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. ■ II W IM 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. 
 
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