  John  Valdesso" — a  book  which  he  had  met 
with  in  his  travels,  and  translated  out  of  Spanish  into  English, — 
to  be  examined  and  censured  by  Mr.  Herbert  before  it  was  made 
public :  which  excellent  book  Mr.  Herbert  did  read,  and  return 
back  with  many  marginal  notes,  as  they  be  now  printed  with  it; 
and  with  them,  Mr.  Herbert's  affectionate  letter  to  Mr.  Farrer. 

This  John  Valdesso  was  a  Spaniard,  and  was  for  his  learning 
and  virtue  much  valued  and  loved  by  the  great  Emperor  Charles 
the  Fifth,  whom  Valdesso  had  followed  as  a  Cavalier  all  the  time 
of  his  long  and  dangerous  wars :  and  when  Valdesso  grew  old, 
and  grew  weary  both  of  war  and  the  w^orld,  he  took  his  fair 
opportunity  to  declare  to  the  Emperor,  that  his  resolution  was  to 
decline  his  Majesty's  service,  and  betake  himself  to  a  quiet  and 

anguish  of  spirit  complained  to  his  friends,  that  the  perpetual  obloquy  he  en- 
dured was  a  sort  of  unceasing  martyrdom.  Added  to  all  this,  AMolcnt  invec- 
tives and  inflammatory  pamphlets  were  published  against  them.  Amongst 
others,  not  long  after  Mr.  Ferrar's  death,  a  treatise  was  addressed  to  the  Par- 
liament, entitled,  "  The  Arminian  Nunnery,  or  a  brief  description  and  relation 
of  the  late,  erected  monastical  place  called  the  Arminian  Nunnery  at  Little 
Gidding  in  Huntingdonshire:  humbly  addressed  to  the  wise  consideration  of 
the  present  parliament.  The  foundation  is  by  a  company  of  Ferrars  at  Gid- 
ding," printed  by  Thomas  Underbill,  1641. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Ferrar's  death,  certain  soldiers  of  the  Parliament  resolved  to 
plunder  the  house  at  Gidding.  The  family  being  informed  of  their  hasty  ap- 
proach, thought  it  prudent  to  fly  ;  while  these  military  zealots,  in  the  rage  of 
what  they  called  reformation,  ransacked  both  the  church  and  the  house  ;  in 
doing  which,  they  expressed  a  particular  spite  against  the  organ.  This  they 
broke  in  pieces,  of  which  they  made  a  large  fire,  and  at  it  roasted  several  of 
Mr.  Ferrar's  sheep,  which  they  had  killed  in  his  grounds.  This  done,  they 
seized  all  the  plate,  furniture,  and  provision,  which  they  could  conveniently 
carry  away.  And  in  this  general  devastation  perished  the  works  which  Mr. 
Fcrrar  had  compiled  for  the  use  of  his  household,  consisting  chiefly  of  harmo- 
nies of  the  Old  and  New  Testament. 


302  THE   LIFE   OF 


contemplative  life,  "  because  there  ought  to  be  a  vacancy  of  time 
betwixt  fighting  and  dying."  The  Emperor  had  himself,  for  the 
same,  or  other  like  reasons,  put  on  the  same  resolution :  but  God 
and  himself  did,  till  then,  only  know  them  ;  and  he  did  therefore 
desire  Valdesso  to  consider  well  of  what  he  had  said,  and  to  keep 
his  purpose  within  his  own  breast,  till  they  two  might  have  a 
second  opportunity  of  a  friendly  discourse  ;  which  Valdesso  prom- 
ised to  do. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Emperor  appoints  privately  a  day  for  him 
and  Valdesso  to  meet  again  ;  and,  after  a  pious  and  free  discourse, 
they  both  agreed  on  a  certain  day  to  receive  the  blessed  Sacra- 
ment  publicly  ;  and  appointed  an  eloquent  and  devout  Friar  to 
preach  a  sermon  of  contempt  of  the  world,  and  of  the  happiness 
and  benefit  of  a  quiet  and  contemplative  life  ;  which  the  Friar 
did  most  affectionately.  After  which  sermon,  the  Emperor  took 
occasion  to  declare  openly,  "  That  the  Preacher  had  begot  in  him 
a  resolution  to  lay  down  his  dignities,  and  to  forsake  the  world, 
and  betake  himself  to  a  monastical  life."  And  he  pretended,  he 
had  persuaded  John  Valdesso  to  do  the  like  :  but  this  is  most 
certain,  that  after  the  Emperor  had  called  his  son  Philip  out  of 
England,  and  resigned  to  him  all  his  kingdoms,  that  then  the 
Emperor  and  John  Valdesso  did  perform  their  resolutions. 

This  account  of  John  Valdesso  I  received  from  a  friend,  that 
had  it  from  the  mouth  of  Mr.  Farrer.  And  the  Reader  may  note, 
that  in  this  retirement  John  Valdesso  writ  his  Hundred  and  Ten 
Considerations,  and  many  other  treatises  of  worth,  which  want  a 
second  Mr.  Farrer  to  procure  and  translate  them.* 
-  After  this  account  of  Mr.  Farrer  and  John  Valdesso,  I  proceed 
to  my  account  of  Mr.  Herbert  and  Mr.  Duncon,  who  according 
to  his  promise  returned  from  the  Bath  the  fifth  day,  and  then 
found  Mr.  Herbert  much  weaker  than  he  left  him  ;  and  therefore 
their  discourse  could  not  be  long  :  but  at  Mr.  Duncon's  parting 
with  him,  Mr.  Herbert  spoke  to  this  purpose  :  "  Sir,  I  pray  you 
give  my  brother  Farrer  an  account  of  the  decaying  condition  of 
my  body,  and  tell  him  I  beg  him  to  continue  his  daily  prayers  for 
me  ;  and  let  him  know  that  I  have  considered,  that  God  only  is 


*  Valdesso  died  at  Naples  in  1540. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  303 

what  he  would  be  ;  and  that  1  am,  by  his  grace,  become  now  so 
like  him,  as  to  be  pleased  with  what  pleaseth  him  ;  and  tell  him 
that  I  do  not  repine,  but  am  pleased  with  my  want  of  health  : 
and  tell  him,  my  heart  is  fixed  on  that  place  where  true  joy  is 
only  to  be  found  ;  and  that  I  long  to  be  there,  and  do  wait  for  my 
appointed  change  with  hope  and  patience."'  Having  said  this,  he 
did,  with  so  sweet  a  humility  as  seemed  to  exalt  him,  bow  down 
to  Mr.  Duncon,  and  with  a  thoughtful  and  contented  look,  say  to 
him,  "  Sir,  I  pray  deliver  this  little  book  to  my  dear  brother 
Farrer,  and  tell  him,  he  shall  find  in  it  a  picture  of  the  many 
spiritual  conflicts  that  have  passed  betwixt  God  and  my  soul, 
before  I  could  subject  mine  to  the  will  of  Jesus  my  Master :  in 
whose  service  I  have  now  found  perfect  freedom.  Desire  him  to 
read  it ;  and  then,  if  he  can  think  it  may  turn  to  the  advantage 
of  any  dejected  poor  soul :  let  it  be  made  public  ;  if  not  let  him 
burn  it ;  for  I  and  it  are  less  than  the  least  of  God's  mercies." 
Thus  meanly  did  this  humble  man  think  of  this  excellent  book, 
which  now  bears  the  name  of  '•  The  Temple ;  or,  Sacred  Poems 
and  Private  Ejaculations ;"  of  which  Mr.  Farrer  would  say, 
"  There  was  in  it  the  picture  of  a  divine  soul  in  every  page  :  and 
that  the  whole  book  vvas  such  a  harmony  of  holy  passions,  as 
would  enrich  the  world  with  pleasure  and  piety."  And  it  ap- 
pears to  have  done  so  ;  for  there  have  been  more  than  twenty 
thousand  of  them  sold  since  the  first  impression. 

And  this  ought  to  be  noted,  that  when  Mr.  Farrer  sent  this  book 
to  Cambridge  to  be  licensed  for  the  press,  the  Vice-Chancellor 
would  by  no  means  allow  the  two  so  much  noted  verses, 

Religion  stands  a  tiptoe  in  our  land. 
Ready  to  pass  to  the  American  strand, 

to  be  printed ;  and  Mr.  Farrer  w^ould  by  no  means  allow  the 
book  to  be  printed  and  want  them.  But  after  some  time,  and 
some  arguments  for  and  against  their  being  made  public,  the 
Vice-chancellor  said,  "  I  knew  Mr.  Herbert  well,  and  know  that 
he  had  many  heavenly  speculations,  and  was  a  divine  poet :  but 
I  hope  the  world  will  not  take  him  to  be  an  inspired  prophet,  and 
therefore  I  licence  the  whole  book."     So  that  it  came  to  be  printed 


304  THE   LIFE   OF 


without  the  diminution  or  addition  of  a  syllable,  since  it  was 
delivered  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Duncon,  save  only  that  Mr. 
Farrcr  hath  added  that  excellent  Preface  that  is  printed  before  it. 
At  the  time  of  Mr.  Duncon's  leaving  Mr.  Herbert, — which 
was  about  three  weeks  before  his  death, — his  old  and  dear  friend 
Mr.  Woodnot  came  from  London  to  Bemerton,  and  never  left  him 
till  he  had  seen  him  draw  his  last  breath,  and  closed  his  eyes  on 
his  death-bed.  In  this  time  of  his  decay,  he  was  often  visited 
and  prayed  for  by  all  the  Clergy  that  lived  near  to  him,  especially 
by  his  friends  the  Bishop  and  Prebends  of  the  Cathedral  Church 
in  Salisbury  ;  but  by  none  more  devoutly  than  his  wife,  his  three 
nieces, — then  a  part  of  his  family, — and  Mr.  Woodnot,  who  were 
the  sad  witnesses  of  his  daily  decay  ;  to  whom  he  would  often 
speak  to  this  purpose  :  "  I  now  look  back  upon  the  pleasures  of 
my  life  past,  and  see  the  content  I  have  taken  in  beauty,  in  -wit, 
in  music,  and  pleasant  conversation,  are  now  all  past  by  me  like 
a  dream,  or  as  a  shadow  that  returns  not,  and  are  now  all  become 
dead  to  me,  or  I  to  them  ;  and  I  see,  that  as  my  father  and  gene- 
ration hath  done  before  me,  so  I  also  shall  now  suddenly  (with 
Job)  make  ray  bed  also  in  the  dark  ;  and  I  praise  God  I  am  pre- 
pared for  it  ;  and  I  praise  him  that  I  am  not  to  learn  patience 
now  I  stand  in  such  need  of  it ;  and  that  I  have  practised  morti- 
fication, and  endeavoured  to  die  daily,  that  I  might  not  die  eter- 
nally  ;  and  my  hope  is,  that  I  shall  shortly  leave  this  valley  of 
tears,  and  be  free  from  all  fevers  and  pain  ;  and,  which  will  be  a 
more  happy  condition,  I  shall  be  free  from  sin,  and  all  the  tempta- 
tions and  anxieties  that  attend  it  :  and  this  being  past,  I  shall 
dwell  in  the  New  Jerusalem  ;  dwell  there  with  men  made  per- 
fect ;  dwell  where  these  eyes  shall  see  my  Master  and  Saviour 
Jesus ;  and  with  him  see  my  dear  Mother,  and  all  my  relations 
and  friends.  But  I  must  die,  or  not  come  to  that  happy  place. 
And  this  is  my  content,  that  I  am  going  daily  towards  it :  and 
that  every  day  which  I  have  lived,  hath  taken  a  part  of  my  ap- 
pointed time  from  me;  and  that  I  shall  live  the  less  time,  for 
having  lived  this  and  the  day  past."  These,  and  the  like  expres- 
sions, which  he  uttered  often,  may  be  said  to  be  his  enjoyment  of 
Heaven  before  he  enjoyed  it.     The  Sunday  before  his  death,  he 


MR.  GEORGE  HERBERT.  305 

rose  suddenly  from  his  bed  or  couch,  called  for  one  of  his  instru- 
ments, took  it  into  his  hand  and  said, 

My  God,  my  God, 

My  music  shall  find  thee, 

And  every  string 
Shall  have  his  attribute  to  sing. 

And  having  tuned  it,  he  played  and  sung  : 

TTie  Sundays  of  man's  life. 
Threaded  together  on  time's  string, 
Make  bracelets  to  adorn  the  tvife 
Of  the  eternal  glorious  King  : 
On  Sujidays  Heaven's  door  stands  ope; 
Blessings  are  plentiful  and  rife, 

More  plentiful  than  hope. 

Thus  he  sung  on  earth  such  Hymns  and  Anthems,  as  the  An- 
gels, and  he,  and  Mr.  Farrer,  now  sing  in  Heaven. 

Thus  he  continued  meditating,  and  praying,  and  rejoicing,  till 
the  day  of  his  death  ;  and  on  that  day  said  to  Mr.  Woodnot,  "  My 
dear  friend,  I  am  sorry  I  have  nothing  to  present  to  my  merciful 
God  but  sin  and  misery  ;  but  the  first  is  pardoned,  and  a  few 
hours  will  now  put  a  period  to  the  latter  ;  for  I  shall  suddenly  go 
hence,  and  be  no  more  seen."  Upon  which  expression  Mr.  Wood- 
not took  occasion  to  remember  him  of  the  re-edifying  Layton 
Church,  and  his  many  acts  of  mercy.  To  which  he  made  an- 
swer, saying,  "  They  be  good  works,  if  they  be  sprinkled  with 
the  blood  of  Christ,  and  not  otherwise."  After  this  discourse  he 
became  more  restless,  and  his  soul  seemed  to  be  weary  of  her 
earthly  tabernacle  :  and  this  uneasiness  became  so  visible,  that  his 
wife,  his  three  nieces,  and  Mr.  Woodnot,  stood  constantly  about 
his  bed,  beholding  him  with  sorrow,  and  an  unwillingness  to  lose 
the  sight  of  him,  whom  they  could  not  hope  to  see  much  longer. 
As  they  stood  thus  beholding  him,  his  wife  observed  him  to  breathe 
faintly,  and  with  much  trouble,  and  observed  him  to  fall  into  a 
sudden  agony ;  which  so  surprised  her,  that  she  fell  into  a  sudden 
passion,  and  required  of  him  to  know  how  he  did.     To  which  his 


306  THE   LIFE   OF 


answer  was,  "  that  he  had  passed  a  conflict  with  his  last  enemy, 
and  had  overcome  him  by  the  merits  of  his  Master  Jesus."  Af- 
ter which  answer,  lie  looked  up,  and  saw  his  wife  and  nieces 
weeping  to  an  extremity,  and  charged  them,  if  they  loved  him 
to  withdraw  into  the  next  room,  and  there  pray  every  one 
alone  for  him  ;  for  nothing  but  their  lamentations  could  make  his 
death  uncomfortable.  To  which  request  their  sighs  and  tears 
would  not  suffer  them  to  make  any  reply  ;  but  they  yielded  him 
a  sad  obedience,  leaving  only  with  him  Mr.  Woodnot  and  Mr. 
Bostock.  Immediately  after  they  had  left  him,  he  said  to  Mr. 
Bostock,  "  Pray,  Sir,  open  that  door,  then  look  into  that  cabinet,  in 
which  you  may  easily  find  my  last  Will,  and  give  it  into  my 
hand  :"  which  being  done,  Mr.  Herbert  delivered  it  into  the  hand 
of  Mr.  Woodnot,  and  said,  "  My  old  friend,  I  here  deliver  you  my 
last  Will,  in  which  you  will  find  that  I  have  made  you  my  sole 
Executor  for  the  good  of  my  wife  and  nieces;  and  I  desire  you 
to  shew  kindness  to  them,  as  they  shall  need  it :  I  do  not  desire 
you  to  be  just ;  for  I  know  you  will  be  so  for  your  own  sake  ;  but 
I  charge  you,  by  the  religion  of  our  friendship,  to  be  careful  of 
them."  And  having  obtained  Mr.  Woodnot's  promise  to  be  so, 
he  said,  "  I  am  now  ready  to  die."  After  which  words,  he  said, 
"  Lord,  forsake  me  not  now  my  strength  faileth  me  :  but  grant 
me  mercy  for  the  merits  of  my  Jesus.  And  now,  Lord — Lord, 
now  receive  my  soul."  And  with  those  words  he  breathed  forth 
his  divine  soul,  without  any  apparent  disturbance,  Mr.  Woodnot 
and  Mr.  Bostock  attending  his  last  breath,  and  closing  his  eyes. 

Thus  he  lived  and  thus  he  died,  like  a  Saint,  unspotted  of  the 
world,  full  of  alms-deeds,  full  of  humility,  and  all  the  examples 
of  a  virtuous  life ;  which  I  cannot  conclude  better,  than  with  this 
borrowed  observation  : 


-AH  must  to  their  cold  graves 


But  the  religious  actions  of  the  just 

Smell  sweet  in  death,  and  ilossom  in  the  dust.* 

Mr.  George  Herbert's  have  done  so  to  this,  and  will  doubtless 
do  so  to  succeeding  generations. — I  have  but  this  to  say  more  of 

*  Altered  from  a  Dirge  in  Shirley's  "  Coulention  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses." 


MR.    GEORGE  HERBERT.  307 


him  ;  that  if  Andrew  Melvin  died  before  him,*  then  George  Her- 
bert died  without  an  enemy,f  I  wish — if  God  shall  be  so  please^l- 
— that  I  may  be  so  happy  as  to  die  like  him.  f 

Iz.  Wa. 

There  is  a  debt  justly  due  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Herbert's 
virtuous  Wife  ;  a  part  of  which  I  will  endeavour  to  pay,  by  a 
very  short  account  of  the  remainder  of  her  life,  which  shall  follow. 

She  continued  his  disconsolate  widow  about  six  years,  bemoan- 
ing herself,  and  complaining  that  she  had  lost  the  delight  of 
her  eyes ;  but  more  that  she  had  lost  the  spiritual  guide  for  her 
poor  soul ;  and  would  often  say,  "  O  that  I  had,  like  holy  Mary, 
the  Mother  of  Jesus,  treasured  up  all  his  sayings  in  my  heart ! 
But  since  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  that,  I  will  labour  to  live  like 
him,  that  where  he  now  is  I  may  be  also."  And  she  would  often 
say, — as  the  Prophet  David  for  his  son  Absalom. — "  O  that  I  had 
died  for  him  !"  Thus  she  continued  mourning  till  time  and  con- 
versation had  so  moderated  her  sorrows,  that  she  became  the  hap- 
py wife  of  Sir  Robert  Cook,  of  Highnam,  in  the  County  of  Glou- 
cester, Knight.  And  though  he  put  a  high  value  on  the  excellent 
accomplishments  of  her  mind  and  body,  and  was  so  like  Mr.  Her- 
bert, as  not  to  govern  like  a  master,  but  as  an  affectionate  hus- 
band ;  yet  she  would  even  to  him  often  take  occasion  to  mention 
the  name  of  Mr.  George  Herbert,  and  say,  that  name  must  live 
in  her  memory  till  she  put  off  mortality.  By  Sir  Robert  she  had 
only  one  child,  a  daughter,  whose  parts  and  plentiful  estate  make 

*  "  Mr.  George  Herbert,  Esq.  Parson  of  Fuggleston  and  Beraerton,  was  bu- 
ried 3d  day  of  March,  1632."  {Parish  Register  of  Bemerton.)  It  does  not 
appear  whether  he  was  buried  in  the  parish  church  or  in  the  chapel.  His  let- 
ter to  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar,  the  translator  of  Valdesso,  is  dated  from  his  Par- 
sonage at  Bemerton,  near  Salisbury,  Sept.  29,  1632.  It  must  be  remember- 
ed, that  the  beginning  of  the  year,  at  that  time,  was  computed  the  25th  of 
March.  In  this  year  also,  he  wrote  the  short  address  to  the  Reader,  which  is 
prefixed  to  his  "  Priest  to  the  Temple,"  which  was  not  published  till  after  his 
death. 

t  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Andrew  Melville  could  retain  the  least  per- 
sonal resentment  against  Mr.  Herbert ;  whose  veres  have  in  them  so  little  of 
the  poignancy  of  satire,  that  it  is  scarce  possible  to  consider  them  as  capable 
of  exciting  the  anger  of  him  to  whom  they  are  addressed. 


308  THE  LIFE  OF 


her  happy  in  this  world,  and  her  well  using  of  them  gives  a  fair 
testimony  that  she  will  be  so  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

Mrs.  Herbert  was  the  wife  of  Sir  Robert  eight  years,  and  lived 
his  widow  about  fifteen  ;  all  which  time  she  took  a  pleasure  in 
mentioning  and  commending  the  excellencies  of  Mr.  George  Her- 
bert. She  died  in  the  year  1663,  and  lies  buried  at  Highnam  : 
Mr.  Herbert  in  his  own  Church,  under  the  altar,  and  covered 
with  a  gravestone  without  any  inscription. 

This  Lady  Cook  had  preserved  many  of  Mr.  Herbert's  private 
writings,  which  she  intended  to  make  public  ;  but  they  and  High- 
nam House  were  burnt  together  by  the  late  rebels,  and  so  lost 
to  posterity. 

I.  W. 


MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT.  309 


LETTER  FROM 
MR.   GEORGE   HERBERT   TO   NICHOLAS   FARRER, 

THE    TRANSLATOR    OF    VALDESSO. 

My  dear  and  desen'ing  brother,  your  Valdesso  I  now  return  with  many 
thanks,  and  some  notes,  in  which  perhaps  you  will  discover  some  care  which 
I  forbear  not  in  the  midst  of  my  griefs  ;  first  for  your  sake,  because  I  would  do 
nothing  negligently  that  you  commit  unto  me :  secondly  for  the  Author's 
sake,  whom  I  conceive  to  have  been  a  true  servant  of  God  ;  and  to  such,  and 
all  that  is  their's,  I  owe  diligence :  thirdly  for  the  Church's  sake,  to  whom  by 
printing  it,  I  would  have  you  consecrate  it.  You  owe  the  Church  a  debt,  and 
God  hath  put  this  into  your  hands — as  he  sent  the  fish  with  money  to  St.  Pe- 
ter— to  discharge  it ;  happily  also  with  this — as  his  thougiits  are  fruitful — in- 
tending the  honour  of  his  servant  the  Author,  who,  being  obscured  in  his  own 
country,  he  would  have  to  flourish  in  this  land  of  light,  and  region  of  the  Gos- 
pel among  his  chosen.  It  is  true,  there  are  some  things  which  I  like  not  in 
him,  as  my  fragments  will  express,  when  you  read  them :  nevertheless,  I 
wish  you  by  all  means  to  publish  it,  for  these  three  eminent  things  ob- 
servable therein  :  First,  that  God  in  the  midst  of  Popery,  should  open  the 
eyes  of  one  to  understand  and  express  so  clearly  and  excellently,  the  in- 
tent of  the  Gospel  in  the  acceptation  of  Christ's  righteousness, — as  he  shew- 
eth  through  all  his  Considerations, — a  thing  strangely  buried  and  darkened 
by  the  adversaries,  and  their  great  stumbling  block.  Secondly,  the  great  hon- 
our and  reverence  which  he  every  where  bears  towards  our  dear  Master  and 
Lord  ;  concluding  every  Consideration  almost  with  his  holy  name,  and  setting 
his  merit  forth  so  piously  ;  for  which  I  do  so  love  him,  that  were  there  nothing 
else,  I  would  print  it,  that  with  it  the  honour  of  my  Lord  might  be  published. 
Thirdly,  the  many  pious  rules  of  ordering  our  life  about  mortification,  and  ob- 
servation of  God's  kingdom  within  us,  and  the  working  thereof;  of  which  he 
was  a  very  diligent  observer.  These  three  things  are  very  eminent  in  the  Au- 
thor, and  overweigh  the  defects — as  I  conceive — towards  the  publishing  thereof. 

From  his  Parsonage  of 
Bemerton,  near  Salisbury, 
Sept.  29th,  1632. 
PART  II.  10 


THE  LIFE  OF  DR.  ROBERT  SANDERSON 


LATE   BISHOP  OF   LINCOLN. 


TO    THE 

RIGHT  REVEREND   AND   HONOURABLE, 

GEORGE 

LORD    BISHOP    OF    WINCHESTER, 

PRELATE  OF  THE  GARTER, 
AND  ONE  OF 

HIS   MAJESTY'S   PRIVY   COUNCIL. 

My  Lord, 

If  I  should  undertake  to  enumerate  the  many  favours  and  advantages  I 
have  had  by  my  very  long  acquaintance  with  your  Lordship,  I  should  enter 
upon  an  employment,  that  might  prove  as  tedious  as  the  collecting  of  the  ma- 
terials for  this  poor  Monument  which  I  have  erected,  and  do  dedicate  to 
the  Memory  of  your  beloved  friend,  Dr.  Sanderson  :  But  though  I  will  not 
venture  to  do  that ;  yet  I  do  remember  with  pleasure,  and  remonstrate  with 
gratitude,  that  your  Lordship  made  me  known  to  him,  Mr.  Chillingworth,* 
and  Dr.  Hammond  ;  m.en,  whose  merits  ought  never  to  be  forgotten. 

My  friendship  with  the  first  was  begun  almost  forty  years  past,  when  I  was 
as  far  from  a  thought,  as  a  desire  to  outlive  him  ;  and  farther  from  an  intention 
to  write  his  Life.  But  the  wise  Disposer  of  all  men's  lives  and  actions  hath 
prolonged  the  first,  and  now  permitted  the  last ;  which  is  here  dedicated  to 
your  Lordship, — and,  as  it  ought  to  be — v»'ith  all  humility,  and  a  desire  that  it 
may  remain  as  a  public  testimony  of  my  gratitude. 

My  Lord, 
Your  most  affectionate  old  friend, 

and  most  humble  servant, 

IZAAK  WALTON. 

*  William  Chillingworth,  born  at  Oxford  in  1602,  and  educated  at  Trinity  College.  He 
was  proverbially  celebrated  there  for  clear  and  acute  reasoning  ;  but  he  so  much  involve  i 
himself  in  the  Romish  Controversy  with  John  Fisher,  a  Jesuit,  as  to  become  a  convert, 
and  enter  the  College  at  Douay.  His  re-conversion  was  brought  about  by  his  god-father, 
Archbishoj)  Laud,  in  1631,  when  he  returned  to  England  ;  and  in  1638,  he  wrote  his  famous 
work  called  "The  Religion  of  Protestants  a  safe  Way  to  Salvation."  Fol.  He  was  zeal- 
ously attached  to  the  Royal  cause,  and  served  at  the  Siege  of  Gloucester:  but  being  take -^ 
prisoner,  he  was  carried  to  the  Bishop's  Palace,  at  Chichester,  on  account  of  his  illness, 
and,  dying  there  Jan.  30th,  1G44,  was  buried  in  the  Cathedral,  without  any  other  ceremony 
than  that  of  his  book  being  cast  into  the  grave  by  the  hand  of  a  fanatic. 


THE    PREFACE. 


I  DARE  neither  think,  nor  assure  the  Reader,  that  I  have  committed  no  mis- 
takes in  this  relation  of  the  Life  of  Dr.  Sanderson  ;  but  I  am  sure,  there  is  none 
that  are  either  wilful,  or  very  material.  I  confess,  it  was  worthy  the  employ- 
ment of  some  person  of  more  Learning  and  greater  abilities  than  I  can  pretend 
to ;  and  I  have  not  a  little  wondered  that  none  have  yet  been  so  grateful  to 
him  and  posterity,  as  to  undertake  it.  For  it  may  be  noted,  that  our  Saviour 
hath  had  such  care,  that,  for  Mary  Magdalen's  kindness  to  him,  her  name 
should  never  be  forgotten  :  and  doubtless  Dr.  Sanderson's  meek  and  innocent 
life,  his  great  and  useful  Learning,  might  therefore  challenge  the  like  endea- 
vours to  preserve  his  memory :  And  'tis  to  me  a  wonder,  that  it  has  been  al- 
ready fifteen  years  neglected.  But,  in  saying  this,  my  meaning  is  not  to  up- 
braid others, — I  am  far  from  that, — but  excuse  myself,  or  beg  pardon  for  da- 
ring to  attempt  it.  This  being  premised,  I  desire  to  tell  the  Reader,  that  in 
this  relation  I  have  been  so  bold,  as  to  paraphrase  and  say,  what  I  think 
he — whom  I  had  the  happiness  to  know  well — would  have  said  upon  the 
same  occasions :  and  if  I  have  erred  in  this  kind,  and  cannot  now  beg  par- 
don of  him  that  loved  me ;  yet  I  do  of  my  reader,  from  whom  I  desire  the 
same  favour. 

And,  though  my  age  might  have  procured  me  a  Writ  of  Ease,  and  that 
secured  me  from  all  further  trouble  in  this  kind ;  yet  I  met  with  such  per- 
suasions to  begin,  and  so  many  willing  informers  since,  and  from  them,  and 
others,  such  helps  and  encouragements  to  proceed,  that  when  I  found  myself 
faint,  and  weary  of  the  burthen  with  which  I  had  loaden  myself,  and  ready 
to  lay  it  down  ;  yet  time  and  new  strength  hath  at  last  brought  it  to  be 
what  it  now  is,  and  presented  to  the  Reader,  and  with  it  this  desire  ;  that  he 
will  take  notice  that  Dr.  Sanderson  did  in  his  Will,  or  last  sickness,  advertise, 
that  after  his  death  nothing  of  his  might  be  printed ;  because  that  might  be 
said  to  be  his,  which  indeed  was  not ;  and  also  for  that  he  might  have 
changed  his  opinion  since  he  first  writ  it.  And  though  these  reasons  ought  to 
be  regarded,  yet  regarded  so,  as  he  resolves  in  that  Case  of  Conscience  con- 
cerning Rash  Vows;  that  there  may  appear  very  good  second  reasons  why 
we  may  forbear  to  perform  them.  However,  for  his  said  reasons,  they  ought  to 
be  read  as  we  do  Apocryphal  Scripture  ;  to  explain,  but  not  oblige  us  to  so  firm 
a  belief  of  what  is  here  presented  as  his. 

And  I  have  this  to  say  more  ;  That  as  in  my  queries  for  writing  Dr.  Sander- 
son's Life,  I  met  with  these  little  Tracts  annexed  ;  so,  in  my  former  queries 
for  my  information  to  write  the  Life  of  venerable  Mr.  Hooker,  I  met  with 


316  THE   PREFACE. 


a  Sermon,  which  I  also  believe  was  really  his,  and  here  presented  as  his 
to  the  Reader.  It  is  affirmed, — and  I  have  met  with  reason  to  believo  it, — 
that  there  be  some  Artists,  that  do  certainly  know  an  original  picture  from  a 
copy ;  and  in  what  age  of  the  world,  and  by  whom  drawn.  And  if  so,  then 
I  hope  it  may  be  as  safely  affirmed,  that  what  is  here  presented  for  theirs  is  so 
like  their  temper  of  mind,  their  other  writings,  the  times  when,  and  the  occa- 
sions upon  which  they  were  writ,  that  all  Readers  may  safely  conclude,  they 
could  be  writ  by  none  but  venerable  Mr.  Hooker,  and  the  humble  and  learned 
Dr.  Sanderson. 

And  lastly,  I  am  now  glad  that  I  have  collected  these  memoirs,  which  lay 
scattered,  and  contracted  them  into  a  narrower  compass  ;  and  if  I  have,  by  the 
pleasant  toil  of  doing  so,  either  pleased  or  profited  any  man,  I  have  attained 
what  I  designed  when  I  first  undertook  it.  But  I  seriously  wish,  both  for  the 
Reader's  and  Dr.  Sanderson's  sake,  that  posterity  had  known  his  great  Learn- 
ing and  Virtue  by  a  better  pen  ;  by  such  a  pen,  as  could  have  made  his  life  as 
immortal,  as  his  Learning  and  merits  ought  to  be.  I.  W. 


J 


THE  LIFE  OF  DR.  ROBERT   SANDERSON, 


LATE    LORD    BISHOP    OF    LINCOLN. 


Doctor  Robert  Sanderson,  the  late  learned  Bishop  of  Lincoln, 
whose  Life  I  intend  to  write  with  all  truth  and  equal  plainness, 
was  born  the  ninetecr>i  day  of  September,  in  the  year  of  our 
Redemption  1587.  The  place  of  his  birth  was  Rotherham  in  the 
County  of  York  :  a  Town  of  good  note,  and  the  more  for  tliat 
Thomas  Rotherham,*  some  time  Archbishop  of  that  see,  was  born 
in  it ;  a  man,  whose  great  wisdom,  and  bounty,  and  sanctity  of 
life,  have  made  it  the  more  memorable  :  as  indeed  it  ought  also  to 
be,  for  being  the  birth  place  of  our  Robert  Sanderson.  And  the 
Reader  will  be  of  my  belief,  if  this  humble  relation  of  his  life  can 
hold  any  proportion  with  his  great  Piety,  his  useful  Learning,  and 
his  many  other  extraordinary  endowments. 

He  vv'as  the  second  and  youngest  Son,  of  Robert  Sanderson,  of 
Gilthwaite-Hall,  in  the  said  Parish  and  County,  Esq.  by  Eliz- 
abeth, one  of  the  daughters  of  Richard  Carr,  of  Butterthwaite-Hall, 
in  the  Parish  of  Ecclesfield,  in  the  said  County  of  York,  Gentle- 
man. 

This  Robert  Sanderson,  the  Father,  was  descended  from  a 
numei'ous,  ancient,  and  honourable  family  of  his  own  name ;  for 

*  Thomas  Scot,  or  Rotheram,  so  called  after  his  birth  place,  Fellow  of 
King's  College,  in  Cambridge,  was  afterward  Master  of  Pembroke  Hall,  and 
in  1483  and  1464,  Chancellor  of  the  University.  He  obtained  great  ecclesias- 
tical preferment,  being  successively  Provost  of  Beverley,  Bishop  of  Rochestei 
and  of  Lincoln,  and  lastly  Archbishop  of  York.  Nor  was  he  less  adorned  with 
civil  honours,  having  been  appointed,  first,  Keeper  of  the  Privy  Seal,  and  then 
Lord  Chancellor  of  England.  The  two  Universities  and  his  native  town  still 
enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  bounty.  He  died  of  the  plague,  at  his  palace  of  Ca- 
wood,  in  1501. 


318  THE   LIFE   OF 


the  search  of  which  trutli,  I  refer  my  Reader,  that  inclines  to  it, 
to  Dr.  Thoroton's  "  History  of  the  Antiquities  of  Nottingham- 
shire," and  other  records  ;  not  thinking  it  necessary  here  to  en- 
gage him  into  a  search  for  bare  titles,  which  are  noted  to  have  in 
them  nothing  of  reality :  for  titles  not  acquired,  but  derived  only, 
do  but  shew  us  who  of  our  ancesters  have,  and  how  they  have 
achieved  that  honour  which  their  descendants  claim,  and  may 
not  be  worthy  to  enjoy.  For,  if  those  titles  descend  to  persons 
that  degenerate  into  Vice,  and  break  off  the  continued  line  of 
Learning,  or  Valour,  or  that  Virtue  that  acquired  them,  they 
destroy  the  very  foundation  upon  which  that  Honour  was  built ; 
and  all  the  rubbish  of  their  vices  ought  to  fall  heavy  on  such  dis- 
honourable heads ;  ought  to  fall  so  heavy,  as  to  degrade  them  of 
their  titles,  and  blast  their  memories  with  reproach  and  shame. 

But  our  Robert  Sanderson  lived  worthy  of  his  name  and  family  : 
of  which  one  testimony  may  be,  that  Gilbert,  called  the  Great 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  thought  him  not  unworthy  to  be  joined  with 
him  as  a  Godfather  to  Gilbert  Sheldon,*  the  late  Lord  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury ;  to  whose  merits  and  memory,  posterity — the 
Clergy  especially — ought  to  pay  a  reverence. 

But  I  return  to  my  intended  relation  of  Robert  the  Son,  who 
began  in  his  youth  to  make  the  Laws  of  God,  and  obedience  to 
his  parents,  the  rules  of  his  life ;  seeming  even  then  to  dedicate 
himself,  and  all  his  studies,  to  Piety  and  Virtue. 

And  as  he  was  inclined  to  this  by  that  native  goodness,  with 
which  the  wise  Disposer  of  all  hearts  had  endowed  his ;  so  this 
calm,  this  quiet  and  happy  temper  of  mind — his  being  mild,  and 
averse  to  oppositions — made  the  whole  course  of  his  life  easy  and 
grateful  both  to  himself  and  others :  and  this  blessed  temper  was 
maintained  and  improved  by  his  prudent  Father's  good  exam- 


*  Dr.  Gilbert  Sheldon,  was  born  July  19,  1598. — His  father,  Roger  Sheldon, 
though  of  no  obscure  parentage,  was  a  menial  servant  to  Gilbert  P^arl  of 
Shrewsbury. — He  was  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  and  took  his  Master's  de- 
gree in  May,  1620.  He  was  introduced  to  Chark's  I.  by  Lord  Coventry  and 
became  one  of  His  Majesty's  Chaplains.  Upon  the  Restoration,  he  was  made 
Dean  of  the  Chapel  Royal,  succeeded  Dr.  Juxon  as  Biohop  of  London,  and 
after  as  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  ;  in  16G7  he  was  elected  Chancellor  of  the 
University  of  Oxford.     He  died  at  Lambeth,  Nov.  9,  1G77 


DR.   ROBERT  SANDERSON.  319 

pie;  and  by  frequent  conversing  with  him,  and  scattering  short 
apophthegms  and  little  pleasant  stories,  and  making  useful  appli- 
cations  of  them,  his  son  was  in  his  infancy  taught  to  abhor  Vanity 
and  Vice  as  monsters,  and  to  discern  the  loveliness  of  Wisdom 
and  Virtue ;  and  by  these  means,  and  God's  concurring  grace, 
his  knowledge  was  so  augmented,  and  his  native  goodness  so  con- 
firmed, that  all  became  so  habitual,  as  it  was  not  easy  to  deter- 
mine whether  Nature  or  Education  were  his  teachers. 

And  here  let  me  tell  the  Reader,  that  these  early  beginnings  of 
Virtue,  were  by  God's  assisting  grace,  blessed  with  what  St. 
Paul  seemed  to  beg  for  his  Philippians;*  namely,  "  That  he,  that 
had  begun  a  good  work  in  them,  would  finish  it."  And  Almiglity 
God  did :  for  his  whole  life  was  so  regular  and  innocent,  that  he 
might  have  said  at  his  death — and  with  truth  and  comfort — what 
the  same  St.  Paul  said  after  to  the  same  Philippians,  when  he 
advised  them  to  walk  as  they  had  him  for  an  example. f 

And  this  goodness,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  seemed  to  increase 
as  his  years  did  ;  and  with  his  goodness  his  Learning,  the  foun- 
dation  of  which  was  laid  in  the  Grammar-school  of  Rotherham — 
that  being  one  of  those  three  that  were  founded  and  liberally  en- 
dowed by  the  said  great  and  good  Bishop  of  that  name. — And  in 
this  time  of  his  being  a  Scholar  there,  he  was  observed  to  use  an 
unwearied  diligence  to  attain  learning,  and  to  have  a  seriousness 
beyond  his  age,  and  with  it  a  more  than  common  modesty ;  and 
to  be  of  so  calm  and  obliging  a  behaviour,  that  the  Master  and 
whole  number  of  Scholars,  loved  him  as  one  man. 

And  in  this  love  and  amity  he  continued  at  that  School  till  about 
the  thirteenth  year  of  his  age  ;  at  which  time  his  Father  designed 
to  improve  his  Grammar  learning,  by  removing  him  from  Rother- 
ham to  one  of  the  more  noted  Schools  of  Eton  or  Westminster ; 
and  after  a  year's  stay  there,  then  to  remove  him  thence  to  Ox- 
ford. But,  as  he  went  with  him,  he  called  on  an  old  friend,  a 
Minister  of  noted  learning,  and  told  him  his  intentions ;  and  he, 
after  many  questions  with  his  Son,  received  such  answers  from 
him,  that  he  assured  his  Father,  his  Son  was  so  perfect  a  Gram- 
marian, that  he  had  laid  a  good  foundation  to  build  any  or  all  the 

*  Phil.  i.  6.  +  Chap.  iii.  17. 


320  THE   LIFE   OF 


Arts  upon  ;  and  therefore  advised  him  to  shorten  his  journey,  and 
leave  him  at  Oxford.     And  his  father  did  so. 

His  father  left  him  there  to  the  sole  care  and  manage  of  Dr. 
Kilbie,*  who  was  then  Rector  of  Lincoln  College.  And  he,  after 
some  time  and  trial  of  his  manners  and  learning,  thought  fit  to 
enter  him  of  that  College,  and,  after  to  matriculate  him  in  the 
University,  which  he  did  the  first  of  July,  1603  ;  but  he  was  not 
chosen  Fellow  till  the  third  of  May,  1606  ;  at  which  time  he  had 
taken  his  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  :  at  the  taking  of  which  de- 
gree, his  Tutor  told  the  Rector,  "  That  his  pupil  Sanderson  had  a 
metaphysical  brain  and  a  matchless  memory  ;  and  that  he  thought 
he  had  improved  or  made  the  last  so  by  an  art  of  his  own  inven- 
tion." And  all  the  future  employments  of  his  life  proved  that  his 
tutor  was  not  mistaken.  I  must  here  stop  my  Reader,  and  tell 
him  that  this  Dr.  Kilbie  was  a  man  of  so  great  learning  and  wis- 
dom and  was  so  excellent  a  critic  in  the  Hebrew  Tongue,  that  he 
was  made  Professor  of  it  in  this  university;  and  was  also  so  per- 
fect a  Grecian,  that  he  was  by  King  James  appointed  to  be  one 
of  the  Translators  of  the  Bible ;  and  that  this  Doctor  and  Mr. 
Sanderson  had  frequent  discourses,  and  loved  as  father  and  son. 
The  Doctor  was  to  ride  a  journey  into  Derbyshire,  and  took  Mr. 
Sanderson  to  bear  him  company  :  and  they  going  together  on  a 
Sunday  with  the  Doctor's  friend  to  that  Parish  Church  where  they 
then  were,  found  the  young  Preacher  to  have  no  more  discretion, 
than  to  waste  a  great  part  of  the  hour  allotted  for  his  Sermon  in 
exceptions  against  the  late  Translation  of  several  words, — not 
expecting  such  a  hearer  as  Dr.  Kilbie, — and  shewed  three  rea- 
sons why  a  particular  word  should  have  been  otherwise  translated. 
When  Evening  Prayer  was  ended,  the  Preacher  was  invited  to 
the  Doctor's  friend's  house;  where  after  some  other  conference 
the  Doctor  told  him,  "  He  might  have  preached  more  useful  doc- 
trine, and  not  have  filled  his  auditors'  ears  with  needless  exceptions 
against  the  late  Translation  :   and  for  that  word,  for  which  he 

*  Dr.  Richard  Kilbie,  born  at  RatclifFe,  in  Leicestershire,  and  a  great  bene- 
factor to  his  College,  since  he  restored  the  neglected  library,  added  eight  new 
repositories  for  books,  and  gave  to  it  many  excellent  volumes.  He  became 
Rector  in  1590,  and  in  1610  he  was  appointed  the  King's  Hebrew  Professor. 
He  died  in  1G20. 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  3li 

oiTered  to  that  poor  congregation  three  reasons  why  it  ouglit  to 
have  been  translated  as  he  said  ;  he  and  others  had  considered  all 
them,  and  found  thirteen  more  considerable  reasons  why  it  was 
translated  as  now  printed ;"  and  told  him,  "  If  his  friend,  then 
attending  him,  should  prove  guilty  of  such  indiscretion,  he  should 
forfeit  his  favour."  To  which  Mr.  Sanderson  said,  "  He  hoped 
he  should  not."  And  the  preacher  was  so  ingenious  as  to  say, 
"  He  would  not  justify  himself."  And  so  I  return  to  Oxford.  In 
the  year  1608, — July  the  11th, — Mr.  Sanderson  was  completed 
Master  of  Arts.  I  am  not  ignorant,  that  for  the  attaining  these 
dignities  the  time  was  shorter  than  was  then  or  is  now  required  ; 
but  either  his  birth  or  the  well  performance  of  some  extraordinary 
exercise,  or  some  other  merit,  made  him  so :  and  the  reader  is  re- 
quested to  believe,  that  'twas  the  last :  and  requested  to  believe 
also,  that  if  I  be  mistaken  in  the  time,  the  College  Records  have 
misinformed  me :  but  I  hope  they  have  not. 

In  that  year  of  1608,  he  was — November  the  7th — by  his 
College  chosen  Reader  of  Logic  in  the  House ;  which  he  per- 
formed  so  well,  that  he  was  chosen  again  the  sixth  of  November, 
1609.  In  the  year  1613,  he  was  chosen  Sub-Rector  of  the  Col- 
lege, and  the  like  for  the  year  1614,  and  chosen  again  to  the 
same  dignity  and  trust  for  the  year  1616. 

In  all  which  time  and  employments,  his  abilities  and  behaviour 
were  such,  as  procured  him  both  love  and  reverence  from  the 
whole  Society  ;  there  being  no  exception  against  him  for  any 
faults,  but  a  sorrow  for  the  infirmities  of  his  being  too  timorous 
and  bashful ;  both  which  were,  God  knows,  so  connatural  as  they 
never  left  him.  And  I  know  not  whether  his  lovers  ought  to  wish 
they  had ;  for  they  proved  so  like  the  radical  moisture  in  man's 
body,  that  they  preserved  the  life  of  virtue  in  his  soul,  which  by 
God's  assisting  grace  never  left  him  till  this  life  put  on  immor- 
tality.  Of  which  happy  infirmities — if  they  may  be  so  called — 
more  hereafter. 

In  the  year  1614  he  stood  to  be  elected  one  of  the  Proctors  for 
tlie  University.  And  'twas  not  to  satisfy  any  ambition  of  his 
ov/n,  but  to  comply  with  the  desire  of.  the  Rector  and  whole 
Society,  of  which  he  was  a  Member;  who  had  not  had  a  Proctor 
chosen  out  of  their  College  for  the  space  of  sixty  years  ;— namely, 


322  THE   LIFE   OF 


not  from  the  year  1554,  unto  his  standing  ; — and  they  persuaded 
him,  that  if  he  would  but  stand  for  Proctor,  his  merits  were  so 
generally  known,  and  he  so  well  beloved,  that  'twas  but  appear- 
ing, and  he  would  infallibly  carry  it  against  any  opposers ;  and 
told  him,  "  That  he  would  by  that  means  recover  a  right  or  repu- 
tation that  was  seemingly  dead  to  his  College."  By  these,  and 
other  like  persuasions,  he  yielded  up  his  own  reason  to  theirs,  and 
appeared  to  stand  for  Proctor.  But  that  election  was  carried  on 
by  so  sudden  and  secret,  and  by  so  powerful  a  faction,  that  he 
missed  it.  Which  when  he  understood,  he  professed  seriously  to 
his  friends,  "  That  if  he  were  troubled  at  the  disappointment,  it 
was  for  their's,  and  not  for  his  ow  n  sake  :  for  he  was  far  from 
any  desire  of  such  an  employment,  as  must  be  managed  with 
charge  and  trouble,  and  was  too  usually  rewarded  with  hard  cen- 
sures, or  hatred,  or  both." 

In  the  year  following  he  was  earnestly  persuaded  by  Dr.  Kilbie 
and  others,  to  review  the  Logic  Lectures  which  he  had  read  some 
years  past  in  his  College  ;  and,  that  done,  to  methodise  and  print 
them,  for  the  ease  and  public  good  of  posterity.  But  though  he 
had  an  averseness  to  appear  publicly  in  print ;  yet  after  many 
serious  solicitations,  and  some  second  thoughts  of  his  own,  he  laid 
aside  his  modesty,  and  promised  he  would  ;  and  he  did  so  in  that 
year  of  1615.  And  the  book  proved  as  his  friends  seemed  to 
prophesy,  that  is,  of  great  and  general  use,  whether  we  respect 
the  Art  or  the  Author.  For  Logic  may  be  said  to  be  an  art  of 
right  reasoning  ;  an  Art  that  undeceives  men  who  take  falsehood 
for  truth  ;  enables  men  to  pass  a  true  judgment,  and  detect  tliose 
fallacies,  which  in  some  men's  understandings  usurp  the  place  of 
right  reason.  And  how  great  a  master  our  Author  ^^as  in  this 
art,  will  quickl}'-  appear  from  that  clearness  of  method,  argument, 
and  demonstration,  which  is  so  conspicuous  in  all  his  other  wri- 
tings. He,  who  had  attained  to  so  great  a  dexterity  in  the  use  of 
reason  himself,  was  best  qualified  to  prescribe  rules  and  directions 
for  the  instruction  of  otiiers.  And  I  am  the  more  satisfied  of  the 
excellency  and  usefulness  of  this,  his  first  public  undertaking,  by 
hearing  that  most  Tutors  in  both  Universities  teach  Dr.  Sander- 
son's Logic  to  their  Pupils,  as  a  foundation  upon  which  they  are 
to  build  their  future  studies  in  Philosophy.     And,  for  a  further 


DR.   ROBERT    SANDERSON.  323 

confirmation  of  my  belief,  the  Reader  may  note,  tliat  since  his 
Book  of  Logic  was  first  printed  there  lias  not  been  less  than  ten 
thousand  sold  :  and  that  'tis  like  to  continue  both  to  discover  truth 
and  to  clear  and  confirm  the  reason  of  the  unborn  world. 

It  will  easily  be  believed  that  his  former  standing  for  a  Proctor's 
place,  and  being  disappointed,  must  prove  much  displeasing  to  a 
man  of  his  great  wisdom  and  modesty,  and  create  in  him  an 
averseness  to  run  a  second  hazard  of  his  credit  and  content :  and 
yet  he  was  assured  by  Dr.  Kilbie,  and  the  Fellows  of  his  own 
College,  and  most  of  those  that  had  opposed  him  in  the  former 
Election,  that  ijis  Book  of  Loijic  had  pui-cjiased  for  him  such  a 
belief  of  his  learning  and  prudence,  and  his  behaviour  at  the 
former  Election  had  got  for  him  so  great  and  so  general  a  love, 
that  all  his  Ibrmer  opposers  repented  what  they  had  done  ;  and 
therefore  persuaded  him  to  venture  to  stand  a  second  time.  And, 
upon  these,  and  other  like  encouragements,  he  did  again,  but  not 
without  an  inward  unwillingness,  yield  up  his  own  reason  to 
their's,  and  promised  to  stand.  And  he  did  so;  and  was  the 
tenth  of  April,  1616,  chosen  Senior  Proctor  for  the  year  following  ; 
Mr.  Charles  Crooke*  of  Christ  Church  being  then  chosen  the  Junior. 

In  this  year  of  his  being  Proctor,  there  happened  many  ixiemo. 
rable  accidents;  namely.  Dr.  Robert  Abbot,f  Master  of  Baliol 
College,  and  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity, — who  being  elected  or 
consecrated  Bishop  of  Sarum  some  months  before, — was  solemnly 
conducted  out  of  Oxford  towards  his  Diocese,  by  the  Heads  of  all 
Houses,  and  the  chief  of  all  the  University.     And  Viw  Prideaux:|: 

*  jlr.  Charles  Crooke,  a  younger  soa  of  Sir  John  Croolce,  of  Chilton,  ia 
Backs,  one  of  the  Justices  of  the  King's  Bench.  In  1G25,  he  proceeded  D.  D. 
beino-  then  Rector  of  Ainershaiii,  and  a  Fellow  of  Eton  Col!e<Tc. 

t  Brother  of  George  Abbot,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  born  at  Guildford  ia 
1590,  and  promoted  to  the  See  of  Sahsbury  in  161.5,  as  a  reward  for  his  Lec- 
tures against  Suarez  and  Bellarrniue,  in  defence  of  the  King's  supreme  power. 
On  his  way  to  Sarum,  he  made  an  oration  to  the  University,  and  his  friends 
parted  from  him  with  tears.     He  died  March  2iid,  1617. 

\  Dr.  John  Prideaux,  born  at  Harford,  in  Devonshire,  in  1578,  and  Rector 
of  Exeter  College  in  1612,  when  he  acquired  so  much  fame  in  the  governnient 
of  it,  that  several  eminent  foreigners  placed  themselves  under  his  care.  He 
was  made  King's  Professor  in  Divinity,  in  1615,  but  was  reduced  to  great 
poverty  ia  the  Civil  Wars,  and  died  July  20lh,  1650. 


324  THE  LIFE   OF 


succeeded  him.  in  the  Professorship,  in  which  he  continued  till  the 
year  1642, — being  then  elected  Bishop  of  Worcester, — and  then 
our  now  Proctor,  Mr.  Sanderson,  succeeded  him  in  the  Regius 
Professorship. 

And  in  this  year  Dr.  Arthur  Lake — then  Warden  of  New 
College — was  advanced  to  the  Bishopric  of  Bath  and  Wells  :  a 
man  of  whom  I  take  myself  bound  in  justice  to  say,  that  he  has 
made  the  great  trust  committed  to  him,  the  chief  care  and  whole 
business  of  his  life.  And  one  testimony  of  this  proof  may  be, 
that  he  sate  usually  with  his  Chancellor  in  his  Consistory,  and  at 
least  advised,  if  not  assisted,  in  most  sentences  for  the  punishing 
of  such  offenders  as  deserved  Church-censures.  And  it  may  be 
noted,  that,  after  a  sentence  for  penance  was  pronounced,  he  did 
very  rarely  or  never,  allow  of  any  commutation  for  the  offence, 
but  did  usually  see  the  sentence  for  penance  executed  ;  and  then 
as  usually  preached  a  Sermon  of  mortification  and  repentance, 
and  did  so  apply  them  to  the  offenders,  that  then  stood  before  him, 
as  begot  in  them  a  devout  contrition,  and  at  least  resolutions  to 
amend  their  lives  :  and  having  done  that,  he  would  take  them — 
though  never  so  poor — to  dinner  with  him,  and  use  them  friendly, 
and  dismiss  them  with  his  blessing  and  persuasions  to  a  virtuous 
life,  and  beg  them  to  believe  him.  And  his  humility  and  charity, 
and  other  Christian  excellencies,  were  all  like  this.  Of  all 
which  the  Reader  may  inform  himself  in  his  Life,  truly  writ,  and 
printed  before  his  Sermons. 

And  in  this  year  also,  the  very  prudent  and  very  wise  Lord 
EUesmere,  who  was  so  very  long  Lord  Chancellor  of  England, 
and  then  of  Oxford,  resigning  up  the  last,  the  Right  Honourable, 
and  as  magnificent,  William  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  was 
chosen  to  succeed  him. 

And  in  this  year  our  late  King  Charles  the  First — then  Prince 
of  Wales,  came  honourably  attended  to  Oxford  ;  and  having  de- 
liberately visited  the  University,  the  Schools,  Colleges,  and  Li- 
braries, he  and  his  attendants  were  entertained  with  ceremonies 
and  feasting  suitable  to  their  dignity  and  merits. 

And  this  year  King  James  sent  letters  to  the  University  for  the 
regulating  their  studies  ;  especially  of  the  young  Divines  :  advi- 
sing  they  should  not  rely  on  modern  sums  and  systems,  but  study 


DR.   ROBERT  SANDERSON.  325 

the  Fathers  and  Councils,  and  the  more  primitive  learning.  And 
this  advice  was  occasioned  by  the  indiscreet  inferences  made  by 
very  many  Preachers  out  of  Mr.  Calvin's  doctrine  concerning 
Predestination,  Universal  Redemption,  the  Irresistibility  of  God's 
Grace,  and  of  some  other  knotty  points  depending  upon  these ; 
points  which  many  think  were  not,  but  by  interpreters  forced  to 
be,  Mr.  Calvin's  meaning;  of  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  which  I 
pretend  not  to  have  an  ability  to  judge  ;  my  meaning  in  this  rela- 
tion, being  only  to  acquaint  the  Reader  with  the  occasion  of  the 
King's  Letter. 

It  may  be  observed,  that  the  various  accidents  of  this  year  did 
afford  our  Proctor  large  and  laudable  matter  to  dilate  and  discourse 
upon  :  and  that  though  his  office  seemed,  according  to  statute  and 
custom,  to  require  him  do  so  at  his  leaving  it;  yet  he  choose 
rather  to  pass  them  over  with  some  very  short  observations,  and 
present  the  governors,  and  his  other  hearers,  with  rules  to  keep 
up  discipline  and  order  in  the  University  ;  which  at  that  time  was, 
either  by  defective  Statutes,  or  want  of  the  due  execution  of  those 
that  were  good,  grown  to  be  extremely  irregular.  And  in  this 
year  also,  the  magisterial  part  of  the  Proctor  required  moi'e  dili- 
gence, and  was  more  difficult  to  be  managed  than  formerly,  by 
reason  of  a  multiplicity  of  new  Statutes,  which  begot  much  confu- 
sion ;  some  of  which  Statutes  were  then,  and  others  suddenly  af- 
ter, put  into  an  useful  execution.  And  though  these  Statutes  were 
not  then  made  so  perfectly  useful  as  they  were  designed,  till  Arch- 
bishop Laud's  time — who  assisted  in  the  forming  and  promoting 
them  ; — yet  our  present  Proctor  made  them  as  effectual  as  discre- 
tion and  diligence  could  do :  of  which  one  example  may  seem 
worthy  the  noting ;  namely,  that  if  in  his  night- walk  he  met  with 
irregular  Scholars  absent  from  their  Colleges  at  University  hourSj 
or  disordered  by  drink,  or  in  scandalous  company,  he  did  not  use 
his  power  of  punishing  to  an  extremity  ;  but  did  usually  take 
their  names,  and  a  promise  to  appear  before  him  unsent  for  next 
morning:  and  when  they  did,  convinced  them,  with  such  obliging, 
ness,  and  reason  added  to  it,  that  they  parted  from  him  with  sucli 
resolutions,  as  the  man  after  God's  own  heart  was  possessed  with, 
when  he  said,  "  There  is  mercy  with  thee,  and  therefore  thou 
shalt  be  feared:"  Psal.  cxxx.  4.     And  by  this  and  a  like  belia- 

TART  II.  11 


326  THE   LIFE   OF 


viour  to  all  men,  he  was  so  happy  as  to  lay  down  this  dangerous 
employment,  as  but  very  few,  if  any,  have  done,  even  without  an 
enemy. 

After  his  speech  was  ended,  and  he  retired  with  a  friend  into 
a  convenient  privacy,  he  looked  upon  his  friend  with  a  more  than 
common  cheerfulness,  and  spake  to  him  to  this  purpose  :  "  I  look 
back  upon  my  late  employment  with  some  content  to  myself,  and 
a  great  thankfulness  to  Almighty  God,  that  he  hath  made  me  of 
a  temper  not  apt  to  provoke  the  meanest  of  mankind,  but  rather 
to  pass  by  infirmities,  if  noted  ;  and  in  this  employment  I  have 
had — God  knows — many  occasions  to  do  both.  And  when  I  con- 
sider, how  many  of  a  contrary  temper  are  by  sudden  and  small 
occasions  transported  and  hurried  by  anger  to  commit  such  errors, 
as  they  in  that  passion  could  not  foresee,  and  will  in  their  more 
calm  and  deliberate  thoughts  upbraid,  and  require  repentance  : 
and  consider,  that  though  repentance  secures  us  from  the  punish- 
ment of  any  sin,  yet  how  much  more  comfortable  it  is  to  be  inno- 
cent, than  need  pardon  :  and  consider,  that  errors  against  men, 
though  pardoned  both  by  God  and  them,  do  yet  leave  such  anxious 
and  upbraiding  impressions  in  the  memory,  as  abates  of  the  offend- 
er's content : — when  I  consider  all  this,  and  that  God  hath  of  his 
goodness  given  me  a  temper  that  hath  prevented  me  from  running 
into  such  enormities,  I  remember  my  temper  with  joy  and  thank- 
fulness. And  though  I  cannot  say  with  David — I  wish  I  could, — 
that  therefore  '  his  praise  shall  always  be  in  my  mouth  :'  Psal. 
xxxiv.  1 ;  yet  I  hope,  that  by  his  grace,  and  that  grace  seconded 
by  my  endeavours,  it  shall  never  be  blotted  out  of  my  memory ; 
and  I  now  beseech  Almighty  God  that  it  never  may." 

And  here  I  must  look  back,  and  mention  one  passage  more  in 
his  Proctorship,  which  is,  that  Gilbert  Sheldon,  the  late  Lord 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  this  year  sent  to  Trinity  College 
in  that  University ;  and  not  long  after  his  entrance  there,  a  letter 
was  sent  after  him  from  his  god-father, — the  father  of  our  Protec- 
tor— to  let  his  son  know  it,  and  commend  his  godson  to  his  acquaint- 
ance, and  to  more  than  a  common  care  of  his  behaviour ;  which 
proved  a  pleasing  injunction  to  our  Proctor,  who  was  so  gladly 
obedient  to  his  father's  desire,  that  he  some  few  days  after  sent  his 
servitor  to  intreat  Mr.  Sheldon  to  his  chamber  next  morning.    But 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  327 

it  seems  Mr.  Sheldon  having — like  a  young  man  as  he  was — run 
into  some  such  irregularity  as  made  him  conscious  he  had  trans- 
gressed his  statutes,  did  therefore  apprehend  the  Proctor's  invita- 
tion as  an  introduction  to  punishment ;  the  fear  of  which  made  his 
bed  restless  that  night :  but,  at  their  meeting  the  next  morning, 
that  fear  vanished  immediately  by  the  Proctor's  cheerful  counte- 
nance, and  the  freedom  of  their  discourse  of  friends.  And  let  me 
tell  my  Reader,  that  this  first  meeting  proved  the  beginning  of  as 
spiritual  a  friendship  as  human  nature  is  capable  of;  of  a  friend- 
ship free  from  all  self  ends :  and  it  continued  to  be  so,  till  death 
forced  a  separation  of  it  on  earth ;  but  it  is  now  reunited  in 
Heaven. 

And  now  having  given  this  account  of  his  behaviour,  and  the 
considerable  accidents  in  his  Proctorship,  I  proceed  to  tell  my 
Reader,  that,  this  busy  employment  being  ended,  he  preached  his 
sermon  for  his  Degree  of  Bachelor  in  Divinity  in  as  elegant  Latin, 
and  as  remarkable  for  the  matter,  as  hath  been  preached  in  that 
University  since  that  day.  And  having  well  performed  his  other 
exercises  for  that  Degree,  he  took  it  the  nine  and  twentieth  of  May 
follov/ing,  having  been  ordained  Deacon  and  Priest  in  the  year 
1611,  by  John  King,  then  Bishop  of  London,  who  had  not  long 
before  been  Dean  of  Christ  Church,  and  then  knev/  him  so  v.ell, 
that  he  became  his  most  affectionate  friend.  And  in  this  year, 
being  tlien  about  the  twenty-ninth  of  his  age,  he  took  from  the 
University  a  license  to  preach. 

In  the  year  1313,  he  was  by  Sir  Nicholas  Sanderson,  Lord 
Viscount  Castleton,  presented  to  tiie  Rectory  of  Wibberton,  not 
far  from  Boston,  in  the  County  of  Lincoln,  a  living  of  very  good 
value  ;  but  it  lay  in  so  lov/  and  wet  a  part  of  that  country  as  was 
inconsistent  with  his  health.  And  health  being — next  to  a  good 
conscience — the  greatest  of  God's  blessings  in  this  life,  and  re- 
quiring therefore  of  every  man  a  care  and  diligence  to  preserve 
it,  he,  apprehending  a  danger  of  losing  it,  if  he  continued  at  Wib- 
berton a  second  Winter,  did  therefore  resign  it  back  into  the  hands 
of  his  worthy  kinsman  and  patron,  about  one  year  after  his  dona- 
tion of  it  to  him.    • 

And  about  this  time  of  his  resignation  he  was  presented  to  the 
Rectory  of  Boothby  Pannell,  in  the  same  County  of  Lincoln ;  a 


328  THE   LIFE   OF 


town  which  has  been  made  famous,  and  must  continue  to  be  fa- 
mous, because  Dr.  Sanderson,  the  humble  and  learned  Dr.  San- 
derson, was  more  than  forty  years  Parson  of  Boothby  Pannell,  and 
from  thence  dated  all  or  most  of  his  matchless  writinss. 

To  this  living — which  was  of  no  less  value,  but  a  purer  air 
than  Wibberton — he  was  presented  by  Thomas  Harrington,  of  the 
same  County,  and  Parish,  Esq.  who  v/as  a  gentleman  of  a  very 
ancient  family,  and  of  great  use  and  esteem  in  his  country  during 
his  whole  life.  And  in  this  Boothby  Pannell  the  meek  and  char- 
itable Dr.  Sanderson  and  his  patron  lived  with  an  endearing,  mu- 
tual, and  comfortable  friendship,  till  the  death  of  the  last  put  a 
period  to  it. 

About  the  time  that  he  was  made  Parson  of  Boothby  Pannell, 
he  resigned  his  Fellowship  of  Lincoln  College  unto  the  then  Rec- 
tor and  Fellows  ;   and  his  resignation  is  recorded  in  the.se  words : 

Ergo  Robertus  Sanderson  perpetuus,  &c. 

1  Robert  Sanderson,  Fellow  of  the  College  of  St.  Mary's  and 
All-Saints,  commonly  called  Lincoln  College,  in  the  University 
of  Oxford,  do  freely  and  willingly  resign  into  the  hands  of  the 
Pwector  and  Fellows,  all  the  right  and  title  that  I  have  in  the  said 
College,  wishing  to  them  and  their  successors  all  peace,  and  piety, 
and  happiness,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.     Amen. 

May  6,  1619.  Robert  Sanderson. 

And  not  long  after  this  resignation,  lie  was  by  the  then  Bishop 
of  York,*  or  the  King  sede  vacante,  made  Prebend  of  the  Collegi- 
ate Church  of  Southwell  in  that  Diocese ;  and  shortly  after  of 
Lincoln  by  the  Bishop  of  that  See. 

And  being  now  resolved  to  set  down  his  rest  in  a  quiet  privacy 
at  Boothby  Pannell,  and  looking  back  with  some  sadness  upon  his 
removal  from  his  general  acquaintance  left  in  Oxford,  and  the  pe- 
culiar pleasures  of  a  University  life  ;  he  could  not  but  think  the 
want  of  society  would  render  this  of  a  country  Parson  the  more 
uncomfortable,  by  reason  of  that  vvant  of  conversation  ;  and  there- 
fore he  did  put  on  some  faint  purposes  to  marry.     For  he  had  con- 

*  Dr.  Tobias  Matthew— died,  March,  29,  1628,  aged  83. 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  329 

sidered,  that  though  marriage  be  cumbered  with  more  worldly  care 
than  a  single  life  ;  yet  a  complying  and  a  prudent  wife  changes 
those  very  cares  into  so  mutual  a  content,  as  makes  them  become 
like  the  sufferings  of  St.  Paul,  Colos.  i.  24,  which  he  would  not 
have  wanted  because  they  occasioned  his  rejoicing  in  them.  And 
he,  having  well  considered  this,  and  observed  the  secret  unuttera- 
ble joys  that  children  beget  in  parents,  and  the  mutual  pleasures 
and  contented  trouble  of  their  daily  care  and  constant  endeavours 
to  bring  up  those  little  images  of  themselves,  so  as  to  make  them 
as  happy  as  all  those  cares  and  endeavours  can  make  them :  he, 
having  considered  all  this,  the  hopes  of  such  happiness  turned  his 
faint  purposes  into  a  positive  resolution  to  marry.  And  he  was 
so  happy  as  to  obtain  Anne,  the  daughter  of  Henry  Nelson,  Bach- 
elor in  Divinity,  then  Rector  of  Haugham,  in  the  County  of  Lin- 
coln, a  man  of  noted  worth  and  learning.  And  the  Giver  of  all 
good  things  was  so  good  to  him,  as  to  give  him  such  a  wife  as  was 
suitable  to  his  own  desires  ;  a  wife,  that  made  his  life  happy  by 
being  always  content  when  he  was  cheerful  ;  that  divided  her  joys 
with  him,  and  abated  of  his  sorrow,  by  bearing  a  part  of  that  bur- 
den ;  a  wife  that  demonstrated  her  affection  by  a  cheerful  obedi- 
ence to  all  his  desires,  during  the  whole  course  of  his  life  ;  and  at 
his  death  too,  for  she  outlived  him. 

And  in  this  Boothby  Pannell,  he  either  found  or  made  his  pa- 
rishioners peaceable,  and  complying  with  him  in  the  decent  and 
regular  service  of  God.  And  thus  his  Parish,  his  patron,  and  he 
lived  together  in  a  religious  love  and  a  contented  quietness ;  he 
not  troubling  their  thoughts  by  preaching  high  and  useless  notions, 
but  such  plain  truths  as  were  necessary  to  be  known,  believed  and 
practised,  in  order  to  their  salvation.  And  their  assent  to  v»hat  he 
taught  was  testified  by  such  a  conformity  to  his  doctrine,  as  de- 
clared they  believed  and  loved  him.  For  he  would  often  say, 
"  That,  without  the  last,  the  most  evident  truths — heard  as  from 
an  enemy,  or  an  evil  liver — either  are  not,  or  arc  at  least  the  less 
effectual ;  and  do  usually  rather  harden  than  convince  the  hearer." 

And  this  excellent  man  did  not  think  his  duty  discharged  by 
only  reading  the  Church  prayers,  catechising,  preaching,  and  ad- 
ministering the  Sacraments  seasonably  ;  but  thought — if  the  Law 
or  the  Canons  may  seem  to  enjoin  no  more, — yet  that  God  would 


330  THE   LIFE   OF 


require  more,  than  the  defective  laws  of  man's  making  can  or 
do  enjoin  ;  the  performance  of  that  inward  law,  which  Almighty 
God  hath  imprinted  in  the  conscience  of  all  good  Christians,  and 
inclines  those  whom  he  loves  to  perform.  He,  considering  this, 
did  therefore  become  a  law  to  himself,  practising  what  his  con- 
science told  him  was  his  duty,  in  reconciling  differences,  and  pre- 
venting law-suits,  both  in  his  Parish  and  in  the  neighbourhood. 
To  which  may  be  added  his  often  visiting  sick  and  disconsolate 
families,  pei'suading  them  to  patience,  and  raising  them  from  de- 
jection by  his  advice  and  cheerful  discourse,  and  by  adding  his 
own  alms,  if  there  were  any  so  poor  as  to  need  it :  considering 
how  acceptable  it  is  to  Almighty  God,  when  we  do  as  we  are  ad- 
vised by  St.  Paul,  Gal.  vi.  2.  "  Help  to  bear  one  another's  bur- 
den," either  of  sorrow  or  want :  and  what  a  comfort  it  will  be, 
when  the  Searcher  of  all  hearts  shall  call  us  to  a  strict  account 
for  that  evil  we  have  done,  and  the  good  we  have  omitted,  to  re- 
member we  have  comforted  and  been  helpful  to  a  dejected  or  dis- 
tressed family. 

And  that  his  practice  w-as  to  do  good,  one  example  may  be,  that 
he  met  with  a  poor  dejected  neighbour,  that  complained  he  had 
taken  a  meadow,  the  rent  of  which  was  9Z.  a  year  ;  and  when 
the  hay  was  made  ready  to  be  carried  into  his  barn,  several  days 
constant  rain  had  so  raised  the  water,  that  a  sudden  flood  carried 
all  away,  and  his  rich  Landlord  would  bate  him  no  rent ;  and 
that  unless  he  had  half  abated,  he  and  seven  children  were  utter- 
ly undone.  It  may  be  noted,  that  in  this  age  there  are  a  sort  of 
people  so  unlike  the  God  of  iMercy,  so  void  of  the  bowels  of  pity, 
that  they  love  only  themselves  and  children  :  love  them  so,  as  not 
to  be  concerned,  whether  the  rest  of  mankind  waste  their  days  in 
sorrow  or  shame ;  people  that  are  cursed  with  riches,  and  a  mis- 
take that  nothing  but  riches  can  make  them  and  their's  happy. 
But  it  was  not  so  with  Dr.  Sanderson  ;  for  he  was  concerned,  and 
spoke  comfortably  to  the  poor  dejected  man  ;  bade  him  go  home 
and  pray,  and  not  load  himself  with  sorrow,  for  he  would  go  to 
his  Landlord  next  morning  ;  and  if  his  Landlord  would  not  abate 
what  he  desired,  he  and  a  friend  would  pay  it  for  him. 

To  the  Landlord  he  went  the  next  day,  and,  in  a  conference, 
the  Doctor  presented  to  him  the  sad  condition  of  his  poor  dejected 


DR.    ROBERT  SANDERSON.  331 

Tenant ;  telling  him  how  much  God  is  pleased  when  men  com- 
passionate the  poor  :  and  told  him,  that  though  God  loves  sacri- 
fice, yet  he  loves  mercy  so  much  better,  that  he  is  pleased  when 
called  the  God  of  Mercy.  And  told  him  the  riches  he  was  pos- 
sessed of  were  given  him  by  that  God  of  Mercy,  who  would  not 
be  pleased,  if  he,  that  had  so  much  given,  yea,  and  forgiven  him 
too,  should  prove  like  the  rich  steward  in  the  Gospel,  "  that  took 
his  fellow  servant  by  the  throat  to  make  him  pay  the  utmost  far- 
thing." This  he  told  him  :  and  told  him,  that  the  law  of  this  na- 
tion— by  which  law  he  claims  his  rent — does  not  undertake  to 
make  men  honest  or  merciful ;  but  does  what  it  can  to  restrain 
men  from  being  dishonest  or  unmerciful,  and  yet  was  defective  in 
both  :  and  that  taking  any  rent  from  his  poor  Tenant,  for  what 
God  suffered  him  not  to  enjoy,  though  the  law  allowed  him  to  do 
so,  yet  if  he  did  so,  he  was  too  like  that  rich  Steward  which  he  had 
mentioned  to  him  ;  and  told  him  that  riches  so  gotten,  and  added 
to  his  great  estate,  would,  as  Job  says,  "  prove  like  gravel  in  his 
teeth  :"  would  in  time  so  corrode  his  conscience,  or  become  so 
nauseous  when  he  lay  upon  his  death-bed,  that  he  would  then  la- 
bour to  vomit  it  up,  and  not  be  able :  and  therefore  advised  him, 
being  very  rich,  to  make  friends  of  his  unrighteous  Mammon,  be- 
fore that  evil  day  come  upon  him  :  but  however,  neither  for  his 
own  sake,  nor  for  God's  sake,  to  take  any  rent  of  his  poor,  de- 
jected, sad  Tenant ;  for  that  were  to  gain  a  temporal,  and  lose 
his  eternal  happiness.  These,  and  other  such  reasons  were  urged 
with  so  grave  and  compassionate  an  earnestness,  that  the  Land- 
lord forgave  his  Tenant  the  whole  rent. 

The  Reader  will  easily  believe  that  Dr.  Sanderson,  who  was 
so  meek  and  merciful,  did  suddenly  and  gladly  carry  this  com- 
fortable news  to  the  dejected  Tenant ;  and  we  believe,  that  at  the 
telling  of  it  there  was  a  mutual  rejoicing.  It  was  one  of  Job's 
boasts,  that  "  he  had  seen  none  perish  for  want  of  clothing  :  and  that 
he  had  often  made  the  heart  of  the  widow  to  rejoice."  Job  xxxi. 
19.  And  doubtless  Dr.  Sanderson  might  have  made  the  same 
religious  boast  of  this  and  very  many  like  occasions.  But,  since 
he  did  not,  I  rejoice  that  I  have  this  just  occasion  to  do  it  for  him  ; 
and  that  I  can  tell  the  Reader,  I  might  tire  myself  and  him,  in 


332  THE   LIFE   OF 


telling  iiow  liks  the  whole  course  of  Dr.  Sanderson's  life,  was  to 
this  which  I  have  now  related. 

Thus  lie  went  on  in  an  obscure  and  quiet  privacy,  doing  good 
daily  both  by  word  and  by  deed,  as  often  as  any  occasion  oifered 
itself;  yet  not  so  obscurely,  but  that  his  very  great  learning,  pru- 
dence, and  piety,  were  much  noted  and  valued  by  the  Bishop  of 
his  Diocese,  and  by  most  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  that  coun- 
ty. By  the  first  of  which  he  was  often  summoned  to  preach  many 
Visitation  Sermons,  and  by  the  latter  at  many  Assizes.  Which 
Sermons,  though  they  were  much  esteemed  by  them  that  procured, 
and  were  fit  to  judge  them  ;  yet  they  were  the  less  valued,  be- 
cause he  read  them,  v/hich  he  was  forced  to  do ;  for  though  he 
had  an  extraordinary  memory, — even  the  art  of  it, — yet  he  had 
such  an  innate  invincible  fear  and  basiifulness,  that  his  memory 
was  wholly  useless,  as  to  the  repetition  of  his  sermons  as  he  had 
writ  them  ;  which  gave  occasion  to  say,  when  they  were  first 
printed  and  exposed  to  censure, — which  was  in  the  year  1632, — 
"  that  the  best  Sermons  that  were  ever  read,  were  never  preached." 

In  this  contented  obscurity  he  continued,  till  the  learned  and 
good  Archbishop  Laud,*  who  knew  him  well  in  Oxford — for  he 
was  his  contemporary  there, — told  the  King, — 'twas  the  knowing 
and  conscientious  King  Charles  the  First, — that  there  was  one  Mr. 
Sanderson,  an  obscure  country  Minister,  that  was  of  such  sincer- 
ity, and  so  excellent  in  all  casuistical  learning,  that  he  desired 
his  Majesty  would  make  him  his  Chaplain.  The  King  granted 
it  most  willingly,  and  gave  the  Bishop  charge  to  hasten  it,  for  he 
longed  to  discourse  with  a  man  that  had  dedicated  his  studies  to 
that  useful  part  of  learning.  The  Bishop  forgot  not  the  King's 
desire,  and  Mr.  Sanderson  was  made  his  Chaplain  in  Ordinary  in 
November   following.  1631.     And  when  they  became  known  to 

*  Dr.  William  Laud,  born  at  Reading,  Oct.  7,  1573,  and  educated  there, 
and  at  St.  John's  College,  Oxford.  In  1616,  he  was  made  Dean  of  Glouces- 
ter, in  1621  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  and  in  1622  he  had  a  conference  with  Fisher 
the  Jesuit,  of  which  the  printed  account  evinces  how  opposed  he  was  to  Pope- 
ry ;  but  his  Arminian  tenets  gave  offence  to  the  Calvinists.  In  1626  he  was 
translated  to  the  See  of  Bath  and  Wells,  in  1628  to  London,  and  in  1633  to 
Canterbury.  His  zeal  for  the  establishment  of  the  Liturgy  in  Scotland  pro- 
duced him  numerous  enemies,  by  whoso  means  he  was  imprisoned  in  the 
Tower  for  three  years,  and  beheaded  Jan.  lOth,  1644-45. 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  333 

each  other,  the  King  did  put  many  Cases  of  Conscience  to  him, 
and  received  from  him  such  deliberate,  safe,  and  clear  solutions, 
as  gave  him  great  content  in  conversing  with  him  ;  so  that,  at  the 
end  of  his  month's  attendance,  the  King  told  him,  "  he  should  long 
for  the  next  November ;  for  he  resolved  to  have  a  more  inward 
acquaintance  with  him  when  that  month  and  he  returned."  And 
when  the  month  and  he  did  return,  the  good  King  was  never  ab- 
sent from  his  Sermons,  and  would  usually  say,  "  I  carry  my  ears 
to  hear  other  preachers  ;  but  I  carry  my  conscience  to  hear  Mr. 
Sanderson,  and  to  act  accordingly."  And  this  ought  not  to  be 
concealed  from  posterity,  that  the  King  thought  what  he  spake  ; 
for  he  took  him  to  be  his  adviser  in  that  quiet  part  of  his  life,  and 
he  proved  to  be  his  comforter  in  those  days  of  his  affliction,  when 
he  apprehended  himself  to  be  in  danger  of  death  or  deposing.  Of 
which  more  hereafter. 

In  the  first  Parliament  of  this  good  King, — which  was  1625, — 
he  was  chosen  to  be  a  Clerk  of  the  Convocation  for  the  Diocese 
of  Lincoln  ;  which  I  here  mention,  because  about  that  time  did 
arise  many  disputes  about  Predestination,  and  the  many  critical 
points  that  depend  upon,  or  are  interwoven  in  it ;  occasioned  as 
was  said,  by  a  disquisition  of  new  principles  of  Mr.  Calvin's,  though 
others  say  they  were  before  his  time.  But  of  these  Dr.  Sander, 
son  then  drew  up,  for  his  own  satisfaction,  such  a  scheme — he 
called  it  Pax  Ecclesice — as  then  gave  himself,  and  hath  since 
given  others  such  satisfaction,  that  it  still  remains  to  be  of  great 
estimation  among  the  most  learned.  He  was  also  chosen  Clerk 
of  all  the  Convocations  during  that  good  King's  reign.  Which  I 
here  tell  my  Reader,  because  I  shall  hereafter  have  occasion  to 
mention  that  Convocation  in  1640,  the  unhappy  Long  Parliament, 
and  some  debates  of  the  Predestination  points  as  they  have  been 
since  charitably  handled  betwixt  him,  the  learned  Dr.  Hammond* 
and  Dr.  Pierce, f  the  now  Reverend  Dean  of  Salisbury. 

*  Dr.  Henry  Hammond  was  born  at  Chertsey,  in  Surry,  Aug.  18th,  1605 ; 
and  was  educated  at  Eton,  and  Magdalen  College,  Oxford.  His  loyalty 
caused  him  to  be  deprived  of  his  preferments  during  the  Civil  Wars,  and  at  the 
Restoration  he  was  designed  for  Bishop  of  Worcester,  but  died  before  conse- 
cration, April  25th,  1660.  His  principal  works  are,  his  "  Practical  Catechism," 
and  "  A  Paraphrase  and  Annotations  on  the  New  Testament." 

t  Dr.  Thomas  Pierce,  for  some  years  President  of  Magdalen  College,  Ox- 


334  THE   LIFE   OF 


In  the  year  1636,  his  Majesty,  then  in  his  progress,  took  a  fair 
occasion  to  visit  Oxford,  and  to  take  an  entertainment  for  two  days 
for  himself  and  honourable  attendants  ;  which  the  Reader  ought 
to  believe  was  suitable  to  their  dignities.  But  this  is  mentioned, 
because  at  the  King's  coming  thither.  Dr.  Sanderson  did  attend 
him,  and  was  then — the  31st  of  August — created  Doctor  of  Di- 
vinity ;  which  honour  had  an  addition  to  it,  by  having  many  of 
the  Nobility  of  this  nation  then  made  Doctors  and  masters  of  Arts 
with  him ;  some  of  whose  names  shall  be  recorded  and  live  with 
his,  and  none  shall  outlive  it.  First,  Dr.  Curie  and  Dr.  Wren,* 
who  were  then  Bishops  of  Winton  and  of  Norwich, — and  had  for- 
merly taken  their  degrees  in  Cambridge,  were  with  him  created 
Doctors  of  Divinity  in  his  University.  So  was  Meric  the  son  of 
the  learned  Isaac  Casaubon ;  and  Prince  Rupert,  who  still  lives, 
the  then  Duke  of  Lenox,  Earl  of  Hereford,  Earl  of  Essex,  of 
Berkshire,  and  very  many  others  of  noble  birth — too  many  to  be 
named — were  then  created  Masters  of  Arts. 

Some  years  before  the  unhappy  Long  Parliament,  this  nation 
being  then  happy  and  in  peace, — though  inwardly  sick  of  being 
well, — namely  in  the  year  1639,  a  discontented  party  of  the  Scots 
Church  were  zealously  restless  for  another  reformation  of  their 
Kirk-government ;  and  to  that  end  created  a  new  Covenant,  for 
the  general  taking  of  which  they  pretended  to  petition  the  King 
for  his  assent,  and  that  he  would  enjoin  the  taking  of  it  by  all  of 
that  nation.     But  this  petition  was  not  to  be  presented  to  him  by 

ford.  In  his  epitaph  composed  by  himself  he  says,  "  Here  lies  all  that  was 
mortal,  the  outside,  dust  and  ashes  of  Thomas  Pierce,  D.  D.  once  the  Presi- 
dent of  a  College  in  Oxford,  at  first  the  Rector  of  Bringion-cum-Membris, 
Canon  of  Lincoln,  and  at  last  Dean  of  Sarum ;  who  fell  asleep  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  [Mar.  28,  an.  1691,]  but  in  hope  of  an  awake  at  the  resurrection." 

*  Dr.  Matthew  Wren,  successively  Bishop  of  Hereford,  Norwich,  and  Ely, 
died  April  24,  1667,  aged  eighty-one  years  and  upwards.  He  was  distinguish- 
ed for  his  extraordinary  attachment  to  the  royal  cause,  having  suffered  an  im- 
prisonment for  eighteen  years  with  singular  patience  and  magnanimity. 

It  should  not  be  forgotten,  that  when  Cromwell  had  repeatedly,  offered  to 
release  the  Bishop,  he  refused  to  accept  of  the  proffered  boon,  saying  "  that 
he  scorned  to  receive  his  liberty  from  a  tyrant  and  usurper."  His  life  was 
kindly  prolonged  by  Providence,  that  as  he  had  seen  the  destruction  so  he 
might  also  see  the  happy  restoration  of  his  order. 


DR.   ROBERT    SANDERSON.  335 

a  committee  of  eight  or  ten  men  of  their  fraternity ;  but  by  so 
many  thousands,  and  they  so  armed  as  seemed  to  force  an  assent 
to  what  they  seemed  to  request ;  so  that  though  forbidden  by  the 
King,  yet  they  entered  England,  and  in  their  heat  of  zeal  took 
and  plundered  Newcastle,  where  the  King  was  forced  to  meet 
them  with  an  army :  but  upon  a  treaty  and  some  concessions,  he 
sent  them  back, — though  not  so  rich  as  they  intended,  yet, — for 
that  time,  without  bloodshed.  But,  Oh  !  this  peace,  and  this 
Covenant,  were  but  the  fore-runners  of  war,  and  the  many  mise- 
ries that  followed :  for  in  the  year  following  there  were  so  many 
chosen  into  the  long  Parliament,  that  were  of  a  conjunct  council 
with  these  very  zealous  and  as  factious  reformers,  as  begot  such 
a  confusion  by  the  several  desires  and  designs  in  many  of  the 
members  of  that  Parliament,  and  at  last  in  the  very  common  people 
of  this  nation,  that  they  were  so  lost  by  contrary  designs,  fears,  and 
confusions,  as  to  believe  the  Scots  and  their  Covenant  would  re- 
store them  to  their  former  tranquillity.  And  to  that  end  the  Pres- 
byterian party  of  this  nation  did  again,  in  the  year  1643,  invite 
the  Scotch  Covenanters  back  into  England  :  and  hither  they  came 
marching  with  it  gloriously  upon  their  pikes  and  in  their  hats, 
with  this  motto ;  "  For  the  Crown  and  Covenant  of  both  King- 
doms." This  I  saw,  and  suffered  by  it.  But  when  I  look  back 
upon  the  ruin  of  families,  the  bloodshed,  the  decay  of  common 
honesty,  and  how  the  former  piety  and  plain  dealing  of  this  now 
sinful  nation  is  turned  into  cruelty  and  cunning,  I  praise  God  that 
he  prevented  me  from  being  of  that  party  which  helped  to  bring 
in  this  Covenant,  and  those  sad  confusions  that  have  followed  it. 
And  I  have  been  the  bolder  to  say  this  of  myself,  because,  in  a 
sad  discourse  with  Dr.  Sanderson,  I  heard  him  make  the  like 
grateful  acknowledgment. 

This  digression  is  intended  for  the  better  information  of  the 
reader  in  what  will  follow  concerning  Dr.  Sanderson.  And  first, 
that  the  Covenanters  of  this  nation,  and  their  party  in  Parliament, 
made  many  exceptions  against  the  Common  Prayer  and  ceremo- 
nies of  the  Church  and  seemed  restless  for  a  Reformation :  and 
though  their  desires  seemed  not  reasonable  to  the  King,  and  the 
learned  Dr.  Laud,  then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury ;  yet,  to  quiet 
their  consciences,  and  prevent  future  confusion,  they  did,  in  the 


336  THE   LIFE   OF 


year  1641,  desire  Dr.  Sanderson  to  call  two  more  of  the  Convo- 
cation to  advise  with  him,  and  that  he  would  then  draw  up  some 
such  safe  alterations  as  he  thought  fit  in  the  Service-book,  and 
abate  some  of  the  ceremonies  that  were  least  material  for  satisfy- 
ino^  their  consciences : — and  to  this  end  they  did  meet  together 
privately  twice  a  week  at  the  Dean  of  Westminster's*  house,  for 
the  space  of  three  months  or  more.  But  not  long  after  that  time, 
when  Dr.  Sanderson  had  made  the  reformation  readv  for  a  view, 
the  Church  and  State  were  both  fallen  into  such  a  confusion,  that 
Dr.  Sanderson's  model  for  Reformation  became  then  useless. 
Nevertheless,  his  reputation  was  such,  that  he  was,  in  the  year 
1642,  proposed  by  both  Houses  of  Parliament  to  the  King,  then  in 
Oxford,  to  be  one  of  their  trustees  for  the  settling  of  Church-af- 
fairs, and  was  allowed  of  by  the  King  to  be  so ;  but  that  treaty 
came  to  nothins;. 

In  the  year  1643,  the  two  Houses  of  Parliament  took  upon 
them  to  make  an  ordinance,  and  call  an  Assembly  of  Divines,  to 
debate  and  settle  some  Church-controversies,  of  which  many  were 
very  unfit  to  judge  ;  in  which  Dr.  Sanderson  was  also  named,  but 
did  not  appear ;  I  suppose  for  the  same  reason  that  many  other 
worthy  and  learned  men  did  forbear,  the  summons  wanting  the 
King's  authority.  And  here  I  must  look  back,  and  tell  the  Read- 
er, that  in  the  year  1642,  he  was,  July  21st,  named  by  a  more, 
undoubted  authority  to  a  more  noble  employment,  which  was  to 
be  Professor  Regius  of  Divinity  in  Oxford  :  but,  though  knowledge 
be  said  to  puff  up.  yet  his  modesty  and  too  mean  an  opinion  of  his 
great  abilities,  and  some  other  real  or  pretended  reasons, — ex- 
pressed in  his  speech,  when  he  first  appeared  in  the  chair,  and 
since  printed, — kept  him  from  entering  into  it  till  October,  1646. 

He  did,  for  about  a  year's  time,  continue  to  read  his  matchless 
Lectures,  which  were  first  de  Juramento,  a  point  very  difficult, 
and  at  that  time  very  dangerous  to  be  handled  as  it  ought  to  be. 
But  this  learned  man,  as  he  was  eminently  furnished  with  abili- 
ties to  satisfy  the  consciences  of  men  upon  that  important  subject; 
so  he  wanted  not  courage  to  assert  the  true  obligation  of  Oaths  in 

*  Dr.  John  Williams  was  then  Dean  of  Westnriinstcr.  He  held  this  Dean- 
ery in  Commendam  during  the  whole  time  of  his  being  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  and 
likewise  three  years  after  his  translation  to  York. 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  337 

a  degenerate  age,  when  men  had  made  perjury  a  main  part  of 
their  religion.  How  much  the  learned  world  stands  obliged  to 
him  for  these,  and  his  following  Lectures  de  Conscientia,  I  shall 
not  attempt  to  declare,  as  being  very  sensible  that  the  best  pens 
must  needs  fall  short  in  the  commendation  of  them  :  so  that  I  shall 
only  add,  that  they  continued  to  this  day,  and  will  do  for  ever,  as 
a  complete  standard  for  the  resolution  of  the  most  material  doubts 
in  Casuistical  Divinity.  And  therefore  I  proceed  to  tell  the  Read- 
er, that  about  the  time  of  his  reading  those  Lectures, — the  King 
being  then  prisoner  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, — the  parliament  had 
sent  the  Covenant,  the  Negative  Oath,  and  1  know  not  what  more, 
to  be  taken  by  the  Doctor  of  the  Chair,  and  all  Heads  of  Houses ; 
and  all  other  inferior  Scholars,  of  what  degree  soever,  were  all  to 
take  these  Oaths  by  a  fixed  day ;  and  those  that  did  not,  to  aban- 
don their  College,  and  the  University  too,  within  twenty-four  hours 
after  the  beating  of  a  drum ;  for  if  they  remained  longer,  they 
were  to  be  proceeded  against  as  spies. 

Dr.  Laud,  then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  Earl  of  Straf- 
ford, and  many  others,  had  been  formerly  murdered  by  this  wicked 
Parliament;  but  the  King  yet  was  not:  and  the  University  had 
yet  some  faint  hopes  that  in  a  Treaty  then  in  being,  or  pretended 
to  be  suddenly,  there  might  be  such  an  agreement  made  between 
King  and  Parliament,  that  the  Dissenters  in  the  University  might 
both  preserve  their  consciences  and  subsistence  which  they  then 
enjoyed  by  their  Colleges. 

And  being  possessed  of  this  mistaken  hope,  that  the  Parliament 
were  not  yet  grown  so  merciless  as  not  to  allow  manifest  reason 
for  their  not  submitting  to  the  enjoined  Oaths,  the  University  ap- 
pointed twenty  delegates  to  meet,  consider,  and  draw  up  a  Mani- 
festo to  the  Parliament,  why  they  could  not  take  those  oaths  but 
by  violation  of  their  consciences :  and  of  these  delegates  Dr. 
Sheldon, — late  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, — Dr.  Hammond, — Dr. 
Sanderson, — Dr.  Morley, — now  Bishop  of  Winchester, — and  that 
most  honest  and  as  judicious  Civil  Lawyer,  Dr.  Zouch,*  were  a 

*  Was  born  at  Anstley  in  Wiltshire,  in  1590,  he  received  his  education  in 
William  of  Wykeham's  school,  near  Winchester;  was  matriculated  in  the 
University  of  Oxford  in  1608,  and  admitted  Fellow  of  New  College  in  1609. 
He  took  the  degree  of  LL.  B.  June  30,  1G14,  and  that  of  LL.  D.  April  8, 


338  THE   LIFE   OF 


part ;  the  rest  I  cannot  now  name :  but  the  whole  number  of  the 
delegates  requested  Dr.  Zouch  to  draw  up  the  Law  part,  and  give 
it  to  Dr.  Sanderson :  and  he  was  requested  to  methodise  and  add 
what  referred  to  reason  and  conscience,  and  put  it  into  form.  He 
yielded  to  their  desires  and  did  so.  And  then,  after  they  had  been 
read  in  a  full  Convocation,  and  allowed  of,  they  were  printed  in 
Latin,  that  the  Parliament's  proceedings  and  the  University's  suf- 
ferings might  be  manifested  to  all  nations :  and  the  imposers  of 
these  oaths  might  repent,  or  answer  them  :  but  they  were  past  the 
first;  and  for  the  latter,  I  might  swear  they  neither  can,  nor  ever 
will.  And  these  Reasons  were  also  suddenly  turned  into  English 
by  Dr.  Sanderson,  that  those  of  these  three  kingdoms  might  the 
better  judge  of  the  loyal  party's  sufferings. 

About  this  time  the  Independents — who  were  then  grown  to  be 
the  most  powerful  part  of  the  army — had  taken  the  King  from  a 
close  to  a  more  large  imprisonment;  and,  by  their  own  pretences 
to  liberty  of  conscience,  were  obliged  to  allow  somewhat  of  that  to 
the  King  who  had,  in  the  year  1646,  sent  for  Dr.  Sanderson,  Dr. 
Hammond,  Dr.  Sheldon, — the  late  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, — 
and  Dr.  Morley, — the  now  Bishop  of  Winchester, — to  attend  him, 
in  order  to  advise  with  tliem,  how  far  he  might  with  a  good  con- 
science comply  with  the  proposals  of  the  Parliament  for  a  peace 
in  Church  and  State :  but  these,  having  been  then  denied  him  by 
the  Presbyterian  Parliament,  were  now  allowed  him  by  those  in 

1619.  He  no  sooner  had  obtained  his  first  degree  than  he  became  an  Advocate 
in  Doctors  Commons.  Through  the  influence  of  his  noble  kinsman,  who  was 
then  Lord  of  the  Cinque  Ports,  he  was  elected,  in  1620,  a  Burgess  to  serve  in 
Parliament  for  Hythe  in  Kent.  In  the  same  year  he  succeeded  Dr.  John 
Budden  as  Professor  of  Civil  law  ;  and  in  1625,  he  was  appointed  Principal  of 
Alban's  Hall.  Though  a  layman,  he  held  the  Prebend  of  Shipston,  in  the 
Church  of  Salisbury,  whicli  was  then  first  annexed  to  the  Law  Professorship 
by  James  I. 

After  the  Restoration,  Dr.  Zouch,  whose  loyalty  always  remained  unim- 
peached,  had  the  honour  of  being  named  by  the  King,  along  with  several  other 
Commissioners,  to  restore  the  splendour  and  regulate  the  disorders  of  the  Uni- 
versity. He  was  re-instated  in  the  Court  of  Admiralty  ;  and  if  he  had  lived 
he  would  doubtless  have  attained  those  higher  dignities  in  his  profession,  to 
which  his  integrity  and  great  abilities  entitled  him.  He  died  at  his  apartments 
in  Doctor's  Commone,  London,  March  1,  1660 


DR.  ROBERT   SANDERSON.  339 

present  power.  And  as  those  other  Divines,  so  Dr.  Sanderson 
gave  his  attendance  on  his  Majesty  also  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
preached  there  before  him,  and  had  in  that  attendance  many,  both 
public  and  private,  conferences  with  him,  to  his  Majesty's  great 
satisfaction.  At  which  time  he  desired  Dr.  Sanderson,  that,  being 
the  Parliament  had  proposed  to  him  the  abolishing  of  Episcopal 
Government  in  the  Church,  as  inconsistent  with  Monarchy,  that 
he  would  consider  of  it;  and  declare  his  judgment.  He  under- 
took to  do  so,  and  did  it ',  but  it  might  not  be  printed  till  our 
King's  happy  Restoration,  and  then  it  was.  And  at  Dr.  Sander- 
son's taking  his  leave  of  his  Majesty  in  his  last  at'lendance  on  him, 
the  King  requested  him  to  betake  himself  to  the  writing  Cases  of 
Conscience  for  the  good  of  posterity.  To  which  his  answer  was, 
''  That  he  was  now  grown  old,  and  unfit  to  write  Cases  of  Con- 
science." But  the  King  was  so  bold  with  him  as  to  say,  "  It  was 
the  simplest  answer  he  ever  heard  from  Dr.  Sanderson  ;  for  no 
young  man  was  fit  to  be  a  judge,  or  write  Cases  of  Conscience." 
And  let  me  here  take  occasion  to  tell  the  reader  this  truth,  not 
commonly  known  ;  that  in  one  of  these  conferences  this  consci- 
entious King  told  Dr.  Sanderson,  or  one  of  them  that  then  waited 
with  him,  "  that  the  remembrance  of  two  errors  did  much  afflict 
him  ;  which  were,  his  assent  to  the  Earl  of  Strafford's  death,  and 
the  abolishing  Episcopacy  in  Scotland ;  and  that  if  God  ever  re- 
stored him  to  be  in  a  peaceable  possession  of  his  Crown,  he  would 
demonstrate  his  repentance  by  a  public  confession,  and  a  volun- 
tary penance," — 1  think  barefoot — from  the  Tower  of  London, 
or  Whitehall,  to  St.  Paul's  Church,  and  desire  the  people  to  in- 
tercede with  God  for  his  pardon.  I  am  sure  one  of  them  that  told 
it  me,  lives  still,  and  will  witness  it.  And  it  ought  to  be  observed, 
that  Dr.  Sanderson's  Lectures  de  Jurameiito  were  so  approved 
and  valued  by  the  King,  that  in  this  time  of  his  imprisonment  and 
solitude  he  translated  them  into  exact  English  :  desiring  Dr.  Jux- 
on,* — then  Bishop  of  London, — Dr.  Hammond,  and  Sir  Thomas 

*  Let  it  ever  be  remembered  to  the  honour  of  this  Prelate,  whom  Charles  I. 
was  wont  to  call  "  the  good  man,"  and  whom  he  declared  to  be  his  greatest 
comfort  in  his  most  afSictive  situation,  that  he  delivered  his  sentiments  without 
disguise  to  the  King,  on  the  subject  of  Lord  Strafford's  fate,  telling- him  plain- 
ly, that  "  he  ought  to  do  nothing  with  an  unsatisfied  conscience,  upon  any 


340  THE   LIFE   OF 


Herbert,*  who  then  attended  him, — to  compare  them  with  the 
original.  The  last  still  lives,  and  has  declared  it,  with  some 
other  of  that  King's  excellencies,  in  a  letter  under  his  own  hand, 
which  was  lately  shewed  me  by  Sir  William  Dugdale,  King  at 
Arms.  The  book  was  designed  to  be  put  into  the  King's  Library 
at  St.  James's ;  but,  I  doubt,  not  now  to  be  found  there.  I 
thought  the  honour  of  the  Author  and  the  Translator  to  be  both 
so  much  concerned  in  this  relation,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  con- 
cealed from  the  Reader,  and  'tis  therefore  here  inserted. 

I  now  return  to  Dr.  Sanderson  in  the  Chair  in  Oxford  ;  where 
they  that  complied  not  in  taking  the  Covenant,  Negative  oath,  and 
Parliament  Ordinance  for  Church-discipline  and  worship,  were 
under  a  sad  and  daily  apprehension  of  expulsion  :  for  the  Visitors 
were  daily  expected,  and  both  City  and  University  full  of  soldiers, 
and  a  party  of  Presbyterian  Divines,  that  were  as  greedy  and 
ready  to  possess,  as  the  ignorant  and  ill-natured  Visitors  were  to 
eject  the  Dissenters  out  of  their  Colleges  and  livelihoods :  but, 

consideration  in  the  world."  His  character  is  tlius  beautifully  pourtrayed  by 
Sir  Henry  Wotton,  in  a  letter  to  the  Queen  of  Bohemia.  '•  There  is  in  him 
no  tumour,  no  sourness,  no  distraction  of  thoughts ;  but  a  quiet  mind,  a  pa- 
tient care,  free  access,  mild  and  moderate  answers.  To  this  I  must  add,  a 
solid  judgment,  a  sober  plainness,  and  a  most  indubitable  character  of  fidelity 
in  his  very  face ;  so  as  there  needs  not  much  study  to  think  him  both  a  good 
man  and  a  wise  man." 

*  This  learned  person  went  abroad  in  1626,  and  spent  four  years  in  visiting 
Asia  and  Africa.  He  again  left  England,  and  travelled  over  several  parts  of 
Europe.  He  afterwards  joined  the  Parliament  against  Charles  I.,  whom  he 
was  appointed  to  attend  from  the  very  beginning  of  his  imprisonment  to  the 
time  of  his  death.  He  shewed  himself  a  most  faithful  servant  to  the  King, 
whose  real  character  he  soon  discovered  to  be  totally  different  from  that  which 
had  been  represented  to  him.  In  1660,  Charles  II.  advanced  him  to  the  Dig- 
nity of  a  Baronet,  by  the  name  of  Thomas  Herbert  of  Tinterne,  in  Monmouth- 
shire, "for  faithfully  serving  his  royal  father,  during  the  two  last  years  of 
his  life."  In  1678  he  published  "  Thrcnodia  Carolina;  containing  Memoirs 
of  the  two  last  Years  of  the  reign  of  King  Charles  I."  This  little  work 
was  reprinted  in  1813,  upon  the  opening  the  tomb  of  the  royal  Martyr,  by 
Mr.  G.  Nicol  of  Pall  Mall  with  a  "sensible  and  seasonable  Preface."  Sir 
T.  Herbert  assisted  Sir  William  Dugdale  in  compiling  the  third  volume  of 
his  "  Monasticon  Anglicanum  ;"  and  died  at  York  his  native  plafce,  in  1682, 
leaving  several  MSS.  to  the  public  library  at  Oxford,  and  others  to  that  of  the 
Cathedral  at  York. 


DR.   ROBERT  SANDERSON.  341 

notwithstanding,  Dr.  Sanderson  did  still  continue  to  read  his  Lec- 
ture, and  did,  to  the  very  faces  of  those  Presbyterian  Divines  and 
soldiers,  read  with  so  much  reason,  and  with  a  calm  fortitude 
make  such  applications,  as,  if  they  were  not,  they  ought  to  have 
been  ashamed,  and  begged  pardon  of  God  and  him,  and  forborne 
to  do  what  followed.  But  these  thriving  sinners  were  hardened; 
and,  as  the  Visitors  expelled  the  Orthodox,  they,  without  scruple 
or  shame,  possessed  themselves  of  their  Colleges ;  so  that,  w4th 
the  rest.  Dr.  Sanderson  was  in  June,  1648,  forced  to  pack  up  and 
be  gone,  and  thank  God  he  was  not  imprisoned,  as  Dr.  Sheldon, 
and  Dr.  Hammond,  and  others  then  w^ere. 

I  must  now  again  look  back  to  Oxford,  and  tell  my  Reader, 
that  the  year  before  this  expulsion,  when  the  University  had 
denied  this  subscription,  and  apprehended  the  danger  of  that  visit- 
ation which  followed,  they  sent  Dr.  Morley,  then  Canon  of  Christ- 
Church, — now  Lord  Bishop  of  Winchester, — and  others,  to  peti- 
tion the  Parliament  for  recalling  the  injunction,  or  a  mitigation 
of  it,  or  accept  of  their  reasons  why  they  could  not  take  the 
Oaths  enjoined  them  ;  and  the  petition  was  by  Parliament  referred 
to  a  committee  to  hear  and  report  the  reasons  to  the  House,  and 
a  day  set  for  hearing  them.  This  done.  Dr.  Morley  and  the  rest 
went  to  inform  and  fee  Counsel,  to  plead  their  cause  on  the  day 
appointed  ;  but  there  had  been  so  many  committed  for  pleading, 
that  none  durst  undertake  it ;  for  at  this  time  the  privileges  of 
that  Parliament  were  become  a  Noli  me  tangere,  as  sacred  and 
useful  to  them,  as  traditions  ever  were,  or  are  now,  to  the  Church 
of  Rome  ;  their  number  must  never  be  known,  and  therefore  not 
without  danger  to  be  meddled  with.  For  which  reason  Dr.  Mor- 
ley  was  forced,  for  want  of  Counsel,  to  plead  the  University's 
Reasons  for  non-compliance  with  the  Parliament's  injunctions : 
and  though  this  was  done  with  great  reason,  and  a  boldness  equal 
to  the  justice  of  his  cause  ;  yet  the  effect  of  it  was,  but  that  he 
and  the  rest  appearing  with  him  were  so  fortunate,  as  to  return  to 
Oxford  without  commitment.  This  was  some  few  days  before  the 
Visitors  and  more  soldiers  were  sent  down  to  drive  the  Dissenters 
out  of  the  University.  And  one  that  was,  at  this  time  of  Dr. 
Morley's  pleading,  a  powerful  man  in  the  Parliament,  and  of  that 
committee,  observing  Dr.  Morley's  behaviour  and   reason,   and 

PART  II.  12 


342  THE   LIFE  OF 


inquiring  of  him  and  iicaring  a  good  report  of  his  morals,  was 
therefore  willing  to  afford  him  a  peculiar  favour ;  and,  that  ho 
might  express  it,  sent  for  me  that  relate  this  story,  and  knew  Dr. 
Morley  well,  and  told  me,  "  he  had  such  a  love  for  Dr.  Morley 
that  knowing  he  would  not  take  the  Oaths,  and  must  therefore 
be  ejected  his  College,  and  leave  Oxford  ;  he  desired  I  would 
therefore  write  to  him  to  ride  out  of  Oxford,  when  the  Visitors 
came  into  it,  and  not  return  till  they  left  it,  and  he  should  be  sure 
then  to  return  in  safety ;  and  that  he  should,  without  taking  any 
Oath  or  other  molestation,  enjoy  his  Canon's  place  in  his  College." 
I  did  receive  this  intended  kindness  with  a  sudden  gladness, 
because  I  was  sure  the  party  had  a  power,  and  as  sure  he  meant 
to  perform  it,  and  did  therefore  write  the  Doctor  word  :  and  his 
answer  was,  "  that  I  must  not  fail  to  return  my  friend, — who  still 
lives — his  humble  and  undissembled  thanks,  though  he  could  not 
accept  of  his  intended  kindness ;  for  when  the  Dean,  Dr.  Gardi- 
ner, Dr.  Paine,  Dr.  Hammond,  Dr.  Sanderson,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  College,  were  turned  out,  except  Dr.  Wall,*  he  should  take  it 
to  be,  if  not  a  sin,  yet  a  shame,  to  be  left  behind  v/ith  him  only. 
Dr.  Wall  I  knew,  and  will  speak  nothing  of  him,  for  he  is  dead. 

It  may  easily  be  imagined,  with  what  a  joyful  willingness  these 
self-loving  reformers  took  possession  of  all  vacant  preferments, 
and  with  what  reluctance  others  parted  with  their  beloved  Col- 
leges and  subsistence :  but  their  consciences  were  dearer  than 
their  subsistence,  and  out  they  went ;  the  reformers  possessing 
them  without  shame  or  scruple :  where  I  will  leave  these  scruple- 
mongers,  and  make  an  account  of  the  then  present  affairs  of 
London,  to  be  the  next  employment  of  my  Reader's  patience. 

And  in  London  all  the  Bisliop's  houses  were  turned  to  be 
prisons,  and  they  filled  with  Divines,  that  would  not  take  the 
Covenant,  or  forbear  reading  Common  Prayer,  or  that  were  ac- 

*  They  were  all,  except  Dr.  Wall,  ejected  in  1647.  Dr.  Samuel  Fell  died 
of  grief,  the  day  he  was  made  acquainted  with  the  murder  of  Charles  I.  viz. 
on  Feb.  1, 1648-9.  Dr.  Gardner,  Canon  of  the  third  stall,  lived  to  be  restored, 
and  died  in  1670.  Dr.  Paine,  Canon  of  the  fourth  stall,  died  during  the  rebel- 
lion. Dr.  Hammond,  Sub-dean  and  Canou  of  the  second  stall,  died  in  1660. 
As  for  Dr.  Vv'all,  Canon  of  the  seventh  stall,  he  conformed  no  doubt  to  the 
measures  of  the  Visitors.     He  died  possessed  of  it  in  1666. 


DR.   ROBERT  SANDERSON.  343 

cused  for  some  faults  like  these.  For  it  may  be  noted,  that  about 
this  time  the  Parliament  set  out  a  proclamation,  to  encourage  all 
laymen  that  Iiad  occasion  to  complain  of  their  Ministers  for  being 
troublesome  or  scandalous,  or  that  conformed  not  to  Orders  of 
Parliament,  to  make  their  complaint  to  a  committee  for  that  pur- 
pose ;  and  the  Minister,  though  a  hundred  miles  from  London, 
should  appear  there,  and  give  satisfaction,  or  be  sequestered  ;  — 
and  you  may  be  sure  no  Parish  could  want  a  covetous,  or  mali- 
cious, or  cross-grained  complainant ; — by  v/hich  means  all  prisons 
ia  London,  and  in  some  other  places,  became  the  sad  habitations 
of  conforming  Divines. 

And  about  this  time  the  Bishop  of  Canterbury  having  been  by 
an  unknown  law  condemned  to  die,  and  the  execution  suspended 
for  some  days,  many  of  the  malicious  citizens,  fearing  his  pardon, 
shut  up  their  shops,  professing  not  to  open  them  till  justice  was 
executed.  This  malice  and  madness  is  scarce  credible;  but  I 
saw  it. 

The  Bishops  had  been  voted  out  of  the  House  of  Parliament, 
and  some  upon  that  occasion  sent  to  the  Tower ;  which  made 
many  Covenanters  rejoice,  and  believe  Mr.  Brightman* — who 
probably  was  a  good  and  well-meaning  man — to  be  inspired  in  his 
"  Comment  on  the  Apocalypse,"  an  abridgment  of  which  was 
now  printed,  and  called  Mr.  "  Brightman's  Revelation  of  the 
Revelation."  And  though  he  was  grossly  mistaken  in  other 
things,  yet,  because  he  had  made  the  Churches  of  Geneva  and 
Scotland,  which  had  no  Bishops,  to  be  Philadelphia  in  the  Apoca- 
lypse, the  Angel  that  God  loved ;  P^ev.  iii.  7-13,  and  the  power 
of  Prelacy  to  be  Antichrist,  the  evil  Angel,  which  the  House  of 
Commons  had  now  so  spewed  up,  as  never  to  recover  their  dig- 
nity ;  therefore  did  those  Covenanters  approve  and  applaud  Mr. 

*  Mr.  Thomas  Brightman,  born  at  Nottingham,  and  educated  at  Queen's 
College  in  Cambridge,  was  Rector  of  Hawnes  in  Bedfordshire.  He  died  sud- 
denly Aug.  24,  1607. 

Mr.  Thomas  Cartwright,  the  noted  Puritan,  in  allusion  to  the  name  of  Mr. 
Brightman,  considers  him  as  full  of  illumination  as  "  a  bright  star  in  the  Church 
of  God."  Though  no  favourable  opinion  can  be  entertained  of  his  writings, 
yet  the  acknowledged  innocence  of  his  life  and  conversation  entitles  him  to 
everv  encomium. 


344  THE   LIFE   OF 


Brightman  for  discovering  and  foretelling  the  Bishops'  downfall  ; 
so  that  they  both  railed  at  them,  and  rejoiced  to  buy  good  penny- 
worths of  their  land,  which  their  friends  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons did  afford  them,  as  a  reward  of  their  diligent  assistance  to 
pull  them  down. 

And  the  Bishop's  power  beng  now  vacated,  the  common  people 
were  made  so  happy,  as  every  Parish  might  choose  their  own  Min- 
ister, and  tell  him  when  he  did.  and  when  he  did  not,  preach  true 
doctrine :  and  by  this  and  like  means,  several  Churches  had  sev- 
eral  teachers,  that  prayed  and  preached  for  and  against  one 
another  :  and  engaged  their  hearers  to  contend  furiously  for  truths 
which  they  understood  not ;  some  of  which  I  shall  mention  in  the 
discourse  that  follows. 

I  have  heard  of  two  men,  that  in  their  discourse  undertook  to 
give  a  character  of  a  third  person  :  and  one  concluded  he  was  a 
very  honest  man,  "  for  he  was  beholden  to  him  \''  and  the  other, 
that  he  was  not,  "  for  he  was  not  beholden  to  him."  And  some- 
thing like  this  was  in  the  designs  both  of  the  Covenanters  and  In- 
dependents, the  last  of  which  were  now  grown  both  as  numerous 
and  as  powerful  as  the  former  :  for  though  the}''  differed  much  in 
many  principles,  and  preached  against  each  other,  one  making  it 
a  sign  of  being  in  the  state  of  grace,  if  we  were  but  zealous  for 
the  Covenant ;  and  the  other,  that  we  ought  to  buy  and  sell  by  a 
measure,  and  to  allow  the  same  liberty  of  conscience  to  others, 
which  we  by  Scripture  claim  to  ourselves ;  and  therefore  not  to 
force  any  to  swear  the  Covenant  contrary  to  their  consciences,  and 
lose  both  their  livings  and  liberties  too.  Though  these  differed 
thus  in  their  conclusions,  yet  they  both  agreed  in  their  practice  to 
preach  down  Common  Prayer,  and  get  into  the  best  sequestered 
livings  ;  and  v,  hatever  became  of  the  true  owners,  their  wives  and 
children,  yet  to  continue  in  them  without  the  least  scruple  of  con- 
science. 

They  also  made  other  strange  observations  of  Election,  Repro- 
bation, and  Free  Will,  and  the  other  points  dependent  upon  these; 
such  as  the  wisest  of  the  common  people  were  not  fit  to  judge  of; 
I  am  sure  I  am  not :  though  I  must  mention  some  of  them  histori- 
cally in  a  more  proper  place,  when  I  have  brought  my  Reader 
with  me  to  Dr.  Sanderson  at  Bootiibv  Pannell. 


DR.    ROBERT   SANDERSON.  315 

And  in  the  way  thither  I  must  tell  him,  that  a  very  Covenanter, 
and  a  Scot  too,  that  came  into  England  with  this  unhappy  Cove- 
nant,  was  got  into  a  good  sequestered  living  by  the  help  of  a  Pres- 
byterian  Parish,  which  had  got  the  true  owner  out.  And  this 
Scotch  Presbyterian,  being  well  settled  in  this  good  living,  began 
to .  reform  the  Church-yard,  by  cutting  down  a  large  yew-tree, 
and  some  other  trees  that  were  an  ornament  to  the  place,  and  very 
often  a  shelter  to  the  parishioners ;  who,  excepting  against  him 
for  so  doing,  were  answered,  "  That  the  trees  were  his,  and  'twas 
lawful  for  every  man  to  use  his  own,  as  he,  and  not  as  they 
thought  fit,"  I  have  heard,  but  do  not  affirm  it,  that  no  action 
lies  against  him  that  is  so  wicked  as  to  steal  the  windinor.sheet  of 
a  dead  body  after  it  is  buried  ;  and  have  heard  the  reason  to  be, 
because  none  were  supposed  to  be  so  void  of  humanity  ;  and  that 
such  a  law  would  vilify  that  nation  that  would  but  suppose  so 
vile  a  man  to  be  born  in  it :  nor  would  one  suppose  any  man  to 
do  what  this  Covenanter  did.  And  whether  there  were  any  law 
against  him,  I  know  not ;  but  pity  the  Parish  the  less  for  turning 
out  their  legal  Minister. 

We  have  now  overtaken  Dr.  Sanderson  at  Booth  by  Parish, 
where  he  hoped  to  have  enjoyed  himself,  though  in  a  poor,  yet  in 
a  quiet  and  desired 'privacy  ;  but  it  proved  otherwise:  for  all  cor- 
ners of  the  nation  were  filled  with  Covenanters,  confusion.  Com- 
mittee-men, and  soldiers,  serving  each  other  to  their  several  ends, 
of  revenge,  or  power,  or  profit ;  and  these  Committee-men  and  sol- 
diers were  most  of  them  so  possessed  with  this  Covenant,  that  they 
became  like  those  that  were  infected  with  that  dreadful  Plague  of 
Athens  :  the  plague  of  which  Plague  was,  that  they  by  it  became 
maliciously  restless  to  get  into  company,  and  to  joy, — so  the  His- 
torian* saith, — when  they  had  infected  others,  even  those  of  their 
most  beloved  or  nearest  friends  or  relations :  and  though  there 
might  be  some  of  these  Covenanters  that  were  becruiled  and  meant 
well ;  yet  such  were  the  generality  of  them,  and  temper  of  the 
times,  that  you  may  be  sure  Dr.  Sanderson,  who  though  quiet 
and  harmless,  yet  an  eminent  dissenter  from  them,  could  not  live 
peaceably  j  nor  did  he  ;  for  the  soldiers  would  appear,  and  visibly 

*  Thucvdides. 


346  ^  THE   LIFE   OF 


disturb  him  in  the  Church  when  he  read  prayers,  pretending  to 
advise  him  how  God  was  to  be  served  most  acceptably  :  which  he 
not  approving,  but  continuing  to  observe  order  and  decent  beha- 
viour in  reading  the  Church-service,  they  forced  his  book  from 
him,  and  tore  it,  expecting  extemporary  prayers. 

At  this  time  he  was  advised  by  a  Parliament  man  of  power  and 
note,  that  valued  and  loved  him  much,  not  to  be  strict  in  reading 
all  the  Common  Prayer,  but  make  some  little  variation,  especially 
if  the  soldiers  came  to  watch  him  ;  for  then  it  might  not  be  in  the 
power  of  him  and  his  other  friends  to  secure  him  from  taking  the 
Covenant,  or  Sequestration  :  for  which  reasons  he  did  vary  some- 
what from  the  strict  rules  of  the  Rubric.  I  will  set  down  the  very 
words  of  confession  which  he  used,  as  I  have  it  under  his  own 
hand  ;  and  tell  the  Reader,  that  all  his  other  variations  were  as 
little,  and  much  like  to  this. 

HIS    CONFESSION. 

"  O  Almighty  God  and  merciful  Father,  we,  thy  unworthy  ser- 
vants, do  with  shame  and  sorrow  confess,  that  we  have  all  our  life 
long  gone  astray  out  of  thy  ways  like  lost  sheep  ;  and  that,  by  fol- 
lowing too  much  the  vain  devices  and  desires  of  our  own  hearts, 
we  have  grievously  offended  against  thy  holy  laws,  both  in  thought, 
word,  and  deed;  we  have  many  times  left  undone  those  good  du- 
ties, which  w^e  might  and  ought  to  have  done  ;  and  we  have  many 
times  done  those  evils,  when  we  might  have  avoided  them,  which 
we  ought  not  to  have  done.  We  confess,  O  Lord  !  that  there  is 
no  health  at  all,  nor  help  in  any  creature  to  relieve  us  ;  but  all 
our  hope  is  in  thy  mercy,  whose  justice  we  have  by  our  sins  so 
far  provoked.  Have  mercy  therefore  upon  us,  O  Lord  !  have 
mercy  upon  us  miserable  offenders ;  spare  us,  good  God,  who 
confess  our  faults,  that  we  perish  not ;  but,  according  to  thy  gra- 
cious promises  declared  unto  mankind  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord, 
restore  us  upon  our  true  repentance  into  thy  grace  and  favour. 
And  grant,  O  most  merciful  Father !  for  his  sake,  that  we  hence- 
forth study  to  serve  and  please  thee  by  leading  a  godly,  righteous, 
and  a  sober  life,  to  the  glory  of  thy  holy  name,  and  the  eternal 
comfort  of  our  own  souls,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."     Amen. 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  347 

In  these  disturbances  of  tearing  his  service-book,  a  neighbour 
came  on  a  Sunday,  after  the  evening  service  was  ended,  to  visit 
and  condole  with  him  for  the  affront  offered  by  the  soldiers.  To 
v.hom  he  spake  with  a  composed  patience,  and  said ;  "  God  hath 
restored  me  to  my  desired  privacy,  with  my  wife  and  children  ; 
where  I  hoped  to  have  met  with  quietness,  and  it  proves  not  so  : 
but  I  will  labour  to  be  pleased,  because  God,  on  whom  I  depend, 
sees  it  is  not  fit  for  me  to  be  quiet.  I  praise  him,  that  he  hath  by 
his  grace  prevented  me,  from  making  shipwreck  of  a  good  con- 
science to  maintain  me  in  a  place  of  great  reputation  and  profit : 
and  though  my  condition  be  such,  that  I  need  the  last,  yet  I  sub- 
mit ;  for  God  did  not  send  me  into  this  world  to  do  my  own,  but 
suffer  his  will,  and  I  will  obey  it."  Thus  by  a  sublime  depend- 
ing on  his  wise,  and  powerful,  and  pitiful  Creator,  he  did  cheer- 
fully submit  to  what  God  hath  appointed,  justifying  the  truth  of 
that  doctrine  which  he  had  preached. 

About  this  time  that  excellent  book  of  "  The  King's  Meditations 
in  his  Solitude"  was  printed,  and  made  public  ;  and  Dr.  Sander- 
son was  such  a  lover  of  the  Author,  and  so  desirous  that  the  whole 
world  should  see  the  character  of  him  in  that  book,  and  some- 
thing of  the  cause  for  which  they  suffered,  that  he  designed  to 
turn  it  into  Latin  :  but  when  he  had  done  half  of  it  most  excel- 
lently, his  friend  Dr.  Earle  prevented  him,  by  appearing  to  have 
done  the  whole  very  well  before  him. 

About  this  time  his  dear  and  most  intimate  friend,  the  learned 
Dr.  Hammond,  came  to  enjoy  a  conversation  and  rest  with  him 
for  some  days  ;  and  did  so.  And  having  formerly  persuaded  him 
to  trust  his  excellent  memory,  and  not  read,  but  try  to  speak  a 
sermon  as  he  had  writ  it.  Dr.  Sanderson  became  so  compliant,  as 
to  promise  he  would.  And  to  that  end  they  two  went  early  the 
Sunday  following  to  a  neighbour  Minister,  and  requested  to  ex- 
change a  sermon  ;  and  they  did  so.  And  at  Dr.  Sanderson's  go- 
ing into  the  pulpit,  he  gave  his  sermon — which  was  a  very  short 
one — into  the  hand  of  Dr.  Hammond,  intending  to  preach  it  as  it 
was  writ :  but  before  he  had  preached  a  third  part,  Dr.  Ham- 
mond,— looking  on  his  sermon  as  written — observed  him  to  be 
out,  and  so  lost  as  to  the  matter,  that  he  also  became  afraid  for 
him  :  for  'twas  discernible  to  many  of  the  plain  auditory.     But 


348  THE   LIFE   OF 


when  he  had  ended  this  short  sermon,  as  they  two  walked  home- 
ward, Dr.  Sanderson  said  with  much  earnestness,  "  Good  Doctor, 
give  me  my  sermon  ;  and  know,  that  neither  you  nor  any  man 
living,  shall  ever  persuade  me  to  preach  again  without  my  books." 
To  which  the  reply  was,  "  Good  Doctor,  be  not  angry  :  for  if  I 
ever  persuade  you  to  preach  again  without  book,  I  will  give  you 
leave  to  burn  all  those  that  I  am  master  of." 

Part  of  the  occasion  of  Dr.  Hammond's  visit,  was  at  this  time 
to  discourse  with  Dr.  Sanderson  about  some  opinions,  in  which,  if 
they  did  not  then,  they  had  doubtless  differed  formerly  :  it  was 
about  those  knotty  points,  which  are  by  the  learned  called  the 
Quinquarticular  Controversy  ;  of  wliich  I  shall  proceed,  not  to 
give  any  judgment, — I  pretend  not  to  that, — but  some  siiort  his- 
torical account  which  shall  folio v/. 

There  had  been,  since  the  unhappy  Covenant  was  brought  and 
so  generally  taken  in  England,  a  liberty  given  or  taken  by  many 
Preachei's — those  of  London  especially — to  preach  and  be  too 
positive  in  the  points  of  Universal  Redemption,  Predestination, 
and  those  other  depending  upon  these.  Some  of  which  preached, 
"  That  all  men  were,  before  they  came  into  this  world,  so  predes- 
tinated to  salvation  or  damnation,  that  it  was  not  in  their  power  to 
sin  so,  as  to  lose  the  first,  nor  by  their  most  diligent  endeavour  to 
avoid  the  latter.  Others,  that  it  was  not  so  :  because  then  God 
could  not  be  said  to  grieve  for  the  death  of  a  sinner,  when  he 
himself  had  made  him  so  by  an  inevitable  decree,  before  he  had 
so  much  as  a  being  in  this  world  ;"  affirming  therefore,  "  that 
man  had  some  power  left  him  to  do  the  will  of  God,  because  he 
was  advised  to  work  out  his  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling;" 
maintaining,  "  that  it  is  most  certain  every  man  can  do  what  he 
can  to  be  saved  ;"  and  that  "  he  that  does  what  he  can  to  be 
saved,  shall  never  be  damned."  And  yet  many  that  affirmed 
this  would  confess,  "  That  that  grace,  v.hich  is  but  a  persuasive 
offer,  and  left  to  us  to  receive,  or  refuse,  is  not  that  grace  which 
shall  bring  men  to  Heaven."  Which  trutlis,  or  untruths,  or 
both,  be  they  which  they  will,  did  upon  these,  or  the  like  occa- 
sions, come  to  be  searched  into,  and  charitably  debated  betwixt 
Dr.  Sanderson,  Dr.  Hammond,  and  Dr.  Pierce, — the  now  Rever- 


DR.    ROBERT  SANDERSON.  349 


end  Dean  of  Salisbury, — of  which  I  shall  proceed  to  give  some 
account,  but  briefly. 

In  the  year  1648,  the  fifty-two  London  Ministers — then  a  fra- 
ternity of  Sion  College  in  that  City — had  in  a  printed  Declaration 
aspersed  Dr.  Hammond  most  heinously,  for  that  he  had  in  his 
Practical  Catechism  affirmed,  that  our  Saviour  died  for  the  sins 
of  all  mankind.  To  justify  which  truth,  he  presently  makes  a 
charitable  reply — as  'tis  now  printed  in  his  works. — After  which 
there  were  many  letters  passed  betwixt  the  said  Dr.  Hammond, 
Dr.  Sanderson,  and  Dr.  Pierce,  concerning  God's  grace  and  de- 
crees. Dr.  Sanderson  was  with  much  unwillingness  drawn  into 
this  debate  ;  for  he  declared  it  would  prove  uneasy  to  him,  who 
in  his  judgment  of  God's  decrees  differed  with  Dr.  Hammond, — 
whom  he  reverenced  and  loved  dearly, — and  would  not  therefore 
engage  him  into  a  controversy,  of  which  he  could  never  hope  to 
see  an  end  :  but  they  did  all  enter  into  a  charitable  disquisition 
of  these  said  points  in  several  letters,  to  the  full  satisfaction  of 
the  learned  ;  those  betwixt  Dr.  Sanderson  and  Dr.  Hammond  be- 
ing  printed  in  his  works  ;  and  for  what  passed  betwixt  him  and 
the  learned  Dr.  Pierce,  I  refer  my  Reader  to  a  Letter  annexed  to 
the  end  of  this  relation. 

1  think  the  judgment  of  Dr.  Sanderson  was,  by  these  debates, 
altered  from  what  it  was  at  his  entrance  into  them  ;  for  in  the 
year  1632,  when  his  excellent  Sermons  were  first  printed  in 
quarto,  the  Reader  may,  on  the  margin,  find  some  accusation  of 
Arminius  for  false  doctrine  ;  and  find  that,  upon  a  review  and 
reprinting  those  Sermons  in  folio,  in  the  year  1657,  that  accusa- 
tion of  Arminius  is  omitted.  And  the  change  of  his  judgment 
seems  m.ore  fully  to  appear  in  his  said  letter  to  Dr.  Pierce.  And 
let  me  now  tell  the  Reader,  which  m.ay  seem  to  be  perplexed  with 
these  several  affirmations  of  God's  decrees  before  mentioned,  that 
Dr.  Hammond,  in  a  postscript  to  the  last  letter  of  Dr.  Sanderson's, 
says,  "  God  can  reconcile  his  own  contradictions,  and  therefore 
advises  all  men,  as  the  Apostle  does,  to  study  mortification,  and 
be  wise  to  sobriety."  And  let  me  add  further,  that  if  tiiese  fifty- 
two  Ministers  of  Sion  College  were  the  occasion  of  the  debates  in 
these  letters,  they  have,  I  think,  been  the  occasion  of  giving  an 
end  to  the  Quinquarticular  Controversy  ;  for  none  have   since 


350  THE  LIFE  OF 


undertaken  to  say  more  ;  but  seem  to  be  so  wise,  as  to  be  content 
to  be  ignorant  of  the  rest,  till  they  come  to  that  place,  where  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open.  And  let  me  here  tell  the 
Reader  also,  that  if  the  rest  of  mankind  would,  as  Dr.  Sanderson, 
not  conceal  their  alteration  of  judgment,  but  confess  it  to  the  hon- 
our of  God  and  themselves,  then  our  nation  would  become  freer 
from  pertinacious  disputes,  and  fuller  of  recantations. 

1  cannot  lead  my  Reader  to  Dr.  Hammond  and  Dr.  Sanderson, 
where  we  left  them  at  Boothby  Pannell,  till  I  have  looked  back 
to  the  Long  Parliament,  the  Society  of  Covenanters  in  Sion  Col- 
lege, and  those  others  scattered  up  and  down  in  London,  and 
given  some  account  of  their  proceedings  and  usage  of  the  late 
learned  Dr.  Laud,  then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  And  though 
I  will  forbear  to  mention  the  injustice  of  his  death,  and  the  bar- 
barous usage  of  him,  both  then  and  before  it ;  yet  my  desire  is 
that  what  follows  may  be  noted,  because  it  does  now,  or  may 
hereafter,  concern  us ;  namely,  that  in  his  last  sad  sermon  on 
the  scaffold  at  his  death,  he  having  freely  pardoned  all  his  ene- 
mies, and  humbly  begged  of  God  to  pardon  them,  and  besought 
those  present  to  pardon  and  pray  for  him  ;  yet  he  seemed  to  ac- 
cuse the  magistrates  of  the  City,  for  suffering  a  sort  of  wretched 
people,  that  could  not  know  why  he  was  condemned,  to  go  visibly 
up  and  down  to  gather  hands  to  a  petition,  that  the  Parliament 
would  hasten  his  execution.  And  having  declared  how  unjustly 
he  thought  himself  to  be  condemned,  and  accused  for  endeavour- 
ing to  bring  in  Popery, — for  that  was  one  of  the  accusations  for 
which  he  died, — he  declared  with  sadness,  "  That  the  several 
sects  and  divisions  then  in  England — which  he  had  laboured  to 
prevent, — were  like  to  bring  the  Pope  a  far  greater  harvest,  than 
he  could  ever  have  expected  without  them."  And  said,  "These 
sects  and  divisions  introduce  profaneness  under  the  cloak  of  an 
imaginary  Religion  ;  and  that  we  have  lost  the  substance  of  Re- 
ligion by  changing  it  into  opinion  :  and  that  by  these  means  this 
Church,  which  all  the  Jesuits'  machinations  could  not  ruin,  was 
fallen  into  apparent  danger  by  those  which  were  his  accusers." 
To  this  purpose  he  spoke  at  his  death  :  for  this,  and  more  of 
which,  the  Reader  may  view  his  last  sad  sermon  on  the  scaffold. 
And  it  is  here  mentioned,  because  his  dear  friend,  Dr.  Sanderson, 


DR.  ROBERT   SANDERSON.  351 

seems  to  demonstrate  the  same  in  his  two  large  and  remarkable 
Prefaces  before  his  two  volumes  of  Sermons ;  and  he  seems  also, 
with  much  sorrow,  to  say  the  same  again  in  his  last  Will,  made 
when  he  apprehended  himself  to  be  very  near  his  death.  And 
these  Covenanters  ought  to  take  notice  of  it,  and  to  remember, 
that,  by  the  late  wicked  war  begun  by  them.  Dr.  Sanderson  was 
ejected  out  of  the  Professor's  Chair  in  Oxford  ;  and  that  if  he 
had  continued  in  it, — for  he  lived  fourteen  years  after, — both  the 
learned  of  this,  and  other  nations,  had  been  made  happy  by  many 
remarkable  Cases  of  Conscience,  so  rationally  stated,  and  so  brief- 
ly, so  clearly,  and  so  convincingly  determined,  that  posterity  might 
have  joyed  and  boasted,  that  Dr.  Sanderson  was  born  in  this  na- 
tion, for  the  ease  and  benefit  of  all  the  learned  that  shall  be  born 
after  him  :  but  this  benefit  is  so  like  time  past,  that  they  are  both 
irrecoverably  lost. 

I  should  now  return  to  Boothby  Pannell,  where  we  left  Dr. 
Hammond  and  Dr.  Sanderson  together  ;  but  neither  can  be  found 
there  :  for  the  first  was  in  his  journey  to  London,  and  the  second 
seized  upon  the  day  after  his  friend's  departure,  and  carried  pris- 
oner to  Lincoln,  then  a  garrison  of  the  Parliament's.  For  the  pre-' 
tended  reason  of  which  commitment,  I  shall  give  this  following 
account. 

There  was  one  Mr.  Clarke,  the  Minister  of  Alington,  a  town 
not  many  miles  from  Boothby  Pannell,  who  was  an  active  man 
for  the  Parliament  and  Covenant ;  one  that,  when  Belvoir  Castle 
■ — then  a  garrison  for  the  Parliament — was  taken  by  a  party  of 
the  King's  soldiers,  was  taken  in  it,  and  made  a  prisoner  of  war 
in  Newark,  then  a  garrison  of  the  King's  ;  a  man  so  active  and 
useful  for  liis  party,  that  they  became  so  much  concerned  for  his 
enlargement,  that  the  Committee  of  Lincoln  sent  a  troop  of  horse 
to  seize  and  bring  Dr.  Sanderson  a  prisoner  to  that  garrison  :  and 
they  did  so.  And  there  he  had  the  happiness  to  meet  with  many, 
that  knew  him  so  well  as  to  treat  him  kindly  ;  but  told  him,  "  He 
must  continue  their  prisoner,  till  he  should  purchase  his  own  en- 
largement by  procuring  an  exchange  for  Mr.  Clarke,  then  pris- 
oner in  tlie  King's  garrison  of  Newark.'*  There  were  many 
reasons  given  by  the  Doctor  of  the  injustice  of  his  imprisonment, 
and  the  inequality  of  the  exchange  :  but  all   were  inefiectual  ; 


352  THE   LIFE   OF 


for  done  it  must  be,  or  he  continue  a  prisoner.  And  in  time  done 
it  was,  upon  the  following  conditions. 

First,  that  Dr.  Sanderson  and  Mr.  Clarke  being  exchanged, 
should  live  undisturbed  at  their  own  Parishes  ;  and  if  either  were 
injured  by  the  soldiers  of  the  contrary  party,  the  other,  having 
notice  of  it,  should  procure  him  a  redress,  by  having  satisfaction 
made  for  his  loss,  or  for  any  other  injury  ;  or  if  not,  he  to  be 
used  in  the  same  kind  by  the  other  party.  Nevertheless,  Dr. 
Sanderson  could  neither  live  safe  nor  quietly,  Leing  several  times 
plundered,  and  once  wounded  in  three  places :  but  he,  apprehend- 
ing the  remedy  might  turn  to  a  more  intolerable  burden  by  im- 
patience or  complaining,  forbore  both  ;  and  possessed  his  soul  in 
a  contented  quietness,  v.ithout  the  least  repining.  But  though 
he  could  not  enjoy  the  safety  he  expected  by  this  exchange,  yet, 
by  His  providence  that  can  bring  good  out  of  evil,  it  turned  so 
nmch  to  his  advantage,  that  whereas  as  his  living  had  been  se- 
questered from  the  year  1614,  and  continued  to  be  so  till  this 
time  of  his  imprisonment,  he,  by  the  Articles  of  War  in  this  ex- 
change for  Mr.  Clarke,  procured  his  sequestration  to  be  recalled, 
and  by  that  means  enjoyed  a  poor,  but  contented  subsistence  for 
himself,  wife,  and  children,  till  the  happy  restoration  of  our  King 
and  Church. 

In  this  time  of  his  poor,  "but  contented  privacy  of  life,  his  casu- 
istical learning,  peaceful  moderation,  and  sincerity,  became  so  re- 
markable, that  there  were  many  that  applied  themselves  to  him 
for  resolution  in  cases  of  conscience ;  some  known  to  him,  many 
not ;  some  requiring  satisfaction  by  conference,  others  by  letters  ; 
so  many,  that  his  life  became  almost  as  restless  as  tb.eir  minds  ; 
yet  he  denied  no  man  :  and  if  it  be  a  truth  which  holy  Mr.  Her- 
bert says,  "  That  all  worldly  joys  seem  less,  when  compared  with 
shewing  mercy  or  doing  kindnesses  ;".  then  doubtless  Dr.  Sander- 
son might  have  boasted  for  relieving  so  many  restless  and  wounded 
consciences ;  which,  as  Solomon  says,  "  are  a  burden  that  none 
can  bear,  though  their  fortitude  may  sustain  their  other  infirmi- 
ties ;"  and  if  words  cannot  express  the  joy  of  a  conscience  re- 
lieved from  such  restless  agonies ;  then  Dr.  Sanderson  might  re- 
joice that  so  many  were  by  him  so  clearly  and  conscientiously 
satisfied,  for  he  denied  none,  and  would  often  praise  God  for  tliat 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  353 


ability,  and  as  often  for  the  occasion,  and  that  God  had  inclined 
his  heart  to  do  it  to  the  meanest  of  any  of  those  poor,  but  precious 
souls,  for  which  his  Saviour  vouchsafed  to  be  crucified. 

Some  of  these  very  many  cases  that  were  resolved  by  letters, 
have  been  preserved  and  printed  for  the  benefit  of  posterity  ;  as 
namely, 

1.  Of  the  Sahhatk. 

2.  Marrying  ivith  a  Recusant. 

3.  Of  unlawful  love. 

4.  Of  a  military  life. 

5.  Of  Scandal. 

6.  Of  a  hond  taken  in  the  King's  name. 

7.  Of  the  Engage?nent. 

8.  Of  a  rash  vow. 

But  many  more  remain  in  private  hands,  of  which  one  is  of  Si- 
mony ;  and  I  wish  the  world  might  see  it,  that  it  might  undeceive 
some  Patrons,  who  think  they  have  discharged  that  great  and 
dangerous  trust,  both  to  God  and  man,  if  they  take  no  money  for 
a  living,  though  it  may  be  parted  with  for  other  ends  less  justifi- 
able. 

And  in  this  time  of  his  retirement,  when  the  common  people 
were  amazed  and  grown  giddy  by  the  many  falsehoods,  and  mis- 
applications of  truths  frequently  vented  in  sermons ;  when  they 
wrested  the  Scripture  by  challenging  God  to  be  of  their  party, 
and  called  upon  him  in  their  prayers  to  patronize  their  sacrilege 
and  zealous  frenzies  ;  in  this  time  he  did  so  compassionate  the 
generality  of  this  misled  nation,  that  though  the  times  threatened 
danger,  yet,  he  then  hazarded  his  safety  by  writing  the  large  and 
bold  Preface  now  extant  before  his  last  twenty  Sermons  ; — first 
printed  in  the  year  1655  ; — in  which  there  was  such  strength  of 
reason,  with  so  powerful  and  clear  convincing  applications  made 
to  the  Non-conformists,  as  being  read  by  one  of  those  dissenting 
brethren,  who  was  possessed  with  such  a  spirit  of  contradiction, 
as  being  neither  able  to  defend  his  error,  nor  yield  to  truth  mani- 
fest,— his  conscience  having  slept  long  and  quietly  in  a  good  se- 
questered living, — was  yet  at  the  reading  of  it  so  awakened,  that 


354  THE   LIFE   OF 


after  a  conflict  with  the  reason  he  had  mot,  and  the  damage  he 
was  to  sustain  if  he  consented  to  it, — and  being  still  unwilling  to 
be  so  convinced,  as  to  lose  by  being  over-reasoned, — he  went  in 
haste  to  the  bookseller  of  whom  it  was  bought,  threatened  him, 
and  told  him  in  anger,  "  he  had  sold  a  book  in  which  there  was 
false  Divinity  ;  and  that  the  Preface  had  upbraided  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  many  godly  Ministers  of  that  party,  for  unjust  dealing." 
To  which  his  reply  was, — 'twas  Tim.  Garthwaite, — "  That  'twas 
not  his  trade  to  judge  of  true  or  false  Divinity,  but  to  print  and 
sell  books  :  and  yet  if  he,  or  any  friend  of  his,  w^ould  write  an  an- 
swer to  it,  and  own  it  by  setting  his  name  to  it,  he  would  print  the 
Answer,  and  promote  the  selling  of  it." 

About  the  time  of  his  printing  this  excellent  Preface,  I  met  him 
accidentally  in  London,  in  sad-coloured  clothes,  and,  God  knows, 
far  from  being  costly.  The  place  of  our  meeting  was  near  to 
Little  Britain,  where  he  had  been  to  buy  a  book,  which  he  then 
had  in  his  hand.  We  had  no  inclination  to  part  presently,  and 
therefore  turned  to  stand  in  a  corner  under  a  penthouse, — for  it 
began  to  rain, — and  immediately  the  wind  rose,  and  the  rain  in- 
creased so  much,  that  both  became  so  inconvenient,  as  to  force  us 
into  a  cleanly  house,  where  v/e  had  bread,  cheese,  ale,  and  a  fire 
for  our  money.  This  rain  and  wind  were  so  obliging  to  me,  as  to 
force  our  stay  there  for  at  least  an  hour,  to  my  great  content  and 
advantage ;  for  in  that  time  he  made  to  me  many  useful  observa- 
tions, with  much  clearness  and  conscientious  freedom.  I  shall 
relate  a  part  of  them,  in  hope  they  may  also  turn  to  the  advantage 
of  my  Reader.  He  seemed  to  lament,  that  the  Parliament  had 
taken  upon  them  to  abolish  our  Liturgy,  to  the  scandal  of  so  many 
devout  and  learned  men,  and  the  disgrace  of  those  many  martyrs, 
who  had  sealed  the  truth  and  use  of  it  with  their  blood  :  and  that 
no  Minister  was  now  thought  godly  that  did  not  decry  it,  and  at 
least  pretend  to  make  better  prayers  ex  tempore  ;  and  that  they, 
and  only  they,  that  could  do  so,  prayed  by  the  Spirit,  and  were 
godly ;  though  in  their  sermons  they  disputed,  and  evidently  con- 
tradicted each  other  in  their  prayers.  And  as  he  did  dislike  this, 
so  he  did  most  highly  commend  the  Common  Prayer  of  the  Church, 
saying,  "  the  Collects  were  the  most  passionate,  proper,  and  most 
elegant  expressions  that  any  language  ever  afibrded  ;  and  that 


DR.    ROBERT  SANDERSON.  355 

there  was  in  them  such  piety,  and  so  interwoven  with  instructions, 
that  they  taught  us  to  know  the  power,  the  wisdom,  the  majesty, 
and  mercy  of  God,  and  much  of  our  duty  both  to  him  and  our 
neighbour  ;  and  that  a  congregation,  behaving  themselves  rever- 
ently, and  putting  up  to  God  these  joint  and  known  desires  for 
pardon  of  sins,  and  praises  for  mercies  received,  could  not  but  be 
more  pleasing  to  God,  than  those  raw,  unpremeditated  expressions, 
to  which  many  of  the  Jiearers  could  not  say.  Amen." 

And  he  then  commended  to  me  the  frequent  use  of  the  Pisalter, 
or  Psalms  of  David  ;  speaking  to  this  purpose  :  "  That  they  were 
the  treasury  of  Christian  comfort,  fitted  for  all  persons  and  neces- 
sities ;  able  to  raise  the  soul  from  dejection  by  the  frequent  men- 
tion of  God's  mercies  to  repentant  sinners  ;  to  stir  up  holy  desires : 
to  increase  joy ;  to  moderate  sorrow  ;  to  nourish  hope,  and  teach 
us  patience,  by  waiting  God's  leisure  ;  to  beget  a  trust  in  the 
mercy,  power,  and  providence  of  our  Creator ;  and  to  cause  a  res- 
ignation of  ourselves  to  his  will ;  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  to 
believe  ourselves  happy."  This,  he  said,  the  Liturgy  and  Psalms 
taught  us ;  and  that  by  the  frequent  use  of  the  last,  they  would 
not  only  prove  to  be  our  soul's  comfort,  but  would  become  so  ha- 
bitual, as  to  transform  them  into  the  Image  of  his  soul  that  com- 
posed them.  After  this  manner  he  expressed  himself  concerning 
the  Liturgy  and  Psalms ;  and  seemed  to  lament  that  this,  which 
was  the  devotion  of  the  more  primitive  times,  should  in  common 
pulpits  be  turned  into  needless  debates  about  Freewill,  Election, 
and  Reprobation,  of  which,  and  many  like  questions,  we  may  be 
safely  ignorant,  because  Almighty  God  intends  not  to  lead  us  to 
Heaven  by  hard  questions,  but  by  meekness  and  charity,  and  a 
frequent  practice  of  devotion. 

And  he  seemed  to  lament  very  much,  that,  by  the  means  of  ir- 
regular and   indiscreet  preaching,  the  generality  of  the  nation 
were  possessed  with  such  dangerous  mistakes,  as  to  think,  '•'  they 
might  be  religious  first,  and  then  just  and   merciful ;  that  they 
\  might  sell  their  consciences,  and  yet  have  something  left  that  was   i 
^   worth  keeping  ;  that  they  might  be  sure  they  were  elected,  though    / 
their  lives  were  visibly  scandalous  ;  that  to  be  cunning  was  to  be    [ 
wise;  that  to  be  rich  was  to  be  happy,  though  their  wealth  was 
■  got  without  justice  or  mercy  ;  that  to  be  busy  in  things  they  un- 


f 


356  THE   LIFE   OF 


derstood  not,  was  no  sin."  These  and  the  like  mistakes  he  la- 
mented much,  and  besought  God  to  remove  them,  and  restore  us 
to  that  humility,  sincerity,  and  singleheartedness,  with  which  this 
nation  was  blessed,  before  the  unhappy  Covenant  was  brought 
into  the  nation,  and  every  man  preached  and  prayed  what  seemed 
best  in  his  own  eyes.  And  he  then  said  to  me,  "  That  the  "way  to 
restore  this  nation  to  a  more  meek  and  Christian  temper,  was  to 
have  the  body  of  Divinity — or  so  much  of  it  as  was  needful  to  be 
known — to  be  put  into  fifty-two  Homilies  or  Sermons,  of  such  a 
length  as  not  to  exceed  a  third,  or  fourth  part  of  an  hour's  read- 
ing ;  and  these  needful  points  to  be  made  so  clear  and  plain,  that 
tliose  of  a  mean  capacity  might  know  what  was  necessary  to  be 
believed,  and  what  God  requires  to  be  done  ;  and  then  some  ap- 
plications of  trial  and  conviction  :  and  these  to  be  read  every  Sun- 
day of  the  year,  as  infallibly  as  the  blood  circulates  the  body; 
and  then  as  certainly  begun  again,  and  continued  the  year  follow- 
ing :  and  that  this  being  done,  it  might  probably  abate  the  inordi- 
nate desire  of  knowing  what  we  need  not,  and  practising  what  we 
know  and  ought  to  do."  This  was  the  earnest  desire  of  this  pru- 
dent man.  And  Oh  that  Dr.  Sanderson  had  undertaken  it !  for 
then  in  all  probability  it  would  have  proved  effectual. 

At  this  happy  time  of  enjoying  his  company  and  this  discourse, 
he  expressed  a  sorrow  by  saying  to  me,  "  Oh  that  I  had  gone 
Chaplain  to  that  excellently  accomplished  gentleman,  your  friend, 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  !  which  was  once  intended,  when  he  first  went 
Ambassador  to  the  State  of  Venice  :  for  by  that  employment  I  had 
been  forced  into  a  necessity  of  conversing,  not  with  him  only,  but 
with  several  men  of  several  nations  ;  and  might  thereby  have  kept 
myself  from  my  unmanly  bashfulness,  which  has  proved  very 
troublesome,  and  not  less  inconvenient  to  me  ;  and  which  I  now 
fear  is  become  so  habitual  as  never  to  leave  me  :  and  by  that 
means  I  might  also  have  known,  or  at  least  have  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing,  one  of  the  late  miracles  of  general  learning,  pru- 
dence,  and  modesty.  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  deal'  friend.  Padre  Paulo, 
who,  the  author  of  his  life  says,  was  born  with  a  bashfulness  as 
invincible  as  I  have  found  my  own  to  be  :  a  man  whose  fame  must 
never  die,  till  virtue  and  learning  shall  become  so  useless  as  not 
to  be  regarded." 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  357 

This  was  a  part  of  the  benefit  I  then  had  by  that  hour's  conver- 
sation :  and  I  gladly  remember  and  mention  it,  as  an  argument 
of  my  happiness,  and  his  great  humility  and  condescension.  I 
had  also  a  like  advantage  by  another  happy  conference  with  him, 
which  I  am  desirous  to  impart  in  this  place  to  the  Reader.  He 
lamented  much,  that  in  many  Parishes,  where  the  maintenance 
was  not  great,  there  was  no  Minister  to  officiate ;  and  that  many 
of  the  best  sequestered  livings  were  possessed  with  such  rigid  Cove- 
i]anters  as  denied  the  Sacrament  to  their  Parishioners,  unless  upon 
such  conditions,  and  in  such  a  manner,  as  they  could  not  take  it. 
This  he  mentioned  with  much  sorrow,  saying,  '-  Tiie  blessed  Sa- 
crament did,  by  way  of  preparation  for  it,  give  occasion  to  all  con- 
scientious receivers  to  examine  the  performance  of  their  vows, 
since  they  received  their  last  seal  for  the  pardon  of  their  sins  past ; 
and  to  examine  and  re-search  their  hearts,  and  make  penitent  re- 
flections on  their  failings  ;  and,  that  done,  to  bewail  them,  and 
then  make  new  vows  or  resolutions  to  obey  all  God's  commandsj 
and  beg  his  grace  to  perform  them.  And  this  done,  the  Sacra- 
ment repairs  the  decays  of  grace,  helps  us  to  conquer  infirmities, 
gives  us  grace  to  beg  God's  grace,  and  then  gives  us  what  we 
beg  ;  makes  us  still  hunger  and  thirst  after  his  righteousness, 
wliich  we  then  receive,  and  being  assisted  with  our  endeavours, 
will  still  so  dwell  in  us,  as  to  become  our  satisfaction  in  this  life, 
and  our  comfort  on  our  last  sick  beds."  The  want  of  this  blessed 
benefit  he  lamented  much,  and  pitied  their  condition  that  desired, 
but  could  not  obtain  it. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  disoblige  my  Reader,  if  I  here  enlarge  into  a 
further  character  of  his  person  and  temper.  As  first,  that  he  was 
moderately  tall  :  his  behaviour  had  in  it  much  of  a  plain  comeli- 
ness, and  very  little,  yet  enough,  of  ceremony  or  courtship;  his 
looks  and  motion  manifested  affability  and  mildness,  and  yet  he 
had  with  these  a  calm,  but  so  matchless  a  fortitude,  as  secured 
him  from  complying  with  any  of  those  many  Parliament  injunc- 
tions,  that  interfered  with  a  doubtful  conscience.  His  learning 
was  methodical  and  exact,  his  wisdom  useful,  his  integrity  visible, 
and  ills  whole  life  so  unspotted,  that  all  ought  to  be  preserved  as 
copies  for  posterity  to  write  after ;    the  Clergy  especially,  who 

PART  II.  13 


358  THE   LIFE   OF 


with  impure  hands  ought  not  to  offer  sacrifice  to  that  God,  whose 
pure  eyes  abhor  iniquity. 

There  was  in  his  Sermons  no  improper  rhetoric,  nor  such  per- 
plexed divisions,  as  may  be  said  to  be  like  too  much  light,  that  so 
dazzles  the  eyes,  that  the  sight  becomes  less  perfect :  but  there 
was  therein  no  want  of  useful  matter,  nor  waste  of  words  ;  and 
yet  such  clear  distinctions  as  dispelled  all  confused  notions,  and 
made  his  hearers  depart  both  wiser,  and  more  confirmed  in  vir- 
tuous resolutions. 

His  memory  was  so  matchless  and  firm,  as  'twas  only  overcome 
by  his  bashfulness  ;  for  he  alone,  or  to  a  friend,  could  repeat  all 
the  Odes  of  Horace,  all  Tully's  Oflices,  and  much  of  Juvenal 
and  Persius,  without  book  :  and  would  say,  "  the  repetition  of 
one  of  the  Odes  of  Horace  to  himself,  was  to  him  such  music,  as 
a  lesson  on  the  viol  was  to  others,  when  they  played  it  to  them- 
selves or  friends."  And  though  he  was  blest  with  a  clearer  judg- 
ment than  other  men,  yet  he  was  so  distrustful  of  it,  that  he  did 
over-consider  of  consequences,  and  would  so  delay  and  re-consider 
what  to  determine,  that  though  none  ever  determined  better,  yet, 
when  the  bell  tolled  for  him  to  appear  and  read  his  Divinity  Lec- 
tures in  Oxford,  and  all  the  Scholars  attended  to  hear  him,  he  had 
not  then,  or  not  till  then,  resolved  and  writ  what  he  ment  to  deter- 
mine ;  so  that  that  appeared  to  be  a  truth,  which  his  old  dear 
friend  Dr.  Sheldon  would  often  say,  namely,  "  That  his  judgment 
was  so  much  superior  to  his  fancy,  that  whatsoever  this  suggested, 
that  disliked  and  controlled  ;  still  considering,  and  re-considering, 
till  his  time  was  so  wasted,  that  he  was  forced  to  write,  not,  prob- 
ably, what  was  best,  but  what  he  thought  last."  And  yet  what 
he  did  then  read,  appeared  to  all  hearers  to  be  so  useful,  clear, 
and  satisfactory,  as  none  ever  determined  with  greater  applause. 
These  tiring  and  perplexing  thoughts,  begot  in  him  an  averseness 
to  enter  into  the  toil  of  considering  and  determining  all  casuisti- 
cal points  ;  because  during  that  time,  they  neither  gave  rest  to 
his  body  or  mind.  But  though  he  would  not  be  always  loaden 
with  these  knotty  points  and  distinctions  ;  yet  the  study  of  old 
records,  genealogies,  and  Heraldry,  were  a  recreation  and  so 
pleasing,  that  he  would  say  they  gave  rest  to  his  mind.     Of  the 


DR.    ROBERT   SANDERSON.  359 


last  of  which  I  have   seen  two   remarkable   volumes  ;  and   the 
Reader  needs  neither  to  doubt  their  truth  or  exactness. 

And  this  humble   man  had  so  conquered  all  repining  and  am- 
bitious thoughts,  and  with  them  all  other  unruly  passions,  that,  if  ' 
the  accidents  of  the  day  proved  to  his  danger  or  damage,  yet  he> 
both  began  and  ended  it  with  an  even  and  undisturbed  quietness ;  \ 
always  praising  God  that  he  had  not  withdrawn  food  and  raiment 
from  him  and  his  poor  family  ;  nor  suffered  him.  to  violate  his  con- 
science  for  his  safety,  or  to  support  himself  or  them  in  a  more 
splendid  or  plentiful  condition  ;   and  that  he  therefore  resolved   ' 
with  David,  "  That  his  praise  should  be  always  in  his  mouth." 

I  have  taken  a  content  in  giving  my  Reader  this  character  of 
his  person,  his  temper,  and  some  of  the  accidents  of  his  life  past ; 
and  more  miglit  be  added  of  all :  but  I  will  with  sorrow  look  for- 
ward to  the  sad  days,  in  which  so  many  good  men  suffered,  about 
the  year  1658,  at  which  time  Dr.  Sanderson  was  in  a  very  low 
condition  as  to  his  estate  ;  and  in  that  time  Mr.  Robert  Boyle* — 
a  gentleman  of  a  very  noble  birth,  and  more  eminent  for  his  liber- 
ality, learning,  and  virtue,  and  of  whom  I  would  say  much  more, 
but  that  he  still  lives — having  casually  met  with  and  read  his 
Lectures  de  Juramento,  to  his  great  satisfaction,  and  being  in- 
formed of  Dr.  Sanderson's  great  innocence  and  sincerity,  and 
that  he  and  his  family  were  brought  into  a  low  condition  by  his 
not  complying  with  the  Parliament's  injunctions,  sent  him  by  his 
dear  friend  Dr.  Barlowf — the  now  learned  Bishop  of  Lincoln — 
50/.  and  with  it  a  request  and  promise.  The  request  was,  that 
he  would  review  the  Lectures  de  Conscientid,  which  he  had  read 
when  he  was  Dr.  of  the  Chair  in  Oxford,  and  print  them  for  the 
good  of  posterity  : — and  this  Dr.  Sanderson  did  in  the  year  1659. 
— And  the  promise  was,  that  he  would  pay  him  that,  or  a  greater 

*  This  amiable  philosopher,  was  born  Jan.  25th,  1626-27,  at  Lismore,  in 
the  province  of  Minister,  in  Ireland.  He  was  a  scholar,  a  gentleman,  a  chris- 
tian of  the  most  exalted  piety  and  charity,  and  a  very  eminent  Natural  phi- 
losopher.    He  died  Dec.  30th,  1691. 

t  Dr.  Thomas  Barlow,  was  born  in  1607,  at  Orton,  in  Westmoreland,  was 
made  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  in  1675,  and  died  at  Buckden,  in  1691.  His  charac- 
ter appears  to  have  been  vacillating ;  he  was  not  among  the  venerable  Prel- 
ates who  stood  forth  the  Protectors  of  the  Protestant  Religion  in  1688.  His 
theological  learning  has  never  been  excelled. 


360  THE  LIFE   OF 


sum  if  desired,  during  his  life,  to  enable  him  to  pay  an  amanu- 
ensis, to  ease  him  from  the  trouble  of  writing  what  he  should  con- 
ceive or  dictate.  For  the  more  particular  account  of  which,  I  re- 
fer my  Reader  to  a  letter  writ  by  the  said  Dr.  Barlow,  which  I 
have  annexed  to  the  end  of  this  relation. 

Towards  the  end  of  this  year,  1659,  when  the  many  mixed 
sects,  and  their  creators  and  merciless  protectors,  had  led  or  driv- 
en  each  other  into  a  whirlpool  of  confusion  :  when  amazement 
and  fear  had  seized  them,  and  their  accusing  consciences  gave 
them  an  inward  and  fearful  intelligence,  that  the  god  which  they 
had  long  served  was  now  ready  to  pay  them  such  wages,  as  he 
does  always  reward  witches  with  for  their  obeying  him  :  when 
these  wretches  were  come  to  foresee  an  end  of  their  cruel  reign, 
by  our  King's  return  ;  and  such  sufferers  as  Dr.  Sanderson — and 
with  him  many  of  the  oppressed  Clergy  and  others — could  foresee 
the  cloud  of  their  afflictions  would  be  dispersed  by  it ;  then,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  year  following,  the  King  was  by  God  restored  to 
us,  and  we  to  our  known  laws  and  liberties,  and  a  general  joy 
and  peace  seemed  to  breathe  through  the  three  nations.  Then 
were  the  suffering  Clergy  freed  from  their  sequestration,  restored 
to  their  revenues,  and  to  a  liberty  to  adore,  praise,  and  pray  to 
God  in  such  order  as  their  consciences  and  oaths  had  formerly 
obliged  them.  And  the  Reader  will  easily  believe,  that  Dr.  San- 
derson and  his  dejected  family  rejoiced  to  see  this  day,  and  be  of 
this  number. 

It  oufTht  to  be  considered — which  I  have  often  heard  or  read — 
that  in  the  primitive  times  men  of  learning  and  virtue  were  usual- 
ly sought  for,  and  solicited  to  accept  of  Episcopal  government,  and 
often  refused  it.  For  they  conscientiously  considered,  that  the 
office  of  a  Bishop  was  made  up  of  labour  and  care  ;  that  they 
were  trusted  to  be  God's  almoners  of  the  Church's  revenue,  and 
double  their  care  for  the  poor ;  to  live  strictly  themselves,  and  use 
all  diligence  to  see  that  their  family,  officers,  and  Clergy  did  so  ; 
and  that  the  account  of  that  stewardship  must,  at  the  last  dread- 
ful day,  be  made  to  the  Searcher  of  all  Hearts :  and  that  in  the 
primitive  times  they  were  therefore  timorous  to  undertake  it.  It 
may  not  be  said,  that  Dr.  Sanderson  was  accomplished  with  these, 
and  all  the  other  requisites  required  in  a  Bishop,  so  as  to  be  able 


DR.   ROBERT  SANDERSON.  361 


to  answer  them  exactly  :  but  it  may  be  affirmed,  as  a  good  prep- 
aration, that  he  had  at  the  age  of  seventy-three  years — for  he 
was  so  old  at  the  King's  Return — fewer  faults  to  be  pardoned  by 
God  or  man,  than  are  apparent  in  others  in  these  days,  in  which, 
God  knows,  we  fall  so  short  of  that  visible  sanctity  and  zeal  to 
God's  glory,  which  was  apparent  in  the  days  of  primitive  Chris- 
tianity.  This  is  mentioned  by  way  of  preparation  to  what  I  shall 
say  more  of  Dr.  Sanderson  ;  and' namely,  that,  at  the  King's  re- 
turn, Dr.  Sheldon,  the  late  prudent  Bishop  of  Canterbury, — than 
whom  none  knew,  valued,  or  loved  Dr.  Sanderson  more  or  better, 
— was  by  his  Majesty  made  a  chief  trustee  to  commend  to  him  fit 
men  to  supply  the  then  vacant  Bishoprics.  Afld  Dr.  Sheldon 
knew  none  fitter  than  Dr.  Sanderson,  and  therefore  humbly  de- 
sired the  King  that  he  would  nominate  him  :  and,  that  done,  he 
did  as  humbly  desire  Dr.  Sanderson  that  he  would,  for  God's  and 
the  Church's  sake,  take  that  charge  and  care  upon  him.  Dr. 
Sanderson  had,  if  not  an  unwillingness,  certainly  no  forwardness 
to  undertake  it ;  and  would  often  say,  he  had  not  led  himself,  but 
his  friend  would  now  lead  him  into  a  temptation,  which  he  had 
daily  prayed  against ;  and  besought  God,  if  he  did  undertake  it, 
so  to  assist  him  with  his  grace,  that  the  example  of  his  life,  his 
cares  and  endeavours  might  promote  his  glory,  and  help  forward 
the  salvation  of  others. 

This  I  have  mentioned  as  a  happy  preparation  to  his  Bishopric ; 
and  am  next  to  tell,  that  lie  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Lincoln  at 
Westminster,  the  28th  of  October,  1660. 

There  was  about  this  time  a  Christian  care  taken,  that  those 
whose  consciences  were,  as  they  said,  tender,  and  could  not  com- 
ply with  the  service  and  ceremonies  of  the  Church,  might  have 
satisfaction  given  by  a  friendly  debate  betwixt  a  select  number  of 
them,  and  some  like  number  of  those  that  had  been  sufferers  for 
the  Church-service  and  ceremonies,  and  now  restored  to  liberty ; 
of  which  last  some  were  then  preferred  to  power  and  dignity  in 
the  Church.  And  of  these  Bishop  Sanderson  was  one,  and  then 
chose  to  be  a  moderator  in  that  debate  :  and  he  performed  his 
trust  with  much  mildness,  patience,  and  reason ;  but  all  proved 
ineffectual :  for  there  be  some  prepossessions  like  jealousies,  which, 
though  causeless,  yet  cannot  be  removed  by  reasons  as  apparent 


362  THE   LIFE   OF 


as  demonstration  can  make  any  truth.  The  place  appointed  for 
this  debate  was  the  Savoy  in  the  Strand :  and  the  points  debated 
were,  I  think,  many ;  some  affirmed  to  be  truth  and  reason,  some 
denied  to  be  either  ;  and  these  debates  being  then  in  words,  proved 
to  be  so  loose  and  perplexed  as  satisfied  neither  party.  For  some- 
time  that  which  had  been  affirmed  was  immediately  forgot  or  de- 
nied, and  so  no  satisfaction  given  to  either  party.  But  that  the 
debate  might  become  more  useful,  it  was  therefore  resolved,  that 
the  day  following  the  desires  and  reasons  of  the  Nonconformists 
should  be  given  in  writing,  and  they  in  writing  receive  answers 
from  the  conforming  party.  And  though  I  neither  now  can,  nor 
need  to  mention  all  the  points  debated,  nor  the  names  of  the  dis- 
senting brethren  ;  yet  I  am  sure  Mr.  Baxter  was  one.  and  am  sure 
what  shall  now  follow  was  one  of  the  points  debated. 

Concerning  a  command  of  lawful  superiors,  what  was  sufficient 
to  its  being  a  lawful  command  ;  this  proposition  was  brought  by 
the  conforming  party. 

"  That  command  which  commands  an  act  in  itself  lawful,  and 
no  other  act  or  circumstance  unlawful,  is  not  sinful." 

Mr.  Baxter*  denied  it  for  two  reasons,  which  he  gave  in  with 
his  own  hand  in  writing,  thus  : 

One  was,  "  Because  that  may  V  a  sin  jjer  accidens,  which  is 
not  so  in  itself,  and  may  be  unlawfully  commanded,  though  that 
accident  be  not  in  the  command."  AnotVier  was,  "  That  it  may 
be  commanded  under  an  unjust  penalty." 

Again,  this  proposition  being  brought  by  the  Conformists,  "  That 
command  which  commandeth  an  act  in  itself  lawful,  and  no  other 
act  whereby  any  unjust  penalty  is  enjoined,  nor  any  circumstance 
whence,  per  accidens,  any  sin  is  consequent  which  the  commander 
ought  to  provide  against,  is  not  sinful." 

Mr.  Baxter  denied  it  for  this  reason,  then  given  in  with  his  own 
hand  in  writing  thus  :  "  Because  the  first  act  commanded  may  be 
per  accidens  unlawful,  and  be  commanded  by  an  unjust  penalty, 
though  no  other  act  or  circumstance  commanded  be  such." 

Again,  this  proposition  being  brought  by  the  Conformists,  "That 

*  Richard  Baxter  weis  born  at  Rowton,  in  Shropshire,  in  1615,  and  was  a 
Chaplain  in  the  Parliamentary  Army,  though  he  was  a  defender  of  Monarchy. 
He  refused  the  Bishopric  of  Hereford,  and  died  in  1691. 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  363 

command  which  commandeth  an  act  in  itself  lawful,  and  no  other 
act  whereby  any  unjust  penalty  is  enjoined,  nor  any  circumstance, 
whence  directly,  or  jje?-  accidens,  any  sin  is  consequent,  which  the 
commander  ought  to  provide  against,  hath  in  it  all  things  requisite 
to  the  lawfulness  of  a  command,  and  particularly  cannot  be  guilty 
of  commanding  an  act  per  accidens  unlawful,  nor  of  commanding 
an  act  under  an  unjust  penalty." 

Mr.  Baxter  denied  it  upon  the  same  reasons. 

Peter  Gunning.* 
John  Pearson. f 

These  were  then  two  of  the  disputants,  still  alive,  and  will  at- 
test this  ;  one  being  now  Lord  Bishop  of  Ely,  and  the  other  of 
Chester.  And  the  last  of  them  told  me  very  lately,  that  one  of 
the  Dissenters — which  I  could,  but  forbear  to  name — appeared  to 
Dr.  Sanderson  to  be  so  bold,  so  troublesome,  and  so  illogical  in 
the  dispute,  as  forced  patient  Dr.  Sanderson — who  was  then 
Bishop  of  Lincoln,  and  a  moderator  with  other  Bishops — to  say, 
with  an  unusual  earnestness,  "  That  he  had  never  met  with  a 
man  of  more  pertinacious  confidence,  and  less  abilities,  in  all  his 
conversation." 

But  though  this  debate  at  the  Savoy  was  ended  without  any 
great  satisfaction  to  either  party,  yet  both  parties  knew  the  de- 
sires, and  understood  the  abilities,  of  the  other,  much  better  than 
before  it :  and  the  late  distressed  Clergy,  that  were  now  restored 
to  their  former  rights  and  power,  did,  at  their  next  meeting  in 
Convocation,  contrive  to  give  the  dissenting  party  satisfaction  by 
alteration,  explanation,  and  addition  to  some  part  both  of  the  Ru- 
bric and  Common-Prayer,  as  also  by  adding  some  new  necessary 
Collects,  and  a  particular  Collect  of  Thanksgiving.  How  many 
of  those  new  Collects  were  worded  by  Dr.  Sanderson,  I  cannot 
say  ;  but  am  sure  the  whole  Convocation  valued  him  so  much, 
that  he  never  undertook  to  speak  to  any  point  in  question,  but  he 

*  Dr.  Peter  Gunning,  was  a  loyalist  Divine,  who  suffered  considerably  for 
the  Royal  cause,  and  died  Bishop  of  Ely,  in  1684. 

t  Dr.  John  Pearson,  was  the  author  of  the  famous  "  Exposition  of  the 
Creed;"  in  1661,  he  was  made  Lady  Margaret's  Professor  of  Divinity,  at 
Cambridge,  and  died  Bishop  of  Chester,  in  1686,  aged  74. 


364  THE  LIFE  OF 


was  heard  with  great  willingness  and  attention ;  and  when  any 
point  in  question  was  determined,  the  Convocation  did  usually  de- 
sire him  to  word  their  intentions,  and  as  usually  approve  and 
thank  him. 

At  this  Convocation  the  Common  Prayer  was  made  more  com- 
plete, by  adding  three  new  necessary  Offices  ;  which  were,  "  A 
Form  of  Humiliation  for  the  Murder  of  King  Charles  the  Martyr  ; 
A  ThanksfriviniT  for  the  restoration  of  his  Son  our  Kino-  •  and  For 
the  Baptizing  of  Persons  of  riper  Age."  I  cannot  say  Dr.  San- 
derson did  form,  or  word  them  all,  but  doubtless  more  than  any 
single  man  of  the  Convocation  •  and  he  did  also,  by  desire  of  the 
Convocation,  alter  and  add  to  the  forms  of  Prayers  to  be  used  at 
Sea — now  taken  into  the  Service-Book. — And  it  may  be  noted, 
that  William,  the  now  Right  Reverend  Bishop  of  Canterbury,* 
M'as  in  these  employments  diligently  useful ;  especially  in  help- 
ing to  rectify  the  Calendar  and  Rubric.  And  lastly,  it  may  be 
noted,  that,  for  the  satisfying  all  the  dissenting  brethren  and 
others,  the  Convocation's  reasons  for  the  alterations  and  additions 
to  the  Liturgy  were  by  them  desired  to  be  drawn  up  by  Dr.  San- 
derson ;  which  being  done  by  him,  and  approved  by  them,  was 
appointed  to  be  printed  before  the  Liturgy,  and  may  be  known  by 
this  title — "  The  Preface;"  and  begins  thus — "  It  hath  been  the 
Wisdom  of  the  Church." — 

I  shall  now  follow  him  to  his  Bishopric,  and  declare  a  part  of 
his  behaviour  in  that  busy  and  weighty  employment.  And  first, 
that  it  Vv'as  with  such  condescension  and  obligingness  to  the  mean- 
est of  his  Clergy,  as  to  know  and  be  known  to  them.  And  indeed 
he  practised  the  like  to  all  men  of  what  degree  soever,  especially 
to  his  old  neighbours  or  parishioners  of  Boothby  Pannell  ;  for 
there  was  all  joy  at  his  table,  when  they  came  to  visit  him  :  then 

*  Dr.  William  Sancroft,  born  at  Freshin|rfield,  in  Suffolk,  in  1661,  and  edu- 
cated at  Emanuel  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  was  deprived  of  his  Fellow- 
ship in  1649,  for  refusing  to  take  the  engagement.  He  was  made  Archbishop 
in  1677,  and  in  1688,  he  was  one  of  the  seven  Prelates  sent  to  the  Tower  by 
James  II.  He  was  a  man  of  the  greatest  integrity  and  innocence,  and  at  tho 
Revolution,  he  refused  taking  the  Oaths  to  the  new  government,  for  which, 
being  suspended  and  deprived,  he  died  in  retirement  Nov.  24th5  1693. 


DR.   ROBERT  SANDERSON.  365 

they  prayed  for  Jiim,  and  he  for  them,  with  an  unfeigned  affec- 
tion. 

I  think  it  will  not  be  denied,  but  that  the  care  and  toil  required 
of  a  Bishop,  may  justly  challenge  the  riches  and  revenue  with 
which  their  predecessors  had  lawfully  endowed  them :  and  yet 
he  sought  not  that  so  much,  as  doing  good  both  to  the  present  age 
and  posterity ;   and  he  made  this  appear  by  what  follows. 

The  Bishop's  chief  house  at  Buckden,  in  the  County  of  Hunt- 
ingdon, the  usual  residence  of  his  predecessors, — for  it  stands 
about  the  midst  of  his  Diocese, — having  been  at  his  consecration 
a  great  part  of  it  demolished,  and  v/hat  was  left  standing  under  a 
visible  decay,  was  by  him  undertaken  to  be  erected  and  repaired : 
and  it  was  performed  with  great  speed,  care,  and  charge.  And 
to  this  may  be  added,  that  the  King  having  by  an  Injunction  com- 
mended to  the  care  of  the  Bishops,  Deans,  and  Prebends  of  all 
Cathedral  Churches,  "  the  repair  of  them,  their  houses,  and  aug- 
mentation of  small  Vicarages ;"  he,  when  he  was  repairing  Buck- 
den, did  also  augment  the  last,  as  fast  as  fines  were  paid  for  re- 
newing leases :  so  fast,  that  a  friend,  taking  notice  of  his  bounty, 
was  so  bold  as  to  advise  him  to  remember  "  he  was  under  his 
first-fruits,  and  that  he  was  old,  and  had  a  wife  and  children  yet 
but  meanly  provided  for,  especially  if  his  dignity  were  consid- 
ered." To  whom  he  made  a  mild  and  thankful  answer,  saying, 
"It  would  not  become  a  Christian  Bishop  to  suffer  those  houses 
built  bv  his  predecessors  to  be  ruined  for  want  of  repair :  and 
less  justifiable  to  suffer  any  of  those,  that  were  called  to  so  high 
a  calling  as  to  sacrifice  at  God's  altar,  to  eat  the  bread  of  sorrow 
constantly,  when  he  had  a  power  by  a  small  augmentation,  to  turn 
it  into  the  bread  of  cheerfulness  :  and  wished,  that  as  this  was,  so 
it  were  also  in  his  power  to  make  all  mankind  happy,  for  he  de- 
sired nothing  more.  And  for  his  wife  and  children,  he  hoped  to 
leave  them  a  competence,  and  in  the  hands  of  a  God  that  would 
provide  for  all  that  kept  innocence,  and  trusted  his  providence 
and  protection,  which  he  had  always  found  enough  to  make  and 
keep  him  happy." 

There  was  in  his  Diocese  a  Minister  of  almost  his  age,  that 
had  been  of  Lincoln  College  when  he  left  it,  who  visited  him  often, 
and  always  welcome,  because  he  was  a  man  of  innocence  and 


366  THE   LIFE   OF 


openheartedness.  This  Minister  asked  the  Bishop  what  books  he 
studied  most,  when  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  great  and  clear 
learning.  To  whicli  his  answer  was,  "  that  he  declined  reading- 
many  ;  but  what  he  did  read  were  well  chosen,  and  read  so  often, 
that  he  became  very  familiar  with  them  ;"  and  said,  "they  were 
chiefly  three,  Aristotle's  Rlietoric,  Aquinas's  Secunda  SecundcE, 
and  TuUy,  but  chiefly  his  Offices,  which  he  had  not  read  over 
less  than  twenty  times,  and  could  at  this  age  say  without  book." 
And  told  him  also,  "the  learned  Civilian  Doctor  Z ouch — who 
died  lately — had  writ  Elementa  Jurisprudent icB,  which  was  a  book 
that  he  could  also  say  witliout  book  ;  and  that  no  wise  man  could 
read  it  too  often,  or  love  or  commend  too  much;"  and  told  him 
"  these  had  been  his  toil  :  but  for  himself  he  always  had  a  natural 
love  to  genealogies  and  Heraldry  ;  and  that  when  his  thoughts 
were  harassed  with  any  perplexed  studies,  he  left  oflj  and  turned 
to  them  as  a  recreation  ;  and  that  his  very  recreation  had  made 
him  so  perfect  in  them,  that  he  could,  in  a  very  short  time,  give 
an  account  of  the  descent,  arms,  and  antiquity  of  any  family  of 
the  Nobility  or  gentry  of  this  nation." 

Before  I  give  an  account  of  Dr.  Sanderson's  last  sickness,  I 
desire  to  tell  the  Reader  that  he  was  of  a  healthful  constitution, 
cheerful  and  mild,  of  an  even  temper,  very  moderate  in  his  diet, 
and  had  had  little  sickness,  till  some  few  years  before  his  death  ; 
but  was  then  every  winter  punished  with  a  diarrhoea,  which  left 
not  till  warm  weather  returned  and  removed  it :  and  this  distem- 
per did,  as  he  grew  older,  seize  him  oftener,  and  continue  longer 
with  him.  But  though  it  weakened  him,  yet  it  made  him  rather 
indisposed  than  sick,  and  did  no  way  disable  him  from  studying 
— indeed  too  much. — In  this  decay  of  his  strength,  but  not  of  his 
memory  or  reason, — for  this  distemper  works  not  upon  the  under- 
standing,— he  made  his  last  Will,  of  which  1  shall  give  some  ac- 
count for  confirmation  of  what  hath  been  said,  and  what  I  think 
convenient  to  be  known,  before  I  declare  his  death  and  burial. 

He  did  in  his  last  Will,*  give  an  account  of  his  faith  and  per- 


*  Bishop  Sanderson's  Will  is  recorded  in  the  Prerogative  Court  of  Canter- 
bury, in  the  volume  called  Juxon,  Article  37.  After  his  death,  it  was  indus- 
triously reported  that  he  repented  of  his  writing  against  the  Presbyterians,  and 


DR.   ROBERT  SANDERSON.  367 

suasion  in  point  of  Religion,  and  Church-governmentj  in  these 
very  words  : 

"  I,  Robert  Sanderson,  Doctor  of  Divinity,  an  unworthy  Minis- 
ter of  Jesus  Christ,  and,  by  the  providence  of  God,  Bishop  of  Lin- 
cohi,  being  by  the  long  continuance  of  an  habitual  distemper 
brought  to  a  great  bodily  weakness  and  faintness  of  spirits,  but — 
by  the  great  mercy  of  God — without  any  bodily  pain  otherwise, 
or  decay  of  understanding,  do  make  this  my  Will  and  Testa- 
ment,— written    all   with    my   own    hand, — revoking   all   former 
Wills  by  me  heretofore  made,  if  any  such  shall  be  found.     First, 
I  commend  my  soul  into  the  hands  of  Almighty  God,  as  of  a  faith- 
ful Creator,  which  I  humbly  beseech  him  mercifully  to  accept, 
looking  upon  it,  not  as  it  is  in  itself, — infinitely  polluted  with,  sin, 
— but  as  it  is  redeemed  and  purged  with  the  precious  blood  of 
his  only  beloved  Son,  and  my  most  sweet  Saviour  Jesus  Christ ; 
in  confidence  of  whose  merits  and  mediation  alone  it  is,  that  I 
cast  myself  upon  the  mercy  of  God  for  the  pardon  of  my  sins, 
and  the  hopes  of  eternal  life.     And  here  I  do  profess,  that  as  I 
have  lived,  so  I  desire,  and — by  the  grace  of  God — resolve,  to  die 
in  the  communion  of  the  Catholic  Church  of  Christ,  and  a  true 
son  of  the  Church  of  England  :  which,  as  it  stands  by  law  estab- 
lished, to  be  both  in  doctrine  and  worship  agreeable  to  the  word 
of  God,  and  in  the  most,  and  most  material  points  of  both,  con- 
formable to  the  faith  and  practice  of  the  godly  Churches  of  Christ 
in  the  primitive  and  purer  times,  I  do  firmly  believe  :  led  so  to 
do,  not  so  much  from  the  force  of  custom  and  education, — to 
which  the  greatest  part  of  mankind  owe  their  particular  different 
pcrsuavsions  in  point  of  Religion, — as  upon  the  clear  evidence  of 
truth  and  reason,  after  a  serious  and  impartial  examination  of  the 
grounds,  as  vrell  of  Popery  as  Puritanism,  according  to  that  meas- 
ure of  understanding,  and  those  opportunities  which  God  hath  af- 
forded me :  and  herein  I  am  abundantly  satisfied,  that  the  schism 
which  the  Papists  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  superstition  which  the 
Puritan  on  the  other  hand,  lay  to  our  charge,  are  Very  justly 
chargeable  upon  themselves  respectively.     Wherefore  I  humbly 
beseech  Almighty  God,  the  Father  of  mercies,  to  preserve  the 

would  not  suffer  a  Church  Minister  to  pray  by  him,  which  is  refuted  by  the 
narrative  of  Mr.  PulHn's  giving  him  the  Sacramento 


368  THE   LIFE   OF 


Church  by  his  power  and  providence,  in  peace,  truth,  and  godli- 
ness, evermore  to  the  world's  end  :  which  doubtless  he  will  do, 
if  the  wickedness  and  security  of  a  sinful  people — and  particu- 
larly those  sins  that  are  so  rife,  and  seem  daily  to  increase  among 
us,  of  unthankfulness,  riot,  and  sacrilege — do  not  tempt  his  pa- 
tience to  the  contrary.  And  I  also  further  humbly  beseech  him, 
that  it  would  please  him  to  give  unto  our  gracious  Sovereign,  the 
reverend  Bishops,  and  the  Parliament,  timely  to  consider  the  great 
danger  that  visibly  threatens  this  Church  in  point  of  Religion  by 
the  late  great  increase  of  Popery,  and  in  point  of  revenue  by  sa- 
crilegious inclosures  ;  and  to  provide  such  wholesome  and  effec- 
tual remedies,  as  may  prevent  the  same  before  it  be  too  late." 

And  for  a  further  manifestation  of  his  humble  thoughts  and  de- 
sires, they  may  appear  to  the  Reader  by  another  part  of  his  Will 
which  follows. 

"  As  for  my  corruptible  body,  I  bequeath  it  to  the  earth  whence 
it  was  taken,  to  be  decently  buried  in  the  Parish  Church  of  Buck- 
den,  towards  the  upper  end  of  the  Chancel,  upon  the  second,  or — 
at  the  furthest  the  third  day  after  my  decease  ;  and  that  with  as 
little  noise,  pomp,  and  charge  as  may  be,  without  the  invitation 
of  any  person  how  near  soever  related  unto  me,  other  than  the 
inhabitants  of  Buckden  ;  without  the  unnecessary  expence  of  es- 
cutcheons, gloves,  ribbons,  &c.  and  without  any  blacks  to  be 
hung  any  where  in  or  about  the  house  or  Church,  other  than  a 
pulpit  cloth,  a  hearse-cloth,  and  a  mourning  gown  for  the  Preach- 
er ;  whereof  the  former — after  my  body  shall  be  interred — to  be 
given  to  the  Preacher  of  the  Funeral  Sermon,  and  the  latter  to 
the  Curate  of  the  Parish  for  the  time  being.  And  my  will  fur- 
ther is  that  the  Funeral  Sermon  be  preached  by  my  own  house- 
hold Chaplain,  containing  some  wholesome  discourse  concernino- 
Mortality,  the  Resurrection  of  the  Dead,  and  the  Last  Judijment : 
and  that  he  shall  have  for  his  pains  5Z.  upon  condition  that  he 
speak  nothing  at  all  concerning  my  person,  either  good  or  ill, 
other  than  I  myself  shall  direct ;  only  signifying  to  the  auditory 
that  it  was  my  express  will  to  have  it  so.  And  it  is  my  will,  that 
no  costly  monument  be  erected  for  my  memory,  but  only  a  fair 
flat  marble  stone  to  be  laid  over  me,  with  this  inscription  in  legi- 
ble  Roman  characters,  depositum  koberti  Sanderson  nuper  lin- 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  3G9 


COLNIENSIS    EPISCOPI,    QUI    OBIIT    AN:nIO    DOMINI    MDCLXII.  ET  ^TATIS 
SU^    SEPTUAGESIMO    SEXTO,  IIIC    REQUIESCIT    IN    SPE    BEAT^    RESUR- 

RECTioNis.  This  manner  of  burial,  although  I  cannot  but  fore- 
see  it  will  prove  unsatisfactory  to  sundry  my  nearest  friends  and 
"relations,  and  be  apt  to  be  censured  by  others,  as  an  evidence  of 
my  too  much  parsimony  and  narrowness  of  mind,  as  being  altoge- 
ther unusual,  and  not  according  to  the  mode  of  these  times:  yet 
it  is  agreeable  to  the  sense  of  my  heart,  and  I  do  very  much  de- 
sire my  Will  may  be  carefully  observed  herein,  hoping  it  may 
become  exemplary  to  some  or  other  :  at  least  however  testifying 
at  my  death — what  I  have  so  often  and  earnestly  professed  in  my 
life  time — my  utter  dislike  of  the  flatteries  commonly  used  in 
Funeral  Sermons,  and  of  the  vast  expenses  otherwise  laid  out  in 
Funeral  solemnities  and  entertainments,  with  very  little  benefit 
to  any  ;  which,  if  bestowed  in  pious  and  charitable  works,  might 
redound  to  the  public  or  private  benefit  of  many  persons." 

I  am  next  to  tell,  that  he  died  the  29th  of  January,  1662  ;  and 
tiiat  his  body  was  buried  in  Buckden,  the  third  day  after  his 
death  ;  and  for  the  manner,  that  it  was  as  far  from  ostentation  as 
he  desired  it ;  and  all  the  rest  of  his  Will  was  as  punctually  per- 
formed. And  when  I  have — to  his  just  praise — told  this  truth, 
"  that  he  died  far  from  being  rich,"  I  shall  I'eturn  back  to  visit, 
and  tjive  a  further  account  of  him  on  his  last  sick  bed. 

His  last  Will — of  which  I  have  mentioned  a  part — was  made 
about  tliree  weeks  before  his  death,  about  which  time,  finding  his 
strength  to  decay  by  reason  of  his  constant  infirmity,  and  a  con- 
sumptive cough  added  to  it,  he  retired  to  his  chamber,  expressing 
a  desire  to  enjoy  his  last  thoughts  to  himself  in  private,  without 
disturbance  or  care,  especially  of  what  might  concern  this  world. 
And  that  none  of  his  Clergy — which  are  more  numerous  than  any 
other  Bishop's — might  suffer  by  his  retirement,  he  did  by  commis- 
sion impower  his  Chaplain,  Mr.  Pullin,*  with  Episcopal  power  to 
give  institutions  to  all  livings  or  Church-preferments,  during  this 
his  disability  to  do  it  himself.     In  this  time  of  his  retirement  he 

*  Mr.  John  PuUin,  B.  D.  and  formerly  Fellow  of  Magdalen  College,  Cam- 
bridge. His  name  is  subscribed  to  a  copy  of  commendatory  Latin  verses  pre- 
fixed to  "  Duport's  Greek  Version  of  Job."  He  was  a  Prebendary,  and  also 
Chancellor  of  Lincoln. 


370  THE   LIFE   OF 


longed  for  his  dissolution  :  and  when  some  that  loved  him  prayed 
for  his  recovery,  if  he  at  any  time  found  any  amendment,  he 
seemed  to  be  displeased,  by  saying,  "  His  friends  said  their  prayers 
backward  for  him :  and  that  it  was  not  his  desire  to  live  a  use- 
less life,  and  by  filling  up  a  place  keep  another  out  of  it,  that 
might  do  God  and  his  Church  service."  He  would  often  with 
much  joy  and  thankfulness  mention,  "  That  during  his  being  a 
housekeeper — which  was  more  than  forty  years — there  had  not 
been  one  buried  out  of  his  family,  and  that  he  was  now  like  to  be  the 
first."  He  would  also  often  mention  with  thankfulness,  "  That  till 
he  was  three  score  years  of  age,  he  had  never  spent  five  shillings 
in  law,  nor — upon  himself — so  much  in  wine  :  and  rejoiced  much 
that  he  had  so  lived,  as  never  to  cause  an  hour's  sorrow  to  his 
good  father;  and  hoped  he  should  die  without  an  enemy." 

He,  in  this  retirement,  had  the  Church  prayers  read  in  his 
chamber  twice  every  day ;  and  at  nine  at  night,  some  prayers 
read  to  him  and  a  part  of  his  family  out  of  "  The  Whole  Duty  of 
Man."  As  he  was  remarkably  punctual  and  regular  in  all  his 
studies  and  actions,  so  he  used  himself  to  be  for  his  meals.  x\nd 
his  dinner  being  appointed  to  be  constantly  ready  at  the  ending 
of  prayers,  and  he  expecting  and  calling  for  it,  was  answered, 
"It  would  be  ready  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour."  To  which  his  re- 
ply was,  "  A  quarter  of  an  hour  !  Is  a  quarter  of  an  hour  nothino- 
to  a  man  that  probably  has  not  many  hours  to  live  ?"  And 
though  he  did  live  many  hours  after  this,  yet  he  lived  not  many 
days  ;  for  the  day  after — which  was  three  days  before  his  death — 
he  was  become  so  weak  and  v^^eary  of  either  motion  or  sitting, 
that  he  was  content,  or  forced,  to  keep  his  bed  :  in  which  1  desire 
he  may  rest,  till  I  have  given  some  account  of  his  behaviour  there, 
and  immediately  before  it. 

The  day  before  he  took  his  bed, — which  was  three  days  before 
his  death, — he,  that  he  might  receive  a  new  assurance  for  the 
pardon  of  his  sins  past,  and  be  strengthened  in  his  way  to  the 
New  Jerusalem,  took  the  blessed  Sacrament  of  the  Body  and 
Blood  of  his  and  our  blessed  Jesus,  from  the  hands  of  his  Chap- 
lain, Mr.  PuUin,  accompanied  with  his  wife,  children,  and  a  friend, 
in  as  awful,  humble,  and  ardent  a  manner,  as  outward  reverence 
could  express.      After  the   praise  and  thanksgiving  for  it  was 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  371 

ended,  he  spake  to  this  purpose  :  "  Thou,  O  God  !  tookest  me  out 
of  my  mother's  womb,  and  hast  been  the  powerful  protector  of 
me  to  this  present  moment  of  my  life  :  Thou  hast  neither  forsaken 
me  now  I  am  become  grey-headed,  nor  suffered  me  to  forsake 
thee  in  the  late  days  of  temptation,  and  sacrifice  my  conscience 
for  the  preservation  of  my  liberty  or  estate.  It  was  by  grace 
that  I  have  stood,  when  others  have  fallen  under  my  trials  :  and 
these  mercies  I  now  remember  with  joy  and  thankfulness  ;  and 
my  hope  and  desire  is,  that  I  may  die  praising  thee." 

The  frequent  repetition  of  the  Psalms  of  David,  hath  been 
noted  to  be  a  great  part  of  the  devotion  of  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians ;  the  Psalms  having  in  them  not  only  prayers  and  holy  in- 
structions, but  such  commemorations  of  God's  mercies,  as  may 
preserve,  comfort,  and  confirm  our  dependence  on  the  power,  and 
providence,  and  mercy  of  our  Creator.  And  this  is  mentioned  in 
order  to  telling,  that  as  the  holy  Psalmist  said,  that  his  eyes  should 
prevent  both  the  dawning  of  the  day  and  night  watches,  by  medi- 
tating on  God's  word  :  Psal.  cxix.  147,  so  it  was  Dr.  Sanderson's 
constant  practice  every  morning  to  entertain  his  first  waking 
thoughts  with  a  repetition  of  those  very  Psalms  that  the  Church 
hath  appointed  to  be  constantly  read  in  the  daily  Morning  ser- 
vice :  and  having  at  night  laid  him  in  his  bed,  he  as  constantly 
closed  his  eyes  with  a  repetition  of  those  appointed  for  the  ser- 
vice of  the  evening,  remembering  and  repeating  the  very  Psalms 
appointed  for  every  day ;  and  as  the  month  had  formerly  ended 
and  began  again,  so  did  this  exercise  of  his  devotion.  And  if  his 
first  waking  thoughts  were  of  the  world,  or  what  concerned  it,  he 
would  arraign  and  condemn  himself  for  it.  Thus  he  began  that 
work  on  earth,  which  is  now  his  employment  in  Heaven. 

After  his  taking  his  bed,  and  about  a  day  before  his  death,  he 
desired  his  Chaplain,  Mr.  Pullin,  to  give  him  absolution  :  and  at 
his  performing  that  office,  he  pulled  off  his  cap,  that  Mr.  Pullin 
might  lay  his  hand  upon  his  bare  head.  After  this  desire  of  his 
was  satisfied,  his  body  seemed  to  be  at  more  ease,  and  his  mind 
more  cheerful ;  and  he  said,  "  Lord,  forsake  me  not  now  my 
strength  faileth  me  ;  but  continue  thy  mercy,  and  let  my  mouth 
be  filled  with  thy  praise."  He  continued  the  remaining  night 
and  day  very  patient,  and  thankful  for  any  of  the  little  ofiices 


372  THE   LIFE   OF 


that  were  performed  for  his  ease  and  refreshment :  and  during 
that  time  did  often  say  the  103rd  Psalm  to  himself,  and  very  often 
these  words,  "  My  heart  is  fixed,  O  God  !  my  heart  is  fixed  where 
true  joy  is  to  be  found."  His  thoughts  seemed  now  to  be  wholly 
of  death,  for  which  he  was  so  prepared,  that  the  King  of  Terrors 
could  not  surprise  him  as  a  thief  in  the  night :  for  he  had  often 
said,  he  was  prepared,  and  longed  for  it.  And  as  this  desire 
seemed  to  come  from  Heaven,  so  it  left  him  not  till  his  soul  as- 
cended to  that  region  of  blessed  spirits,  whose  employments  are 
to  join  in  concert  with  him,  and  sing  praise  and  glory  to  that  God, 
Vv'ho  hath  brought  them  to  that  place,  into  which  sin  and  sorrow 
cannot  enter. 

Thus  this  pattern  of  meekness  and  primitive  innocence  changed 
this  for  a  better  life.  'Tis  now  too  late  to  wish  that  my  life  may 
be  like  his  ;  for  I  am  in  the  eighty-fifth  year  of  my  age :  but  I 
humbly  beseech  Almighty  God,  that  my  death  may  ;  and  do  as 
earnestly  beg  of  every  Reader,  to  say — Amen. 

Blessed  is  the  man  in  whose  spirit  there  is  no  guile.  Psalm 
xxxii.  2. 


DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  373 


DR.    PIERCE'S   LETTER. 


Good  Mr.  Walton, 

At  my  return  to  this  place,  I  made  a  yet  stricter  search  after  the  letters 
long  ago  sent  me  from  our  most  excellent  Dr.  Sanderson,  before  the  happy 
restoration  of  the  King  and  Church  of  England  to  their  several  rights:  in  one 
of  which  letters  more  especially,  he  was  pleased  to  give  me  a  narrative  both 
of  the  rise  and  the  progress,  and  reasons  also,  as  well  of  his  younger,  as  of  his 
last  and  riper  judgment,  toucliing  the  famous  points  controverted  between  the 
Calvinians  and  the  Arminians,  as  they  are  commonly  (though  unjustly  and 
unskilfully)  miscalled  on  either  side. 

The  whole  letter  I  allude  to  does  consist  of  several  sheets  whereof  a  good 
part  had  been  made  public  long  ago,  by  the  most  learned,  most  judicious,  most 
pious  Dr.  Hammond,  (to  whom  I  sent  it  both  for  his  private,  and  for  the  pub- 
lic satisfaction,  if  he  thought  fit,)  in  his  excellent  book,  entitled,  '•'  A  Pacific 
Discourse  of  God's  Grace  and  Decrees,  in  full  accordance  with  Dr.  Sander- 
son :"  to  which  discourse  1  refer  you  for  an  account  of  Dr.  Sanderson  and  the 
history  of  his  thoughts  in  his  own  hand-wriiing,  wherein  I  sent  it  to  Westv.-ocd, 
as  I  received  it  from  Boothby  Pannel.  And  although  the  whole  book,  (printed 
in  the  year  1660,  and  reprinted  since  v/ith  his  other  tracts  in  folio)  is  very 
worthy  of  your  perusal ;  yet,  for  the  work  you  are  about,  you  shall  not  have 
need  to  read  more  at  present  than  from  the  8th  to  the  23rd  page,  and  as  far  as 
the  end  of  section  33.  There  you  will  find  in  wliat  year  the  excellent  man, 
whose  life  you  write,  became  a  Master  of  Arts  :  how  his  first  reading  of  learn- 
ed Hooker  had  been  occasioned  by  certain  puritanical  pamphlets  ;  and  how 
good  a  preparative  he  found  it  for  his  reading  of  Calvin's  Institutions,  the  hon- 
our of  whose  name  (at  that  time  especially)  gave  such  credit  to  his  errors  :  how 
he  erred  with  Mr.  Calvin,  whilst  he  took  things  upon  trust  in  the  sublapsarian 
way  :  how,  being  chosen  to  be  a  Clerk  of  the  Convocation  for  the  Diocese  of 
Lincoln,  1625,  he  reduced  the  Quinquarticu'ar  Controversy  into  five  schemes 
or  tables  ;  and  thereupon  discerned  a  necessity  of  quitting  the  sublapsarian 
way,  of  which  he  had  before  a  better  liking,  as  well  as  the  supralapsarian, 
which  he  could  never  fancy.  There  you  will  meet  with  his  two  weighty  rea- 
sons against  them  both,  and  find  his  happy  change  of  judgment  to  have  been 
ever  since  the  year  1625,  even  thirty-four  years  before  the  world  either  knew, 
or,  at  least,  took  notice  of  it :  and  more  particularly  his  reasons  for  rejecting 
Dr.  Twiss,  (or  the  way  he  walks  in,)  although  his  acute  and  very  learned  and 
ancient  friend. 

FART  II.  14 


374  THE  LIFE   OF 


I  now  proceed  to  let  you  know  from  Dr.  Sanderson's  own  hand,*  which 
was  never  printed,  (and  which  you  can  liardly  know  from  any,  unless  from  his 
son,  or  from  myself,)  that,  when  that  Parliament  was  broken  up,  and  the  con- 
vocation therewith  dissolved,  a  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance  by  occasion  of 
some  discourse  about  these  points,  told  him  of  a  book  not  long  before  published 
at  Paris,  (A.  D.  1623,)  by  a  Spanish  Bishop, t  who  had  undertaken  to  clear 
the  differences  in  the  great  controversy  De  Concordia  Gratice.  et  Liberi  Ar- 
hiirii.  And  because  his  friend  perceived  he  was  greedily  desirous  to  see  the 
book,  he  sent  him  one  of  them,  containing  tho  four  first  books  of  twelve  which 
he  intended  then  to  publish.  "  When  I  had  read,"  says  Dr.  Sanderson,  in  the 
following  words  of  the  same  letter,  "  his  Epistle  Dedicatory  to  the  Pope, 
(Gregory  XV.)  he  spake  so  highly  of  his  own  invention,  that  I  then  began 
rather  to  suspect  him  for  a  mountebank,  than  to  hope  I  should  find  satisfaction 
from  his  performances.  I  found  much  confidence  and  great  pomp  of  words, 
bat  little  matter  as  to  the  main  knot  of  the  business,  other  than  had  been  said 
an  hundred  times  before,  to  wit,  of  the  coexistence  of  all  things  past,  present, 
and  future  ZH  menie  divina  realitcr  ab  cctcrno,  which  is  the  subject  of  l;is  whole 
third  book:  only  he  interpreteth  the  word  realiter  so  as  to  import  not  only 
prccsentialitatem  objeciivaiii,  (as  others  held  before  him,)  but  propriam  et  ac- 
tualem  existentiam ;  yet  confesseth  it  is  hard  to  make  this  intelligible.  In  his 
fourth  book  he  endeavours  to  declare  a  twofold  manner  of  God's  working  ad 
extra ;  the  one  sub  ordine  prczdestinationis,  of  which  eternity  is  the  proper 
measure  :  the  other  sub  ordine  gratice,  whereof  time  is  the  measure  ;  and  that 
God  workelh  fortiter  in  tiie  one  (though  not  irresistibiliier  as  well  suavitcr 
in  the  other,  wherein  the  free  will,  hath  his  proper  working  also.  From  the 
result  of  his  whole  performance  I  was  confirmed  in  this  opinion  ;  that  we  must 
acknowledge  the  work  of  both  grace  and  free  will  in  the  conversion  of  a  sin- 
ner ;  and  so  likewise  in  ail  other  events,  the  consistency  of  the  infallibility  of 
God's  foreknowledge  at  least  (though  not  with  any  absolute,  but  conditional 
predestination)  with  the  liberty  of  man's  will,  and  the  contingency  of  inferior 
causes  and  effects.  These,  I  say,  we  must  acknowledge  for  the  on :  but  fof 
the  TO  TTOJS,  I  thought  it  bootless  for  me  to  think  of  comprehending  it.  And  so 
came  the  two  Acta  Synodalia  Dordrechtana  to  stand  in  my  study,  only  to  fill 
up  a  room  to  this  day. 

"  And  yet  see  the  restless  curiosity  of  man.  Not  many  years  after,  to  wit, 
A.  D.  1632,  out  Cometh  Dr.  Twiss's,t  Vindicice  GraticB,  a  large  volume,  pur- 
posely writ   against   Arminius :  and  then,  notwithstanding  my  former  resolu- 

*  Sir,  I  pray  note,  that  all  that  follows  between  inverted  commas  are  Dr.  Sanderson's 
own  words,  excellently  worthy,  but  no  where  else  e.\tant ;  and  commend  him  as  much  as 
any  thing  you  can  say  of  him.    T.  P. 

t  Arriba. 

%  This  learned  nonconformist  was  born  at  Reading  about  1575,  and  educated  at  Win- 
chester School,  and  New  College,  Oxford.  He  had  been  Chaplain  to  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth. He  died  at  Newbury,  July  20, 1G46.  Wood  says,  "  his  plain  preaching  was  esteemed 
good  ;  his  solid  disputations  were  accounted  better;  but  his  pious  life  was  reckoned  best 
of  all." 


DR.  ROBERT  SANDERSON.  375 

tion,  I  must  need  be  meddling  again.  The  respect  I  bore  to  his  person  and 
great  learning,  and  the  acquaintance  I  had  had  with  him  in  Oxford,  drew  me 
to  the  reading  of  that  whole  book.  But  from  the  reading  of  it  (for  I  read  it 
through  to  a  syllable)  I  went  away  with  many  and  great  dissatisfactions. 
Sundry  things  in  that  book  I  took  notice  of,  which  brought  me  into  a  greater 
dislike  of  his  opinion  than  I  had  before  :  but  especially  these  three  :  First  that 
he  bottometh  very  much  of  his  discourse  upon  a  very  erroneous  principle, 
which  yet  he  seemeth  to  be  so  deeply  in  love  with,  that  he  hath  repeated  it,  I 
verily  believe,  some  hundreds  of  times  in  that  work  :  to  wit  this  ;  That  what- 
soever is  first  in  the  intention  is  last  in  execution,  and  e  converso.  Which  is 
an  error  of  that  magnitude,  that  I  cannot  but  wonder  how  a  person  of  such 
acuteness  and  subtilty  of  wit  could  possibly  be  deceived  with  it.  All  logicians 
know  there  is  no  such  universal  maxim  as  he  buildeth  upon.  The  true  maxim 
is  but  this  :  Finis  qui  pri7nus  est  in  intentione,  est  uliimus  in  executione.  In 
the  order  of  final  causes,  and  the  means  used  for  that  end,  the  rule  holdeth 
perpetually  :  but  in  other  things  it  holdeth  not  at  all,  or  but  by  chance  ;  or  not 
as  a  rule,  and  necessarily.  Secondly,  that,  foreseeing  such  consequences 
would  naturally  and  necessarily  follov/  from  his  opinion,  as  would  offend  the 
car  of  a  sober  Christian  at  the  very  first  sound,  he  v.ould  yet  rather  choose  not 
only  to  admit  the  said  harsh  consequences,  but  professedly  endeavour  also  to 
maintain  them,  and  plead  hard  for  them  in  large  digressions,  than  to  recede  in 
the  least  from  that  opinion  which  he  had  undertaken  to  defend.  Thirdly,  that 
seeing  (out  of  the  sharpness  of  his  wit)  a  necessity  of  forsaking  tlie  ordinary 
sublapsarian  way,  and  the  supralapsarian  too,  as  it  had  diversely  been  declared 
by  all  that  had  gone  before  liim,  (for  the  shunning  of  those  rocks,  which  either 
of  those  ways  must  unavoidably  cast  him  upon,)  he  was  forced  to  seek  out  an 
untrodden  path,  and  to  frame  out  of  his  own  brain  a  new  way,  (like  a  spider's 
web  wrought  out  of  her  own  bowels,)  hoping  by  that  device  to  salve  all  absur- 
dities, that  could  be  objected  ;  to  wit,  by  making  the  glory  of  God  (as  it  is  in- 
deed the  chiefest,  so)  the  only  end  of  all  other  his  decrees  and  then  making 
ail  those  other  decrees  to  be  but  one  entire  co-ordinate  medium  conducing  to 
that  one  end,  and  so  tlie  whole  subordinate  to  it,  but  not  any  one  part  thereof 
subordinate  to  any  other  of  the  same.  Dr.  Twiss  should  have  done  well  to 
have  been  more  sparing  in  imputing  the  studium partium  to  others,  wherewith 
his  own  eyes,  though  of  eminent  perspicacity,  were  so  strangely  blindfolded, 
that  he  could  not  discern  how  this  his  new  device,  and  his  old  dearly  beloved 
principle,  (like  the  Cadmean  Sparti,)  do  mutually  destroy  the  one  the  other. 

"  This  relation  of  my  past  thoughts  having  spun  out  to  a  fur  greater  length 
than  I  intended,  I  shall  give  a  shorter  account  of  what  they  now  are  concern- 
ing these  points." 

For  which  account  I  refer  you  to  the  following  parts  of  Dr.  Hammond's 
book  aforesaid,  where  you  may  find  them  already  printed :  and  for  another 
account  at  large  of  Bishop  Sanderson's  last  judgment  concerning  God's  con- 
currence or  nonconcurrence  with  the  actions  of  men,  and  the  positive  entity 
of  sins  of  commission,  I  refer  you  to  his  letters  already  printed  by  his  consent, 


370  THE  LIFE   OF 


in  my  large  appendix  to  my  Impartial  Enquiry  into  the  Nature  of  Sin,  §  68.  p. 
193,  as  far  as  p.  200. 

Sir,  I  have  rather  made  it  my  choice  to  transcribe  all  above  out  of  the  let- 
ters of  Dr.  Sanderson,  which  lie  before  me,  than  venture  the  loss  of  my  origi- 
nals by  post  or  earner,  which,  though  not  often,  yet  sometimes  fail.  Make 
use  of  as  much  or  as  little  as  you  please,  of  what  I  send  you  from  himself 
(because  from  his  own  letters  to  me)  in  the  penning  of  his  life,  as  your  own 
prudence  shall  direct  you  ;  using  my  name  for  your  warranty  in  the  account 
given  of  him,  as  much  or  as  little  as  you  please  too.  You  have  a  performance 
of  my  promise,  and  an  obedience  to  your  desires  from 

Your  affectionate 
Humble  Servant, 

North  Tidworth,  THO.  PIERCE. 

March  5,  1677-8. 


THE  BISHOP  OF  LINCOLN'S  LETTER. 

"  MY    WORTHY    FraEND    MR.    WALTON, 


>j 


"  I  am  heartily  glad,  that  you  have  undertaken  to  write  the  Life  of  that  ex- 
cellent person,  and,  both  for  learning  and  Piety,  eminent  Prelate,  Dr.  Sander- 
son, late  Bishop  of  Lincoln  ;  because  I  know  your  ability  to  know,  and  integ- 
rity to  write  truth  :  And  sure  I  am,  that  the  life  and  actions  of  that  pious  and 
learned  Prelate  will  afford  you  matter  enough  for  his  commendation,  and  the 
imitation  of  posterity.  In  order  to  the  carrying  on  your  intended  good  work, 
you  desire  my  assistance,  that  I  would  communicate  to  you  such  particular 
passages  of  his  life,  as  were  certainly  known  to  me.  I  confess  I  had  the  hap- 
piness to  be  particularly  known  to  him  for  about  the  space  of  twenty  years ; 
and,  in  Oxon,  to  enjoy  his  conversation,  and  his  learned  and  pious  instructions 
while  he  was  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity  there.  Afterwards,  when  (in  the 
time  of  our  late  unhappy  confusions)  he  left  Oxon,  and  was  retired  into  the 
country,  I  had  the  benefit  of  his  letters  •,  wherein,  with  great  candour  and 
kindness,  he  answered  those  doubts  I  proposed,  and  gave  me  that  satisfaction, 
which  I  neither  had  nor  expected  from  some  others  of  greater  confidence,  but 
less  judgment  and  humility.  Having,  in  a  letter,  named  two  or  three  books 
writ  (ex  profcsso)  against  the  being  of  any  original  sin  :  and  that  Adam,  by 
his  fall,  transmitted  some  calamity  only,  but  no  crime  to  his  posterity  ;  the 
good  old  man  was  exceedingly  troubled,  and  bewailed  the  misery  of  those  li- 
centious times,  and  seemed  to  wonder  (save  that  the  times  M^ere  such)  that 
any  should  write,  or  be  permitted  to  publish  any  error  so  contradictory  to  truth, 
and  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  of  England,  established  (as  he  truly  said)  by 
clear  evidence  of  Scripture,  and  the  just  and  supreme  power  of  this  nation, 
both  sacred  and  civil.     I  name  not  the  books,  nor  their  authors,  which  are  not 


^^      DR.   ROBERT   SANDERSON.  377 

unknown  to  learned  men  (and  I  wish  they  had  never  been  known)  because 
both  the  doctrine,  and  the  unadvised  abettors  of  it  are,  and  shall  be,  to  me 
apocrj-phal. 

Another  little  story  I  must  not  pass  in  silence,  being  an  argument  of  Dr. 
Sanderson's  piety,  great  ability,  and  judgment,  as  a  casuist.  Discoursing  with 
an  honourable  person*  (whose  piety  I  value  more  than  his  nobility  and  learn- 
hig,  though  both  be  great)  about  a  case  of  conscience  concerning  oaths  and 
vows,  their  nature  and  obligation  ;  in  v^hich,  for  some  particular  reasons,  he 
then  desired  more  fully  to  be  informed  ;  I  commended  to  him  Dr.  Sanderson's 
book  '  De  Juramento ;'  which  having  read,  with  great  satisfaction,  he  asked 
me, — '  If  I  thought  the  Doctor  could  be  induced  to  write  Cases  of  Conscience, 
if  he  might  have  an  honorary  pension  allowed  him  to  furnish  him  with  books 
for  that  purpose  V  I  told  him  I  believed  he  would  :  And,  in  a  letter  to  the 
Doctor,  told  him  what  great  satisfaction  that  honourable  person,  and  many 
more,  had  reaped  by  reading  his  book  '  De  Juramento  ;'  and  asked  him, 
'  whether  he  would  be  pleased,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Church,  to  write  some 
tract  of  Case.s  of  Conscience?'  He  replied,  '  That  he  v/as  glad  that  any  had 
received  any  benefit  by  his  books :'  and  added  further,  '  That  if  any  future 
tract  of  his  could  bring  such  benefit  to  any,  as  we  seemed  to  say  his  former 
had  done,  he  would  willingly,  thougli  without  any  Pension,  set  about  that 
work.'  Having  received  this  answer,  that  honourable  person,  before  men- 
tioned, did,  by  my  hands,  return  50Z.  to  the  good  Doctor,  whose  condition  then 
(as  most  good  men's  at  that  time  were)  was  but  low  ;  and  he  presently  re- 
vised, finished,  and  published  that  excellent  book,  '  De  Conseientia :'  A  book 
little  in  bulk,  but  not  so  if  we  consider  the  benefit  an  intelligent  reader  may 
receive  by  it.  For  there  are  so  many  general  propositions  concerning  con- 
science, the  nature  and  obligation  of  it,  explained  and  proved  with  such  firm 
consequence  and  evidence  of  reason,  that  he  who  reads,  remembers,  and  can 
with  prudence  pertinently  apply  them  hie  ct  nunc  to  particular  cases,  may,  by 
their  light  and  help,  rationally  resolve  a  thousand  particular  doubts  and  scru- 
ples of  conscience.  Here  you  may  see  the  charity  of  that  honourable  person 
in  promoting,  and  the  piety  and  industry  of  the  good  Doctor,  in  performing 
that  excellent  work. 

And  here  I  shall  add  the  judgment  of  that  learned  and  pious  Prelate  con- 
cerning a  passage  very  pertinent  to  our  present  purpose.  When  he  was  in 
Oxon,  and  read  his  public  lectures  in  the  schools  as  Regius  Professor  of  Divin- 
ity, and  by  the  truth  of  his  positions,  and  evidences  of  liis  proofs,  gave  great 
content  and  satisfaction  to  all  his  hearers,  especially  in  his  clear  resolutions  of 
all  diflficult  cases  which  occurred  in  the  explicalion  of  the  subject-matter  of  his 
lectures  ;  a  per.son  of  quality  (yet  alive)  privately  asked  him,  '  What  course  a 
young  Divine  should  take  in  his  studies  to  enable  him  lo  be  a  good  casuist?' 
His  answer  was,  'That  a  convenient  understanding  of  the  learned  languages, 
at  least  of  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin,  and  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  arts  and 
sciences  presupposed ;  there  were  two  things  in  human  literature,  a  compre- 

*  Robert  Boyle,  Esq. 


378  THE  LIFE  OF  DR.  ROBERT  SANDERSON. 

hension  of  which  would  be  of  very  great  use,  to  enable  a  man  to  be  a  rational 
and  able  casuist,  which  otherwise  was  very  difficult,  if  not  impossible:  1.  A 
convenient  knowledge  of  moral  philosophy  ;  especially  that  part  of  it  which 
treats  of  the  nature  of  human  actions  ;  To  know,  "  quid  sit  actus  humanus 
(spontancus,  invitus,  7nixtus,)  unde  habet  bonitatem  et  malitiam  moralem  ? 
an  ex  genere  et  objecto,  vel  ex  circumstantiis?^'  How  the  variety  of  circum- 
stances varies  the  goodness  or  evil  of  human  actions  1  How  far  knowledge 
and  ignorance  may  aggravate  or  excuse,  increase  or  diminish  the  goodness  or 
evil  of  our  actions?  For  every  case  of  conscience  being  only  this — "  Is  this 
action  good  or  bad?  May  I  do  it,  or  may  I  not?" — He  who,  in  these,  knows 
not  how  and  whence  human  actions  become  morally  good  and  evil,  never  can 
(in  hypothesi)  rationally  and  certainl)''  determine,  whether  this  or  that  par- 
ticular action  be  so. — 2.  The  second  thing,  which,  he  said,  '  Vv'ould  be  a  great 
lielp  and  advantage  to  a  casuist,  was  a  convenient  knovv'ledge  of  the  nature 
and  obligation  of  lavv's  in  general  :  to  know  what  a  law  is ;  what  a  natural  and 
a  positive  law  ;  what's  required  to  the  "  latio,  dispensatio,  derogatlo,  velabro- 
gatio  legis;"  what  promulgation  is  antecedently  required  to  the  obligation  of 
any  positive  law  ;  what  ignorance  takes  off  the  obligation  of  a  law,  or  does  ex- 
cuse, diminish,  or  aggravate  the  transgression  :  For  every  case  of  conscience 
being  only  this — "  Is  this  lawful  for  me,  or  is  it  not?"  and  the  law  the  only 
rule  and  measure  by  which  I  must  judge  of  the  lawfulness  or  unlawfulness  of 
any  action  ;  it  evidently  follows,  that  he,  who,  in  these,  knows  not  the  nature 
and  obligation  of  laws,  never  can  be  a  good  casuist,  or  rationally  assure  him- 
self or  others,  of  the  lawfulness  or  unlawfulness  of  actions  in  particular. 

This  was  the  judgment  and  good  counsel  of  that  learned  and  pious  Prelate  : 
And  having,  by  long  experience,  found  the  truth  and  benefit  of  it,  I  conceive, 
I  could  not  without  ingratitude  to  him,  and  want  of  charity  to  others,  conceal 
it. — Pray  pardon  this  rude,  and,  I  fear  impertinent  scribble,  which  if  nothing 
else,  may  signify  thus  much,  that  I  am  willing  to  obey  your  desires,  and  am 
indeed, 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

THOMAS  LINCOLN." 

London,  May  10,  1678 


INDEX. 


Abbot,  Dr.  Robert,  Bisliop  of  Salisbury,  323. 

Allen,  Cardinal,  225. 

Alvey,  Richard,  199. 

Ambrose,  St.  78. 

Andrews,  Dr.  Launcelot,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  74,  269, 

Arminius,  James,  160. 

Austin,  St.  78,  94,  133,  187. 

Bacon,  Sir  Francis,  Lord  Verulam,  156,  269. 

Barfoote,  Dr.  John,  195. 

Bargrave,  Dr.  Isaac,  166. 

Barlow,  Dr.  Thomas,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  359. 

Barnard,  Dr.  Nicholas,  242. 

Baxter,  Rev.  Richard,  362. 

Bedel,  Rev.  William,  143,  161. 

Bellarmine,  Cardinal  Robert,  56. 

Bemerton,  Rectory  of,  281. 

Beza,  Theodore,  136. 

Bishop's  Bourne,  Rectory  of,  224,  227. 

Bocton  Malherbe,  Kent,  125. 

Boothby  Pannell,  Lincoln,  328. 

Boscum,  Rectory  of,  223. 

Bostock,  Rev.  Robert,  297. 

Boyle,  Hon.  Robert,  359. 

Bradford,  the  Martyr,  206. 

Brio-htman,  Thomas,  343. 

Brook,  Christopher  and  Samuel,  60. 

Brownisls  and  Barrowists,  246. 

Buckden,  Palace  at,  365. 

Csesar,  Sir  Julius,  155. 
Cales,  The,  Voyage,  56. 
Carey,  Dr.  Valentine,  86. 
Cartwright,  Thomas,  213,  343. 
Casaubon,  Isaac,  137. 


380  INDEX. 


Charke,  William,  240. 

Charles  I.,  King  of  England,  104,  107,  220,  243,  280,  324,  332,  339. 

Charles  II.,  King  of  England,  305. 

Chidley,  or  Chudleigh,  John,  80. 

Chillingworth,  William,  313. 

Churchman,  John,  19G. ,  Mrs.,  197,  198. 

Clarke,  Rev.  William,  351. 

Clement  VIII.,  Pope,  140,  225. 

Cole,  Dr.  William,  180. 

Coppinger,  Edmund,  202,  240. 

Corbet,  Dr.  Richard,  Bishop  of  Oxford,  110. 

Cowley,  Abraham,  170. 

Cowper,  Sir  William,  238. 

Cranmer,  George,  192,  &,c.     Letter,  244. 

William,  181. 

Creighton,  Robert,  279. 
Crooke,  Dr.  Charles,  323. 
Cuffe,  Mr.  Henry,  138. 
Curie,  Dr.  Walter,  280,  334. 

Davenant,  Dr.  John,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  281. 

Dering,  Edward,  203. 

Dominis,  M.  A.  de.  Archbishop  of  Spalatro,  154. 

Donato,  Leonardo,  Duke  of  Venice,  145,  151. 

DoxNE,  Dr.  John,  Birth  and  descent  of,  53.  His  education  and  abilities,  54. 
Religious  enquiries  of,  55.  His  travels,  50.  Entertained  by  Lord  Elles- 
mere,  57.  Attachment  and  marriage  of,  58.  Discharged  from  Lord  El- 
lesmere's  service,  59.  Imprisonment  of,  00.  Enlargement  and  subsequent 
difficulties,  ibid.  Dr.  Morton's  friendship  for  him,  04.  Is  solicited  to  take 
holy  Orders,  04,  75,  70.  Residence  with  Sir  F.  Wolly,  and  reconciliation 
with  Sir  G.  More,  00.  Removal  to  Mitcham,  06.  Extracts  from  his  let- 
ters, 07,  08,  100.  Removes  to  Drury  House,  09.  Attends  Sir  R.  Drury 
to  France,  70.  His  Vision  there,  ibid.  His  verses  addressed  to  his  wife, 
73.  Secular  employment  solicited  for,  74.  King  James's  regard  for,  ibid. 
Answers  the  objections  to  the  Oath  of  Allegiance,  75.  Prepares  himself 
for  the  Ministry,  70,  77.  Takes  Orders,  78.  His  diffidence  in  preach- 
ing, 79.  Verses  In  praise  of  his  preaching,  80.  Made  King's  Chaplain, 
and  D.  D.  at  Cambridge,  character  of  his  sermons,  81.  Death  of  his 
Wife,  82  First  Sermon  afterward,  83.  Becomes  Divinity  Lecturer  at 
Lincoln's  Inn,  84.  Attends  the  Earl  of  Doncaster  to  Bohemia,  80.  Re- 
turns, and  is  made  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  &.c.,  87.  Under  the  King's  dis- 
pleasure, 88.  Clears  himself,  89.  His  sickness,  ibid.  His  noble  refusal 
of  Church  property,  90.  His  recovery,  and  last  illness,  91,  100.  Char- 
acter of,  and  of  his  Poetry;  92.  Hymns  by,  93,  99.  His  seals  of  the  An- 
chor and  Christ,  95,  270.     Verses  sent  with,  to  G.  Herbert,  97.     Reply 


INDEX.  381 


to  Ditto,  98.  Method  of  composing  his  Sermons,  &c.,  100.  Treatise  of 
Biathanatos,  100.  Makes  his  Will,  101.  His  charities,  10.3.  Filial  af- 
fection of,  104.  Extracts  from  his  private  accounts,  105.  His  last  Lent 
Sermon,  107.  Joy  at  his  recent  Life,  and  at  death,  108.  Attempt  of 
Dr.  Fox  to  cure  him,  109.  Mortuary  Monument  of  him  executed,  110. 
His  Epitaph  and  Portraits,  111.  His  happy  death  and  burial,  113.  Hon- 
ours paid  to  his  tomb,  114.  Private  subscription  sent  for  his  Monument, 
114.    His  features,  eulogy,  and  character,  115.    Poetical  Epitaphs  on,  116. 

Dorset,  Edward  and  Richard  Sackville,  Earls  of,  88. 

Don,  Synod  of,  101. 

Drayton  Beauchamp,  Church  and  Parsonage,  198. 

Drury,  Sir  Robert,  69. 

Duncon,  Rev.  Edmund,  [not  Edward]  297. 

Duport,  Dr.  James,  268. 

Duppa,  Dr.  Bryan,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  96. 

Earle,  Dr.  John,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  227. 
Elizabeth,  Queen  of  England,  139,  200,  207. 

,  Queen  of  Bohemia,  85,  153. 

EUesmere,  Thomas  Lord,  57,  59,  324. 
Elmer,  John,  Bishop  of  London,  197. 

Farrer,  Nicholas,  275,  297. 

Fell,  Dr.  Samuel,  342. 

Ferdinand  de'  Medicis,  Duke  of  Florence,  140. 

Fox,  Dr.,  109. 

Field,  Dr.  Richard,  47. 

Fulgentio,  M.,  101. 

Fulman,  Mr.,  239. 

Fulston  Church,  Wilts,  297. 

Gardiner,  Dr.,  342. 

Gataker,  Rev.  Thomas,  84. 

Gauden,  Dr.  John,  45. 

Gentilis,  Albericus,  132,  135. 

Goodier,  Sir  Henry,  95. 

Gretzerus,  the  Jesuit,  228. 

Grindal,  Edmund,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  207. 

Guarini,  Battista,  131. 

Gunning,  Dr.  Peter,  Bishop  of  Ely,  363. 

Hacket,  William,  202,  246. 

Hales,  John,  of  Eton,  174. 

Hall,  Dr.  Joseph,  Bishop  of  Norwich,  96. 

Hammond,  Dr.  Henry,  334,  &c. 


362  INDEX. 


Harding,  Dr.  Thomas,  191. 

Harrison,  John,  170. 

Harsnett,  Dr.  Samuel,  Bishop  of  Chichester,  81. 

Hay,  James,  Earl  of  Doncaster,  85. 

Henchman,  Dr.  Humphrey,  Bishop  of  London,  286. 

Herbert,  George,  95.  Life  of,  257.  His  birth  and  family  seat,  ibid.  Fam- 
ily of,  ifnd.  His  education, — entered  of  Cambridge,  259.  Account  of 
his  mother,  260.  University,  character  and  titles  at,  264.  His  conduct 
as  Orator,  266.  Replies  to  Melviu's  Satires,  267.  Verses  on  Dr.  Donne's 
Seal, — his  hopes  of  Court  preferment,  270.  His  health  impaired  by  study, 
— His  verses  on  affliction,  271.  Death  of  his  Court  friends,  272.  Deter- 
mines to  take  Orders,  273.  Made  Deacon, — Repairs  the  Church  of  Lay- 
ton  Ecclesia,  274.  His  Letter  to  his  mother  in  her  sickness,  275.  His 
own  illness,  278.  His  resignation,  recovery,  and  his  person  described, — 
Courtship  and  marriage  of,  279.  Receives  the  Rectory  of  Bemerton, — 
— hesitates  at  taking  Orders, — convinced  by  Bishop  Laud,  and  is  ordain- , 
ed,  281.  Holiness  of  his  life, — his  induction,  his  delight  in  the  title  of 
Priest,  282.  Address  to  his  wife  thereon,  283.  Repairs  the  Church  and 
Parsonage, — instances  of  his  humility  and  goodness,  284.  His  christian 
conduct,  ibid.  His  Country  Parson,  286.  His  Sermons,  287.  Pious 
life  of  him  and  his  parishioners,  289.  His  love  for  Music,  293.  Anec- 
dotes of,  ibid.  Is  seized  with  a  consumption,  296.  Mr.  Duncon's  visits 
to,  297.  His  acquaintance  with  Nicholas  Farrer,  298.  Sacred  Poems, 
sent  to,  303.  Their  publication,  ibid.  His  reflections  on  dying, — hymn 
by,  395.     Dying  conduct  of,  ibid.     His  Letter  to  Nicholas  Farrer,  309. 

Herbert,  Lady  Magdalen,  95,  260,  &c. 

Herbert  of  Cherbury,  Lord,  257. 

Herbert,  Sir  Thomas,  340. 

Hooker,  Richard,  His  birth  and  character  of  his  childhood,  183.  Schoolmas- 
ter's advice,  184.  Success  of  his  intercession  with  J.  Hooker,  185.  Is 
patronised  and  sent  to  Oxford  by  ditto,  and  Bishop  Jewel,  186,  187.  Fil- 
ial affection  of,  187.  His  visit  to  Bishop  Jewel,  ibid.  Is  made  Tutor  to 
Edwin  Sandys,  189.  His  learning  and  piety  at  Oxford,  ibid.  Is  admit- 
ted on  the  College  Foundation,  190.  Graduates  there,  and  becomes  Fel- 
low, 191.  His  pupils,  ibid.  His  subsequent  course  of  study,  193.  Be- 
comes Hebrew  Lecturer,  194.  Is  expelled  his  College,  ibid.  Re-admit- 
ted, takes  Orders,  and  is  appointed  to  preach  at  St.  Paul's,  195.  His  jour- 
ney to  London,  and  Sermon,  196.  Unhappy  marriage  of,  197.  His  resi- 
dence at  Drayton  Beauchamp,  198.  Recommended  to  be  Master  of  the 
Temple,  199.  Receives  the  office,  200,  214.  His  religious  disputes  with 
Travers,  216.  His  defence  of  his  doctrine  of  Faith,  ibid.  And  Justifica- 
tion, 217.  His  charitable  belief  concerning  Papists,  219.  His  mildness 
in  argument,  220.  His  controversial  writings  published,  and  his  Ecclesi' 
astical  Polity  commenced,  211.  Dr.  Spencer's  eulogium  on,  222.  Is 
presented  to  the  Rectory  of  Boscum,  223.     Publication  of  his  first  four 


INDEX.  383 


presented  to  the  Rectory  of  Boscum,  223.  Publication  of  his  first  four 
books  of  Polity,  224.  Receives  the  Rectory  of  Bishop's  Bourne,  and  his 
holy  life  there,  ibid.  227,  231.  Preface  to  his  books  of  Church  Polity, 
224,  225.  Eulogies  on  them,  226.  His  friendship  with  Dr.  Saravia,  227. 
His  preaching,  230.  Conspiracy  against,  233.  Conduct  in  his  sickness, 
235.  Occasion  of  his  death,  ibid.  His  death,  237,  239.  Epitaph  on, 
238.  Appendix  to  his  Life,  239.  His  will  and  family,  ibid.  Authenti- 
city of  the  last  three  books  of  Polity  considered,  241.  His  remaining 
writings  destroyed,  ibid.     G.  Cranmer's  Letter  to,  244. 

Horton,  Sampson,  Parish-Clerk  of  Bishop's  Bourne,  229. 

Rowland,  Dr.  Richard,  Bishop  of  Peterborough,  214. 

Jackson,  Dr.  Thomas,  191. 

James  I.  King  of  England,  74-76,  79,  80,  85,  87,  88,  139,  &c.,  148,  153, 

204,  226,  243,  266,  324. 
Jewel,  John,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  185,  189. 
Ireland,  Mr.  259. 
Juxon,  Dr.  William,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  339. 

Kent,  Henry  Grey,  Earl  of,  88. 

Kiibie,  Dr.  Richard,  320. 

King,  Dr.  Henry,  Bishop  of  Chichester,  90,  91,  110,  117. 

,  Dr.  John,  Bishop  of  London,  78,  327. 

Lake,  Dr.  Arthur,  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  294,  324. 

Lambarde,  William,  127. 

Laud,  William,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  281,  332,  350. 

Lay  ton  Ecclesia,  Church  of,  273. 

Leicester,  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of,  203,  213. 

Lothesley,  or  Loseley  Hall,  58. 

Martin,  Gregory,  245. 

Martin  Marprelate,  214. 

Matthew,  Dr.  Tobias,  Bishop  of  York,  328. 

Melville,  or  Melvin,  Andrew,  267,  307. 

Mirandula,  J.  Picus,  54. 

Montague,  Dr.  James,  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  74. 

More,  Sir  George,  58,  61. 

,  Sir  Thomas,  53. 

,  Anne,  58,  82. 

Morley,  Dr.  George,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  43,  338. 
Morton,  Sir  Albert,  143,  161. 

,  Dr.  Thomas,  Bishop  of  Durham,  63. 

Moryson,  Fynes,  192. 


384  INDEX. 


Mountfort,  Dr.  T.  114. 
Murray.  Thomas,  156. 

Nash,  Thomas,  214. 

Naunton,  Sir  Robert,  266. 

Neale,  Dr.  Richard,  259. 

Nethersole,  Sir  Francis,  266. 

Nevil,  Dr.  Thomas,  260. 

Northumberland,  Henry  Percy,  Earl  of,  59. 

Oley,  Rev.  Barnabas,  287. 

Paine,  Dr.,  342. 

Paolo,  Padre,  101,  147. 

Parry,  Dr.  Richard,  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  270. 

Paul  v.,  Pope,  147. 

Pearson,  Dr.  John,  Bishop  of  Chester,  363. 

Perkins,  Rev.  William,  160. 

Pey,  Nicholas,  156,  162.  ♦ 

Phillips,  Fabian,  243. 

Pierce,  Dr.  Thomas,  333,  373. 

Pole,  Cardinal  Reginald,  191. 

Prideaux,  Dr.  John,  323. 

Prudentius,  Clemens  Aurelius,  99. 

PuUin,  Rev.  John,  369 

Rastall,  William,  53. 

Reynolds,  Dr.  John,  186,  194. 

Rotherham,  Thomas,  Archbishop  of  York,  317. 

Rudde,  Dr.  Anthony,  Dean  of  Gloucester,  56. 

Sancroft,  Dr.  William,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  364. 

Sanderson,  Dr.  Robert,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  Hooker's  MS.,  342.  Life  of,  311. 
Birth  of,  317.  Family  of,  «Sl-c.  318.  His  education,  319.  His  degrees, 
&LC.  at  Oxford,  321-326.  His  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Sheldon,  326.  Re- 
signs his  Fellowship,  328,  and  marries,  329.  Instances  of  his  piety  and 
charity,  329.  Excellence  of  his  Sermons,  332.  His  Convocation  em- 
ployments and  Answers  to  Calvin,  333.  Is  made  D.D.,  334.  Employed 
to  reform  the  Prayer  Book,  336.  Called  to  the  Assembly  of  Divines, — 
made  Professor  of  Divinity,  and  excellence  of  his  Lectures,  336.  Attends 
the  King  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  338.  Forced  to  quit  his  College,  341.  Per- 
secuted at  Boothby  Pannell,  345.  Prayer  used  by,  in  altering  the  Litur- 
gy, 346.  His  singular  memory,  347.  His  debate  in  the  Quinquarticular 
Controversy,  348.  Prefaces  to  his  Sermons  referred  to,  351.  Made 
Prisoner  by  the  Parliament,  ibid.     Cases  of  Conscience  written  by,  352. 


INDEX.  385 


Walton's  interview  with,  254.  Ciiaracter  of  his  person  and  manners,  357. 
Mr.  Boyle's  friendship  to,  359.  Recommended  to  a  Bishopric,  360. 
Made  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  361.  His  conduct  as  such,  364.  His  principal 
studies,  366.  Extracts  from  his  Will,  367.  Conduct  of,  in  his  last  sick- 
ness, 369. 

Sandys,  Dr.  Edwin,  Archbishop  of  York,  188. 

,  Sir  Edwin,  188. 

Saravia,  Dr.  Adrian,  227,  235. 

Savile,  Sir  Henry,  192. 

Scioppius,  Jasper,  150. 

Sheldon,  Dr.  Gilbert,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  318. 

Soinerset,  Robert  Carr,  Earl  of,  75. 

Spencer,  Dr.  John,  181,  222,  241. 

Stapleton,  Dr.  Thomas,  225. 

Stuart,  Arabella,  268. 

Theobalds,  Palace  at,  76. 
Thorndike,  Rev.  Herbert,  271. 
Throgmorton,  Sir  Nicholas,  171. 
Travers,  Rev.  Walter,  197,  214. 

Valdesso,  Signor  John,  301. 
Velserus,  Marcus,  150. 
Vietta,  Signor  John,  139,  140. 

Usher,  Dr.  James,  Archbishop  of  Armagh,  182. 

Wadsworth,  Rev.  James,  164. 

Wall,  Dr.,  342. 

Watson,  William,  140. 

Westphaling,  Dr.  Herbert,  191 . 

White,  Dr.  Thomas,  87. 

Whitgift,  John,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  206,  241,  244. 

Williams,  Dr.  John,  Archbishop  of  York,  273. 

Wolly,  Sir  Francis,  62. 

Woodnot,  Mr.  Arthur,  275. 

WoTTON,  Sir  Henry,  Birth-place  of,  125.  His  Lectures  at  Oxford,  131.  Hi^ 
friendship  with  Dr.  Donne,  136.  His  travels,  ibid.  Becomes  Secretary 
to  the  Earl  of  Essex,  138,  but  goes  abroad  at  the  commencemeut  of  his 
rebellion,  139.  His  residence  in  Italy,  ibid.  Sent  on' a  secret  Embassy 
to  Scotland,  140.  Returns  to  Florence,  ibid.  His  reception  by  King 
James  I.,  141.  Sent  Ambassador  to  Venice,  143.  Corresponds  between 
the  Republic  and  the  King,  148.  Sentence  in  an  Album,  149.  Loses 
and  recovers  the  King's  favour,  150.  His  interest  with  the  Dukes  of  Ven- 
ice, 151.     Prisoners  liberated  by,  152.     Sent   Ambassador  to  Germany, 


386  INDEX. 


152,  154.  Made  Provost  of  Eton,  156.  His  conduct  there,  157,  159. 
His  liberal  sentiments  in  religion,  160, 161.  Advice  of,  to  an  Ambassador, 
161.  His  Sorrow  for  Sir  A.  Morton,  162.  His  Verses  to  his  menory,  162, 
163.  His  recommendatory  letter  of  Mr.  Bedel,  164.  His  proposed  Histories, 
166.  His  Monument,  168.  Extracts  from  his  Will,  170.  Last  Visit  to 
Winchester  College,  173.  His  declining  health,  175.  His  decease,  176. 
Cowley's  Elegy  on,  ibid.     His  character  of  Archbishop  Whitgift,  206. 

Wotton,  the  very  Rev.  Nicholas,  Dean  of  Canterbury  and  York,  128,  132. 

Wren,  Dr.  Matthew,  Bishop  of  Ely,  334.  i  -i 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  134. 


Zouch,  Dr.  Richard,  337. 


y, 


1 
I 

DATE    DUE 

Mm/or/uiH 

/^/^•r  0  t  7fl«2___. 

Q&r^' 

""""'* 

^?n" 

'1  n    ,_. 

* " 

i 

1  i» 

tSTmrr 



GAYLORD 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A 

...VH 

f 

kJKi^    ^K> 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 


0315022722 


i 


^\j  ,>c--^v 


I '  *^" 


»    '-> 


BOUNO